My Winter Rogue: A Regency Holiday Collection

by Jillian Eaton

  “You surprise me, Miss Fairchild,” Colebrook said when she stepped into his arms. He held her lightly, his large hands touching her elbows, the tips of his Hessians brushing against the hem of her dress. His entire body radiated heat, the sort that burned low and intensely hot. She found herself drawn to it – drawn to him – as a moth was to a flame, and even though her head knew what happened to the moth when it fluttered too close to the fire her heart didn’t care.

  Her heart wanted to burn.

  Tilting her head back she met his gaze and now she did smile coyly, the corners of her mouth slanting in a smirk that was decidedly feline. “I am pleased to hear it, as I imagine you are not the sort of man who is usually surprised.”

  “Not nearly enough,” he agreed.

  “This doesn’t change anything, you know.” She wet her bottom lip with a sweep of her tongue and watched his gaze darken. “I still find you appallingly arrogant and I do not like you very much.” Her shoulders lifted in a small, careless shrug. “Not very much at all, if I am being completely honest.”

  A tawny eyebrow shot upwards. “I don’t know whether to be insulted or elated. A bit of both,” Colebrook decided after a thoughtful pause. “Although it does beg the question as to why you came into the parlor and closed the door.”

  “You said it yourself. The best way to get over someone you used to love is to kiss someone you don’t.” With the tip of her finger she boldly traced a shiny silver button on his waistcoat. Cadence may have been a virgin, but she was no shy, simpering miss. She enjoyed pleasure in all of its many forms. The brush of silk against her skin, a pair of new shoes, sinking into a warm bath scented with lavender. What was flirting with a handsome duke, if not just another type of pleasure?

  A dangerous type, her head warned. The type you shouldn’t have anything to–

  Oh do shut up, her heart interrupted. Let’s get on with the kissing, shall we?

  “So I did,” he murmured, and the butterflies in her belly went wild when he tightened his grip and yanked her against his hard chest.

  She had one moment to think that maybe kissing a handsome duke renowned for his rakish behavior wasn’t such a good idea after all before he lowered his mouth to hers…and then she didn’t think of anything at all.

  Chapter Six

  Justin did not know how many women he’d kissed. Having started at a very young age, he’d lost track of the number years ago. But he did know, beyond an immeasurable doubt, that he’d never kissed one like Miss Cadence Fairchild.

  He’d been expecting a little warmth. Instead he got fire.

  He’d been expecting a little desire. Instead he got passion.

  He’d been expecting a little kiss. Instead he got – well, he didn’t know what he’d gotten except it sure as the devil wasn’t little.

  Justin did not kiss Cadence so much as sink into her. He cupped the nape of her neck, fingers tangling in all that dark, silky mane he’d been yearning to touch. His other hand settled on her delicate jaw, thumb resting on the throb of her pulse. Her lips parted and his tongue slid between them. She tasted of cinnamon with a hint of something spicier. Something hotter. Something that wrenched a rumbling growl of pleasure from the depths of his chest.

  He felt her pulse quicken as their kiss deepened. As it grew and changed and became more. More than anything he’d ever felt with the women he invited carelessly into his bed. More than anything he’d ever experienced with Jessica whose kisses had always been tentative and teasing in their brevity.

  There was nothing tentative about Cadence. She was bold and fearless and she turned his blood to liquid fire. One taste of her lips and he was burning from the inside out. One kiss and he was a man engulfed in flame.

  “Well,” he said when they finally broke apart, both of them breathing harshly. He glanced at the windows overlooking the front lawn and was mildly surprised to discover the glass wasn’t covered in a layer of steam.

  “Well,” she replied, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips and wide blue eyes.

  Justin waited a beat. “Care to do that again?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Oh, yes.”

  This time their kiss carried them over to the chaise lounge. Cadence gasped when he lifted her effortlessly in his arms and laid her down upon it. Groaned when he knelt on top of her and traced the sensitive outer shell of her ear with his tongue. Whimpered when he cupped her breasts through the soft fabric of her bodice.

