Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  “I think I’m good, Harrison.”

  “No, you’re not.” Harry snapped his fingers to Stubbs, the under-butler attending them for the night. “My brother cannot remain in this seat as is it now completely drenched. Move his place setting to the vacant one next to Miss Appleton.”

  Stubbs was on it in a flash.

  “Really, Harry, that is not necessary.” What was also not necessary was him having a brother who interfered in his love life.

  Harrison lowered his voice. “It is absolutely necessary, you daft, addle-brained man.”

  “Good, God, but I’d swear you were one of Mudley brothers, speaking to me in that manner.”

  Harry tossed the now sopping napkin to one of the footmen, then sat back in his chair. “Sounding more like others and less like myself sometimes works to my advantage.”

  This was news to him. “How so?”

  Harrison gazed at Earl Asta’s daughter who sat two places down and across the table, the pretty woman looking like a regal but bored princess in her burgundy gown, her seat sandwiched between her mother’s chair and Mr. George Mudley’s. “Can’t say, chap.”

  Vic followed his brother’s stare.

  Blasted idiot. Here he thought Harry had just met Lady Gabrielle, when in truth the man had the woman all along and not one of his brothers knew about it. Sly beast.

  “Your nose hasn’t been in books all these nights, has it?”

  “No.”

  Stubbs returned. “Your chair is ready, Your Royal Highness.”

  Vic leaned in, “You do know you will pay for this.”

  “It would be an honor.”

  It just dawned on Vic that Charlotte wasn’t the only loss he’d suffered lately. He’d obviously failed miserably at besting Harry over these last three months. “I’m upping the bet. And you’ll need to reverse yours.”

  His brother’s hazel eyes went wide. “The whole wager thing was only meant in jest. Seriously. Ruin the woman and you ruin yourself in the process. I beg you, not to.”

  “Oh, I assure you, Miss Appleton will remain unscathed. You and your little dalliance on the other hand....”

  “You wouldn’t dare reveal me.”

  “I won’t have to. The slightest suggestion to Mother should suffice. Her Majesty loves focusing on her sons’ courtships.”

  Harry winced. “I’ve earned enough cracks with that damn chair rung of hers to last me a lifetime. You will not mention Gabrielle to Mother. Or Father. Or even Kit for that matter.”

  “Then stay out of my relationship with Charlotte.”

  “But....”

  “Harry....” Hopefully the glare he shot his brother would be enough to convince the man he meant business.

  “Fine.” Harrison waved him away.

  Vic stood and sauntered over to the other side of the table.

  While he wasn’t pleased with Harrison’s ill-planned instigation, the incident did at least put him close enough to Charlotte that perhaps they could get in a few meaningful words before he’d have to join the men after dinner for drinks and cigars.

  Stubbs pulled out the chair for him.

  Nodding to the young man, he settled in the seat and then unfolded a new napkin across his lap.

  Miss Appleton had yet to look his way, which hadn’t done a damn thing to ease his erratically thumping heart. How could a man who’d gone to war, was currently embroiled in a manhunt for the kingdom’s most notorious anti-monarchist and serial killer, and who on occasion aided his father in the running of Countavia, be nothing more than a foppish ball of putty when it came to one beguiling woman?

  If only Charlotte knew the agony that she caused him. “You’ll have to forgive my brother for this inconvenience.”

  “It’s not an inconvenience.”

  Dare he hope that Charlie liked having him this near? “That’s an unexpected answer coming from you.”

  “Don’t misjudge me, Your Royal Highness. I merely meant the chair was vacant.”

  Vic lowered his voice. “What in Hades did I ever do to upset you?”

  “This is neither the place, nor the time, sir.”

  “Not true. We could not ask for a better time or place as everyone else is quite engrossed in their own conversations, the bulk of which are aimed at that poor Miss Radcliff at the far end of the table discussing the Merrick School, the institute for which she seeks funding.” He nudged his chin toward the other end of the room. “I guarantee you that our plight is no concern to anyone seated amongst us tonight.”

