Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  “Or arriving at a rout clothed in nothing but the golden waterfall of your hair.” He drew his hand down the column of her neck, over her shoulder and then dared to cover one of her breasts. “In the event you aren’t aware, I wish to court you, Miss Pennyroyal.”

  “Oh Cecil.” She adored it when he spoke so directly. It saved so much time. Phoebe turned her head and looked into the sky again. Drizzle touched her cheeks and cooled her overheated skin. Laughter bubbled in her throat and escaped past her parted lips. It was all so very humorous.

  “What’s funny? It kills a man’s ego when he stops short of a declaration and the woman he’s attempting to woo laughs at him.” A trace of annoyance clung to his voice. “Does this mean you do not feel the same? That what we shared meant nothing?”

  “No, oh no.” She giggled again. “You silly man, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at me.” She turned her head and caught his gaze, moved further into him so that he could embrace her. “Life is quite a lark. Just when I think I have my life and path sorted and categorized, it shifts violently and leads me off into the unknown again.”

  “This is true, but you must admit that jumping into the unknown does, at times, hold the greatest mystery and its own adventure.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his body. Every point of her pressed into every point of him. It left nothing to the imagination. “Will you chase the unknown with me?”

  Was it possible to be terrified and ecstatic about a prospect at the same time? Her heart beat in triple time, but she lifted her hands and held his face between her palms. “Will you remain in Brighton for a while?”

  “Until Emily completes her Come Out, yes.”

  That gave her a year or so. Then she could decide to travel the world with him. “Then yes. I believe I will jump head first into the void with you.” For better or for worse, she wanted to see where a relationship with him would lead.

  “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I had assumed I’d walk my path alone until I met you.” The whispered words brushed her face seconds before he lowered his lips to hers.

  Phoebe sighed with relief against his mouth. She slid a hand around his nape and tugged him closer as she settled into the kiss. There was so much promise behind the simple embrace that she fought to keep silly, juvenile tears from crowding her throat. She nibbled on his bottom lip, thrilled when he did the same to her. Warmth infused her veins and chased away the chill. When he moved over her mouth, she mirrored his movements, and in that moment, the rest of her resistance and doubts faded away.

  “Oh Cecil, what am I to do with you?”

  His laughter held a smug edge. “Kiss me for a while then we can make arrangements, perhaps for an assignation where I know the children cannot see.”

  “That is an agreeable plan.” She looped her arms around his shoulders and parted her lips, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. The proper induction into scandal wasn’t as horrible as she’d once thought.

  Chapter 12

  Cecil couldn’t get enough of her satiny lips, but if he didn’t stop kissing her, they’d both be in the drink, not to mention the embarrassment if Emily came upon them in such an intimate moment. He would much rather chart a course over Phoebe’s naked flesh in the privacy of his rooms.

  When he reluctantly pulled away and she sighed, his chest tightened. I understand completely. He could spend hours, days, months in her arms and never tire. “Never have I been as quickly enamored or enchanted with a woman as I am with you.” He flopped onto his back and trained his gaze on the empty patch of sky where a few stars peeked out from the film of clouds. “Wherever have you been hiding, my dear?”

  “It is rather surprising.” Phoebe sat up. She looked down at him, searching out his gaze. Light danced in her eyes, and her easy smile warmed his insides. A few tendrils of hair had escaped her ever-present bun and framed her face. “I didn’t think love would come again into my life, especially not at my advanced age. Yet, here you are. Miraculous, really.”

  His breath stalled and his chest tightened. She’d said love. Did she truly mean it? He didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking for clarification. “I believe much of what people say of age is in their heads. If you feel young, then you are.”

  “That makes sense.” She brushed a few strands of hair away from his brow that the breeze had displaced. “Regardless of age, you are way too much of a temptation, as is the relative privacy of this beach. As much as I wish to burrow my hands beneath your shirt, perhaps explore that interesting bulge I spy in your breeches, it’s beginning to rain, so I’m going back to the house.”

