Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  Mr. Craig stepped forward, pressing Vaughn behind him. “Pardon me, my lord,” he growled and raised his own pistol, firing at Milburn.

  The man fell to his knees and landed facedown in the snow, a red pool of blood seeping into the snow around him on either side, his weapon cocked and still gripped in his hand. For a second no one moved. Then Mr. Craig tucked his empty pistol into his coat and turned back to Vaughn.

  “Terribly sorry, sir. But your wound would have hampered your aim.”

  “Good man.” Vaughn chuckled and then winced. “Good man.” He’d always been glad his butler had a very particular set of skills, and today those skills had saved him and his wife.

  His butler nodded solemnly.

  Perdita fell to her knees next to him. “Vaughn.”

  “I’m all right, darling. Would you mind fetching the doctor?” He kept his voice calm because she was crying and clinging to him. The chaos outside the church had calmed only a little, but he didn’t focus on any of that. He kept his gaze on Perdita and hers was on him.

  “And to think you were worried I didn’t love you,” he teased.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Vaughn.” She clutched him fiercely. “Please don’t joke about that.”

  He managed to wrap one arm around her as he righted himself. Only then did he dare to look at his wound. It wasn’t deep. He’d been hit in the shoulder, the bullet passing through muscle alone. It was really more of a graze.

  “Is it bad?” Perdita asked, holding herself close to him.

  “No, not at all. Lucky for us, I’m damned hard to kill.”

  Perdita stared at him, blinking rapidly as tears formed in her eyes, and Vaughn knew she was upset at his teasing.

  The doctor arrived a few minutes later. His residence, thankfully, was not far from the church. Vaughn and Perdita went back inside while his wound was tended. They sat in the last pew, where Vaughn removed his cloak, waistcoat, and shirt.

  “Damn, it’s bloody cold in here,” Vaughn muttered as the doctor cleaned his wound.

  “Lucky, that’s what you are,” Dr. Williams said. “Mostly a graze. I’ll bind it up, and you must take care to keep the bandage fresh. No vigorous activity for a few days, I’m afraid.” The doctor shot Vaughn a pointed look and then said to Perdita, “I understand young love and the passion of newlyweds, but none of that, you hear? Not for three or four days.”

  “Like hell,” Vaughn growled.

  Perdita squeezed his arm. “If he says we mustn’t, then we won’t. But I shall make up for it. Once we can.” Her cheeks pinked in a delightful blush.

  “I’ll hold you to that promise, darling.” He had a few delicious ideas of what he’d do once he was mended.

  She smiled back, her eyes sparkling with tears. “Good.”

  Dr. Williams grunted as he bandaged Vaughn’s wound. By the time they were ready to leave the church, they found Perdita’s father waiting outside. Milburn’s body had been removed from the street.

  “Your butler has called for the magistrate, Vaughn. I doubt there will be any further questions. Everyone saw what happened.”

  “Thank heavens.” Perdita rested her head against Vaughn’s shoulder. The gesture made his stomach flutter with a quiet sort of thrill, one that lingered and made him feel dizzy.

  Mrs. Darby smiled warmly at him. “Let’s get you both home.”

  Home. Home with Perdita and her family. They are my family now. With a little grin, he walked with his bride down to the waiting coach, ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder. He was not alone. Not anymore.

  Three long days later, Perdita found herself sitting on the edge of her bed, holding a small box, wearing nothing but her shift. Nerves danced in her chest and belly. She couldn’t help it. Tonight she was going to give Vaughn his Christmas gift, albeit a few days late, and she prayed he would not be upset with her.

  Many men would not react well to having matters of pride exposed. But in the last few days so much had changed between them. Since they could not make love, they had lain in each other’s arms and whispered in the dark about their hopes, their dreams, and their lives before.

