Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  Phoebe’s belly quivered as she stared at him. That smile of his did scandalous things to her insides. Yes indeed, this game had been a singularly bad idea, but she wouldn’t have traded her experience for the world. “Beginner’s luck.”

  “Yes, well, I do recall playing Blind Man’s Bluff when I was Emily’s age and a bit beyond.” He rose into a standing position and brought her up with him. “Who’s next?” He handed off the blindfold to one of the boys, who would no doubt take his clues from Cecil’ performance.

  “We’ll be in the drink now if you’ve given the young men ideas,” she murmured.

  “They shall be fine. After all, they’re green lads yet without skill or finesse.” He drew her a bit away from the crowd, leaned close then whispered, “I knew it was you. You have the softest skin. Would that I was given leave to caress more of it.”

  She gaped at him. “Such talk, and in this setting,” she hissed in warning.

  He continued on as if she’d never spoken. “I would recognize your scent of roses anywhere. And your tiny intake of breath when I touch you is unmistakable.”

  She forced a swallow into her dry throat. “You are very much a rogue when you should be providing them with a better example.” Yet pleasure snaked through her that he knew her so well.

  Cecil chuckled. “Always so proper, Phoebe. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He released her hand then joined the rest of the party.

  Two hours later, after everyone had taken a turn at the game and once they’d been served a luncheon of hearty potato soup and cold cuts and Cook’s promised cakes, everyone retired to the parlor for quiet conversation or reading.

  Except, the natives were getting restless now that the food in their bellies had started to digest and the games of the morning were long past. Whines of “What to do now?” or “It’s still raining?” echoed through the group.

  “If it were a fine day, we could have walked about,” one of the girls said with a whine very much like Emily’s.

  “Oh, not this again,” Phoebe groused. She was not in a mood to pass the next few hours in complaints. “If Mr. Tame is of a mind, I shall lead the girls in a party into the business district for last minute Christmas shopping. Will taking keep you sufficiently occupied and less bored?”

  “Yes!” Emily sprang up and embraced her in an impromptu hug. “You’re the best, Miss Pennyroyal.”

  Chapter 8

  Two hours after midnight, early Christmas Day

  Cecil padded down the staircase in his bare feet. The hem of his shirt fluttered with his movements, for he hastily donned it and a pair of breeches. In his hand, he clutched two small gifts—presents for Emily and Phoebe—gleaned from his travels and procured from a chest in his room.

  Shadows played tag along the walls. The skies, still overcast, prevented moonlight from filtering in through the windows, but the eerie silence remained, almost as if the house were holding its breath.

  For what? Anticipation had propelled him out of bed and into motion while the household remained in slumber. As he tiptoed past his brothers’ rooms—now the place where Emily’s young men friends resided—he cocked his head and listened. No sound came from within and he breathed a sigh of relief. That meant he was the only male prowling about when he should know better. The same silence greeted him as he passed his niece’s room as well as Phoebe’s, where two of the other girls were staying.

  Disappointment slid cold fingers along his spine. Would that he could pass these quiet hours with the headmistress he couldn’t put from his mind. His fingers still tingled from his good-natured caresses during the game earlier the day before. If he’d had the opportunity, would he have pressed his advantage had they’d been alone?

  A wolfish grin parted his lips. Absolutely. Desire had sprung between them, and undeniably so, but there were also the more genteel and abiding feelings underlying that heat. He’d do himself and her a disservice if he didn’t explore what that could mean.

  Yet some sixth sense, a nagging need, had brought him out of dreams. He couldn’t lay a finger on the cause. Every instinct he had said the headmistress had pulled him from his bed with the force of her thoughts. Did she remember his off-hand comment about an assignation on Christmas? His groin stirred to life.

  Since he was now awake, it was as good a time as any to put his gifts beneath the evergreen tree Phoebe had insisted upon erecting in the back parlor when they’d returned from their shopping excursion yesterday. She’d taught them of the German custom as she and the girls had bedecked the dark green branches with ribbons and other shiny ornamentations they’d brought from their own rooms on a whim.

