Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  “Um, that depends. Are you planning to discuss a certain item with him, Miss Pennyroyal?” Emily lifted an eyebrow.

  “I think that conversation would be more appropriate over dinner. I don’t want to overwhelm your uncle all at once.” She hoped Emily would take the hint. When she did, and ran up the stairs, Phoebe let out a sigh of relief. Had it been a bad idea to offer a tiny bit of freedom to the girl?

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the two of you are planning mayhem.” He offered her his arm. “Is there something I should know?”

  “At the moment, no.” She placed her fingers on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her up to the next level. “This staircase is beautiful. I like the way rooms open from each side of the square.” The airy corridors looked down into the foyer where she caught a glimpse of Haynes as he went about his duties. At the next turn, he wielded a mop, presumably to take care of the water she and Emily left all over the marble. A couple of footmen crossed the area, both carrying her bags.

  “Thank you. My father designed this particular townhouse a decade ago. He was a ship’s captain and one of the finest merchants I’ve ever seen. He made his fortune twice over in trade, so built this house with pride. Once some of the residents saw the originality of it, they, of course, wished to copy it, but the renovations are quite costly. This way into my study.” He pulled her around another two sides of the hall then into a dark-paneled room. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am you agreed to do this.”

  “I couldn’t very well leave you or Emily in the lurch.” Phoebe slipped into a hard leather chair across from his massive desk. One glance around the masculine room was and she felt as if she’d peered inside Cecil’s soul. From the dark-wood and leather furniture to the shelves of books ranging in a variety of subjects to the crystal decanters of various liqueurs and wines on the credenza behind his desk to the hand-drawn maps of places the world over framed on the walls, all of it screamed of a man comfortable with his life.

  Cecil seated himself behind the desk. “I appreciate it just the same. I want to make certain Emily has a pleasant entry into the adult world. She deserves some brightness in her life, and gaiety while she is here.”

  “I agree.” Phoebe clasped her hands together in her lap. Her fingers were cold inside the lacy gloves. “If you could give me a clue as to what I’m supposed to do while posing as her companion? Am I to escort her to social events while in your company?” A tingle played down her spine. No doubt he moved in higher circles than she for all that he didn’t hold a title, and the opportunity to glimpse how a portion of people different from herself lived intrigued her. If nothing else, it would provide fuel for daydreams.

  “Perhaps. It hadn’t occurred to me to introduce Emily to the local gentry and people of influence, perhaps some of my business associates’ families, but you have a point. This might be the perfect opportunity, especially now that you’re here.” His rich brown gaze landed on her, assessing, speculating. “Do you enjoy attending parties, Phoebe? It is Christmastide, after all, and there have been more than enough invitations issued to me.”

  Her breathing shallowed. Would she ever become accustomed to hearing him say her name? Act your age, my girl. You’re long past the time in your life for thrills. “It hasn’t been something I’ve made a habit of doing since the life of a headmistress doesn’t afford much time for socializing past school events. Christmas, perhaps, can be the exception.” On the way in, she hadn’t failed to notice there were no signs of the holiday around the townhouse. Did he not celebrate?

  “Well then, now I have even more incentive to wrangle your companionship.” A grin followed the statement.

  Flutters multiplied in her stomach. She ignored them. I’m much too old to mistake regular manners for flirting. “Thank you. For the moment, it might be best if the three of us eased into domestic pursuits here, such as bedecking your halls with holly and evergreens.”

  “That can be arranged. I know the servants will appreciate a festive air.”

  She nodded. It was refreshing to know she wouldn’t need to manage him into acquiescing to her requests. “Also, I’d like to know where I’ll be staying for the time being, as well as what to expect from you while we’re all under the same roof. What are your directives regarding meals and—”

  Cecil held up a hand, interrupting her. “Do you often hide behind efficiency?” He raised one of his eyebrows.

  “Of course not. This is merely how I conduct every aspect of my life.” Did he not like having tasks completed in a timely manner? “And the questions do need answered.”