  It astonished her to realize it was indeed possible to love a man who’d been a stranger to her so recently. Yes, lust had been there, but after everything they’d shared, love had crept up on her, silent as a thief, and now she truly loved him. She knew he loved her too. If stepping between her and Milburn’s pistol hadn’t been enough, the last three days had proven it. The gentle smiles, the way he listened, the way they’d lain together, their heads close and limbs entwined. Hearts beating as one.

  She sat up straighter when her bedchamber door opened.

  Vaughn walked in, flashing her a wicked grin that made her laugh.

  “Three days, as ordered. And now you’re mine. All mine.” He started toward the bed, but she held up a hand.

  “Wait.”

  He stopped, his eyes questioning hers. She looked at the little box and thought of what it contained.

  Please understand why I must give it back to you.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “A Christmas present, long overdue.” She raised it up, and he slowly took it from her. He was so beautiful, the way only a man could be while wearing nothing save his buckskin breeches and a dark-blue silk vest. Vaughn opened the box, his eyes locked on the gift.

  It was, of course, the pocket watch she’d bought back from the jeweler.

  “I…” His voice broke as he took the watch from the box. The silver glinted in the light. “How…” He gave his head a little shake. “This was my grandfather’s. I had to sell it.”

  “You promise not to be angry with me?” she asked.

  “I promise.” His eyes blazed, though not with anger.

  “I saw you, that day at the jeweler’s. I didn’t mean to see what I did. But once I realized you might be buying me a ring, I couldn’t let you give up something I could tell was dear to you.”

  “All this time you’ve kept it?”

  “I was afraid you would be angry with me for buying it back, but I couldn’t leave it there. It belongs to you. You’re not upset, are you?”

  His thumb brushed over the silver lid of the watch before he set it on the table by her washbasin. He unbuttoned his waistcoat methodically, then removed his shirt. He loosened the placket of his trousers, but didn’t remove them.

  “Vaughn…”

  “Remove your shift,” he commanded. His voice was low and dark. His eyes, however, promised that wicked, forbidden fantasies would be fulfilled. She stood uneasily in the wake of his intense gaze. “Now.”

  She rushed to remove her shift. He plucked it from her hands the moment it was free of her. He folded it and set it on the armchair by her vanity table.

  “When we sleep, you will remove your shift. I like to be beside you skin to skin,” he murmured as he reached up to trail a finger along her collarbone.

  Perdita shivered and moved to cover her breasts, but his dark gaze stopped her.

  “In this room, I am in control,” he reminded her. She nodded, her body heating. She would never let him control her outside of bed, but in bed she would willingly succumb. She craved his commands, his control. It was both thrilling and exciting.

  “Lie back for me, darling.”

  She did so, trying to lift her head to see him as he retrieved his neckcloth from his shirt.

  “What—”

  He hushed her as he came back to the bed. He took her wrists and bound them together with the cloth. Then he raised her hands above her head and tied them to one of the bedposts.

  Perdita’s heart raced. She struggled against the restraints but couldn’t get free.

  “Here, alone, we can indulge our dark sides,” he said, a smile curving his lips at the corners. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” She did trust him. The bandage around his shoulder reminded her that this man would give his life for her.

  “Good.” He climbed onto the bed, c
aging her body as he kissed her. His lips moved expertly over hers. Then he traced a burning path down to her bare breasts. Perdita sucked in air as his lips fastened around one nipple. It was an overpowering sensation to feel his hot mouth on her breasts, sucking. He nipped the tender bud, a whisper of pain blending in with the pleasure before he moved to her other breast. He moved lower and lower down her body. Her thighs clenched together, but he shoved them apart.

  “You’re such a pretty pink,” he whispered against her mound before he kissed her inner thighs. She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with another of his wicked looks.

  “You’re mine, sweeting. To play with, to taste. You may only say ‘my lord’ or make sounds of pleasure. Understand?”

