Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  “Anything else?” Emily’s wide eyes were full of curiosity. “I’m very interested in this topic.”

  “Oh?” Phoebe’s inquisitiveness grew. “Have you fallen for one of the young men in the house party?” Please don’t let her say Max. Not that she wouldn’t be thrilled to know Max had shown an interest in the opposite sex after being so shy around young people his own age; she just wasn’t mentally prepared to have him chasing them.

  “You know what they say about curiosity killing the cat, Miss Pennyroyal.” She lowered her lashes and hid her eyes.

  “Indeed.” Phoebe relaxed slightly. Perhaps she had no designs after all. “The lady in love also wishes to know everything about her potential beau. Just the sound of his voice affects her and leaves her warm all over. When his hand brushes hers, it’s as if the heavens have opened.” Phoebe’s smile widened as she held Emily’s gaze. “A woman begins to think beyond her current situation, and she allows herself to dream.” An image of Cecil danced through her mind and brought a host of flutters into her belly. Did he have a favorite place he’d gone while traveling the world? Had he embarked upon a romance while away? Did a lady ever break his heart? Was there a particular food he enjoyed that he couldn’t find on England’s shores? “It’s quite a glorious feeling, actually.”

  Unless the man had wanderlust in his blood, and from the tiny bit she’d gleaned about his family, all the Tames did. Never stayed long in one place. A lady certainly didn’t want that sort of heartache in her life.

  Then the reality of what she talked about set in. She blinked and looked away from Emily’s bright eyes. Falling in love simply couldn’t happen to a woman her age. It wasn’t possible. Hadn’t she already had her courtship and marriage? And outside that first proposal that Cecil had thrown out to merely talk with her, he hadn’t asked again.

  She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. How silly of her to think in terms of a future. What they’d shared had been only physical. She had a son from her previous union, and her life was stable, fulfilling even. She was efficient at her post; it was secure enough that she could provide for herself and her son. Was it really wise to give into silly schoolgirl dreams of new love and romance?

  Yet Cecil had all but hinted that he had a special interest in her as a woman. Did that mean he wished for a relationship? She refused to allow herself to think of such a thing for fear it wouldn’t come to fruition. Hinting wasn’t a declaration, and to hope for something along those lines after merely a week was the height of folly.

  So was giving one’s self to a man after a handful of days. Yet she had.

  Phoebe cleared her throat and shoved the confusing, disconcerting thoughts from her mind. She glanced at Emily, who gave her a sweet smile. “I beg your pardon. Not only have I gone off wool-gathering, but I’ve monopolized our conversation. Is there something you wish to share?”

  “Not right now.” Emily slid from the bed. “I understand exactly what you’re trying to say, Miss Pennyroyal. You’ve been quite helpful.” Her girlish smile didn’t dim. “Right now I have to meet my friends for breakfast. We need to plan our day. Will you go star gazing with the party tonight?”

  “Star gazing?” Phoebe snorted even as her mind tripped to catch up to the abrupt change in conversation. “Won’t there be more rain tonight?”

  “Uncle Cecil hinted last night before we retired that it might clear of clouds for a brief time. He said if we have a chance to look at the moon and there is a ring around it, that such a thing indicates snow in the offing.” Emily’s eyes twinkled. “Uncle said we could pair off on blankets if we kept the chatter to a dull roar today and there was no personal touching.”

  Poor Cecil. Though he’d generously offered his home to Emily and her friends, the noise level had him running for the safety and obscurity of his study more often than not. That was why she took the girls shopping, to give him a modicum of peace. He simply wasn’t able to handle the trials and tribulations of the younger crowd, for he wasn’t accustomed to them like she was. “If that truly is the case, we might as well take advantage of any break in the weather. Perhaps we can convince Cook to pack a light picnic for the event. I’ll even concede to letting you and your friends walk the shore as long as you stay in sight of me or your uncle.”

  “It should prove to be a lovely time then.” Emily waved from the doorway. “I shall talk to you later, and thank you!”

  Once the girl closed the door behind her, Phoebe sighed. She didn’t know that she’d imparted all that much information, but it had been a pleasant interlude just the same. She shook her head. Stupid Phoebe. Keeping such notions of love and romance when she should know better.

  Romance once in her life had been enough.

  By the time night descended, Phoebe fairly hummed with a mixture of excitement and nerves. Her stomach was knotted, and the little dinner she’d managed to eat threatened a return trip. Flutters tickled her insides while heated tingles rode up and down her spine. Phoebe Snell, get hold of yourself. There is no reason for such fanciful reactions. The group as a whole would assemble on the beach. She and Cecil would not be alone, and even if they were, there would be no repeat of what they’d shared in the parlor.

  Yet as she descended the stairs, she caught sight of the rest of the party assembling in the foyer and again anticipation zipped through her veins.

  This is madness. She should beg off from the star gazing party and instead, lock herself into her room with a novel. The trouble with that was the situation and romantic tension woven into the tale couldn’t match what Cecil made her feel. Not to mention, she’d given into the silly whim tonight and wore a thinner dress than she normally would—all in the event he might look her way in more than a contemporary capacity. Though it was made of navy wool and had three-quarter sleeves instead of full and a lower neckline than usual, it fed into the vain, feminine part of her need to look her best in his company, in the hopes she might charm him into a confession of sorts. She ignored that she still wore a shawl. After all, she couldn’t abandon common sense completely.

