Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  His heart swelled with love. “And I belong to you.”

  Epilogue

  JULIA HELD CHARLES’S arm as he led her from the carriage, her excitement and anticipation making it nearly impossible for her to keep her eyes closed. “May I look now?”

  “Not yet, darling. Just a few more feet.” He patted her hand.

  They had only just returned from their wedding trip two days past. She could not imagine what he might have done in such a short period of time.

  Drawing her to a stop, he wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her close against his side. “Open your eyes.”

  A large whitewashed building greeted her, with a slate roof and dozens of windows. A grand manicured lawn with cobbled paths, shrubbery, and mature trees surrounded the building. She glanced around attempting to figure out why he had brought her to this place. Utterly confused she turned to him. “What is it?”

  He led her through a cast-iron gate and pointed at a sign. “Read it.”

  Her Grace, the Duchess of Selkirk’s, Home for Women in Need.

  Tears pricked at her eyes as she turned to him, joy bursting within her. “Oh, Charles, you remembered.” Once, only days after they’d met, he had asked her what she would choose to do if she could do anything she wished. She’d replied, “Open an orphanage of sorts, but for women rather than children.” She grinned at the memory.

  He cupped her cheek with his hand. “Your every wish, every desire, is imprinted on my soul. I remember every moment we spend together and want nothing more than to make your every dream come to fruition.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  “I love you.” She nuzzled her face against his chest.

  “And I love you.”

  "I wish Mama were here to see what you've done. She'd be so pleased." At her request, they had stopped at her mother's while on their wedding trip. To Julia's dismay, they found that Mama had passed away a fortnight earlier.

  He rubbed her back. “Your mother is no doubt watching over you from heaven and exceedingly pleased with what she sees.”

  Despite her heavy heart at the thought of mama, Julia filled with warmth. Looking up at him, she said, “I’ll wager you are right, my love.”

  “Indeed.”

  Julia turned her head, taking in the building once more before returning her curious gaze to her husband. “How...when did you manage this? We have only just returned to London.”

  He grinned roguishly, love radiating from his gaze. “I purchased the building right after you told me of your desire to help other women in need. My intention was to give it to you for Christmas.”

  “But that was before we...ever became intimate.” She stared at him through rounded eyes.

  “Even then, I loved you. I was just too addlebrained to recognize it.”

  She grinned up at him, her heart full to bursting. “Can we go inside?”

  “Of course. It is yours to do with as you wish.” He chuckled when she released him and made haste for the door.

  Reaching the door, she turned back to him. “Do hurry.”

  In the same manner as she had, he raced up to the door, taking the porch steps two at a time, then pulled it open, allowing her entrance. “Your Grace.”

  She tilted her chin up in true aristocratic nature. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Unable to fight the urge, she broke into a fit of laughter as she stepped into the entrance hall.

  He followed. “Whatever do you find so amusing?”

  He swatted her bottom playfully, sending a thrill of longing through her.

  “You.” She shot him a saucy look, then ran down the hall toward the first open door she spotted.

  Chuckling, he chased after her. With Julia in reach, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his embrace. She squirmed until she managed to turn in his arms so that she faced him. “Thank you, Charles. This is the most wonderful surprise.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  She arched a brow. “How so?”

  He tightened his hold on her. “You are the most perfect surprise. More than I ever hoped for or believed possible. You are my everything, my treasure.”

  His words went straight to her soul, branding her forever his. Rising onto her tiptoes, she kissed him with every bit of passion she possessed.

  Not only had he saved her; he'd also made it possible for her to save others. More than that, he loved her with a fierceness she never would have believed possible. A soul-searing passionate love, which she returned with reckless abandon.

  Charles, Duke of Selkirk, was her perfect rogue.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA TODAY BESTSELLING author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.

  Visit http://www.amandamariel.comfor more information on Amanda and her books.

  Sign up for Amanda’s newsletter while you are at her website to stay up-to-date on all things Amanda Mariel and receive a free eBook!

  Wagering on Christmas

  By Sandra Sookoo

  Chapter One

  DECEMBER 12, 1821

  London, England

  “A missive has arrived for you, my lord.”

  Colin Rowley, Viscount Hartsford, glanced up from the billiards table where he contemplated his opening shot when his ancient butler shuffled into the room, a vellum envelope in his white-gloved hand. The man insisted in dressing himself in the silver and royal blue livery that had long gone out of fashion with the Duke of Lancaster’s household—Colin’s father—and no amount of gentle hints could change the old retainer’s mind. That was how he’d done things when he’d worked with the duke. He wouldn’t alter it now that he was in the employ of the duke’s second son. No plain black suits with white shirts for him, thank you very much.

  “Put it with the other post and leave me be, Drayton.” Colin waved a hand and returned to pondering the colorful balls aligned in a triangle. He had no use for letters and had no interest in anything that didn’t directly benefit him. Christmastide season or not, he was a selfish bastard, and everyone knew that his first order of business was entertainment to please himself.