  He wanted to rip off her gown. Wanted to hear the ping of the pearl buttons striking the floor as he exposed those beautiful breasts. Wanted to feel her hands pulling on his hair as he suckled her nipples. But he restrained himself, knowing that now wasn’t the time and the parlor wasn’t the place. Not when anyone could walk in on them at any moment. When he took her – and he would take her – it would be on red silk sheets and a bed as soft as a cloud. They’d have all the time in the world, and he would use that time to explore every single inch of her delectable little body…with his tongue.

  “We – we should stop.” Pushing against his chest, Cadence rolled out from beneath of him and stumbled to her feet. Her dress was askew, her hair a tumbled mess of dark curls. She looked like a siren that had just risen from the sea, and Justin had the feeling if he wasn’t careful he’d soon find himself snared within her net.

  “And here I was just getting started.” Grinning, he sat up and took a moment to adjust his trousers. His erection was hard and heavy, and when he caught Cadence staring at it his grin widened. “Fancy a trip upstairs, love?”

  “No,” she said quickly. Too quickly, to Justin’s way of thinking. Her cheeks as red as the Queen’s royal cloak, she jerked her gaze away. “Certainly not.”

  “Certainly not,” he mocked lightly. “You weren’t telling me ‘certainly not’ ten seconds ago when my hands were on your–”

  She folded her arms across her breasts. “That was a mistake. A temporary lapse in judgement.”

  “That was a lot of things, sweetheart. But mistake wasn’t one of them.” Stretching his arms out across the top of the chaise lounge, he tilted his head back and studied her countenance beneath a rakishly arched brow. “Well, did it work?”

  “Did what work?”

  “The kiss. Did it work or are you still helplessly, hopelessly in love with your earl?”

  “I was never–” She cut herself short.

  “You were never…what?” Justin coaxed, unconsciously sitting up straighter.

  Not that it mattered whether she’d loved her almost-fiancé. She could still be head over heels for all he cared.

  Then why do you want to know? A little voice intruded slyly. You’re not jealous, are you?

  Jealous? He snorted at the thought. Jealousy was an emotion strictly reserved for those who cared. Which he didn’t. Not even a little bit. He just wanted to know because…because he did. He didn’t need a reason. And even if he had one, it wouldn’t be jealousy.

  Certainly not.

  “Nothing,” she snipped. “It is none of your concern.”

  With the stealthy speed of a lion, Justin sprang off the lounge and intercepted Cadence before she could march out of the parlor. She took a step back and glowered up at him, arms unfolding to rest tersely at her sides, hands curled into small fists.

  “What do you want now?”

  “You didn’t love your earl.” For the life of him, he didn’t know whether he was making a statement or asking a question.

  “What part of ‘none of your concern’ do you not understand?” she demanded, her dark brows sweeping together to form an angry peak above the dainty bridge of her nose.

  She was right. It wasn’t his concern. Nothing about her was his concern. He should have never stopped her from leaving. Should have never kissed her. Should have never wondered what she would taste like. But he’d done all three of those things, and having done them he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “If you loved him you wouldn’t have been able to kiss me like t
hat.”

  Confusion flickered in her cerulean gaze. “Like what?”

  “Like this,” he said huskily before he cupped her waist and kissed her again. She resisted for less than a heartbeat, and then her rigidity dissolved like honey melting into warm tea.

  This kiss was softer than the last and all the more meaningful for it. They drank each other in by degrees. A lick here. A nibble there. A soft sigh. A whispered moan. And when it was over she stared at him and he stared at her, both recognizing that something significant had just happened between them but neither one willing to admit or acknowledge what it was.

  When she bolted out the door in a swirl of wrinkled skirts and tangled black hair he didn’t try to stop her. Truth be told he couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to. His legs were rooted to the spot, his boots nailed to the floorboards as if they’d been planted there by the bloody gardener.

  It was just a kiss, he told himself. It doesn’t mean anything.