  One pair of dark eyes distracted her, and her gaze connected with Cecil as he stared up at her. Oh, dear heavens! She clutched the railing as a wave of lightheadedness assailed her, and when a slow, steady smile curved his sensual mouth, tremors joined the tingles on her spine. The glimmer of desire in those depths put her at sixes and sevens. There was no use denying it any longer or making excuses. However it had happened, no matter that she’d known him less than a week, no matter that there was much she didn’t know of him, she was tip over tail in love with Cecil Tame.

  What do I do now?

  It was nothing like she’d felt when her husband had courted her. This was like a lightning bolt, a hectic whirlwind that had carried her far from her everyday life, it was sudden and amazing, left a blinding heat behind, yet it made her breathless and nearly gasping with desperate need.

  He hasn’t declared himself. Perhaps he is only using me for amusement because I’m here and willing…

  There was nothing for it. Despite the reservations, she’d committed to this evening. She had to continue her trek downstairs. Phoebe concentrated on putting on foot in front of the other. When one’s head was in the clouds, one had to think hard about the simple task of walking. Once she gained the ground floor, she’d barely taken two steps toward the corridor split when Cecil intercepted her. “Good evening, Mr. Tame.” She grinned. At least she’d not gotten tongue-tied.

  “Good evening, Miss Pennyroyal.” He grabbed one of her hands and pressed a light kiss to the back. “Where are your gloves tonight, Phoebe?”

  She reclaimed her hand; otherwise, she feared she’d burn to ash in front of him. Or throw herself shamelessly into his arms, and that wouldn’t do, not when the young people were about. “We’re going to the shore. Wetness and gloves simply do not mix.”

  “What would we do without your impeccable common sense?” Mischief twinkled in his dark gaze. “Shall we depart?”


  “I suppose we should.” If she had a firm grip on common sense, she wouldn’t accompany them, but the prospect of spending more time with him pulled her in that stronger direction. To put it plainly, she simply had to be where he was.

  “Yes, come, Miss Pennyroyal.” Emily tugged on one of Phoebe’s hands as she caught them up. “I’ll wager this evening will be one of a kind.” With a gaggle of laughing party members clustering around, Emily led Phoebe through the lower floor then out the back door.

  Chilly air brushed over her cheeks, but it wasn’t so unpleasant that it would keep her from enjoying the night. The shoreline was quiet, devoid of any signs of life—human or animal. The nearly full moon peeked out from behind a cloud bank. Its light reflected on the dark water’s surface leaving a silver puddle on the surface. “Emily, look, there is a ring around the moon.”

  “How splendid!” the girl cried with true pleasure in her tone. “If there is snow, I shall be so happy. I couldn’t have asked for a better evening.”

  It would seem Emily was still very much a child. “Where should we set up the picnic?” Not that there was much of a meal to speak of. Mostly there was a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, a bunch of grapes and a carafe of lemonade and one of coffee.

  “How about here?” Emily pointed to a relatively smooth patch of sand, twelve feet or so from the incoming tide. “It’s still in sight of the house… if one was to peek out the third story maid’s window.” Her trilling laughter rang about the shore.

  Phoebe frowned. “What does it matter if it’s in sight of house? We’ll all be out here—chaperones included.”

  The girls ignored the question as a few of them spread out an old, ratty quilt on the sand. “Sit, Uncle Cecil.” Emily grabbed the willow basket from one of the boys and settled it onto a corner of the quilt. “You should have the prime spot.” When she giggled, a few of the others did too. “You as well, Miss Pennyroyal. It’s only fair the adults in the party—”

  “Wait. This is too nice, too cozy, especially for you Emily,” Cecil interrupted. He glanced at Phoebe and his lips curved with amusement. “What’s going on?”

  “How would I know?” Phoebe looked closer at the girl, but in the shadows, it was too difficult to read her expression. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Cecil. Her heart skipped a beat. “You best explain, Miss Bertrand.”

  “I thought it would be more pleasant for all of us if you and my uncle enjoy stargazing out here while my friends and I go back inside and teach ourselves to play whist.” She giggled and the other girls joined her. “It’s the height of fashion, but none of our adult acquaintances ever have time to let us learn. Cook agreed to help us if we hit a snag.”

  Max cleared his throat and stepped forward next to Emily. “I give you my word that I’ll watch over them and make certain they don’t do anything untoward. It’s all right. Trust me.”

  “Yes, because we all know Max cannot possibly do something as maddening as have fun.” Emily sniffed. He stared until Max edged away. “He takes after you, Miss Pennyroyal, so we’ll be perfect ladies and gentlemen.”

  “I’m not sure.” Phoebe shook her head. Was Max not fitting in with the young people? “Since I’m a chaperone of this party, I really should accompany you. Either me or your uncle.” And what did Max mean that it would be all right? Was he in on this potential scandal?

