Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  “Nick, what’s happening?” she gasped before an almost pained moan escaped her lips. He tightened his grip on her backside, urging her on, nearly delirious with the pleasure she was giving to him. He was so close.

  “You’re nearly at oblivion, my love. It’s completely natural and beautiful. Keep going.”

  “I… I don’t want to stop. But it seems…” she ground out.

  “Don’t stop,” he urged, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. He couldn’t bear it if she stopped now through panic at the strange sensations.

  Her hip movements had become more intent and he pressed his thigh harder against her. His injured knee was now screaming with pain but he would not let her stop. If he could give her this—the knowledge of her own body’s needs before their wedding night, then the pain of the consummation for her would hopefully be fleeting.

  He felt his own body tighten as she changed her stroke, determined, needy and desperate.

  He gritted his teeth as he spilled into his breeches, trying to mask his grunt of satisfaction. This was about Gabriella, not him and his pleasure. But it was a welcome release nonetheless and probably the only accident of this sort in his life that held no shame… only joy and desire.

  And then it happened.

  A high keening sound, the tightening of her muscles, the painful gripping of her thighs around his and then a slow shuddering as she gasped for breath. He moved his hands up, one on her shoulders to steady her and one on the small of her back, soothing in small circles as her climax peaked then faded.

  They stood for long moments as they caught their breaths. He had a sticky mess inside his breeches and he could not have been happier about it. She gasped against his waistcoat, her face buried under two layers of wool.

  Gabriella drew in a deep breath and lifted her head, her brown eyes meeting his gaze.

  “Do you think me very wanton?” she asked, confusion, pleasure and concern warring in their chocolate depths. Something sparkled on her cheek. Oh God, it must be a tear. She was crying and he was the scoundrel who had caused it.

  “No, my love. I encouraged it. I wanted to see you come apart in my arms. I wanted you to know at least some of the pleasure that can happen in the marriage bed without you having your innocence taken before your wedding day. Please don’t cry.”

  She blinked then scowled. Her gaze moved to his shoulders and up to the sky.

  “It’s snowing!” she cried out, her voice full of wonder and childish glee—a marked contrast to the siren who had come apart in his arms a few moments before.

  He grinned at her. “That is all you have to say?”

  She turned her attention back to him and returned his grin. “If you do not think me a wanton, what else is there to say? Except thank you, of course.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  “Will that happen every time we are intimate?” She bit her lip shyly. He wanted to laugh. Her skirts were hitched up to her knee, her most intimate part was still pressed against his muscular thigh and she was still flushed from what he presumed was her first ever orgasm. But she had become shy all of a sudden.

  “If I am a good husband, you should.”

  She climbed off his thigh, adjusted her skirts and rebuttoned her pelisse. “Then I shall expect it.”

  He bit his own lip to stop the bark of laughter. He loved this damned chit.

  Loved?

  As he picked up his walking cane, she gathered the discarded mistletoe before they re-donned their headwear and linked arms. Their embrace had left his knee stiff and sore and he hobbled slightly.

  “Have you hurt your knee?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I heard you grunt in pain just before I…” She made a motion with her hand showing she was not sure how to express what had happened to her.

  “It wasn’t pain.” Why he was telling her, he did not know but she deserved the truth. “It was pleasure. Just before you…” he mimicked her motion “…I did too.”

  “Oh!” Despite the delightful colour in her cheeks, he was even more delighted by the triumphant smile that tugged her lips. Gabriella was at last seeing just how much she could entice a man. Perhaps he was beginning to undo some of the damage his cruel words had inflicted all those years ago.

  Chapter 22

  Nick walked into the breakfast room the next morning, a wide grin on his face. Tomorrow would be his wedding day and he could honestly not see what the fuss was about. The idea of spending the rest of his life with Gabriella did not feel at all like a leg shackle. He could not wait to get her luscious curves into his bed.