  “Perhaps during your time here, you’ll find a way, and a reason, to relax and even enjoy yourself during the holiday. After all, you are off from the term as well and have earned the down time.” One corner of his mouth tipped upward.

  The consideration rendered her speechless. What sort of man was this?

  “However, yes, I’d be happy to show you to your chamber. As for what to expect.” He rose, came around the desk then leaned a hip against it with his arms crossed over his chest. “Expect nothing except rest and indulging in whatever festal thing your heart can imagine. It is Christmastide, after all, and we have much to be thankful for.” His gaze bore into hers, intense but unreadable. “Keep Emily happy and her mind off her mother. Go shopping with her, do whatever it is females do.”

  “I’m not certain how efficient I shall be in such tasks,” she said in a soft voice. Did she even own a gown suitable for a fancy party?

  “You will manage.” A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “I want you to attend dinner with me and discuss something other than this horrible weather. Perhaps we can discuss our childhoods when there was snow.” He shrugged. “For the next few weeks, you’re not required to do anything you don’t want nor keep to a schedule. Sleep late abed if you desire.”

  Her mind skittered to dark places. Will you join me in said bed, Mr. Tame? Kiss me with that firm, supple mouth? She shook her head in an effort to clear the thoughts she had no right to. “I’m not sure I can adhere to that rule.”

  “Surely you don’t wish to go against your host’s wishes?” With another charming smile that did strange things to her insides and sent moisture between her thighs, Cecil pushed off the desk, grabbed one of her hands and pulled her to her feet. “In fact, I insist on you doing nothing except enjoyable endeavors. Phoebe, I want you to remember every enchanted moment of your time away from the school. Even stubborn headmistresses must indulge in fancy every now and again.” A wicked twinkle appeared in the dark depths of his eyes.

  Phoebe sucked in a breath as he brought her hand to his lips and placed a warm kiss on her middle knuckle. Tiny flames erupted into her blood. What did he mean by that? “I shall do the best I can.” Tremors rocked her stomach. Heat blazed through her body in a way it hadn’t done for years. Never would she forget her stay here, not when every touch, every glance, the pressure of his fingers gripping hers awoke feelings she thought long dead.

  He leaned closer and placed his lips to her ear. “Try, for me. I’m quite certain the two of us older folk can find something interesting to keep us occupied.” When he pulled away, his grin was as wicked as that dratted glint.

  “Perhaps.” And to think, she would risk this pleasant partnership by asking him at dinner this evening to consider a Christmas house party. Nothing like jumping into her new life feet first.

  Chapter 4

  Cecil hummed as his valet, Banks, selected a cravat from a drawer in the armoire. He was in an uncommonly jovial mood, and not because it was nearing dinner time.

  Granted, he had an excellent cook, but the only difference tonight was the addition of Phoebe as well as Emily. Yet it wasn’t his niece his mind dwelled on; it was the slender headmistresses with more than her fair share of generous curves in all the right places and her forward way of speaking that intrigued him with every word. “What color of tailcoat should I choose, Banks?” He held up a tan coat as well as one in sky bl
ue, nearly the same color as Phoebe’s eyes. “I must say I quite favor the blue.” Though not because it paled when compared to the hue of her eyes. What would it take to see those orbs sparkle with life and humor? When she was gripped with strong emotion such as passion or desire, would they remain that color or would they deepen?

  What sort of sounds would she make when kissed or caressed?

  The valet turned with a snowy length of fabric draped over one arm. He regarded both coats and his somber expression didn’t change. Which didn’t mean much. Banks had traveled the world with him, more comfortable in a servant’s role than that of a chum, and in all the years the man had been with him, Cecil had never seen him develop even a speck of humor. “Both are fine choices, sir. However, the blue is more dapper. Let me see if I can locate the gold waistcoat.”

  “Excellent.” Cecil tossed the tan coat onto the back of a chair. He snagged the cravat from Banks before the man returned his attention to the armoire. “I’m pondering the intricacies of a knot tonight. Any suggestions?”

