Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  When he opened his eyes, his heart stuttered, stopped and then surged to renewed life. Phoebe had appeared on the shore some way down from him and in the opposite direction that he’d walked.

  If truth be known, his regard and curiosity for the woman had grown past desire and came dangerously close to something else. After a mere few days.

  Botheration. This does not bode well. That was simply not possible. Such things didn’t happen, and not to him. He had no need for a woman in his life, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze from the fetching sight she made. What was more, she hadn’t spied him as yet, so he looked his fill.

  She’d lifted her maroon skirts. A peek of lace-trimmed petticoat fueled his imagination as did the glimpse of pale ankle and calf as she waded into the surf. What would her skin feel like beneath his lips if he were to shove up those skirts and explore that creamy expanse where her stockings ended? He raked his gaze along those exposed limbs and his mouth watered. Damn and blast but he must be far gone if this was what he thought about.

  She remained oblivious to his perusal. It would seem she enjoyed the early morning shore the same as he. While the sight of the sea swirling about her legs filled him with gladness, it was her expression that made him catch his breath. For one, unguarded moment, Phoebe Pennyroyal looked blissfully happy, and that joy made her face glow as if lit from within.

  God, she’s beautiful. How did she ever think she was plain?

  Cecil crept closer, hoping she wouldn’t notice his approach. Her lips, slightly pink, curved upward with a genuine smile as she gazed out to sea. What did she think about? Did she long for adventure away from England? The breeze clawed at her hair, and tendrils had come loose from her ever-present bun. They danced about her shoulders and nape in an inviting way that made him want to burrow his fingers through those strands. The ivory shawl around her rippled as the wind caught it. A snatch of laughter escaped her as she tried to hang onto a corner that pulled from her hand. Wonder of wonders, the gown she wore didn’t feature a high neck. Oh no, the square bodice showed modest cleavage, restrained when compared with fashions of the day. He swallowed, but the movement couldn’t alleviate his dry throat. Taken out of a school setting or even away from his dining room, she was magnificent.

  And he wanted to know more about her. In all the ways that mattered. Blast. As impossible as it sounded, perhaps he was truly on the path to love.

  Mother Nature cooperated and apparently agreed with him. The breeze ripped the shawl from her shoulders and sent it sailing down the shore toward him.

  “Drat!” Her sentiment carried on the wind in his direction.

  “Rather uncooperative weather we’re having, eh Miss Pennyroyal?” he called to her. He would be forever grateful to that wind.

  “Don’t just stand there. Fetch my shawl before the sea claims it!” Lighthearted panic laced her voice.

  “Your wish is my command.” Cecil grinned as he chased the garment then scooped it up. The headmistress had a strain of feistiness in her veins. It made her even more interesting and fascinating. Would she show the same spirit behind closed doors? He shook the piece of wool and hoped the worst of the sand had fallen off. Phoebe’s eyes lit briefly as she followed the shawl and eventually came close enough to him that they could converse without shouting. “I believe you requested I save the day?”

  “I did, and thank you.” She attempted to tuck a wayward tendril of hair behind her ear, but the breeze caught it and pulled it out of her fingers.

  “Allow me to return your property.” Cecil dropped his boots. He stepped closer, and with a flourish, whipped the shawl around her shoulders, gently tying the ends in a loose knot in front of her. He lingered longer than he should, leaning slightly into her. The faint scent of roses competed with the salty tang from the sea. It was intoxicating.

  Phoebe cleared her throat. “Thank you, Cecil.” She didn’t move. Neither did he. “I hadn’t anticipated the strength of the wind.”

  Now was the perfect opportunity. “Did you anticipate that we would eventually come to this?” he asked in a low voice, and moving his hands up to cup her face, he touched his lips to hers in a hint of a kiss. He broke the brief embrace, even though her lips were as soft as he’d hoped, and looked at her. Would she protest?

  Merriment danced in those sky blue depths. She laid a palm on his chest and he swore fire burned from the point of impact. “To be honest, I am surprised. I’m not the sort of woman to inspire men to passion.”

  “Then you haven’t either thought of yourself in the right way or haven’t met the right man.” When he moved in for a repeat of the kiss, she edged away.

  “Are you returning to the house?” Her glance skittered to his legs and lingered on his bare skin.

  He felt her regard as keenly as if she’d caressed him with her fingers. “Actually, I’m not quite done with my morning walk.” He retrieved his abandoned footwear with a glance to her feet. Such a high instep his headmistress had. “Where are your shoes?” He looked again and didn’t see them anywhere on her person, but she had the most adorable feet. Feet he wanted to wash and dry and ultimately begin his seduction of her with a kiss to her toes.

  “I left them up the shore. I’m afraid I’ve gotten into the habit of taking in the sea air before the bulk of the town awakes. It helps calm my mind before I need to face the students. Besides, who would want to abscond with my serviceable, scuffed boots?” She shrugged and the gesture drew his gaze to the slope of her bosom. “Only the hardy venture out in this chill. Most folks with half their sense are busy with Christmas preparations.”