  His breath hitched as he stopped just inside the doorway to the room, the crackling fire making the place far too hot and a vision of loveliness standing staring morosely out the window. He approached her. Glancing around to check that no servants were hovering and pleased to see the room empty, he caught the tops of her arms and placed a gentle kiss just where her neck and shoulder joined.

  “Nick,” she remonstrated just as she moved her head to give him the access he needed to nuzzle up her neck and drop a kiss behind her ear.

  “I know, but what are they going to do? Make us marry?” She smiled at his use of her argument.

  “For someone about to marry a handsome fellow like me, you look rather despondent,” he teased. She heaved a sigh and pointed out the window.

  “The snow came to naught really.” He looked at the light dusting of snow, not even enough to fully cover the lawn and the paths were their usual brown muddy state.

  “Ah, but look at the leaden sky, my love. I have every faith that you will be tramping through the snow to say your vows. I’m so glad you agreed to have the wedding here in the chapel after all. A few friends are arriving from London today and your brother and sister-in-law have been invited. I just hope everyone arrives before the snow gets too bad.”

  As if on cue a few large snowflakes fluttered to the ground and she shivered against him. He pulled her shawl up over her shoulders and stepped away. She turned, expectant. He melted. Dropping his head, he placed a soft, lingering but chaste kiss on her lips.

  “Stop tempting me, you beautiful, wonderful woman.” Her lips curved into a smile and she moved her hand as if she was about to cover her birthmark but then lowered it.

  “We should get breakfast before it gets cold,” she said simply. He nodded and followed her to where the food lay, lifting a plate to help serve her before serving himself.

  “My lord, The Earl of Thornwich is here to see you. He is in the study. I suggested he come in here but he said he wanted to speak to you in your father’s study.”

  “Really? Fine.”

  Gabriella looked from the stern butler to her betrothed and saw a look of puzzlement pass between the men.

  “Gabriella, would you like to come?”

  “Umm…” she looked at the butler who shrugged almost imperceptibly. “Very well.” She rose and followed Nick.

  When they entered the earl’s study she was surprised to find Joseph sitting behind the earl’s desk, his feet up on the furniture. Nick barely seemed to notice.

  “Ah, Eastden, you are not the brightest of fellows it seems. I have barely been here two minutes and already I have in my hand on the special licence you procured so you can marry my sister. That was very silly of you. Now all I need to do is drop it in the fire and you lose the wager.”

  Nick moved to sit on one of the high-backed chairs at one side on the hearth and motioned to the other for Gabriella. She took a seat, horror building inside her. Her brother was going to ruin her wedding and cause Nick to lose the wager. She looked from the handsome viscount, who lifted one booted leg onto the knee of his other leg, wincing slightly. She tried not to smile. In his attempt at nonchalance he had forgotten the bruising on his knee.

  “Is that why you are here, Thornwich? To try and stop the wedding and win the wager?”

  “I came to talk sense into you, man. Look at her. Spinster material if ever I saw it. You s
hall both be miserable.”

  “Like you are? Tell me, Thornwich, how much do you pay Miss Wainwright to warm your bed whenever you are in town?”

  Gabriella gasped. Of course she knew Miss Wainwright was Joseph’s mistress but no one spoke about such things in polite company.

  “That is none of your business, Eastden.”

  “And my impending marriage is none of yours.”

  “You really want to marry a wench with the mark of the devil on her?” Gabriella’s hand flew to her cheek. On many occasions as she had grown up her brother had thrown that cruel taunt in her direction, but no one else had ever heard it. He would sit at the dinner table rubbing his cheek, making little horns with his fingers when their parents were not looking. When she was younger she would rise to the bait and be scolded for making a fuss about nothing. When she got older, she ignored the insults.

  “If you mean an insignificant birthmark, then yes. But let me tell you, Thornwich--from this moment on, every nasty jibe you make at your sister’s expense will lose you five thousand pounds of the settlement I am about to offer you for your sister’s hand.”

  “Settlement? What the devil are you on about?” Joseph was on his feet, the special licence still in his hand.