  A huff of exasperation left the other man, muffled by the interior of the clothing cabinet. “It is a family dinner, sir. There is no need to present yourself as you would if you were going out socially.”

  Not even the valet’s stodgy attitude could dim Cecil’s enthusiasm. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” He strode over to the cheval glass then entered into the arduous process of twisting and folding the length of cotton into the particular design he wanted. “This dinner has one different element than an ordinary meal at home.” With a few flourishes, Cecil finished his work. He frowned at himself in the glass. “It’s the first dinner with Miss Pennyroyal. I want to make a favorable impression. She seems difficult to impress.” Were his collar points too high? Not high enough? Would she notice the cravat or should he wear a stick pin? He wasn’t a dandy by any stretch and he certainly didn’t adhere to the ridiculous fashions that were sweeping through society, but he wished to look decent.

  “Indeed, sir.” Banks, with his back ramrod straight and his dark suit looking as if he’d just freshly pressed it, approached Cecil with the gold waistcoat in hand. “I’m certain Miss Bertrand will be quite glad you took the time to dress with care this evening. No doubt she wishes you well turned out for her guest too.” He helped Cecil on with the vest then tied it at his waist.

  Was that a joke? Cecil frowned again. Had Banks attempted to make a sarcastic comment? Regardless, he acknowledged the statement had been rather humorous. “Of course she will, my good man. Every young lady wishes her relatives to look decent and not embarrass them.” He tugged on the bottom of the gold waistcoat. The green embroidered vines and the tiny bluebirds on the fabric gleamed in the candlelight, and with his fawn-colored trousers, he looked quite dashing. “In any event, I wish for the evening to go well. We are planning Christmas festivities.” As Banks helped him shrug into the tight confines of the blue superfine jacket, Cecil grinned. “And it’s been some time since I sat down to a formal table with anyone who wasn’t a sailor or connected with trade. I rather think I’ll enjoy myself.”

  “Very good, sir.” Banks procured a lint brush then ran it along Cecil’s sleeves. “Have a delightful dinner. And do try not to make a cake of yourself. I doubt the elder lady will appreciate it.”

  “No doubt you’re right.” Cecil nodded. She wouldn’t like flattery. Plain speaking was best. He left his room and had made it midway around the second floor when Phoebe exited her room. For the first time in his life, he stood frozen in place, and all because of a woman. His pulse accelerated, and his palms went clammy at the same time. “Miss Pennyroyal.” He forced a swallow into his tight throat. “Phoebe.”

  “Good evening, Cecil.” She nodded, pausing outside her door, clearly waiting for him to catch her up. “You look a good sight better than when I first met you.”

  He came alive at the sound of his name on her lips and wished they were alone and closeted in a forgotten room where she might be prevailed to say it again, this time in husky tones. His prick twitched and he attempted to marshal his thoughts. No sense in giving his body full rein, for she would see his attraction. Cecil closed the distance between them. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Tonight she wore a gown of gray wool with the same long sleeves and high bodice the other one had. “You’re a handsome woman.” As before, her hair was caught back in the severe bun. What would it take for those tresses to flow free?

  “You are quite a liar. I possess a looking glass and know exactly how I appear.” A corner of her mouth tipped upward with a smile. That self-satisfied smirk tugged an answering grin from him. “Well past anything resembling youth, starting to collect wrinkles and my skin has long ago lost a glow.”

  “What gamin you speak.” He gripped her upper arm and guided her down the first row of stairs. The faint scent of roses teased his nose, and the urge to bury it in her hair grew strong. He quelled it, shoving it to the very recesses of his mind lest he once more think about closeting her away in order to discover if her skin would smell the same. “You still retain much of the beauty you probably had in your Come Out days.” The tap tap of her heels kept time as they traversed the corridor then went down the last set of stairs. “I’ll wager you had young men vying for your hand back then.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised.” A tiny sigh escaped her as they gained the ground floor. “I’m not quite so high on the instep that I had a Come Out. Such things are reserved for people more important. Country dances and socials sufficed. I met my husband quite by accident sightseeing while in London with a group of scholars.” She drew him to a halt but her hand lingered on his sleeve. “I long ago learned not to expect attention from the opposite sex. I was lucky my husband wanted me.”

