Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  And would make finding time alone with his new obsession more impossible.

  Emily pouted. She threw a dark look Phoebe’s way. “You said he’d be receptive to the idea.”

  “No. I believe what I said was that it would be difficult to convince him, and so it is.” Phoebe set her spoon down on the table and pinned Cecil with a glance no doubt honed from years of experience dealing with recalcitrant students. He quelled the urge to squirm in his seat, intimidated, but warmth spread through his veins from her regard. How could he convince her to look at him with heat lighting those remarkable eyes? “What about this plan do you find offensive, Mr. Tame?”

  Dash it all. Back to formality. “It’s not that I find it offensive. I merely see such an idea as a loss of sanity.”

  “It is the Christmas season. Emily should have her friends about her during this festal time,” she countered.

  The bit of soup he just put into his mouth tasted like paste as she continued to hold his gaze. He clung to his argument, like the bone-head he was. “There’s simply not enough room in this house to host handfuls of young people.”

  “Stuff and nonsense, Uncle.” Emily pushed away her mostly untouched bowl of soup. “You have two extra bedrooms since Uncle Alan and Uncle Avery haven’t returned home. Plus, if you choose to be stubborn and won’t make use of those rooms, I can fit three girls in mine, one sharing my bed and two others on a pallet on the floor.”

  He smashed the urge to roll his eyes. It would seem the girl had enough of her own stubbornness. “That doesn’t do much for your cause. The noise level alone is off putting.”

  Phoebe softly cleared her throat. “If need be, I’m willing to host a few girls in my room.”

  “Why would you want to?” Cecil stared at her as if she’d just proposed jumping from the roof for entertainment. “After all, you spend most of the year with young ladies. Why would you want to have them populating part of your holiday?”

  Perhaps she didn’t share the same wicked thoughts that he did.

  A tiny smile curved her lips. “Actually, Emily and I were thinking she could invite young men as well. Make it a real house party and afford her a chance to properly shine within mixed society under our supervision, of course.”

  Was the woman mad? “Absolutely not.” He dunked his spoon into his soup with enough force that some of the light green liquid splashed onto the tablecloth. The second boys were added to the mix, the house party became something else entirely. Christmas or not, such a thing wouldn’t happen beneath his roof. “I refuse to play host to young men on the prowl. Emily is too young for that sort of behavior. Plus, your reputation would be in danger as well, Phoebe. This matter is firmly settled.”

  “Miss Pennyroyal, please do something,” Emily hissed from across the table. “He’s getting it all wrong.”

  “Patience. A new strategy is needed,” Phoebe cautioned. She said nothing else for some time.

  Cecil refused to entertain what her new campaign would consist of. The soup course passed in tension-filled silence. Emily had crossed her arms over her chest while Phoebe calmly finished her bowl of soup. He spent the time swirling his spoon through the thick liquid. By the time Haynes supervised the removal of the bowls as well as replacing them with the entrée, Cecil thought he might break apart from the silence. “Well, let’s hear it. I can almost see the plot forming in your brain.”

  “I do not plot.” One of Phoebe’s eyebrows lifted. She took up a knife and fork then gingerly sliced into her roasted quail. “However, I do believe you are wrong on a few points.”

  “Such as?” Not even the rich scent of roasted fowl with creamed potatoes could overcome the twisting in his stomach. She’d probably be more stubborn than he and Emily put together, and she would rout him if given enough time. The idea only intensified his interest in her, and he imagined years stretching out in front of him filled with good-natured banter and debate. Some discussions would heat and spill over into the bedroom, but then, what was the use of attaching himself to someone who couldn’t engage him on every level?

  He shook his head, stunned once more by the direction of his thoughts. Attachment? Not quite. He only just met the woman, yet something about her couldn’t be forgotten. Beyond that, he wished to deepen their connection, if only to see if he’d be successful in plucking the pins and combs from her hair.

  “My reputation is sound. I have no reason to fear inappropriate attention from boys aspiring to be young bucks. I’m a widow besides, and that state affords me a bit more freedom than it does young ladies. Haven’t you used that very reason to bring me into your household already?”