  “It’s simple. I am rich and you… well, you have gambled away your inheritance and no doubt your sister’s dowry too.” Gabriella looked up and saw the truth of Nick’s statement in her brother’s eyes. No wonder she had been unable to find a husband on the marriage mart. Some cash poor aristocrats would marry Prinny himself for his money, if such a thing were legal. They would have overlooked her marked skin if her dowry had been intact.

  “Gabs, I…”

  Gabriella held up a staying hand. She did not want to hear his excuses. Instead she focused on the ruby of Nick’s cravat pin and willed herself not to cry.

  “Here is the deal. The wager is off, but for the sake of gentlemanly honour I shall marry Gabriella tomorrow and officially win the bet as far as every gentleman in White’s and every gossip of the Beau Monde are concerned. I shall not collect my winnings but everyone will assume the debt has been paid.”

  “I shall give you twenty thousand pounds. Ten thousand to pay off any outstanding debts, wages etcetera and ten thousand to be held in trust for improvements to your estate.

  “My man of business and my land steward will arrive on the day after Boxing Day and they will work in your office and on your estate. You will give them every help and they shall turn around the estate, making it profitable again. The ten thousand pounds held in trust is to be used only for estate improvements, buying any animals, tools or whatever is required. Once the estate is in profit again you can keep on my men and learn from your mistakes or you can send them back to my employ.”

  “Why are you doing this? I don’t see what is in it for you.”

  “Your sister can rest easy knowing that her brother is not getting further into debt and is not doing anything that is likely to get himself hanged.”

  Gabriella made a little yelp of protest but Nick ignored her, rising to his feet and fishing in his coat pocket.

  “The night you attacked me I saw you and recognised you. As you tripped me up and I twisted my knee, I heard something tinkle onto the pavement. Once you had gone and before I all but lost consciousness, I searched for what had fallen.” He held up a cravat pin. “It has the Thornwich crest on it.”

  Gabriella jumped to her feet.

  “Joseph, how could you?” Joseph too was out of his seat and backing up against the window. Gabriella noticed that the small flurry of snow had turned into a veritable blizzard.

  Joseph shook his head. “I had no choice. I never planned to kill you. I just wanted to make it too difficult for you to wed her before Christmas.”

  Nick tossed the cravat pin at Joseph, who fumbled with it and just managed to stop it from falling to the floor.

  “I know you didn’t want to kill me. You don’t have it in you, Thornwich. You’re feckless, you’re a wastrel and you’re dissolute. But you are not a murderer. Take the money, turn your life around and do the right thing for that babe in Edna’s belly. You know, my mother is friends with her mother so I used to know her reasonably well. She’s not a bad sort. But you treat her badly. Give up the courtesans and the mistresses and give her a chance to be a proper wife.”

  “What about this?” Joseph held up the pin. “Are you going to get the magistrate involved?”

  “I have no evidence.” Nick raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Come to the wedding with Edna, walk your sister down the aisle and give her away into what I can only hope will be a happy marriage. Let us all start again. The money and the help are yours. We shall be brothers by marriage. It is the least I can do.”

  “I don’t deserve it,” said Joseph quietly.

  “Perhaps not, but then I don’t deserve to be marrying someone as special and kind-hearted as your sister. I’m lucky. I didn’t lose my parents at sixteen. You may have turned out differently but for that carriage accident. I’ve done enough things in my life that I’m not proud of.”

  “I don’t know, Eastden. It’s a very generous offer.”

  “Don’t be a damned fool, Thornwich. We all know farming is hard these days. If your land becomes worthless, Chetfern land loses value too.” He turned to Gabriella and scowled. “Stop looking at me like that. This is business, nothing more. And Thornwich, put that damned marriage licence back in the drawer where you found it.” With that Nick stomped out of the room, leaving brother and sister alone in the study together.

  Joseph turned shining eyes on Gabriella and she choked back tears.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabs.”