  “Then you settled.” Was hers an unremarkable union?

  “Not exactly. I did love my husband, but ours was no grand passion, if that is what you’re hinting at.” She shrugged. “We were happy. That is a successful marriage.”

  “Perhaps.” How very sad. A woman like Phoebe should always be made to feel vital, needed, cherished even. Cecil nudged her in the direction of the dining room. His chest tightened. He knew what rejection felt like and hated she’d had to experience it in any form. “Well, I’d wager if you had a Come Out today, you’d rival any Incomparable lady in all the ton.” To his way of thinking, she was more gorgeous than any debutante or woman of legend alive. “Some women grow more beautiful with age, and you are proof of that.” He couldn’t stem the flow of his words even if he wanted. “It would seem you’ve surpassed the first and even second bloom of youth.” What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he just vowed not to flatter her?

  She swatted his arm, but the husky laughter that escaped her sent spikes of need through his chest. “How you do go on, but I thank you. It’s not every day a woman receives such a support to her ego.”

  “You should, every day.” He wanted to be the man to hold her and kiss her and tell her for the rest of her life how wonderful and still essential she was. “And dancing. I’ll wager you’re a natural on the floor, held securely in a man’s arms.” Stop talking, man! You’re in danger of babbling.

  One of her blonde eyebrows rose to her hairline. Amusement twinkled in her eyes. “Dancing has its place, but if I were you, I’d save my energy to get through dinner. I suspect you’ll need it.”

  “Meaning?” He tried to draw her to a halt, but she wriggled from his grasp and entered the room ahead of him.

  “Meaning, your niece and I have a topic of some import to discuss with you over dinner tonight, and it would behoove you to keep an open mind about it.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder. Was that mischief sparkling in her gaze? “Also, remember Emily is almost of age for adult responsibilities. Your acceptance will go a long way into making certain her time here is positive.”

  Cecil attempted to puzzle out her exact meaning, but he was unsuccessful. With nothing else to do, he followed her into the dining room and took his customar
y place at the head of the long table that could seat ten people. Tonight, three place settings waited on one end. Phoebe and Emily had already settled. Both ladies stared at him with similar expressions of anticipation, and in Phoebe’s case, apprehension. What could they possibly wish to speak with him about that seemed to have so much importance riding on it?

  “This is a momentous occasion.” he asked while Haynes brought out the first course of a cream of asparagus soup.

  “How so?” Phoebe countered. With efficient movements, she picked up her spoon and tucked into her soup, bringing the utensil to her kissable lips and blowing gently on each bite.

  The slight “o” formed by her lips captivated him. So easily he imagined her delectable lips wrapped around his member… Cecil firmly took himself in hand with a shake of his head even as his prick tightened and press against his breeches. He yanked his gaze from her mouth and focused it on his niece. “It’s the first time I’ve had two such lovely ladies beneath this roof, let alone have them all to myself and gracing my table.” He grabbed his spoon. “I rather like the view.” Once again, his traitorous gaze strayed to Phoebe. A pretty blush stained her cheeks, and Cecil grinned. So, flattery did please her after all. “Emily, Phoebe tells me you have an important subject to discuss this evening. Shall we begin the debate?”

  Emily exchanged an anxious glance with the headmistress. “Last night, Miss Pennyroyal suggested you should let me host a house party for some of my local friends since my birthday is in a few days and it is Christmas.” The girl looked at the older woman, and when she received an encouraging nod, she continued. “She said this would be an introduction of sorts into Brighton society and that it was still proper due to the holiday.”

  “I see.” Though he would do anything for Emily, hosting a house party for a group of young people was not one of them. Not even for the Christmastide season. “I’m not certain that’s such a good idea.” Having more people in the house who were Emily’s friends and contemporaries, all chattering at the same time? He suspected it would do horrible things to his peace of mind.