  His Phoebe was nothing if not adorably shocking and bold. Was there ever a better woman for him than her? “Perhaps that would be best, for if you give me even the slightest encouragement, I’ll ruck your skirts up about your waist and create a scandal to end all scandals for those young people.” When she gasped, he grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss upon the middle knuckle. “Thank you for this moment.”

  “Thank you. For everything.” She slid her hand from his. “Don’t linger out here long. I’ll save you a place near me by the fire. Or perhaps I’ll teach the children how to play a proper hand of whist.”

  “I have no doubt that whatever you choose to do, it will be perfect.”

  “So, is midnight a good enough time for a meeting?” She leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. Traces of roses lingered behind when she pulled away.

  “I cannot wait. Let’s hope the children retire early.” A tremor moved through his heart while Phoebe returned to the house. Left alone with his thoughts, Cecil levered into a sitting position and trained his gaze on the dark waves rolling toward the shore. I cannot bear the thought of letting her walk out of my life once a real companion for Emily is secured. Yes, he’d asked permission to court her, but that was very different than having her with him every day and every night.

  The idea of asking Phoebe to marry him took hold. The thought of spending the rest of his years with her by his side quickened his breath and squeezed his heart. She’d be the perfect helpmeet, and he would be afforded all the time in the world to discover her secrets. A smile tugged at his lips. Oh, what an adventure that would be if her recent brazen behavior was any indication. His cock hardened at the thought. Above all, he needed to know what Max thought of the pairing. Max was the man in her life and her self-appointed protector. Perhaps he needed to ask the boy’s permission first. Plus, such a move would gain the young man’s respect and would go a long way into keeping the peace if everything went well.

  No time like the present, old boy.

  Cecil stood. He gathered the basket as well as the quilt, folded the blanket over his arm and then set out for the house. Once inside, he handed his items to the butler, and he snagged Max just as the group was setting up for another round of mattress sailing. Obviously, they’d grown bored with card play. “Could I have a moment of your time, Mr. Snell?”

  “Of course.” Max quirked an eyebrow but nodded.

  “Please come with me into my study. I’d like to ask you something.” He led the way, and by the time he’d settled behind his desk, Max had taken a chair in front of it. “It’s no secret how much I admire and respect your mother.” He folded his hands on top of his desk to keep from fidgeting. His stomach clenched. It was quite nerve-wracking to make such a decision then share it with the son of his lady fair. He’d thought himself long past an age where he’d need to secure someone’s blessing. “With your permission, I’d like to ask for her hand.”

  Silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. The ticking of his desk clock marked time, the only sound punctuating the horrible quiet. Just when Cecil wanted to shout merely for variety, Max spoke.

  “That is a very nice sentiment, Mr. Tame, but I’m afraid I must refuse.” The boy rose. He tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat. “I simply haven’t seen the proof of your regard, and it has only been inside of a week since you’ve met my mother.”

&n
bsp; “I understand that, but perhaps you aren’t aware of how deep my feelings go.” As much as he wanted to argue with the youth, he tamped the urge. After all, he didn’t truly need Max’ permission. Asking him was only a courtesy. He’d need to ask Phoebe her opinion on how to gain her son’s respect, and his rejection hadn’t quelled Cecil’s’ desire to propose to her.

  “Be that as it may, sir. I’d rather not see my mother elevate her hopes then have them crash down when something in your life prevents you from going through with the nuptials. Or worse, breaking her heart when the urge to travel sets in. She already has a life.”

  “Fair enough.” Cecil waved him off. “Go rejoin your friends. I thank you for your time.”

  With a nod, Max slipped from the room.

  Cecil sighed. He planted his elbows on his desk then dropped his head into his hands. Why did everything need to be so complicated? He loved Phoebe. She returned that regard—he hoped. For the moment, he had a responsibility to Emily, and from all accounts, it seemed the girl had given her blessing to a possible union between them. Why couldn’t Max see the logic of a union based in love?

  People rarely had such a wonderful chance as this.