  A soft clearing of the man’s throat indicated the butler hadn’t followed the instructions. Most annoying. “My lord, this didn’t come with the post like the others. It came by special courier and bears the Duke of Lancaster’s seal.” He coughed into his free hand. “I suggest that you attend to this if you won’t anything else.”

  Now the butler was the expert on what he should and should not do? Of course, he was probably right, and if Colin didn’t do it, the man would tattle like he was a brat of ten in the school yard. “Bloody hell.” Colin threw his cue stick on the table and finally turned to the elderly servant, who’d been passed down from his brother when the butler had become too old to handle the needs of such a lively household. Hand-me-downs and second thoughts. Fitting, since no one expected much from him. “No doubt Father wishes to summon me to Christmastide festivities at Lancaster Hall.” The great monstrosity of a castle set amidst the rolling hills, lush farmland, and thick forests of Chesterfield in Derbyshire. Crumbling pile if ever there was one.

  The exact place he never wanted to visit again.

  “I wouldn’t know, my lord.” Drayton, with a shaking, blue-veined hand, extended the note.

  The familiar swoop of his father’s heavy black handwriting immediately caught Colin’s eye. How many times had he received letters with the same scrawl throughout the years? How many times had he tossed them away, unread? A handful, that he knew, for he hadn’t read a single letter from his father since that terrible year when everything in his life went south.

  “Of course not.” Colin refused to let those memories loose in his mind. They were in the past for a reason.
When he snapped up the missive, Drayton pivoted and made his doddering, ponderous way back toward the door. “There is one more item of business, my lord.” He glanced at Colin over his shoulder, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Your grandmother is in the parlor. She wishes to speak with you. Post haste.”

  What other horrors will this day bring? All he wished to do for the rest of this month was meet his chums at the clubs, attend a few operas with various widows and then spend the nights in the perfumed arms of those same ladies. It might be the Christmastide season when everyone looked for signs, wonders, and miracles, but he was content to settle for physical pleasures and removing coin from his friends at the faro tables. Couple those things with wine or brandy, and it all sounded like the perfect way to usher in the season. With his mental faculties safely intact and no maudlin memories to bedevil him. “I’ll attend to her presently.”

  “Very good, my lord.” Drayton exited the room without another word.

  The viscount stared at the familiar red wax seal that bore his family’s crest complete with a rampant lion. How long had it been since he’d seen his father, his family? Weeks, months, a year? Time moved quickly when one chased pleasurable pursuits. He blew out a breath. What a lie. Oh, he knew exactly how long it had been. Seventeen years. That’s how long it had been since he’d stepped foot in Lancaster Hall. Colin ignored the tightness in his chest that thinking of his family always brought. His father didn’t truly care about what he did with his life. Hadn’t he made that obvious with his silence over the years? Yes, the duke wrote regularly, and Colin dutifully tossed each and every missive into a trunk at the foot of his bed, unopened. Perhaps he didn’t care what his father had to say. Nothing would change the past.

  And there could be no future with his sire, how could there be?

  Yet now, here was an official summons, sent by special courier and not the post. No doubt the duke wished for this one to have a better chance of being read. Or mayhap something dire had happened to one of his siblings. His gut clenched in sudden fear. Fine. Let’s have this over with. He’d be in heavy annoyance if this was a mere announcement that his older brother or sister had added to their nurseries again. Copulated like rabbits, those two, each with a passel of brats. Did they not value peace and quiet? At least his younger sister hadn’t bred yet.

  Rolling his eyes, Colin tore into the envelope and then withdrew the parchment within, letting the ivory vellum envelope fall to the carpet unheeded. When he unfolded the single sheet of paper, he huffed. It was the summons he originally thought.

  It’s time to come home, son.

  “What, I don’t even rank a proper salutation?” Colin flicked the paper with a finger before he continued to read.

  You have been gone long enough, and it’s time I had my whole family together again for the Christmastide holidays. Your siblings miss you; I miss you. Please come to Lancaster Hall and spend the season with all of us. Get to know your nieces and nephews. No time like the present to mend fences and make a fresh start. No, it’s not the same since your mother died, but we do our best, and the holidays are always delightful.

  I can already see the look on your face. You’ll tear this letter up the same as you’ve probably done with the others. However, let me sweeten the deal this year. If you arrive home to Lancaster Hall by Christmas morning, I shall give you my prized charger, Thor. He is a descendant of Thunder, the horse you adored as a young man, and he’s the fastest in the county. In addition, I will deed you my estate in Surrey, for those days when you tire of knocking about Town with your ne’er-do-well friends and scandalous women.

  Please think about it. Christmas is for family. I’d like to have mine intact this year. I’m not growing any younger...

  Yours respectfully,

  Lancaster

  Colin snorted. Family, indeed. They were a family when his mother was alive. However, the man had indeed sweetened the pot. This changed everything. He’d hankered after that charger, Thunder, for years, but his father had denied him time out of hand, saying he wasn’t responsible enough to handle such a powerful horse. Every horse Thunder had sired over the years had gone on to win countless races throughout England and a few times overseas. A gift such as this was nothing to sneeze at.

