Untamable Rogue (Formerly: A Christmas Baby)

by Annette Blair

  “A bride with all the answers,” Ash said, kissing her brow. “When is Alex due to arrive so you may make your plans? I think I may have to be away.”

  “When you do not even know the day?” Lark scoffed. “Tuesday week,” she said, “and see that you are to hand.”

  When Alex saw Lark, she hesitated. “Good grief,” she said as they embraced, her babe between them, “you are as big as I was the first time I visited, and with all of three months to go, you poor thing.”

  “Fat, I know.” Lark patted her belly with pride.

  “As a prize sow,” Alex said with twinkling eyes.

  Lark’s face warmed as they walked arm in arm up the steps to the house.

  They began by looking over the wooden toys Stan crafted as gifts for the children in attendance. In trying to make certain they had enough, Alex and Lark were forced to make a list so as to count their numbers.

  Lark sat with quill and parchment while Alex paced the drawing room with a fussing Brandon. “Gideon and Sabrina have two sets of boy twins, and Juliana.”

  “Two sets?” Lark said.

  “Three-year-old Caleb and Josh are Gideon’s own, though Gideon adores Julie, Damon and Rafe. Beware; Hawk calls the older twins Demon and Rapscallion, for he is their uncle by blood, having been half-brother to Sabrina’s first husband.”

  “I will never get any of it straight.”

  “You will in time. Mark two children for us, Brandon here, rooting for nourishment, and Beatrix, and your two. That makes how many, nine? As for Reed and Chastity…. Alex searched her reticule for a list she snapped open with a flick and handed to Lark, and then she unfastened her bodice for her son to suckle.

  Lark scanned the list. “Matthew, Mark, Luke, Rebekah, Harry, Sidney, Brenna, Clarice, Jillian and Meggie. Chastity must be a saint. How old are they all?”

  “Lord, no one knows. Their own twins, Jillian and Meggie, are six months old now. As for the rest, none are older than thirteen, as close as anyone can guess.”

  “Are twins rampant with rogues?”

  “Reed himself is a twin, so ‘twas no surprise he and Chastity produced a set. Gideon’s Sabrina has borne twins for two husbands, so the fault must be hers.”

  “I am anxious to meet Chastity and Sabrina,” Lark said.

  “They will love you.” Alex tried to rouse her son to resume his meal, but it was useless. “There, you,” she said kissing his milky lips, “asleep again, and only two drops taken.” She closed her bodice to put him to her shoulder.

  “I am envious,” Lark said, her arms wanting.

  “Not for long. Soon, you will simply be tired.”

  Lark perused her lists. “Nineteen children, six rogues, four wives—and a score of nursery maids and servants—all here for Christmas.” She paled. “What have I got myself into?”

  Alex soothed her fears before they determined the traditions they would observe, who would occupy which chamber, who would need cradles. “I brought bed linen to lend you,” Alex said. “Claudia lent us extra as well for she and Chesterfield will go to his family for the holiday.”

  “We should sit with cook while you are here,” Lark said. “She is hopeful of direction.”

  Alex organized meals in a trice, while Cook took to the notion of feeding so many with an air of anticipation. “Too long since we did Christmas,” she said. “Can’t wait to fill my kitchen with scents of roast goose and plum pudding.”

  “You may not realize,” Lark said to Alex as they left the kitchen, but you taught me a great deal today about organizing a house. I will be a better manager after this.”

  “Do not tell Hawk. He says I will manage him into his grave.”

  Over tea, Alex began a new list. “Which decorations will we find outdoors?”

  Lark frowned. “The decorations are in the attic.”

  “No, the fresh decorations—holly, ivy, mistletoe, rosemary…. Collecting them is entertainment at a house party. Have you never gathered Christmas greenery?”

  “I will be a dreadful failure,” Lark wailed.

  “Sit,” Alex said. “Put your feet up. “You do not do this alone. Chastity will lead the children in a Christmas theatrical. Sabrina will oversee decorating the house. For my part, I will stand beside you in all things, though I cannot wait to decorate your Christmas tree. It will be my first, but not my last.

  Lark could only shake her head.

  “This will not be as bad as you perceive,” Alex promised. “Besides, Sabrina plans to put the rogues themselves to work, even as regards to the children.”

  “Hah! This I would like to see.”