  He shot to his feet. His gaze fell to the liquors and wines in crystal decanters on the credenza behind his desk. The thought of drowning his disappointment in drink rankled, but neither did the idea of walking the darkened shore appeal. Devil take it. If it weren’t for the handful of young people in the foyer, he could retire early and strategize his next move, wait for Phoebe to join him in his chambers. They would talk about their future after they’d made love.

  A scream from somewhere nearby forced his hand and brought him pelting across the room. The commotion sounded as if it came from the stairs. He ran in that direction, his heart in his throat. As he arrived in the foyer, Emily and her friends were clustered tightly around Phoebe, who lay crumpled on her side at the bottom. A mattress rested cockeyed midway up the stairs.

  Dear God! “What happened?” Cecil demanded. His chest was tight as if the roof had collapsed upon it. “Someone tell me what caused Miss Pennyroyal to be in this state.” His pulse roared in his ears. “Now, Emily if you please. I won’t ask again.” His voice was much more harsh than he’d intended, but he didn’t care.

  Emily glanced at him, her face white, her eyes wide and round. “We grew bored with whist. One of the boys suggested we do mattress sledding again. Miss Pennyroyal insisted she take a turn. She was in such a gay mood. We tried to convince her not to, but she kept on. Her eyes were so bright and her smile so convincing, we couldn’t refuse.” Emily fluttered her hands about as her words grew rushed. “She said she was only as old as she felt, and that she felt it would be grand fun to do the mattress thing because life was amazing when one really looked at it.”

  Oh Phoebe. My poor love.

  One of the other girls took up the story at that point. She twirled a brown curl around her finger. “But halfway down, a corner of the mattress caught in the spindles. It stopped, but she did not.”

  “She flew off and hit her head on the wall,” Emily finished, her voice breaking. “After that, she slid down the rest of the way.” The girl bit her bottom lip. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Do you think she’s injured badly? She hasn’t moved. I’m afraid, Uncle Cecil.”

  “I don’t know.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s too soon for me to guess.” With his heart in his throat, he pushed through the clustering adolescents. “Everyone go into the parlor and wait for me there. Someone run and find Banks. Tell him he might need to ride for the doctor.”

  The young people backed away and gave him a wide berth, but they didn’t vacate the area as he asked. Cecil didn’t care. His only thoughts were for Phoebe.

  He knelt beside her. “Phoebe? Can you hear me?” His pulse thundered in his temples as he gently felt her neck, and when he’d ascertained it wasn’t broken, he laid her onto her back. She had a lump on her forehead with the faintest trickle of blood marring her pale skin. A scrape decorated her chin. “Dearest, please wake up.” When one traveled the world, one saw men and women die from much less. A cursory examination with his fingers determined nothing was amiss, but he died a thousand deaths until her eyelids flickered. “Phoebe? My love, are you well?”

  Finally, she opened her eyes and the blue depths swam with happiness. She smiled up at him. “Hello Cecil. Do you want to take a ride? It’s just the thing to keep occupied during the holiday, and it doesn’t matter what your age is.”

  A few gasps of relief escaped the girls clustered behind him.

  “No, I don’t want to ride the mattress, but I do need to make certain your brain is unharmed.” He wanted to cry with relief, but he shoved the urge away. After all, he needed to set an example.

  She frowned, looking much like her usual self except for her position on his floor. Was she paralyzed? Was that why she hadn’t moved? “That doesn’t sound like fun, and after you already treated me to a lovely evening with such delicious words and kisses that would make any woman swoon.” A blush stained her cheeks. Her eyes were over bright. “Do you remember?”

  Heat rushed up the back of his neck. He was nearly sick with worry. Why wouldn’t she move? “Yes. I remember. However, I need to ask you a few questions to confirm your mind is sound.”

  “I’m certain it is, but is yours? Love makes people do madcap things, don’t you think?”

  “Phoebe, darling, you’re not making sense.” Terror clogged his throat. When she squirmed into a sitting position, he asked, “What month is it?” Thank the heavens she was able to move. His shoulders sagged with relief.