  Charlotte remained mum.

  Her silence was killing him. “Why did you come here if you didn’t wish to see me?”

  “A mistake on my part.”

  He smirked. “I doubt that. If I recall, you’re quite the strong headed sort. Women like you don’t make mistakes in these types of situations.”

  Charlotte inclined her head his way. “Please, Victor, not here. Be kind and indulge me this one request.” She leaned away from him and reached for her wine glass. A prism of color bounced off her pink lips as she brought the cup to her mouth.

  He missed those lips. Missed what those lips were quite adept at doing to him.

  Adjusting his napkin, Vic brushed his hand against Charlotte’s thigh. A hot tingle shot up his arm.

  Charlotte gasped.

  Harry’s left eyebrow ticked up.

  He ignored his brother and prayed no one else had heard Miss Appleton’s heated intake of breath, and not just because he wanted to spare the woman from embarrassment, but he hated to have to share what he wanted solely for himself.

  Charlotte returned her glass of wine to the table. “You’re a rogue,” she whispered.

  “You used to love the idea.”

  “Not anymore. I no longer speak to rogues.”

  “Sorry to hear it as that will leave me no choice but to find other ways to entertain my lonesome self.” He dropped his left hand to his side and glided his fingers over Charlotte’s knee before dipping his hand between her legs, the silk of her gown the only barrier shielding him from her smooth flesh.

  Her bosom heaved.

  Not that he was ogling Charlie’s better assets on purpose, but she was the love of his life and he noticed every detail about the way she reacted to him.

  He slid his hand upward.

  She licked her bottom lip and offered the slightest of whimpers before blocking his fingers with her own. “I’m afraid I don’t do that with rogues, either.”

  “You did once.”

  “I once did a lot of things I no longer engage in.”

  He pulled back his hand and lowered his voice. “Damnit, Charlie, you owe me.”

  A curl of violet peeled from Charlotte’s hair as she adjusted an emerald hair clip resting above her ear. “You’re right. But not here. Perhaps tomorrow, as you asked earlier.”

  “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I won’t wait.”

  Charlotte straightened. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

  “No. I won’t accept that option again.”

  She stared at him, gave him one of those brilliant blue-eyed gazes that never failed to melt his heart. And stir his cock. God help him, but he was in trouble tonight. Not only had he found his tongue where it came to confronting Charlotte, but apparently, he’d also found his lust for her again. “Meet me in the armory after dinner.”

  “I don’t know where that is.”

  “It’s downstairs. Take the corridor at the far end of the entrance hall.”

  She toyed with her food, moved the turkey around the plate until the meat teetered near one side of the platinum-edged rim. “I don’t care for the idea.”

  “Why? Afraid you won’t be safe around me in a room full of swords?”

  She smirked. “Oh, it’s not the room’s cache of swords I’m worried about, but rather just yours. Though if memory serves me right, I was always in control of that one.”

  Vic swallowed. Charlotte’s words were most definitely not what he’d ex
pected. “I thought you no longer entertained rogues?”

  “I don’t, but you keep steering me to.”

  He slyly adjusted his trousers.

  Phipps entered the dining room and approached him. The man leaned in as he reached for Victor’s napkin which Vic hadn’t even noticed had fallen to the carpet.

  “I won’t be needing that, Phipps. I’ve finished eating.”

  “Was there something amiss with the food, Sir?”

  “No.”

  “The wine?”

  “No.”

  Phipps lowered his voice. “A cock up with the Miss?”

  “Yes.” He cursed under his breath. What the deuces had come over Leo’s normally stoic butler? The man hadn’t cracked a smile in five years and in less than one day he’d become the cheekiest of servants this side of Hades. “I meant, no.”

  “Is that so?” Phipps continued to dangle the previously wayward napkin as he approached Charlotte’s chair.

  Real trouble was about to start if the churning in Vic’s gut was any indication. He eyed the butler with suspicion.