  “Oh, you will.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lark could not believe that Christmas and her house party were upon her. She and Alex stood watch at the drawing room window, the frolicking babe in her belly keeping her from getting as near to the glass as she wished.

  Anticipation and trepidation rode her in turn. “Who should introduce who?” she asked again.

  “Forget the rules,” Alex said. “No formalities are to be observed among friends this Christmas. Everyone will be excited and speak at once, introducing themselves, kissing and embracing. Oh, and back-slapping. The rogues are fond a good back-slap. They consider it manly.”

  “If you were not beside me, I would die,” Lark said.

  Alex squeezed her hand. “I would not miss your first Christmas.”

  A rare snow had begun to fall well before the first set of carriages clattered up the drive. When they did, Lark and Alex went to wait on the steps. Ash stepped out a minute later to place Lark’s wrap about her shoulders.

  He chuckled when he saw the same crest on all three carriages. “I cannot believe it takes so many to carry the St. Yves brood. You will not credit it, Lark, but I remember a time when Reed disliked children of all things.”

  Nevertheless, too many to count poured from the second and third carriages, one each bearing a woman too well-dressed to be a nursery-maid. Alex told Lark ‘twas Reed who stepped from the first carriage, and accepted two bundles, likely so Chastity could alight.

  Ash ran down to offer Chastity his hand, and greet them, and then Lark and Alex ushered them from the cold in a trice.

  Formalities were dispensed with—embraces, only, between rogues’ wives, even at first meeting, Lark should not be surprised. And between the rogues themselves, handshakes, and back-slaps.

  Reed bowed to Alex and Lark. “May I introduce my sisters, Pegeen and Sunny, who give a great deal of loving care to their nieces and nephews.”

  Pegeen and Sunny curtseyed their silent greetings.

  Lark admired Chastity at once. She organized her children with a word so they stood like stair steps, then she rattled off their names down the line and laughed at Lark’s uncertainty. “Do not try to remember names. Soon enough the brigands’ quirks will single them out.” She had unwrapped both baby girls, hers and Reed’s, while speaking.

  Lark relaxed. “If Sabrina is as efficient as the two of you, I may as well stop worrying about anything going wrong. I do not think any of you would allow it.”

  Reed put an arm about his wife’s shoulders. “You are right there, but do not ask her to cook you anything.”

  Chastity tossed a frown her husband’s way, amusing their brood, but for the babes who howled.

  Lark led Chastity with the babes toward the red-papered winter parlor, and clapped her hands near its entry for attention. “Ladies and children only in this room, for feedings and such,” she announced. “The tower library will be your retreat, gentlemen, though you will not be allowed to hide, as the women will be permitted in there.”

  Ash and Reed protested vehemently, but the wives banded together. Men and women alike knew there was no hope for the rogues. Not a one of them would step into a room where another rogue’s wife might bare her breast, and no wife would think twice about invading their male sanctum.

  Before Lark and Alex finished assigning bedchambers and nursery rooms,
the second two carriages arrived, each bearing a different crest.

  Hawk and Beatrix stepped from the first, and Alex sighed in relief. “I was afraid the snow would delay them. Gideon and Sabrina occupy the carriage behind them,” she added, before accepting her husband’s kiss and passing him their son.

  Lark barely exchanged greetings with Hawk and Beatrix, before she was looking up into the eyes of one of the most handsome men she had ever beheld, barring her husband, of course.

  “Gideon St. Goddard,” he said on a bow and kissed her hand. “Gad, Ash you got yourself a beauty.” He took his petite wife’s arm and led her forward. “Larkin Rose, my wife, Sabrina.”

  “Lark.”

  “Bree.”

  Another new friend. Emotion tightened Lark’s throat. She had never had a family, never friends, and suddenly she felt as if these strangers were both.

  Sabrina bore raven hair and porcelain skin … and all five of her children hung about her husband’s legs, not her skirts. Lark meant to ask later how she managed it. “Shall I show you to your bedchambers now or later? Chastity is in the parlor feeding the babes.”

  Sabrina removed her bonnet and extended her hands to her smallest twins. “Let us greet Chastity first. When are you due?”

  “February, or March, perhaps. I am not certain.”

  “You are a brave one to take us all on.”

  “Shh Bree,” Alex said. “Do not frighten her. I promised ‘twould be easy.”