  “Ah, but then most folks will forever miss out on the magic that is the sea.” Not that he minded she’d joined him, especially not when each peek at her dainty pink toes had him fighting the urge to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to one of the nearby benches to protect her soles from scratches. “Since I am seeking the same calm, if you want company, I’d be happy to accompany you. I’ve been meaning to talk with you in a personal capacity since I met you at the school.”

  “Oh?” Once more she tucked a strand of wayward hair behind her ear and once more the wind clawed it into the air.

  “Absolutely. Despite what you assume to be true, I find you fascinating.” Obviously, since I forget myself with that damned brief kiss.

  Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Despite what you say in flattery, I think walking with you would be acceptable.” She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her back the way she came. They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, and in those precious moments, Cecil imagined the whole of his life with her by his side, her hair wild, her eyes twinkling, her cheeks flushed. Finally, she broke the quiet. “Why is that?”

  “Why is what, my dear?” he asked, distracted, for he couldn’t think of much beyond pulling her behind the first set of breakers they came to and proceeding to kiss her senseless.

  She snorted. “Talking to me. I cannot imagine I hold any sort of interest for a man like you.”

  “A man like me?” He attended her words more carefully. “What sort of woman do you assume would catch my eye?”

  A trill of laughter escaped her and filled his ears with the wonderful sound. Once more he was enthralled. The burst of laughter blended with the crash of the waves that never would he be able to separate them. “You’re a well-dressed gentleman, so it would only stand to reason you’d want an equally turned out lady on your arm.”

  “Of which you could be if you’d dress yourself in decent gowns,” he gently inserted.

  “You’re well-traveled. No doubt you’re searching for a woman who has an interest in seeing the world.”

  “I’ll wager you have that interest, Phoebe, but you choose to cling to these shores with but a flimsy excuse.”

  “Yet you’re older and with a nearly of-age niece, which says you’re not dangling after debutantes,” she continued as if he’d not interrupted her.

  Oh, she was a delightful bag
gage, and he looked forward to disabusing her of her very wrong notions. “My dear, you may have efficiency and intelligence on your side, but I’m afraid only one of your guesses is correct.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” Not able to pat her hand while still carrying his boots, he nudged her hip with his, and was rewarded by a barely audible gasp. He smiled. Did her mind jump to the wonders to be found when men and women matched undulating hips? “No matter what I choose to wear, it doesn’t mean I want a counterpoint who cares only for how she’s garbed on the outside. I’d much prefer a woman who drapes her soul in goodness.”

  “Yet you said I should wear more becoming gowns,” she pointed out in a tone of victory.

  “Only because you have charms enough that the right man would like to see them.” Again, he bumped her hip, and she bumped him back. “I do enjoy traveling the world, and yes, I’d like a woman who had an adventurous streak, for she would accompany me, but if she didn’t, I’d endeavor to entertain her with stories and bring her the world that way.”

  “You are charming enough to paint those pictures with your words,” Phoebe conceded.

  He nodded. “And finally, you are correct about the debs. I much prefer a woman with experience who knows what she wants, and employs her mind to chase after it. A woman of intelligence who will challenge me at every turn is preferable.”

  The sound Phoebe made was reminiscent of a sigh. She softly cleared her throat. “I wish you luck in finding her. The woman you select will have a fine life indeed.”

  His grin widened at the breathless quality of her voice. Did he put her off balance with his list that fit her so well? He hoped so, and now he’d indulge in forthrightness, just as she did. “Oh, I think luck has already shined upon me, for if I had to choose a woman perfectly suited to me, it would be you.”

  “Me?” The word sailed out on a squeak.

  “Yes, but that would mean I’m getting ahead of myself. The excitement of possibility urges me to rush things.” He bumped her hip with his again. “For the time being, I merely want to discuss the topics you and I are both interested in, perhaps indulge in a good debate or two, then see where the tides of fate take us.”

  And he wanted a proper kiss, one that would show her the depths of his regard.

  “We shouldn’t converse or even be alone with each other without a companion. Only engaged people are allowed to talk unrestricted or even hold hands, gloves on of course. Yet here we are, strolling the shore, in various states of undress—at least on your part—alone as can be, with our arms almost linked, hips bumping, walking closer than propriety allows.” She paused. “My widowhood not withstanding.”

  The back of his neck burned. She’d noticed his rolled up trousers. Did that mean she found him pleasing? “Forgive me, but I don’t see the problem.” Hadn’t he been waiting for an opportunity to have her all to himself?

  A tiny smile pulled at her lips. “Frankly, neither do I as much as I wanted to warn you.”

  So intent was he to convince her, he forged ahead. “Plus, it’s early in the morning. There is no one about, we both enjoy taking a good walk, the exercise affords us the opportunity for talking, and all my intentions are honorable.” Most of them. Then her words sank in. “You agree?”

  “Yes.” She stared at him before hiding her eyes by sweeping her lashes down.

  “Oh.” At sixes and sevens now, he floundered. “Surely the local rumormongers won’t find fault in what I’ve proposed.” Though they’d be properly scandalized if they knew he wanted to tumble her into his bed.

  “You’d be surprised. I thought we’d set them quiet by my staying at your house. Now I suspect we’ve made a misstep.”