  “No!” Emily vigorously shook her head. “Miss Pennyroyal,” she stepped forward and clasped Phoebe’s hands. “Don’t you remember our conversation from this morning?”

  “Yes, of course.” Phoebe frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?” Was this Emily’s way of making certain she could spend time with a beau without interference from one of the adults?

  Emily came closer and her grip tightened. “Don’t you owe it to yourself to find out if those feelings you spoke of are real, to see if there’s a chance they can develop into something even more wonderful?” She dropped her voice. “To see if the heat has staying power?”

  What the devil is happening? “I beg your pardon?” Phoebe shot a glance at Cecil, who stood by with his hands clasped behind his back and a bemused expression on his face. Clearly, he had no idea what had occurred that morning and equally as clearly, he wouldn’t put a halt to it.

  Emily squeezed her hand. “Spend some time with my uncle. I think he’s sweet on you, and you feel the same as him. But you need—deserve—time alone with him. I promise we won’t spy.”

  “Right.” Phoebe reeled from the younger woman’s insight. “Perhaps you are correct, but it’s hardly proper.” Except, if put against what she and Cecil had done together on Christmas, this meeting was above reproach.

  The girl rolled her eyes. “If it will set your mind at ease, I will come back out in an hour, which is why I wanted the blanket put in sight of the house.” She simpered. “Please don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and don’t land in a scandalbroth, but if you do, I won’t say a word.”

  “You are an instigator, Emily, but thank you.” She glanced at Cecil as he reclined on the quilt. Flutters filled her belly at the wicked glint in his dark eyes as he gazed at her. “Can I assume you agree with your niece’s reasoning?”

  “Of course. She’s quite a remarkable young lady.” He waved the young people off. “Everyone has been gifted with one hour of freedom—all of us. Once sixty minutes are up, that’s it. We’re all back together again.”

  Emily released Phoebe’s hand. She mock-glared at him. “Behave, Uncle Cecil. I don’t want you scaring Miss Pennyroyal away. She’s good to have around and you could do worse.”

  Once the children departed for the house, Phoebe sighed. “That wasn’t well done of her and baldly obvious.”

  A laugh escaped him and the waves tossed the sound back. “I hope you’re not afraid, Phoebe. I thought being manipulated by our own flesh and blood rather exhilarating if not a tad annoying. At least they are for the match.”

  “The match? Does that mean you wish for something to come of what is between us?” There was no sense dancing about the issue. After all, she was efficient.

  “Patience, my dear.” He patted the empty space on the quilt beside him. “Please. Join me. Do something improper with me—again.”

  Her common sense screamed to return to the house, but the curious woman she was urged her to do as he suggested, as did the heated flutters filling her core. Feeling daring and a little naughty, she dropped to the quilt, and when he quirked a dark eyebrow, she laid down beside him, careful to arrange her skirts about her legs. There must be some decorum after all even as every pore of her body cried out for his touch. “We cannot do what we did the other night… here.”

  “Ah, but you do wish to indulge in that again then?” When she remained silent, he chuckled. “No, we cannot, but you realize there probably won’t be much star gazing tonight,” he began in a conversational tone as he tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the night sky. “If I had my way, I’d spend this hour kissing you senseless.”

  “Oh God.” She folded her hands over her stomach, wishing the flutters would settle, hoping they didn’t. She quite enjoyed this feeling. “Yet, they cannot see us unless they are at that particular window…”

  “Don’t tempt me more than you already do.” He grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together. “Ah Phoebe, there is much to say, but nothing I want to waste a precious hour discussing.”

  She frowned. How long did a declaration take? “Well, regardless, it is a nice change of pace to be outside and without the rain, even if it lasts only a short time.” Clouds constantly shifted and scuttled across the sky. A few stars were visible, but the bulk of the heavens were obscured. In the end, it didn’t matter. Even if the sky were clear, she wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on it, not while Cecil lay warm by her side, so close but yet so far. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that she—Miss Pennyroyal, headmistress of a girl’s academy—would be lying on a quilt, next to a m
an she barely knew—a man she’d made love with—staring into a night sky, alone with him, aching to know his touch and to touch him in return.

  “As a way of changing the subject, might I say how fetching you look tonight? The chance to view your wrists has me in the seventh heaven of delight.”

  “You’ve seen much more of me than a wrist, cheeky man.”

  “Aye.” He turned his head. She did the same. Their noses almost bumped. If she wanted, she could kiss him. “I live for the day when I can gaze upon you in a ball gown or something suitable to a rout or party.”

  “Why does my wardrobe interest you?”

  “Well, I would adore gazing at you in nothing at all, too.” He rose up and leaned on an elbow, looking down on her with an expression that promised wicked things in the dark and privacy of a bedroom. “My dear, even if you chose to wear burlap and ashes, I’d still think you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” He drew a fingertip along the side of her face and then cupped her cheek, his fingers furrowing into her hair. “I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”

  Oh, she understood, and it was terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. “I believe so, but perhaps you should clarify. It could be a rather messy situation if we’re not thinking the same thing.” She trembled from his caress. “For if I appeared in your bedchamber dressed for a ball, that would send the wrong message entirely.”