Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  “Of making use of my first name.” He edged closer to her, so close that their bodies almost touched, never releasing her hand. “I would like to hear you say it.”

  “Oh, very well… Cecil.” Shivers ran up and down her spine. It had been years since she’d been discombobulated by a man’s proximity, years since her body cried out to know the touch of one.

  He pressed his free hand to his heart. “I never thought my name would sound anything except mundane, but from your lips and in your voice, it has life.”

  Tremors moved through her belly from the compliment, and she smiled. “I rather doubt that.” When he remained silent, waiting in expectation, she said on a rush, “I suppose it’s only fair that you call me Phoebe.” Why did her voice sound so breathless? She’d been married and widowed, for heaven’s sake. There was no reason to be this nervous or affected. “Cecil,” she added for good measure.

  His gaze dropped to her lips. Another round of tingles, this time heated, played between her thighs as she stared back at him, her breath coming in tiny pants, her lips parting ever so slightly in the event he might dare to kiss her… Then he shook his head, took a deep breath, let it out and stepped backward, releasing her hand. A startled expression crossed his face as if he’d just woken from a dream. “There’s no reason for you to agree to my request, and we don’t know each other outside of this meeting, but I love my niece. She’s already lost her father and is on the verge of perhaps losing her mother as well. I want to do right by her. I cannot do that unless you help me, Phoebe.”

  Her pulse accelerated. Never had she thought her name particularly beautiful or romantic before, but from him, it seemed the case, and that intrigued her even more. “I appreciate your concern.” Not knowing what else to do, she crossed her arms over her chest. “However, I don’t know how much help I can give you.” Especially when she felt as if she’d melt into a puddle merely from being in the same room as him. Her heart broke at his crestfallen expression. Then she made a rash decision that was so far removed from her usual adherence to decorum and rules, it shook her soul. “That being said, perhaps I could make an exception for a few weeks until you can find a more suitable companion. In the meantime, we can pray that her mother returns home swiftly.”

  It was as if the sun had finally come out, and all from the smile of relief that moved over his face. “Thank you so much.” Without a by-your-leave, Cecil closed the distance and swept her up in a hug. A strong, masculine scent of pine and snow enveloped her; it made her want to cling to him all the longer. Just when she reached to wrap her arms about his splendid shoulders, he said, “Oh, I beg your pardon.” He sobered and let her go. “I let enthusiasm and relief get the best of me.”

  “Think nothing of it.” But she couldn’t forget that brief moment when his arms had come around her and made her feel like a vibrant woman again. Neither could she successfully quell the rising disappointment in her breast. “There are a few arrangements I need to make before I can accommodate your request.”

  “Of course. Take as long as you need.” He headed to the parlor door with a bounce in his step he certainly didn’t have when he arrived. “I suppose I’ll break the news to Emily.”

  Phoebe nodded. “Until I can inform my son he’ll need to stay with my sister, it would be best if Emily stays with me at my house while I pack my possessions. It shouldn’t take more than a day at best.” Her stomach clenched at the prospect of having a young lady underfoot, and one who considered her worse than an unwanted relative. For the sake of the child, she would put herself into the mousetrap.

  “You are a brave woman, Miss Pennyroyal.”

  “Perhaps, but like you, I care for your niece as I would for any girl under my protection.” She worried her bottom lip. “The girls’ rooms are on the second floor. You’ll find your niece in the first room to the left of the stairs.”

  “My thanks, once again.” He nodded and then he was off.

  Phoebe stared at the empty doorway long after he’d departed. Agreeing to be the girl’s companion wasn’t the most intelligent decision she’d ever made, but it would do in a pinch. She would simply need to ignore her silly reaction to him and forget the dream of finding love again at her age. Cecil Tame wasn’t the sort of man a middle-aged woman—or any woman for that matter—thought to marry. He was too much a wanderer at heart regardless of his obvious affection for his embattled sister and recalcitrant niece.