  Phoebe. His heart skipped a beat as he reached the floor below and headed toward the parlor reserved for family use. What was he to do about the woman he couldn’t forget, the woman who’d managed to turn his world upside down in but a handful of days?

  The door rested halfway open, and when he crept silently into the room, shadows shifted and the faint scent of roses met his nose. She was here.

  His heartbeat accelerated. Awareness of her prickled over his body. As quiet as he could, he clicked the door shut behind him and turned the key in the lock. It was a heaven-sent opportunity that left them both alone and on such a sacred night.

  “Happy Christmas, Phoebe,” he whispered into the darkness, hoping he wouldn’t startle her.

  A tiny gasp escaped her and she whirled around to face him, her back to the evergreen resting on a table, one hand clutched to her heart. The blonde waterfall of her hair cascaded about her shoulders and down her back, every inch the wonder he’d thought it would be. “Cecil.” She took a shuddering breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same of you,” he countered as he raked his gaze over her person. How dear she was clad in a modest night rail of ivory lawn. The tips of her toes peeked out beneath the hem that had been embroidered with flowers. Such a frivolity that didn’t match her no-nonsense persona. “What has brought you here in the dead of night, Christmas though it may be?”

  “I…” She fluttered a hand about her. “I…” She gestured at the tree behind her. “I had a couple of presents I wanted to place here so Emily would have a surprise when she awoke.” The headmistress stood aside to show him the wrapped parcels. “Nothing extravagant, of course. Merely a set of kid gloves and a shawl, for it does persist in being chilly this time of year. Both practical things a young lady can use.”

  “And you are nothing if not practical, are you?” He reached around her. “I am doing the same.” When he straightened, his arm brushed hers. “Where is your own shawl this night?” Praise God that article of clothing was missing, for that meant only one layer of fabric separate him from her delectable curves.

  “I left it upstairs. This was to be a quick jaunt.” She wetted her bottom lip with her tongue and he followed the nervous movement as need to taste her built low in his belly. “There is also a gift for you,” she said in a rush and retreated from him a few steps.

  “Oh?” He deposited his own gifts—a fan with mother-of-pearl spines for Emily and a golden broach for Phoebe—beneath the tree.

  “Yes.” She nodded, her eyes big and luminous in the dim light. No candles had been lit. The fire in the grate had long since died. “It is a small token of my gratitude to you for inviting me for the holidays.” The sound of her heavy swallow echoed in the stillness. “A pewter stickpin, for your cravats, in the shape of a gull. So you’ll remember our walk on the shore.”

  “As if I’ll forget.” He prowled after her, one of his steps eating up two of hers until he’d trapped her against the wall between a long-case clock on one side and a curio cabinet on the other. “I thank you for the gift, but I don’t want your gratitude.”

  “What is it that you do want?” The breathless quality to the question made him smile.

  Cecil moved forward, further pinning her in place with a palm planted on the wall at either side of her head. She rested a hand on his chest. The
heat of her body seeped into his. “I want you, Phoebe. Body, heart and soul, but if you cannot give me everything, I will settle for whatever it is you agree to, for you’ve captivated me this holiday.” He ducked his head and brushed his lips over hers in the veriest of caresses.

  A tiny sigh escaped her and whispered over his lips. She fisted the hand that rested on his chest in his shirt. “Should I be honest with myself or remain logical?”

  “Honestly is always valued over all things.” He plucked at the tie holding the bodice of her night wear closed. “However, I am a gentleman, and if you say no to anything this night may bring, I will respect your wishes.” The tie fell away and the bodice gaped open revealing the tops of her pale breasts.

  She captured his face between her hands and held his gaze. Sincerity shone from those lovely blue depths and darkened into something that had his breath stalling. “I want you, Cecil Tame. For the first time in my life, I want to do something strictly for the moment, the pure joy of the doing. Something for me and no one else.”