  She gave a jerky nod and then gasped in shock as he licked her down there. The unexpected burst of sensations had her whimpering, her thighs shaking. His tongue continued playing with her folds and caressing her before he closed his lips around her throbbing bud. Then he sucked on that bundle of nerves, and she screamed in shock at the hard rush of pleasure that exploded through her.

  “That’s it,” he coaxed gently as she drifted down from the exquisite high.

  “My lord…” She panted softly, barely able to think past those two words.

  “Yes?”

  She had closed her eyes, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “You are the most wicked man in London. Nay, in England.”

  His chuckle surprised her.

  “Well, you did marry the Devil of London.” He rolled her onto her stomach. Then, without warning, he smacked her arse with his hand. The blow was not hard, but it made her squeak in surprise. He did it twice more, then stroked his palm soothingly over her bottom. It felt wonderful on the slightly stinging skin. Then she was turned on her back once more as he leaned over her.

  “Too much?” he asked.

  “No, my lord.”

  “Good.” He pressed a heated kiss to her lips before he settled on his knees between her parted thighs. Then he lifted her hips, bringing her close to his lap but lifting her up enough that she could see her body. He tugged his trousers down, and his erection jutted toward her.

  “Watch while I claim you,” he ordered. There was a growl in his voice, a hint of the animal just beneath his skin that made her shiver in anticipation. He guided his shaft into her.

  “Bloody Christ, you’re tight.” He pushed deeper and deeper into her. She watched in aroused fascination as they joined completely.

  He began to thrust into her until they both made soft sounds at the back of their throats as their bodies joined over and over again. “Don’t look away. Don’t shut your eyes.” The muscles of his chest and arms bunched as he pumped into her, and she couldn’t look away, even if she wanted to. Her dark god of the underworld was owning her, body and soul. When their eyes met, she saw in that blinding instant as they came apart at the same time that she owned him too.

  Hours later, Perdita lay on top of Vaughn, her legs now tangled with his, their bodies damp, and his slowly measured breathing, that of a man almost asleep, was comforting.

  “It wasn’t too much?” he asked.

  She lifted her face to rest her chin on his chest. “No. It was perfect.”

  The boyish grin she adored was back. He toyed with a lock of her hair, spooling it around one of his fingers.

  “A man could get spoiled having you for a wife.”

  “Indeed. I am wonderful,” she agreed, biting back a smile.

  “Cheeky little chit.” He slapped her buttocks with his free hand, and she hissed. He had shown her his dark desires tonight, and she had discovered that hers matched his.

  This beautiful, mysterious man loves me. He excites me. He makes me feel alive.

  She kissed his chest and laid her head back down.

  “Tell me we shall always be like this.”

  “It will always be like this. Except for, of course, when the children are old enough to sneak out of the nursery to find us. It will be even more fun evading the scamps to get a moment alone.” He laughed, the rich sound rumbling deep from his chest.

  “You want children?”

  “More than anything, except for you.”

  She held on to him even tighter. “I’m glad of that.”

  He nuzzled her cheek and placed a kiss on her temple. “Are you truly happy to be my wife?”

  She lifted her head again. “Infinitely so. And you? Are you happy to be my husband?”

  His eyes were serious. “I am. There is something indescribable about the joy of sharing myself with you, of letting you into my heart. It was frightening at first, but now I can’t imagine a day without you.”

  “So you love me?” She tried to sound teasing, but she had to hear the words from him.

  “I do. I love you to distraction, to the depths of my soul and beyond.”

  “I love you too. My white knight.” She brushed a hand over his chest. She’d come to realize that a man in perfect shining armor was a man who’d never been tested. Vaughn, in his tarnished armor, had proven how strong his mettle truly was more than once, and he loved her in ways she’d never dreamed of.

  She slid up a few inches to kiss him, knowing that she had found love at last. It was on his lips, on his tongue, and in the way he held her. She knew snow was falling outside tonight and whispered a silent prayer of thanks for the gift of loving someone who loved her in return. It was the sort of miracle she had long given up hope on ever having.