  As for the small property in Surrey? Well, it had a decent manor in the countryside along with good hunting in the autumn, close enough to Town that he could make the trip in a day. He’d always salivated at the thought of having a place to remove to during the summer and winter months, especially since his older brother considered the castle in Derbyshire his home when he wasn’t in London.

  What to do?

  Seventeen years was a long time to return as the family prodigal. When last he’d been at Lancaster Hall, he’d been a lad of one and twenty, and thought the world owed him everything as the second son of a powerful duke and the third out of his four children. He was reckless, selfish and spoiled, lived very much for himself.

  A slow smile curved his lips. Not that he’d changed all that much. Sure, he was a widower with a daughter now, but that didn’t mean he’d given up chasing his own pleasure or entertainment. Anything to keep the past at bay. Could he give those things up for a couple weeks of rustication, and inundated by his relatives?

  Then his smile died, and he glared at the letter. Once, there had been more than enough in the country to keep him occupied. A certain young lady who he’d thought to spend the rest of his life with had captured his attention and his heart, but that future had crumbled with his naïve dreams once he’d spoken them aloud on that long-ago snowy day, and he’d fled from Lancaster Hall with the bitter taste of embarrassment and defeat on his palate once Christmastide festivities concluded.

  Perhaps he wouldn’t go after all. How could he when every foot of that property would bring him face to face with a past he’d rather forget on multiple levels?

  “I cannot do it.” Colin folded the letter, retrieved the dropped envelope and then stuffed the paper inside. On the other hand, his father offered too great a prize to ignore, and no doubt Lucy Hudson had moved far away from Derbyshire over the years. There would be no awkward moments between them, and he wouldn’t need to remember...

  ...how things used to be so good, before she rejected him out of hand. His chest hurt with an ache as if he’d received the news only that morning.

  Ah, Lucy, his first crush, his first love, his first heartache. She’d been eighteen the last time he’d seen her—fresh-faced, innocent, with her ice blue eyes full of love... for him.

  Her family lived on the property neighboring Lancaster Hall, her father a second son to a baron. She and her siblings had grown up with Colin and his family. They were in and out of each other’s pockets, and when they’d grown old enough for schooling and they went their separate ways, there was always the Christmastide holidays when they came together again. Mischief inevitably followed, but those halcyon days were magical, full of games, stealing sweets from the kitchens, laughter, playing in the snow.... And kisses whenever he and Lucy could slip away.

  That was before everything had changed, before the drastic shift in circumstances that had rocked his world to its foundations and caught him up as collateral damage. He’d never been the same after that.

  Colin crushed the envelope in his fist. But Lucy wasn’t there any longer, and she hadn’t been in his life for seventeen years. She had followed her own dreams; so had he—separately. Why shouldn’t he visit Lancaster Hall now? It was his family’s country seat, and she? She was no one, a woman from his past. That was all. And his future was more than full of other, more interesting females, women who wished to be with him regardless of the kind of person he was. Women who took no issue with how he lived his life and had no problem bending themselves around his rakish ways. Women who didn’t expect him to live up to their ideals.

  Women who were so different from Lucy Hudson, who he’d not had cause to remember after all these years, except for the damn ache in the region of his h
eart whenever he encountered anyone by the same name. So why the devil did those images jump out to bedevil him now? He chased away the thought with a string of vulgarity. Merely a weakness due to the impending holiday season. They’d once been interlocked—Christmas and Lucy; now they weren’t. Christmas only served to remind a man of his mistakes, and who wanted that? Time had moved on, and his life was his own.

  Lucy didn’t deserve another second of his thoughts. She had certainly never wasted a minute on him after those damning words she’d said that long-ago winter’s day.

  I owe her nothing. With a decided nod, Colin jammed the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket. For the prize his father offered, he’d fight those old demons. He exited the billiards room and swiftly made his way through the townhouse until he reached the parlor where his grandmother waited.

  As soon as he pushed open the door, he located the opinionated lady—his father’s mother—and the Dowager Duchess of Lancaster. But to him, she was the only woman to believe in him throughout the whole of his life, no matter what he did or didn’t do. She never judged, only asked occasionally if he was happy.

  “Grandmother.” Colin moved across the floor. He took the old lady’s gloved hands in his before dropping a kiss onto each papery thin cheek. She smelled of roses, the same as she had all his life. The scent always took him back to summer holidays at Lancaster Hall where the days had stretched out in endless fun and the hills had echoed with sweet laughter belonging to... Lucy. Damn it all to hell. “What a pleasure to see you again,” he managed to utter around a growl.

  Her faded brown eyes flashed with life. “What a liar you are, Colin.” She pulled away and then tugged him down beside her on the low, mauve crushed velvet sofa. Her snow-white curls bounced beneath a bonnet trimmed in dark green that matched her gown. “You neither want me here nor do you wish to see anyone just now, for the Christmastide season has always been difficult for you.”