  Chapter 3

  “You may protest all you want, Miss Bertrand, but it won’t change either of our situations.” Phoebe led her up a set of narrow, wooden stairs once they’d arrived at her cozy row house near the school. “For tonight, you’ll stay with me then we’ll both move into your uncle’s house where I’ll be your companion. End of discussion.”

  “I wasn’t given the chance to have a discussion. You and Uncle Cecil treat me like a prisoner.” Emily shoved past Phoebe and stormed into the small spare bedroom. She tossed her valise onto the bed. The two trunks had gone with Cecil. “I cannot believe you agreed to such an outrageous thing.” The girl flounced onto the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression resembled a thundercloud. “How ridiculous and what am I to tell my friends by way of explanation?”

  “That is not my concern.” Phoebe tamped the urge to roll her eyes. Such dramatics. “It’s not an ideal situation, I’ll admit. At the moment, there is nothing else to do.” She lingered in the doorway. The girl was obviously anxious and annoyed. Both situations were out of her control, but she couldn’t help that. “Your uncle is trying his best. Please don’t make things more difficult than they need to be. It is a trying time for all of you.”

  “What can you possibly know of it?” Emily focused her glare on the wall in front of her. “My mother left me because she cannot bear to remain in England where everything reminds her of something sad. My father died in the war shortly after I was born. I never knew him. And my uncles.” Emily tossed her head in the way only a young woman gripped with righteous indignation could. Her curls flounced. “They are always hither and yon around the world, pursuing their own interests and having adventures. I am alone.”

  “Well, you’re not really alone. You have me.” Emily’s summation of her circumstances tugged at Phoebe’s heart.

  The young lady scoffed. “You’re a teacher.” As if being an educator was like having the plague. She turned her back to the door. “Go away, Miss Pennyroyal. I just want to go to bed and make this horrible day end so I can start my sentence.”

  This time Phoebe did roll her eyes. Every young person went through a martyr stage. Apparently, Emily’s was in full force just in time for Christmas. “Very well. If you should have need for me in the night, I’m next down.” Phoebe pulled the door closed behind her then traversed the short hallway to her room. She sighed as she closed her own door.

  The poor girl. That age was tough enough without the hardships Emily had listed. Phoebe fretted as she performed her nightly ablutions and donned a long-sleeved, cotton night rail. While in the process of braiding her waist-length, blonde hair for sleeping, she sucked in a breath as a new thought occurred.

  Was it too bacon-brained to consider? The idea banging about her brain was perfect, but there was every possibility Cecil would not be pleased. The thought of his annoyance brought knots into her stomach. They’d only just met, and he’d elicited a certain reaction from her. However, it might be just the thing to placate Emily and keep the peace for a while. The risk of his ire would be more than worth it.

  Phoebe yanked open her door, marched down the hall and rapped on Emily’s. When a surly “come in” sounded from within, she pushed the portal open and came midway into the girl’s room. Emily was already under the covers with the quilt pulled up to her chin. A candle still burned on the nightstand. A tiny wooden Christmas elf, no doubt pulled from the valise, resided next to the candle—the only evidence of the holiday to be found within the room. With her hair down and her form swallowed by bedclothes, she
more resembled a vulnerable child than a young lady on the cusp of womanhood. “In order to make this transition easier for you, me and your uncle, I have a proposal for you.”

  “What? There’s nothing that could make this better. Especially since some of my friends have removed to their homes in London, far away from Brighton.” She sounded so forlorn, Phoebe nearly laughed at her. How well she remembered being that age and thinking every tiny ripple in life’s pond had the effect of a hurricane, when in reality it would be forgotten in a month.

  “You’ll turn fifteen next week. Perhaps we should convince your uncle to let you throw a house party for some of your local friends, Christmas themed of course. With mince pies and decorations and lively music. Perhaps a few games. It will make the transition easier.” Phoebe fought hard to keep the grin from her expression. She didn’t want to seem victorious or smug. “In this way, you could be introduced to Brighton society in a small version of a Come Out while your mother is indisposed, and take the pressure from your uncle at the same time. Plus, it would make you both shine, and you can practice the skills you’ve learned thus far.”