  Christmas, after all, was a season for hope, for miracles, for faith, and for love unending.

  Tamed for Christmas

  Sandra Sookoo

  Chapter 1

  Five days before Christmas

  London, England, 1817

  “What do you mean I need to go after Emily?”

  Mr. Cecil Tame stared at his sister Jocelyn with something akin to horror growing in his chest. She sat on a brocade settee in the parlor of his rented London townhouse, twisting her hands in her lap, but there was no clue to her announcement in her expression. “Why can you not collect her? Emily is your daughter, after all.” The last thing he wanted to do was spend his afternoon with an almost fifteen-year-old girl. His experience with adolescents—male or female—was extremely limited. He glanced at his only sister, the youngest of the four Tame siblings, and his heart lurched. The trouble was, he’d always done whatever she’d asked. This current situation was no different. Clasping his hands behind his back, he narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong.”

  “Then why ask this of me?” He was nothing if not forthright.

  She heaved a sigh. “Cecil, you have to do this. There’s no one else to ask. I’m at my wit’s end.” She laced her fingers together and kept her gaze on them. “Mother and Father are in Spain visiting with Avery before his regiment ships out again, and Alan is still in India. Lord knows when he’ll return to England. I have no one else to turn to.”

  “This is true.” Except, he’d just recently come back from America, anticipating his brother Alan’s imminent arrival, of which would not happen soon for reasons his brother had yet to explain by letter. Now, when he’d thought he’d retire before a warm hearth with a good book and a glass of fine brandy, he’d been tapped for a long journey in the cold.

  “And you know you wanted to look over the Brighton property again before winter truly sets in,” Jocelyn reminded him in a sing-song voice. “I have something else pressing I must attend.”

  “Also true.” He did want to put the Brighton property to rights. He also contemplated hiding away at the shore from the dearth of Christmastide invitations in Town—something he had no interest in. After all, Brighton was the center of the Tame world when they weren’t all assembled in London for formal events, and with his parents out of pocket, he could easily return to the seaside for the holiday, and pass the time there without need for social interaction. “What am I supposed to do with your daughter once I retrieve her from school
?”

  “That’s what I need to talk to you about.” Jocelyn raised her gaze to his. Desperation and exhaustion swam in her hazel depths. “I love Emily to distraction. She’s the best thing that happened from my brief marriage. You know this.” The tendons in her neck worked with a hard swallow. “However, I must get away. I need distance. This age with her is trying and my patience is wearing thin, and with the holiday approaching, and the memories it will bring, I cannot…”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” As he looked closer, he recognized the lines of strain on her once smooth forehead and the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. No longer was she the carefree young woman she once was or even the naïve, loving girl who found herself in a hasty marriage at sixteen with a newborn nine months later. She’d always been delicate and appeared even more so now.

  “When did I have the chance? You and the other boys have made careers of gallivanting all over the world, pursuing your own desires and interests, content with certain freedoms only men are given in this day and age. You’ve left me here, a widow and mother. Alone.” She stifled a sob. “I cannot take much more. I need time for myself, to rediscover who I am, to think in the quiet. To reorder my life for the good of my child.”

  Cecil’s stomach clenched. “I apologize. I never knew.” That didn’t bode well. “It sounds as if you wish to run away—without Emily.” He worked his jaw as he searched for words. “Is this true?”

  “Yes.” The word came out on a whisper. “It feels as if I’ve already lived a lifetime, Cecil. I never had a Season. I never had the chance to be properly courted or to experience the world and live a carefree life like you and Avery and Alan.”

  “And?”

  She swallowed again. “I need a bit of adventure before I settle down into the next phase, especially now that the weather has been so dismal and cold, before I have to figure out how to launch Emily into Society—in London or in Brighton—or, heaven forbid, see her married as early as I was. I rather hope she’ll make a smarter decision than I did.”