  “December.” She winced as she touched her fingertips to her injury. “It is the Christmastime season and you kissed me by the evergreen tree in the parlor.”

  “Good.” He ignored her telling words and died a thousand deaths as he felt the children’s eyes bore into him. “What’s my niece’s name?”

  “Emily, or should I say, Miss Bertrand. I am headmistress at her school.” Phoebe slid a glance to him. Her smile could rival the sun. “Are you satisfied?”

  “Not yet.” Not until she could stand and think at the same time. “Do you feel lightheaded? Can you count to ten, backward and forward?”

  Rapidly, and with cool efficiency, Phoebe rattled off the requested numbers in the requested sequences. “I’m not disoriented, if that’s your concern. My head aches, but that is to be expected.” The gaze she landed on him was so full of heat, he shifted in his spot. “However, I am slightly embarrassed. It was silly of me to attempt that stunt.” She wetted her lips and he couldn’t help but follow the movement. “And yes, I am lightheaded, but it has nothing to do with my fall.”

  When she smiled again and cupped his cheek, Cecil was lost. He wanted to see that smile every day, every night, in good times and bad, for the rest of his life. He wanted to know what else would make her grin, what would make her laugh with abandon, what made her sad. Was she ticklish? Did she cry when she attended the opera? What was her favorite food? Did she scream when she saw a bug? “Oh Phoebe.” Despite his audience, he tugged her into his lap and then brushed his lips over hers.

  “Have you lost your mind?” she whispered as she pulled slightly away. Desire clouded her eyes.

  “No, but I have come to an irrevocable conclusion.” He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted it so she had no choice except to meet his gaze full on. “I’ve been all over the world and have seen many things, but I’ve never been as terrified as I was just now when I saw you lying on the floor, when you didn’t move.”

  Emily edged into his line of sight. “How sweet, Uncle Cecil. I never thought you were so romantic.”

  “I agree.” Max stood next to Emily. He offered a large grin. “Mr. Tame, I’m reversing my decision. Any man who is so concerned about a woman after a tiny fall like that deserves to be leg-shackled and happy with her. Welcome to the family.”

  “Thank you, my boy. I appreciate the confidence.” Hi
s heart pounded in a tight chest as he returned his regard to the woman in his lap, the woman who undoubtedly felt the evidence of his attraction.

  Phoebe frowned. “What’s going on? Why do you both look like cats who’ve just eaten a host of canaries?”

  Emily sucked in a breath. “Never say you’re going to do it, Uncle Cecil?” She clapped her hands. “How very romantic and exciting! I’d hoped that how the wind blew and that was the reason for the picnic, but this is quite something.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps I should ask the lady before you offer premature congratulations.” He never removed his gaze from Phoebe. Her faint scent of roses teased his nose, but it was the weightless feeling of happiness that held him captive. He tightened his hold on her. “Phoebe Pennyroyal, or rather Snell, please say you’ll be my wife. I’ve come to suspect I won’t be complete unless you accept my hand in marriage, and I certainly won’t be as happy.”

  Her highly kissable lips parted. Her eyes rounded in shock or surprise, he couldn’t say. “Perhaps it’s you who is suffering from a blow to the head instead of me.” A giggle escaped her. She stroked her fingers down the side of his face. “Are you quite in your right mind?”

  “I am.” Cecil glanced at his audience. Every child there wore similar expressions of hope and anxiety as if they watched a play. Max nodded, presumably in encouragement. “And I’m very serious, my dear.” Not wishing to say the next bit out loud, he put his lips to the delicate shell of her ear and whispered, “If you don’t accept my proposal, I’ll just have to kiss you deeply in front of all of these young people until you accept my offer. And if that doesn’t work, I will make mad, passionate love to you all through the night until I hear your agreement.”

  She gasped. “You wouldn’t.” But her grin betrayed her wont of him to do just that.

  “I might if I need additional leverage.” He grinned and raised his voice to a more normal level. “I’d rather you say yes because you return my regard instead of obligation. Though many marriages might start off that way, I’d prefer if ours began with love.”