  If it weren’t the middle of the night and there weren’t young people sleeping abovestairs, he would have shouted his victory. As it was, he simply stared at her as he slid his hands to her waist. “You are certain? After all, this is the height of scandalous and if word gets out, your credibility at your school could be threatened.” He’d rather die than cause her hardship.

  She dropped a kiss upon his chin and wound her hands behind his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the hardened tips evident through their thin garments. “Let me worry about things that haven’t yet happened.” She landed another kiss to the underside of his jaw where she licked at a spot that proved to be especially sensitive for him. “After all, I am a widow and I’m long past an age of ruination.”

  “Oh darling. Never ruined, only worshipped,” he said in a low voice before properly claiming her lips in a kiss he felt into the depths of his soul.

  He moved his mouth over hers with the intent of exploring every part of her. Each nibble and nip she matched, and together they drank from each other, again and again until the sound of their labored breathing filled the room. “How can you not believe you are beautiful?” He caressed his hands down her sides and over her hips then moved them upward and cupped her generous breasts.

  “Perhaps it is but a matter of perspective.” A moan obscured the words as he rubbed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. Those tips hardened further from his ministrations.

  “Perhaps you need to be told and often until you see what I see.” Cecil bent his head and took one of the turgid tips into his mouth. He teased the bud with tongue and teeth despite the fabric that covered it.

  “Mmm.” If she were a cat, that sound would have been a purr. Phoebe shivered in his hold. “I’d forgotten the sensations…” She slipped her hands beneath his loose shirt and the heated touch of her palms on his skin seared him and brought his whole body primed with anticipation. “I knew you would feel manly and strong. I’m pleased you’ve met my expectations.”

  The praise amused but also humbled him. He smiled and switched his attention to her other breast. Obviously, he wasn’t doing a masterful effort if she still could form words.

  “Don’t think. Just enjoy… ack!” It was his turn to be caught off balance. His head strong teacher lifted the hem of his shirt and bent. She peppered his abdomen with hot kisses and his cock swelled almost painfully, but when she nipped at his skin and reached for his breeches, he captured her hands in his. “Damnation, woman. Leave off else this will end prematurely.”

  Phoebe peered up at him from beneath her lashes. The wicked gleam in her eye sent pinpricks of need straight through his groin. “Then logic would dictate you proceed with haste.”

  “Now who is possessed with too much cheek?” God, he adored her boldness. He released her hands only to fist his in the voluminous folds of her night attire. “I’ve wanted to feel your skin since I met you in the school.” Up, up, up he drew the fabric, revealing the long, shapely legs he’d dreamed about. “Exquisite.”

  Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees before her.

  “Cecil, what are you—”

  Holding the fabric out of his way with one hand, he encouraged her to part her legs and hook one knee over his shoulder. He groaned with reverence when the folds of her womanhood opened. “So beautiful.” He touched his lips to her mound and chuckled when she jerked with a gasp. “Steady, my dearest Phoebe. Let me love you.” And he would, with everything that he was, for it went beyond reason, this connection they shared.

  “But you don’t, we’re not… Oooh.” She ended her protest on the heels of a whimper.

  The trembles moving through her limbs transferred to him as he tempted the swollen bundle of nerves out of hiding with his fingers and applied his tongue to the flesh. Over and over he circled his tongue around that all-important button until Phoebe’s soft, keening cries of near-completion penetrated the haze surrounding his brain. His proper, logical headmistress was seconds away from shattering from his touch.

  “Remember to keep your vocal responses to a minimum. We certainly don’t want a horde of wide-eyed young people descending on our depravity.” And Emily didn’t need to know what he felt for her headmistress. Despite those thoughts, Cecil grinned against Phoebe’s wet folds. He blew on the skin he’d just tormented and when she clutched at his head and pulled him closer with a soft plea, he indulged her all the more. He suckled her nubbin, drew his tongue over it, flicked it as fast as he could.