  “Truly?” Emily slid upright in the bed. The quilt tumbled down revealing the pretty embroidery on the front placket of her night rail. “Do you mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” She never said anything she didn’t mean. Phoebe despised the snippy tone in her voice and reminded herself to handle the girl with the proverbial kid gloves. “Also, if the house party is successful, perhaps your uncle will be more inclined to host a dinner party and let you play hostess. You will gain valuable experience as well as meet more influential members of the community, who, in turn, might offer invitations to other events of more prominent influence.” Dear heavens, at least she hoped Cecil would do such a thing. The obstacle would be in convincing him to agree to the house party. It was all a bit of a gamble. “If your uncle intends to remain in Brighton for a while, this could be beneficial to you both.” Her chest tightened. I hope he does not remove back to London so soon.

  “Miss Pennyroyal, you are a gem!” Emily squealed in apparent glee. She kicked her feet as if she were a toddler. “But, I cannot believe you remembered my birthday.”

  Phoebe frowned. “Why not? You are one of my students as well as a charge in my school. I take an interest in every one of my girls.”

  “I apologize. I assumed that teachers wished to be rid of us as soon as the term ended as much as we want to be gone from the school.” Emily threw back the bedclothes and slipped from the bed. She padded across the floor and stood directly in front of Phoebe. “I’m a bit gobsmacked that a teacher would suggest something so… fun.”

  “Contrary to popular belief, teachers are quite capable of such.” Phoebe couldn’t help her smile. “And we do exist in the world outside of the school, in case you wondered.” Her smile widened into a grin as she recalled a time last year when she’d gone to the local market and happened to run into a student. The girl had been so mortified that she hid behind a display of aprons until Phoebe had concluded her shopping.

  A pretty blush stained Emily’s cheeks. If she could hone that skill and bring it out on command, she’d capture more than a few hearts sooner rather than later. “I suppose I’ve treated you and the other teachers abominably over the term.”

  Ah, the girl is learning. “Think nothing of it. The term is over, and we are both on holiday. Whatever happened is behind us.” Inside, Phoebe rejoiced. It was the closest thing to an apology she’d probably have from the girl, and it was enough. They had reached a tentative peace. “So, are you willing to help me convince your uncle?”

  “Yes, of course.” Emily beamed. She stood awkwardly, as if poised for flight, then she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around Phoebe. “Thank you for doing this. It means so much.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  Wisely, Phoebe pretended she hadn’t heard that slight tell of emotion. “Well, it’s not a guarantee until we talk to you uncle.” She held the girl at arm’s length. “I have no doubt we can bring him ‘round to our way of thinking.” Though how she’d do that still eluded her. It wasn’t as if she’d persuade him with looks or wiles. She could barely utter a full sentence in his presence.

  “Leave it to me, Miss Pennyroyal. I’m quite skilled in extracting promises and gifts from my uncle.” The girl scampered back into bed and under the covers. “After all, I am his only niece. He’d give me the moon if I asked for it.”

  Phoebe had no doubt that he would. From everything she’d seen from him so far, he doted on her. How many men—and bachelors at that—would willingly take in a nearly orphaned niece? “Hold onto that thought, Miss Bertrand. We may need all the luck we can get.” She pressed her lips together as another thought occurred. “Also, I do know how you feel, at least a little bit.” After crossing the room, she stood at Emily’s bed side. “I lost my husband after he dealt with an illness a handful of years ago.” She didn’t know how wise it was to share such information with a student, but it felt right in the moment.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss Pennyroyal. I didn’t know.” The girl’s eyes were limpid with curiosity.

