Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  “Time to get that beautiful fur-lined cloak you wore to the church and your boots, my dear. The only person you shall be getting hot and bothered with for the rest of the evening is me.”

  “But it is only six o’clock.”

  “It is nearly seven o’clock. It will take at least half an hour for us to extract ourselves from all these relatives and we have half a mile in the snow to walk. And then I am going to wish you a very special and very early Merry Christmas.” He ran a finger down her bare arm and she shivered, turning to gaze into his hazel eyes. They burned with desire, and anticipation coiled through her. “Come, my love,” he coaxed gently. “It is time and there is nothing of which to be afraid.”

  “You were rather optimistic in your theory that it would only take half an hour to extract ourselves from your relatives,” Gabriella said as they rounded the side of the stables and headed down the path to the dower house. The snow was eight inches thick and still falling.

  Nick flung his arm around her and pulled her into his body to help keep her warm, but she struggled free. “I think they were deliberately trying to stop us getting away. Trying to frustrate me, I’d say.”

  “I do believe they were,” she giggled and he chuckled in reply.

  The path dipped down a slight incline and she clutched the arm of his coat. Nick held the lantern he carried higher just as his foot gave way on some unseen ice. His sore knee protested the extra pull on it. It seemed that the world overturned slowly as he landed with a thud in the soft snow. A little squeal of terror came from his wife’s lips as he sucked in the air which had been brutally expelled from his lungs. A quick mental assessment of his body told him nothing had been damaged including his previous injuries.

  “Oh Nick, are you all right? My darling.”

  “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just help me up.” He raised his hand and she took it. In one swift movement he pulled her down on top of him. She squealed and kicked unconvincingly.

  “Oh you vexing man,” she cried as she wriggled in his grasp.

  He rolled her into the snow, covering her body with his and kissed her hard and thoroughly. He would not chance her catching a chill keeping her in the snow for any length of time but he needed to claim her as his, even if only briefly.

  He lifted his head and tried to look at her but their lantern had gone out. It was almost pitch black, he was hard as a brick and she was reaching up for another kiss.

  “We need to hurry. I don’t want you catching a chill,” he said gruffly, scrambling to his knees.

  “A little snow never hurt anyone,” she protested.

  “Come on.” He got to his feet and held his hand out to her. She accepted and he pulled her to a standing position. He grabbed the now useless lantern and turned in the direction of the lights from the dower house.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No. Why would you think that?” He pulled her against him again and this time she did not pull away.

  “You were playful, then you kissed me and then you were all business-like and gruff all within about a minute. I would have kissed you back but I was taken unawares.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why did you pull away?”

  “Because, my darling, if I hadn’t, I was in very near danger of lifting that lovely wedding down, unfastening my knee breeches and consummating our marriage in the snow.”

  “Really?” Her voice was full of wonder.

  “Really. And much though it may have been pleasurable while it was happening, I doubt you taking a fever tomorrow would enhance our Christmas any.”

  “I suppose not. Nick?”

  “Yes.”

  “When we consummate the marriage, will we be… naked?” This last word came out in a stage whisper and he suppressed a chuckle.

  “I would like that very much.” He did not think he had ever had sex without any clothes on before. It had only ever been a quick tumble and the very idea of being skin-to-skin made him grow even harder, if that was possible.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother said a maid would prepare me for you, but I don’t need a maid.”

  “That is fine. What about your gown and its fastenings and your stays?” There was a moment’s silence and he could tell she was embarrassed.

  “If we are going to be naked, surely you can undo a few buttons and a few laces, can you not?”

  Devil take it. The woman was trying to make his nether-regions explode with want.

  “I can, if that is what you would prefer.”

  “It is.”

  “Will you be willing to help remove my boots?” he asked, hoping he could dismiss his valet too.

  “Of course.”

  “Then I shall send the servants to bed as soon as we get in the house.”

  They had arrived and they stepped up onto the sweeping porch, stamping the snow off their boots. He turned and brushed the snow off Gabriella’s back and she returned the favour just as the butler opened the door.

  “Ah, Speirs. Thank you,” said Nick, handing his hat and gloves to the older man. He turned to Gabby, who was shivering and having trouble with the ribbon on her fur-trimmed bonnet. He helped her out of them and her soaking kid gloves. “Right, I think we need some hot chocolate brought to her ladyship’s bedchamber, then bank the fires everywhere but that room and send all the servants to bed, including her maid and my valet.” The butler gave him a quizzical look but said nothing.

  Nick helped Gabriella out of her thick fur cloak and handed it to the butler before shrugging out of his own cloak. Her gown was dry save for the hem that had been dragged through the snow.

  He hurried her into the warm bedchamber. She shuddered at the change of temperature and he walked straight to her dressing room, found a thick woollen shawl and returned, draping it round her shoulders and pressing her into a seat by the fire.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, wrapping the shawl tightly around herself.

  “No need to apologise. I should not have pulled you into the snow.”

  “I shall warm up quickly enough now I am by the fire.”