  “Yes, but…” That was to my advantage.

  She slipped a forkful of meat into her mouth, chewed then swallowed, following it with a sip of red wine. “Also, you have no reason to think that by inviting young gentleman to a house party of a few days, they’ll compromise Miss Bertrand.”

  “I do, by experience. I was once their age and couldn’t wait to bedevil the young ladies.” He fought off the rush of warmth that raced up the back of his neck into his ears. And wasn’t that what he was still, if his thoughts toward the headmistress were any indication?

  Phoebe chuckled. “Yes, well, be that as it may, the house party is needed. That being said, perhaps you would unbend enough to chaperone and keep an eye on any young men we do invite. Provide a good example, Mr. Tame.”

  He gritted his teeth. Why would she not consent to saying his Christian name again? “Where would you have me put them?”

  She pinned him with a look brimming with such steely determination he felt his willpower slip. “You could always give up your bedroom. Four boys could easily stay there. It’s on the complete opposite side of the house from the rooms Miss Bertrand and I occupy, and most definitely not merely ‘down the hall’ as you had led me to believe. Or, barring that, you could house them in the front parlor. We shall set up an evergreen tree like they do in the Bavarian regions. Perhaps have a decorating party of an afternoon.”

  Emily clenched her hands but she said nothing, merely glanced between them with worried eyes.

  “It’s what they’ll try to do when I’m sleeping that has me worried.” Cecil cut up his bird until bits of it decorated his plate. He could eat none of it for his appetite had fled. “My answer is still no.”

  “Uncle, please!” Emily flounced from her chair. She threw herself onto her knees at his feet and clasped one of his hands in hers. “I rarely ask you for much.”

  Cecil snorted. “Ah, then I suppose three months ago when you wrote me begging me to bring you home a gown from America in their fashion, that was a rarity? Or last year when you whined until I gave you the ring I bought in France that I’d hoped to keep back for your Christmas gift?”

  A blush stole across her face. “I was still a child then. Now, I’m nearly grown, and this would help launch me into Society. I’d be the first girl in my class to play hostess, which would give me greater experience and people would remember my name.”

  “So, because you’re almost an adult, I’m supposed to still cater to your every whim?” He let loose a chuckle. “Not winning your argument, my girl.”

  “Don’t you love me, Uncle Cecil?” Her pout was no doubt designed to play off her looks and make members of the opposite sex run to do her bidding. How he loathed the day when she put it into play during courtship, which was exactly why he didn’t wish for young men to be underfoot. “After the stress of having Mother leave, surely you don’t mean to deny me in this? It’s the only thing I want for Christmas. And you don’t even need to get me a birthday present this year. I will never complain.”

  “Careful, Miss Bertrand, doing it much too brown,” Phoebe warned. She continued to eat her dinner as if nothing of import occurred around her. Damn her even temper!

  “Of course I love you.” He patted the top of her head like he’d done when she’d been a child. Yet she was no longer a child, this was true, and as such, he should treat h
er with more respect. “How would you keep your friends occupied in the event of rain? I rather doubt the heavens will open and the sun smile upon you just for this party. I cannot even guarantee snow, for England’s weather is fickle this year.” It had never recovered from events of the last year when the world never saw a summer.

  “I’m sure we’ll find something. Games, or poetry readings, or we’ll talk. We’ll decorate the house, as Miss Pennyroyal said. Perhaps put together charity baskets.” Hope shone from her eyes. “Does this mean you’ll agree?”

  Damn and blast. What sort of man was he if the bright-eye gaze of his niece reduced him to quivering porridge? “If I give up my bedroom, where will I sleep?”

  Phoebe and Emily exchanged a purely feminine glance of triumph. How could they know he weakened? The headmistress said, “There is the parlor or perhaps your study would be more comfortable. Though I would put the boys downstairs, for if you have no control when it comes to a female wanting something from you, I rather doubt young men will either. I suggest you make camp near the staircase. Show them by example.”