  “No, not many people do.” She didn’t want their sympathy or pitying glances, so she hadn’t let the knowledge out past trusted friends. “I… wasn’t ready to let him go, didn’t know how I’d survive without him, but, with time, not having him around has gotten easier. He’s no longer in pain and he made me happy. For that I’m grateful, and I’ve managed rather well on my own with my son.” Her throat tightened at the end of speech. She swallowed hard. Though she would have liked for Max to have a male figure to look up to and teach him how to be a fair and decent gentleman, it had never happened. They’d both gotten through life the best they could. As she’d said to Emily, she’d managed rather well. “I hope for the best where your mother is concerned.”

  Tears welled in Emily’s eyes. She blinked them away. “I hope so too,” she whispered then she flipped onto her side and faced away from Phoebe.

  “Goodnight, Emily. There is still much to look forward to.” Phoebe patted the girl’s shoulder, then she blew out the candle and left the room.

  Four days before Christmas

  Phoebe’s stomach twisted as she followed Emily to the front door of the Tame residence on St. James Street. Cecil had sent a carriage for them and their luggage. During the short trip across town, Emily had sat silently and with her face turned toward the window, presumably watching the ever-present rain. Phoebe didn’t have the energy to concentrate on her own anxiety as well as try to cajole Emily into a better mood, so she’d remained just as quiet. The concept of a house party thrown during the most wretched weather seemed silly now that she’d had a night to ponder it. Perhaps if they had snow instead of rain… Yet, she couldn’t disappoint Emily, not after they’d shared a tenuous bond the night before.

  She sighed, and the relentless rain swallowed the sound. Her breath puffed in the chilly air. It is cold enough, dash it all, why could it not just snow?

  Now, as the green painted front door to the townhouse that sat in the middle of a long row of similar homes on the waterfront opened, butterflies invaded her belly. This was the first time staying in a man’s home since she married her husband and left London to live with him in Brighton. Not that she’d be installed in the Tame home for that reason. She fought off the urge to grimace even as familiar heat zipped through her veins. And he was not the sort of man to do anything that wasn’t proper. Wasn’t he? She knew him not at all. Panic tapped on her spine. This is only for a short while until a better candidate can be found. I’ll be fine.

  “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Bertrand.” An older gentleman stepped out from a side room. “May I take your coat?” He slid his gray gaze to Phoebe. “And you, miss?”

  Before she could do much more than unbutton her spencer or see to the ties of the cloak she couldn’t leave behind, a shiver shot down her spine. He was
near. The baby fine hairs on the back of her neck quivered and gooseflesh popped on her skin. She didn’t need to turn around to know.

  “I see the two of you survived the night together.” Was that surprise in his voice? The cheek of the man.

  Phoebe glanced toward the staircase winding up the center of the townhouse in a square shape. Her breath caught. Her fingers stilled on her buttons. The flutters in her stomach increased. A rush of warmth circled low in her belly. Cecil descended the last leg of the stairs, looking as dapper and handsome as he had the day before. Now that he wasn’t covered in a great coat, she looked her fill. Today, his tailcoat was a bottle green, and paired with fawn-colored trousers and a green-and-cream striped waistcoat, it proclaimed him a man who cared about the image he presented to the world at large.

  Plus, his thighs were as taut and muscled as she’d imagined yesterday in the parlor. Dear heavens, why can’t I look away? It wasn’t as if she were a girl just out of the schoolroom given to blushes and flirtatious glances. She’d known the physical side of what happened between men and women. Appreciating a fine male form was not a crime. “Good morning, Mr. Tame, er… Cecil.” Heat jumped into her cheeks as Emily snickered. “And yes, Miss Bertrand and I got along famously after we found common ground.”

  “That’s good to hear.” When he reached the foyer, he clasped his hands behind his back and approached them both. “Phoebe, please hand over your outer wear to Haynes. You’re dripping on my floor.”

  “Right.” Quickly, she removed the spencer while Emily gave hers to the butler. “I apologize for—”

  Emily nudged her arm. “Uncle is joking. He thinks he’s as funny to other people as he is in his own head.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him overly much.”

  “Drat. It would seem my secret is out.” Cecil grinned, and the light in his eyes danced. “Emily, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with Phoebe for a moment before I show her around the house.”