  “Are you still fond of Archery, Miss Appleton?” Phipps removed a fork from Charlotte’s place setting.

  “I am.”

  “Then I’m sure His Royal Highness has offered you a go at the Hall’s indoor Archery targets? We have an array of lovey arrows he can place at your disposal.”

  “I’m afraid he has not, as His Royal Highness has only offered to place his sword at my disposal.”

  “Is that so?”

  “On my soul, Phipps.”

  He tsked at Vic. “Swords and arrows, quite the dilemma if I must say so myself. Though I’ve always found a wager the best way to solve a challenge.”

  Vic huffed. “I am sure Miss Appleton is not up for a bet, Phipps.”

  An impish glow ignited in Charlotte’s eyes. “Oh, but I think I might.”

  As if Harry’s damn wager wasn’t enough, now he had to contend with Charlotte’s.

  Phipps returned to fuss with Vic’s place setting. “You seem to have misjudged the lady, sir.”

  The only thing he’d misjudged was a randy butler. “I can handle this, Phipps.”

  “Of course you can, sir.”

  “Really, I don’t need your help.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “Truly, I have not lost control of the situation, Phipps.”

  “Of course you have, sir.”

  “I agree with Phipps, Your Royal Highness.” Charlotte smiled at him.

  Blasted idiot. He’d been bested by both Charlie and Phipps. “I am in no mood for a wager.”

  “Are you afraid I might best you at arrows?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Then accept the bet,” Charlotte said.

  “Not without terms.”

  “Then name them.”

  “Fine,” Vic fumed. “If you win, your secrets remain yours. If I win, they become mine. Tonight.”

  Charlotte cocked her lovely head to one side. “You’re that sure of yourself, are you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Phipps harrumphed as he plucked a knife from the table.

  Vic glared at the man “Didn’t you leave Stubbs the one in charge to tend to our guests tonight?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because you’re not a guest, sir.”

  His patience had worn thin where Phipps was concerned. He turned to Charlotte. “I’m not afraid to square off with you, Charlie.”

  “Then you have your wager. I’ll meet you in the armory after dinner.”

  Vic pushed his chair back and stood.

  Phipps wrinkled his nose.

  “What?” asked Victor.

  “You reek of wine, Sir.”

  He’d forgotten about his dratted trousers and Harry’s incident. “I’m going to change.”

  He left the room without so much as a single glance back.

  Shocked whispers followed him into the hall where he promptly slouched against the wall and took in the deepest breath his lungs would accept. No one just ups from a table and walks away. He’d broken all protocol tonight and it was all thanks to Harry, Charlotte and that pesky Phipps.

  What the bloody hell was he thinking inviting Charlotte downstairs after dinner? Not only would they be guaranteed privacy, as no one would dare venture to the Hall’s armory, as that was not a part of the house permitted for this weekend’s guests, but Charlotte was damn good with an arrow.

  The two of them often competed in the fields behind Baine Palace. And Charlie had split his arrow right down the center, on more than one occasion. He was a fool for taking her on like this. What if he lost the bet? He’d never know the reason she’d pushed him away.

  In one small heartbeat, his situation had changed.

  It was no longer about winning Charlotte.

  It was now about not losing himself.

  And if he failed at that, it would be the most dangerous loss he’d ever take in his life.

  Chapter Four

  It was a miracle that Charlotte had managed to escape her mother and her aunt after dinner, though she suspected both would be quite put out once they realized she hadn’t followed them and the rest of the ladies to the drawing room for an evening of non-sensical chatter. She always hated those gatherings. Men’s liberties were far more fetching than those allotted to women.

  She scurried her slipper-covered feet over the stairs. Half-way down, a wave of pine essence rolled through the stairwell. In all her twenty-six years, never had she recalled an armory that smelled of spruce and holiday cheer. And she’d been in quite a few, her love of swords and arrows much higher than her tolerance for gossip and needlepoint.