  He turned when the maid brought in a tray laid with a large pot of hot chocolate, two cups and some sandwiches and cakes. She set it down on the small desk where Nick indicated, bobbed a curtsey and left.

  Nick quickly fetched Gabriella a cup of hot chocolate before getting his own and sitting opposite her.

  “Why did the butler give you a funny look when you said to bank all the fires but this one?”

  “Did he?”

  “You know he did.”

  “Well, despite the fact everyone knows that I will come to your bed and consummate the marriage, it is still the tradition that I go to my room, undress and come to you, make love then return to my own room before the maid arrives in the morning.”

  “So everyone pretends it’s not happening? For what purpose?”

  He shrugged.

  “I have no idea because if there is not a stain on the sheet in the morning, you can guarantee that it would be the talk of the servants’ quarters too.”

  “A stain?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “My mother really did not tell you much, did she?”

  “I did not ask much.”

  “Yet you have no concerns about asking me.”

  She smiled. “You are my husband.”

  “I was not your husband until twelve hours ago.”

  “No, but before that you were my betrothed.”

  “True. I like that you trust me. Do you trust me enough to show you rather than explain in detail?”

  Her eyebrows raised and her shy smile was back. “First we need to get my boots off though.” He raised one leg and she giggled. She placed her cup on the table at her side and moved to him, taking the boot in both hands and tugging. Not being quite as strong or as adept as a gentleman’s valet, it took her a few attempts to remove the footwea
r. By the time the second one lay on the floor beside its twin she was gasping and laughing, her bosom heaving and her face bright, her eyes glistening.

  “Come here,” he said gruffly. Her grin waned and she approached him warily, but he knew she was not afraid.

  He lifted her wedding gown at the skirt until he could see her knees. It was still damp and heavy.

  “Put one knee on this side of my hip and one of the other and sit on my lap.” His voice was hoarse and he knew the hold he had on his self-control was tenuous at best. She did as he asked. “Now kiss me, as hard or as soft as you like. You are in control, Gabriella.”

  She placed a hand on either side of his face then lowered her mouth to his, moving her lips tentatively at first, waiting to see how he reacted. When he followed her lead, she became bolder, exploring his lips with her tongue then pushing it into his mouth.

  Nick reached down and worked loose the laces of first one of her boots then the other as he surrendered to Gabriella’s increasingly bold explorations. He pushed the boots off then set about rubbing the ice blocks that were her feet. Her toes curled and she squirmed on his lap, pulling her lips away from his.

  “Sorry, I have ticklish feet, “she murmured as she pressed her mouth back to his. He rubbed her feet with more vigour and she relaxed back into the kiss.

  For a long time they sat in front of the fire, kissing, his hands rubbing her cold feet, her hands toying with his hair, little moans of pleasure escaping from one or the other sporadically.

  For all his need to bed her and make her his own, he was happy to relax and allow this to take its own form and to allow her to lead. When she began to rock her hips against his ever-present erection, he knew it was time to move on.

  He found the buttons at the back of her gown and started to undo them. When she realised what he was doing, she withdrew from the kiss and gazed into his eyes. She was hypnotising. As his fingers reached the small of her back and the last button he moved his hands back up the cotton of her chemise.

  “Can I see you naked?” she asked suddenly.

  He was taken aback but chuckled. “That is the general idea, my love.”

  “I mean before I am naked.”

  “If you want.”

  “I do.”

  He shrugged. “You get that wet gown off then, I’ll untie your stays and while you take your hair down and braid it, I shall undress.”

  “Fine.” She climbed off his lap and presented her back and the laces of her stays to him.

  By the time he had sat on the bed and released his garters and pulled off one stocking, she was sitting at the mirror in just her chemise, pulling pins from her hair and allowing those glorious blonde curls to fall over her shoulders.

  He had never undressed so quickly in his life. In seconds he had shed every item of clothing and was crossing to stand behind her.

  She was dragging a brush through her hair as if she was a mangy horse. He caught her hand and stopped her, uncurling her fingers and taking over the task.

  “Nick, it’s dreadfully knotted. It needs more vigour than that.”

  The moment she looked properly in the mirror and saw his naked form in it, he knew. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped, and he could not help but preen.

  Gabriella’s gaze took in the taut stomach muscles, the indented line of his hip, the nest of dark curls and his rod—as the countess had described it. There was no way that would fit inside her body, no matter how much the countess had said her muscles would stretch to accommodate him.

  That said, the countess had also said babies came out that way and with the best will in the world, the rod was not bigger than a baby. So maybe she was right.

  “What happened to trusting me?” Nick said, his voice low and encouraging. She swallowed.

  “I do. I just didn’t expect it to be so big.”

  “Gabby, would you leave your hair loose for me?” It was his first request of the evening. She nodded and stood, her gaze settling on his face as his settled on the tie of her chemise. She placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the indentation of his collarbone. He raised his gaze to her face and curled his fingers into her waist-length hair. There were mere inches between them and one thin layer of cotton. She skimmed her fingers over the muscles of his chest, relishing the tightening of each muscle group as she reached it.