  And then, Phoebe Pennyroyal came apart before him.

  Even though she bit her bottom lip, the sounds of release she made from deep in her throat enveloped him and sent him hurtling closer to his own edge. Her body rocked. Her legs trembled. Arousal further slickened the folds he continued to lick, and when her leg slid from his shoulder and he feared she’d slump to the floor, Cecil quickly shoved to his feet and caught her in his arms.

  Her eyelids fluttered and when as she looked at him, his cock hardened. “How fascinating,” she murmured. “I certainly was never treated to that while married.”

  “Did I not tell you that sometimes age is the better part of endurance?” He kissed her and pressed her backward until the wall halted their progress.

  Phoebe pulled away slightly. She licked her lips. “It would seem I still have much to learn, and that you are quite a teacher.” When she reached for the buttons on his breeches, he didn’t protest. One by one they fell open and his length sprang into her palm. “Perhaps I should return the favor?” The brush of her fingers over his engorged member became the beginning of his undoing.

  “Later.” At her endearing pout, he placed a kiss on her forehead. “When I find release, I’ll damn well do it inside you, my dear, for you’ve beguiled me from the first.” So saying, he encouraged one of her legs around his hip. She hooked it about his waist and pulled him closer. His tip rubbed through her wetness and sat at her center. He stared into her eyes. “You are sure?” There was still an opportunity for her to change her mind even though he was near to exploding.

  “Quite.” Phoebe clutched his shoulders. She wriggled her hips and his tip slid inside her honeyed warmth. No going back. “Don’t tell me you’ll beg off now.” One of her blonde eyebrows arched. “For all your worldly travels and acts of daring, will you allow a bold headmistress to intimidate you?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” he whispered, and with a muted cry of triumph, he flexed his hips and seated himself fully into her sheath. She was his equal in all the ways that mattered.

  “Oh, Cecil,” she breathed. Her eyes drifted closed and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “That’s lovely.” The last word ended on a squeak as he pulled out.

  Only to thrust back into her heat. It was indeed.

  Never had he taken a woman against a wall and in his own parlor on Christmas morning, no less. But with Phoebe, every aspect of their joining felt right.

  They moved tog
ether, their bodies honed and in tandem completing a rhythm that some couples took years to perfect. He quickened his strokes, pleasuring her again and again, faster, harder, deeper. His heartbeat pounded. Sweat coated his back and brow. He slipped his hands beneath her thighs and raised her off the ground, higher still until the whole of his weight supported her as he continued thrusting into her.

  And then, the act shifted as he stared into her sky blue eyes. He imagined he saw his future in those cool depths; a future he wanted above all other things—a future where she was his and not his niece’s companion. They shared a glance, a fleeting look and she smiled. That brief curve of full lips that sent his heart skipping and his mind spinning, and then she stiffened, whimpered and her inner walls contracted around his cock.

  “Ah, oh, Cecil!”

  He crashed his mouth onto hers and took her cry of release into himself. As she shook in his hold, he pushed inside her one last time and he exploded, his seed spilling with each jerk and pulse of his member. His arms strained from holding her, but he couldn’t let her go, not when she’d gone pliant in his embrace and had her arms draped over his shoulders, her labored breathing harsh in his ear.

  “Damnation, but you are incredible,” he said when he could form words again. He laid his forehead against hers. “My apologies for not being able to control my impulses and debasing both myself and you in such a manner. I had wanted to charm you and finesse you…”

  Would she assume the act had meant nothing to him for the unorthodox location or the speed in which they’d consented to it?

  “You poor thing.” Phoebe wriggled and he assisted her into a standing position. She palmed his cheek, but the sated expression she wore convinced him more than anything she’d say. “I was not a virgin and neither did I want any of that. Believe me when I tell you, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Those specific words warmed his heart. Cecil claimed her lips again, this time in a tender kiss he hoped conveyed what he could not speak aloud. When he allowed them both breath, he said, “Happy Christmas, Phoebe.”