  She nodded as a big tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek. “I know,” she managed.

  “Do you want me to walk you down the aisle? I would understand if you sent me to the devil.”

  “You are the only thing I have left of father and mother. All I ever wanted was for you to care, Joseph.”

  He moved slowly then wrapped her in a hug, his large frame enveloping her, his tears dripping onto her hair.

  Nick paced across the drawing room again. What was taking them so long? Was that brother of hers trying to talk her out of marrying him? He should not have left her alone with him but, at the same point, she needed to mend the relationship she had with her brother in her own way. And besides, he could not take that look she was giving him as if he was some kind of Christmas angel.

  Had it not been for Nick, Gabriella’s life may have been very different. His own mother would probably have sponsored her come out. Thornwich would probably not have been such a prize ass and possibly neither would he have been. His own father would have taught Gabby’s brother to manage his estate and how to enjoy life but enjoy it responsibly just as he did.

  He heard the front door slam and hurried to the window to see Thornwich swing himself easily up onto his horse, the snow already settling on top of his hat.

  The fast padding of her slippers over the parquet flooring alerted him to her presence, then her arms were around his waist as she too watched her brother ride down the private road.

  “I hope he shall be all right in all this snow.”

  “He’s safer on horseback than in a carriage,” Nick said. “Is everything all right between you two?”

  “Well, we have some way to go but I think we made a start towards some kind of brother-sister relationship. He is returning to Thornwich then he and Edna are coming straight here so that he will not miss the wedding. Will that be all right?”

  “Yes. I’ll let the servants know. And what about the marriage licence?”

  “Back in the drawer as you asked. Nick, he plans to follow your lead and start again. He wants to make a go of Thornwich estate. He says he will pay you back as soon as the estate starts making money.”

  “There really is no need, but he and I can sort that out sometime in the future.”

  “
Nick?” Her voice had turned coquettish.

  “Yes.”

  “Do married people only…you know…at night?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because when we were out in the woods yesterday, it was daytime.”

  “And?”

  “Well I know we did not do the act but had we been married might we have?”

  “Yes, we might have.”

  “So it can be done during the day.”

  “Yes.”

  “Could it be done now?”

  “If we were married, yes it could.”

  She nodded. He frowned. Where was she going with this?

  “And if we were married, would you want to? Now?”

  Was it reassurance? And if so, reassurance of what? Reassurance that he wanted her or reassurance that he would not be pouncing on her at every opportunity?

  He strode over and closed the drawing room doors. If anyone walked in, they would find them talking… or at worst kissing. Nothing more. He was not going to debauch her on the drawing room chaise, much though he wanted to. He moved back and sat down beside her on the chaise.

  “Men have needs and ladies have needs too, but men seem to have more frequent needs,” he started. “Men can be aroused throughout the day even sometimes when they are not thinking about ladies with whom they want to couple. Sometimes we wake up aroused without dreaming of anything we desire. So yes, at this time of day we may want to couple and we may choose to. You may want to bed me or vice versa at any time of the day or night. Sometimes propriety will mean it cannot happen, sometimes one or other of us will not want to because we are tired or ill. But know this—you can always refuse and I will not complain and whether I am I bedding you or not I find you beautiful and charming and enticing.”

  “Nick, you do not have to say such things. I know the truth.”

  He gritted his teeth and smoothed the back of his fingers down the cheek with her birthmark.

  “Oh no, Gabby, you do not know the truth. You don’t know that when I am not with you I have conversations in my head with you where I try to make you laugh just so I can see you smile. Your eyes shine and you light up the room when you laugh. You make my heart leap out my chest when I see you. When we are in a room, I want to be near enough to smell the lavender soap that you use or to feel the warmth of your body or the brush of the hem of your skirts against my ankle. But no other woman would do, Gabriella. Only you. And I wish I could take back what I said all those years ago. I’m sorry for hurting you and for the pain I caused our families. I do hope that one day you can forgive me.”