  Except it wasn’t, and it did. Justin was guilty of many sins, but lying wasn’t one of them. Not to others and not to himself. Which meant he knew it was more than a kiss. Bollocks, a blind man could have seen it was more than a kiss. How much more, he couldn’t say. But he did know one thing with absolute certainty.

  This may have been his first kiss with Miss Cadence Fairchild…but it sure as hell wasn’t going to be his last.

  Chapter Seven

  Surely there were worse things than being trapped in a house with a notorious rake, Cadence mused several days later as she helped one of the maids hang garland in the drawing room, but at the moment she couldn’t think of a single one.

  Every time she turned around there was Colebrook, his mouth curved in a wolfish grin as he eyed her up as if she were a tasty little treat he couldn’t wait to devour. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was she wanted to be devoured. And therein laid the problem.

  One kiss could easily be attributed to a lapse in judgement. Which it had been. A terrible, terrible lapse in judgement. But two kisses? Two kisses were dangerously close to forming a habit, and Cadence had always done her best to avoid poor habits.

  She did not chew her fingernails.

  She did not eat or drink to excess.

  And she did not kiss scoundrels.

  Except she had. She had kissed a scoundrel, and – heaven help her – she wanted to do it again.

  I kissed a rake…and I liked it.

  “But you cannot,” she said aloud as she stretched up on her tiptoes and draped one end of the garland over the mantle. With two weeks to go until December twenty-fifth and very little to occupy her time aside from her secret stash of chocolate (the one bad habit she allowed herself), she’d decided to decorate the manor for Christmas. A fool’s errand, given that Hannah and Wycliffe wouldn’t be returning until after the New Year and she highly doubted Colebrook would appreciate her efforts. But she needed something to distract her from the handsome duke and his sultry stares and, given the time of year, this seemed the most logical choice.

  All morning long servants had been dragging pine boughs into Wycliffe Manor by the bucketful. They’d set up an assembly line of sorts in the middle of the foyer and were busy creating large wreaths and long ropes of garland which would be placed on all the mantles and woven down the bannisters. Big red bows had already been hung from the windows and sprigs of holly berries brightened up the sills. The only thing left to do was find and decorate the tree; an old German tradition that had recently been made popular in England by Queen Victoria’s German husband, Prince Albert.

  “Did you say something?” Elsbeth asked as she stepped down off a wooden stool and brushed pine needles from her apron. Even though the pretty blonde-haired lady’s maid was Hannah’s companion, she’d stayed behind to serve Cadence.

  “I was just talking to myself.” Hands on her hips, Cadence took a step back and studied the garland they’d hung with a critical eye. “Do you think the left side is even?”

  “Looks good enough to me.” Sauntering unannounced into the drawing room, Colebrook stopped directly behind Cadence. Not close enough to touch – he hadn’t touched her since their moment of passion in the parlor – but she could still feel him all the same. The heat of his body. The scent of his cologne. The way the air seemed to grow taut with anticipation whenever he stepped into a room. It all combined to twist her stomach into a heavy knot of confused desire.

  Unfortunately, while kissing the duke had made her forget about Lord What’s-His-Name, it had also opened up an entirely new box of problems. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that if she showed even the tiniest inclination Colebrook would take her to his bed and make her his mistress. But a mistress wasn’t the same thing as a wife, and having already been spurned once by a man she’d hoped to marry she had no interest in being rejected a second time. Which was why she couldn’t – she wouldn’t – kiss him again.

  No matter how much she wanted to.

  “I see you’ve managed to drag yourself out of bed before noon,” she said with a dismissive glance over her shoulder. “Congratulations.”

  “Couldn’t sleep with all the racket going on.” Stepping up beside her, he rubbed his jaw where he’d allowed several days’ worth of golden scruff to grow. While Cadence ordinarily preferred men who were clean shaven, she had to admit that Colebrook’s beard only added to his roguish appeal.