  Heat burned up the back of his neck. Example, indeed, when the bulk of his thoughts centered around bedeviling Phoebe into scandalous acts. With a grunt, he looked at her. “How do you know I’ll give in?” He’d barely decided to grant Emily’s request. How did Phoebe know his mind?

  “Are you truly?” Emily clambered to her feet, her eyes sparkling.

  Cecil heaved a sigh. When it came to Emily, apparently he couldn’t bear to disappoint her, and neither could he deny his guest, for the pleading in her eyes was just as compelling. “Don’t expect Cook to make you and your friends snacks and baked goods in excess and befitting the season. Prices of ingredients have risen sharply due to crop failure twice over. You won’t be able to eat your way out of boredom.”

  “I don’t care about that. We’ll make merry regardless.” She danced from foot to foot. “Does that mean you’ll let me have the party?”

  A trill of delighted laughter escaped Phoebe. The sound was so uplifting and unexpected that Cecil stared at her as his jaw dropped. “Miss Bertrand, have some pride after all. Don’t appear quite so desperate.”

  He would give anything to hear that laugh again and often. “Very well. I give my permission for a Christmas house party.” As Emily launched herself into his arms, he grunted once more. “However, for no longer than four days and invite no more than ten people. Let’s hope they can accept your invite at such a late date. And you must mind what I and Miss Pennyroyal say without question. Understand?”

  And don’t come looking for us if I manage to spirit Phoebe away for a few stolen kisses.

  “Yes. I’ll do whatever you say. Thank you. Thank you!” She planted a kiss on his cheek, then released him and rushed to the other side of the table where she threw her arms around Phoebe’s neck and hugged her. “Thank you for the idea, Miss Pennyroyal. I promise not to disappoint you in my deportment.”

  “You’re certainly welcome.” She extricated herself from the girl’s embrace. “I expect you to be the perfect model of young womanhood. No sneaking off to rendezvous with a boy, no slipping through darkened corridors to try and steal a kiss.” She sent a speaking glance his way, and he shifted in place. How the devil could she know his thoughts? “No playing pranks on me or your uncle, for if there’s even a hint of mischief, I shall advise your uncle to send your friends home.”

  “I promise I won’t do any of those things.” Cecil doubted Emily’s feet even touched the ground as she resumed her spot at the table. “Miss Pennyroyal, I think I adore you. I never thought you’d be so nice or willing to do anything exciting for one of your students.”

  “My dear girl, I’m willing to bet there are many things you don’t know about me.” Again, she looked at him, her blue eyes clouded with unreadable emotions. “Or any of the other teachers at your school.” Another round of laughter escaped Phoebe, then both she and Emily chattered on about details of the party planning and gowns for dancing on Christmas night, their dinner forgotten quite forgotten in the fervor.

  Cecil sat back in his chair and couldn’t help his grin. Watching his niece interact with Phoebe and appear to actually enjoy herself was a pleasant experience, but listening to Phoebe’s laughter and seeing the grin that erased years from her face did strange things to his insides and had him wishing once more that they were alone. How much more animated would she be if he kissed her from prim and proper?

  He vowed in that moment to endeavor to keep both the ladies in his life so happy. It was quite a novel feeling, and one he wanted to prolong. The knowledge Phoebe would only be in his house temporarily crept up and threatened to steal his joy. He tamped it down. Right now, he intended to live in the moment.

  And that meant finding the opportunity to beguile her alone.

  Chapter 5

  Two days before Christmas

  Cecil yanked his jacket on as he stared out the window.

  It had been a day since that fateful dinner conversation where he promised Emily her house party. Now, in mere hours, the young people were due to arrive. How they’d managed to convince their own families to let them spend the Holy Day with his family instead of their own, he had no bloody idea, but for the love of Emily, he didn’t question it. They would descend on his house. Like a hoard of locusts. Only singing bloody carols, through the rain as it were.