  She smoothed the smattering of hair on his chest and around his small brown nipples. When her thumb brushed one, he sucked in a breath. She tried it again and although not close enough to feel the jerk of his manhood, she was aware it had happened.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it strange that I want to kiss it?”

  He made a kind of strangled noise as his grip in her hair tightened.

  “Not at all. Feel free,” he ground out.

  And so she did. She caught the tiny nubbin between her lips but it was too small so she stuck out her tongue and swirled round the raised peak. He dropped his head back and groaned. But it sounded like a good groan. She tried the other nipple, this time being a little more daring, catching it between her teeth before rubbing her tongue over the distended tip.

  “Oh God, this is torture,” he whispered.

  She straightened and pressed a kiss to his throat. She had enjoyed it when he had down that to her. Her hands continued to move over his hard stomach.

  He brought his head forward and his hands to her face.

  “It’s my turn now,” he rasped.

  “But I…” She had not touched or learned anything about his stomach, or his backside, or the rod, or the balls or his strong thighs.

  “You can finish your inspection later. Remember in the woods when you found the peak of pleasure?” She nodded. She had been barely able to think of much else whenever she had been alone in the past few days. “It’s time to take you there again.”

  “All right.” She lifted her chemise slightly and moved closer, wrapping her arms around the neck and opening her legs, waiting for him to place his thigh between, but he shook his head.

  “There is more than one route to that peak, my love.” He tugged the chemise out of her grasp and over her head. She was naked, in front of a man. He may be her husband but this was deuced uncomfortable. But when she met his gaze and the burning passion in them, the hand that wanted to cover her cheek flexed and fell back to her side.

  He found her beautiful. He had said as much, though until she had seen that look in his eyes, she had not fully believed it. He marched to the bed, grabbed the covers and flung them to the bottom of the bed. He stalked back to her, lifted her in his arms, kissed her then took her over to the bed and laid her on it, her head on the soft feather pillows, her body stretched before him like a sacrifice.

  His lips met hers as he climbed onto the bed, dropping half to the side of her, half atop her so as not to crush her with his weight. She curled her fingers into his hair while his tongue swept around her mouth and stroked her own tongue. She could drown in his passionate kisses if she was not careful. His hand moved onto her hip, rubbing up and down, clasping at her thigh then letting go. She wanted to wrap that thigh over his hip but she was afraid of looking wanton.

  “Gabby, in this bed, you can touch whatever you want to touch, do whatever you want to do. If it feels right, then do it. It is the only rule to lovemaking. If you don’t like something, say so and I shall stop. But allow your body the chance to accept the new sensation first before you call a halt. Then if you still don’t like it, I shall stop. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. He meant like when they were in the woods. Part of her wanted to stop because the sensations were frightening, but she had trusted him and it had been worth it.

  “Nick, I trust you. I know it will hurt this first time but I am not afraid to become your wife.” He nodded and placed a kiss on her cheek, then on her nose, then on her other cheek.

  Before long he had kissed all over her face and was peppering kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Th
e feeling in her core was increasing again and she desperately needed something to rock against. Suddenly his fingers were there, exploring her folds, making her groan in pleasure as his mouth descended on her erect nipple.

  She grabbed hold of the pillow and arched her back, offering her breast to him, unsure what to do about the storm brewing within. He moved to the other breast as he pressed the heel of his hand to the front of her intimate place. It was as if he had found the one part of her that could give her ultimate pleasure. She writhed and he grunted in satisfaction.

  She grappled at the pillow, fearful that if she touched him her nails would score his skin or that she would pull his hair out by the roots—such was the pleasure he was giving her.

  “Oh Nick,” she managed—not quite sure what she was asking for. He bit her nipple then soothed it with his tongue. Round and round the little nubbin, he teased and tickled as she mewled out her pleasure like a cat.

  Then he lifted his head. She opened her eyes and caught his gaze as he slowly but surely pushed one finger into her opening. She tried to relax just as his lips broke into a reassuring smile. She tried to smile back. It was a strange intrusion, but she could not help clench her muscles around his digit.

  “You’re so tight and wet,” he growled, easing the finger almost fully out before pushing it back in as far as he could reach.

  “Is that… is that a good thing?” she asked in a whisper. Surely wet was never a good thing down in that part of the anatomy. His smile widened.

  “Yes, my inquisitive darling. It’s a very good thing.”

  She relaxed slightly as he used the thumb of his free hand to rub that pleasure point. He was kneeling beside her now, his rod sitting upright against his belly, fluid glistening at the tip, catching the glow from the candles and giving Gabriella the sudden urge to press her lips to it.

  But his ministrations stole her thoughts. She moved her attention back to his face and his dark gaze and the need her was drilling into her with his hands. He had been slowly working that finger and now he added a second, then he stretched out alongside her, the heel of his hand pressing against her pleasure point as he wrapped his free hand around her shoulders.