  That was an understatement. “Well, I do have need of you… for many things.” He didn’t feel inclined to clarify exactly how, and neither did he want to remind himself that her time with him was temporary. That particular sticking point could be rectified if he put his mind to pursuing a courtship, but he wouldn’t do anything unless she agreed to ideals beyond conversation and debate.

  A small sigh escaped her. “Be that as it may, I should probably go on ahead, despite what I wish. You can finish your walk and arrive later. We must set an example for Emily, after all.” She attempted to tug her hand from his arm, but he grabbed her fingers and held on. “What are you doing?” She glanced from their hands to his face.

  “I’m not certain.” Truly, he had no idea. Being near her had addled his mind and did strange things to his chest, his prick, his heart. “For the love of God, then, do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Phoebe drew to a halt, forcing him to do the same. She stared at him with her lips parted and rosy color staining her cheeks. Her eyes went wide. “I don’t believe I heard you correctly.”

  He wasn’t sure if those words actually came out of his mouth. I’ve got bacon for brains. Somehow, he had to explain his odd request. Cecil cleared his throat. “If our unmarred state is the only impediment in allowing me to have a conversation with you while alone and away from prying eyes or the threat of being overheard, marry me. Let’s become engaged for the simple reason I wish to talk with someone of my own age before the gaggle of Emily’s friends descend on my house.”

  “You don’t mean it.” She opened and closed her mouth, and then she moistened her lips and spoke. “We’re not in love. I’m not a great beauty, and neither of us has been compromised. I see no reason why we should wish to wed.”

  “Can you not, just for once, do something completely out of the ordinary and not logical?” When she remained silent, he shook his head and moved them forward once more. Perhaps this was merely a bump in his path. “Let me further explain. I used to believe in destiny. Once upon a time, I stupidly went through life thinking the best of people and situations. At one time, I had hoped to be married and have a family by this point in my life.”

  She tightened her grip on his arm. “Why didn’t you?”

  “Many things. I suppose I found my travels much too exciting to stay in one place for too long. The war interrupted both my personal life and touring the world for a while. The need for female companions—domestication if you will—sat at the back of my mind, never urgent.”

  “Yet you’re ready for that step now?” Undisguised interest hung in her voice. “With me?”

  “Very much so, but is it fair of me to want that level of contentment in my life when I saw many of my friends die on the battlefield or through other follies all over the world? Now, there is the worry for my sister and the fear she’ll not recover from the dark place she’s gone.” Why had he felt the need to reveal those things to her when he’d never said them to another soul? Something about Phoebe invited his trust, and that hadn’t happened for a very long time. The fact he could envision her by his side spoke volumes and set fire to his sanity. “How do I justify being happy?”

  “Sometimes there is no way to justify such a thing.” She pulled away from him only to go further into the surf, her skirts hoisted in both hands. The froth swirled about her calves. She wriggled a foot and in so doing, gave him a tempting glimpse of ankle, of calf, almost a knee and he shuddered with need to see the rest of her unclothed. “Horrible things happen in the world, but we still need to have hope. It’s all right to live your life and yet remember those who have gone before. No one will think ill of you for that.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it until I returned to Brighton.” And lost my head when I saw you. Cecil dropped his boots then waded out into the surf with her. The cold water sent gooseflesh racing over his skin, but he didn’t mind. It cooled his overheated body. Being near Phoebe would have him ready to burst into flames in seconds if he wasn’t careful.

  “What made the difference?”

  “You.” No good would serve him with a lie.

  “Such gammon.”

  “No. You’re different. You don’t mince words. You speak your mind.” He smiled. “Do you know how refresh
ing that is?”

  “Perhaps.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder—the perfect image of a sea witch. “Do you not come back to Brighton from time to time? I had nothing to do with it.”

  You had everything to do with it the second I stepped into that school. “This time was different.”

  “Why? Nothing of import happens in Brighton.” She shrugged and one side of her shawl slid down a shoulder. The creamy patch of bosom tempted him. “At least, it doesn’t to me.”

  Cecil exhaled a shuddering breath. When he drew in his next, he turned her to face him. “I met you. Ran full-on into you in the hallway of that school.” He gave into the urge and cupped her cheek. “I cannot explain it, but you are changing my mind, even now, on many subjects. Haven’t you convinced me to let Emily have a house party?”

  “Yes, but—”

  He rushed on. “After I met you, I’ve entertained thoughts I’ve never seriously considered would be possible before.” He licked his bottom lip. Salt came away on his palate as he dared to be wicked. “I want you, plain and simple, the way a man desires a woman. And for much more.”

  What did other men do after laying bare their innermost thoughts?

  “Oh?” A shiver racked her body and transferred up his arm. “I had no idea I could inspire such passion or feeling in anyone, especially after only knowing you for such a short association.” Was that pink color on her cheeks due to the sea breeze or from his revelation? “I mean, I felt the connection between us, but—”

  Better and better. Perhaps he wasn’t insane after all. “Sometimes, in order to be truly happy, we merely have to take a mad chance.” Please God, let it be the right time.

  “And you wish for your chance to be… with me?” Shock filled her voice but her eyes glowed with the same need plaguing his system.