  He cringed, imagining the endless chatter and noise, the pounding of footsteps up and down the stairs, not to mention the forced, nervous laughter that would invariably result from putting anxious mixed company together for what was likely their first real social event. Add to that the normal holiday festivities and he was already exhausted.

  I must be mad to have agreed.

  No, he knew exactly why he’d agreed. Cecil twitched the curtain open and gazed onto the street. Though still overcast, for once it wasn’t raining. In fact, those fat, gray-swollen clouds could possibly portend snow. His spirits lifted slightly. Snow would make everything more bearable. Beyond the early morning empty street, the gray sea beckoned—a winter’s sea; another good sign. He’d given Emily the go-ahead for her party for no other reason than Phoebe’s smile. That little gesture had pushed him toward Bedlam faster than anything else he’d ever encountered.

  And for the love of that smile, he’d gladly suffer the house party and everything it entailed. If luck favored him, he’d even steal that kiss he desperately wanted, perhaps acquaint himself with the feel of the headmistress in his arms.

  I might need to employ mistletoe.

  “Will you require your usual morning tea, sir?”

  Cecil turned around at the sound of Banks’ voice. “Actually, I will, but first, I intend to walk the shore and take advantage of the lull in the weather.”

  “Very well. Looks like snow now though. Ring me when you return.” He gave a modified bow then left the room.

  Poor Banks. He wasn’t very cheerful so early in the morning. Cecil grinned. He’d need to become accustomed to the change in habit, for there was every chance with Emily’s friends underfoot, they would both need somewhere to hide.

  And not just from Emily and her cronies. Oh no. Having Phoebe beneath his roof was proving to be too much a temptation. Already, his thoughts were saturated with her. During his quiet times, or even sitting across the table from her at meals, the overriding urge that gripped his brain was how to coax her to release her hair from its tight bun or how best to find himself in her presence somewhere around the house not easily accessible by Emily or the servants. If such an opportunity presented itself, he’d waste no time in stealing a kiss or pushing to explore her satiny skin. When he'd attempted to catch her alone in the last day, she’d managed to slip away, with an excuse on her lips or something urgent to attend to, but not without that glimmer in her eyes that urged him to try harder.

  Which he intended to gladly do.

  He shoved the possibilities from his mind. It was madness to dwell on such things, e
specially in the face of having way too many people in his house. I’m addlepated to think about an inappropriate romance. With a guest in his residence, no less. Yet telling himself to stop thinking about her was like telling the rain to stop falling.

  He snorted with derision. But then, the rain had halted for the time being, hadn’t it? Perhaps there was hope after all.

  Right then. Twenty minutes later, he breathed in the salty air. Every time he returned home to Brighton, walking the shore was one of his greatest pleasures. It was no less so now. Would that it would snow. It would give Emily and her friends the perfect Christmas, even at the seashore, but the likelihood of that sort of precipitation happening was slim.

  Even a few flakes then. He stopped short of pleading with the Creator. Just to set a holiday mood like he remembered from his childhood days in the north before his father relocated them to the south.

  It didn’t matter, really. Christmas would come regardless of the weather.

  Cecil concentrated on the here and now. In one hand, he carried his boots and socks. A breeze blew over the water and left a chill behind and he was glad for his jacket’s warmth. Despite the grayness that currently consumed his world, he adored the slap of the cool water against his calves, for he’d rolled the bottoms of his trousers up to his knees. The sand and tiny pebbles gave way beneath the soles of his feet, the sharp sting of them reminding him he was alive. No matter where in the world he went, there was no place like Brighton, and he would always return to these shores when calm was needed.

  With a sigh, Cecil closed his eyes and lifted his face to the horizon where the sun would come up in a few minutes regardless of the cloud cover. He loved the breeze ruffling his hair, loved the tang of the salt on his lips, loved the sounds of the gulls and terns as they woke and took to the air. The soothing roar and rhythmic drone of the waves brought peace and order to his thoughts. For the moment, Brighton was where he needed to be, and he would pursue matters between him and the headmistress, for there was a spark between them.