  At the landing, Charlotte turned and shuffled into the cavernous room.

  The chamber’s crisp aroma pulled her thoughts back to another winter house party, to the moment she’d first met Prince Victor. He’d cut a dashing figure that night standing in front of the hearth in the ballroom at Baine Palace. She remembered it vividly. The crackling fire behind him illuminating his tall, muscular form as if he were a tempting, sinful angel graced by the fires of Hell. The fact he’d also been dressed in his military uniform, complete with a chest full of medals, only added to his seductive appeal.

  Her soul as well as her body, had been his ever since.

  Which was more than a mere problem at present considering the secret information she’d uncovered. Vic deserved an explanation. More specifically, he was owed the truth, but that couldn’t be at present. And the dratted situation pained her.

  The whoosh of a flying arrow sliced the air.

  She focused to her left, to where Victor stood holding a bow, a quiver of arrows slung over his back. The seriousness of his mood almost made her feel guilty disturbing him. But it was he who insisted on this little tête-à-tête, not she.

  The sight of him forced her temperature to rise. It had been too long since she’d seen Vic without jacket and waistcoat, his muscular torso dressed solely in shirtsleeves and finely tied cravat.

  Heaven help her, but she was actually squeezing her legs together. Of all the daft things.

  The slimmer cut of Victor’s new black trousers wasn’t helping the matter any, either. One measly look at the sinewed lines of the man’s strong, lean thighs and her little nub was as liquored up as a Christmas sprite fallen in eggnog.

  Lust was a nuisance of a thing. Especially hers, considering it was controlled by an obstinate-headed prince.

  She sucked her bottom lip as it was all she could do to tamp down the faint whimper rising in her throat. There was nothing worse than letting a rogue know he could have you at the drop of a hat.

  Vic readied another arrow.

  The muscles in his arm flexed, the cotton of his shirt doing little to conceal his fine form.

  She fanned her face and shifted her gaze elsewhere as she did not need the insufferable prince getting the best of her. T
hough if truth be told, he’d already succeeded at that annoying ability.

  A ball of mistletoe, dangling from the poised metal hand of a suit of chainmail armor against the wall, caught her eye.

  “Hold your shot,” she said, straightening her shoulders and flitting across the room. “I’m coming through.”

  She prayed she wouldn’t fall as her legs hadn’t yet recovered from her nub’s sinful actions a few seconds ago. Her body just wasn’t her own when around the prince.

  Victor lowered his arm. “You are a danger, Miss Appleton.”

  He didn’t need to tell her that, though she would never admit it to him. “To who? I announced myself well within range of you letting that arrow go. You hadn’t even nocked it yet.”

  The heated huff Vic let out enticed her lips to tick upward, though she did her best to hold back her delight as she doubted the prince would appreciate the amusement he’d given her.

  “Do I see a kissing ball dangling from that knight’s hand?” Her gaze lingered on the first suit of armor lined up in a row of at least a dozen on the left wall.

  “I believe it is,” Vic said, stalking down the line to inspect the strange pairing, bow still in hand. “Leo loves doing up the house for Christmas, but I have no idea who he could have meant this for, as it’s too low for anyone to walk under.” He bent and pinged the rotund grouping of evergreen and berries. “Maybe he meant it for the mice.”

  She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be sweet.”

  He glanced up. “It would. It would also be just the thing Leo would dream up. Much to my mother’s chagrin, as a boy my brother insisted on decorating his bedroom weeks before Christmas Eve. Her Majesty was never pleased about that as my mother is a stickler for tradition.”

  Vic was right about her being a danger. Though she was more a hazard to him than to herself, as she and the queen would probably never get along. Time-honored rules stifled her adventure-craving soul. Even this very second, she was skirting the fringe of scandal by being down here alone with Victor. “Shall we get on with our wager?”

  “Ready when you are, my lady.”

  God, but if Vic only knew how primed she was, he’d be having nothing of this damn game of arrows. “I just need to select my bow.”