  Blast the man, she thought, biting down hard on the inside of her cheek. Why couldn’t he be hideously ugly, or dreadfully dull? Maybe then she would be able to ignore him. Maybe then she wouldn’t be constantly reminded of what it had felt like to be wrapped in his arms. His mouth on her mouth. His tongue tasting her tongue. His hands – well, best not to think about his hands. Or his fingers. Those clever, clever fingers.

  Jerking her gaze back to the mantle as a warm blush blossomed across her cheeks, she silently willed him to go away. When they were in separate wings of the manor she could keep a relatively sensible thought in her head. But when he was standing right next to her…well, all sensibility went right out the nearest window.

  “Peterson mentioned you needed a tree,” he said, referring to the Duke of Wycliffe’s personal valet who, like Elsbeth, had remained behind after the newlyweds made it clear they wanted privacy on their honeymoon.

  “Did he?” she murmured noncommittally.

  Please go away. Please, please, please.

  “Indeed. Coincidentally enough, I know just where to find one.”

  How was he knew the one thing to say that would get her attention? Cadence had sent footmen out far and wide to scour the estate for the perfect Christmas tree, but they’d yet to find one that wasn’t too small, or too big, or too scraggly. “You do?” she asked, turning towards him with a raised brow. “Where is it?”

  “You can see it from my library. Beauty of a fir tree. She’d look gorgeous right there,” he said, pointing to the corner of the room where Cadence had moved the furniture aside to make way for a tree that, until now, have proved impossible to find.

  “You don’t mind having it cut down?” she asked.

  Colebrook shook his head. “Was going to have to do it anyways as she’s right in the middle of my future billiards room. At least this way she’ll go to good use.”

  “That’s – that’s very kind of you.” Uncharacteristically kind, Cadence thought as her eyes narrowed. “What do you want in return?”

  “What do I want?” Adopting an expression of feigned hurt, he spread his arms wide. “Absolutely nothing. Wycliffe has been gracious enough to offer me his hospitality and I would like to return the favor. Although you do know they won’t be back until after Christmas.”

  “I intend to keep the decorations up until they return as a welcome home gift. The gardener has assured me if we keep the tree in a basin of water it will not begin to lose its needles for several weeks.”

  Colebrook snorted. “Trust the Germans to kill something and then keep it alive for months.”

&n
bsp; Despite her best intentions to remain completely and utterly aloof (her only defense against the duke’s considerable charms), Cadence couldn’t help but smile. “Indeed. Well then, should I send the footmen to retrieve it? They’ve a sleigh hitched and ready. Is the library on the east wing or the west?”

  “The west,” he said. “But you needn’t dispatch the footmen. We’re going to cut it down.”

  Her smile faded. “By ‘we’ surely you do not mean–”

  “You and I, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

  “Oh, no.” At the mere thought of sharing a sleigh with him – of having their thighs touch beneath a fur lined blanket and their cold breath mingle in the frosty air – the knot in her belly twisted and tightened. “I couldn’t possibly. There’s so much to do here–”

  “I can see that it all gets taken care of,” Elsbeth chirped. “You needn’t worry about a thing.”

  No, Cadence thought as she choked back a strangled laugh. There isn’t a single thing to worry about. Except being ravished by a scoundrel in the snow.

  And loving every second of it.

  “I am sure the footmen are more than capable of seeing the job done.” She folded her hands and lifted her chin, the very picture of a polite, well-behaved lady. Not at all the sort who would indulge in a passionate kiss with a lecherous rake she hardly knew. “But if you insist, you are more than welcome to go with them.”

  “Why would I choose a boring footman over the company of a delightfully witty young lady?”

  Cadence’s lips parted. He thought she was delightfully witty?

  Focus, she ordered herself sternly. I’m sure he tells every woman that.

  Except for some reason she had a feeling he didn’t. Still…

  “It would hardly be proper, Your Grace.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Funny, the same could be said about parlors.”

  “Parlors?” Elsbeth asked, her brow creasing. “What is improper about parlors?”