  Sabrina raised a dubious brow Alex’s way as they entered the salon where Chastity nursed her twins simultaneously, one at each breast.

  Sabrina chuckled. “So that’s what I looked like.” She bent to kiss Chastity’s cheek and stroke a soft baby fist.

  As Lark rang for Grimsley, she attended to their discussion of nursing babes, for she had much to learn.

  She heard a knock a moment later. Not even Grim would breach the sanctum. Lark rose. “Should we have tea now to warm us, then a formal tea in the drawing room later? We can send for the rogues then,” she said. “They will be warming themselves with something stronger about now, at any rate.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Sabrina said. “Even with hot bricks, the carriage was chill.”

  Lark left to give Grim instructions.

  “Where have our men disappeared to?” Sabrina asked when Lark returned.

  Alex explained the house rules for ladies and gentlemen.

  “Oh no fair,” Sabrina said on a chuckle.

  “You will not admit you agree with them,” Alex said.

  Sabrina and Alex seemed to share the familiarity of sisters, Lark saw, while she and Chastity were fairly new to this club of rogue’s wives. “Alex, Sabrina? Were you acquainted before you married your respective rogues?”

  “Caleb!” Sabrina took a vase from one toddler’s hand and began placing breakables beyond reach. “Alex and I lived together once,” Sabrina said. “Before I married Gideon, Alex cared for her family and Hawk’s, and housed me, Damon and Rafe, as well. We owe her a debt of gratitude.”

  “Nonsense. You make of it more than it was,” Alex said. “Besides, I liked the company. I like being needed.” She hooked her arm through Lark’s, as if to show she meant it. “Wait until you see the Christmas Lark plans.”

  “But I planned nothing. You did it all.”

  Their laughter set Lark at ease. She reached for Chastity’s babe who had done with nursing to keep her from swatting her hungry sister. “Chastity,” she said. “Tell us how you came to be a rogue’s wife.”

  A minute later, Lark stopped patting the babe’s back. “You were a nun?”

  Chastity grinned. “And now I am the mother of ten.”

  Beatrix came in then and gave Alex her fussing son.

  “Bea, send Sunny and Peg down for a light tea,” Alex said, “Unless you care to remain and I will fetch them?”

  “No thank you,” Beatrix said. “I discovered a diversion of interest in the nursery.”

  “Oh? And his name is?”

  Beatrix blushed. “Matthew.”

  Chastity squeaked and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  If their wives but knew it, Ash thought, the library sat empty, while he, Gideon, Hawk, and Reed introduced the children to each other and generally attempted to reduce the havoc in the nursery.

  “Uncle Hawk,” Damon said, or at least Ash thought it was Damon, and not Rafe. “Tell us a story.”

  “Oh yes, do,” Beatrix said coming in. “It has been an age since you did. Alex says Sunny and Pegeen should go down for a bit of informal tea.”

  The two women happily escaped. They might be comfortable in a room full of children, Ash thought, but never in a room of military men.

  “Story,” Beatrix reminded Hawk, tugging his sleeve.

  Hawk looked about as if for an escape of his own. “Where is a Frenchie when you need one? Why me? Gideon is the storyteller.”

  Ash regarded the waiting children. “Are they all accounted for?” he asked, a bit nervous at keeping track of so many.

  Reed, Gideon, and Hawk, looked about and counted heads.

  Ash winked at Micah and Briana, who appeared quite interested in so many playmates.

  “All but toddlers and suckling infants accounted for,” Gideon said. “As should be.” As he said it, a little one, barely beyond toddler-hood—to Ash’s mind—climbed into his lap. “Here’s my Sweetpea,” Gideon said, kissing her nose.

  “His shadow,” Hawk explained.

  At that, a girl with a single blonde braid leaned against Reed’s chair, called him Papa, whispered in his ear, and made Reed grin. Two little ones occupied his knees, several sat at his feet. Rather amazing, Ash thought.

  “I have a story to tell the children,” he said. “Except that the story is true.”

  “What?” Briana asked.

  “You know.” Micah nudged her. She nudged him back.

  Ash rolled his eyes. “Mine,” he admitted to his friends before turning to the circle of children. “Have any of you ever heard of Father Christmas?”

  Several pairs of eyes widened. Most looked quite interested, except for a boy of about ten or eleven who scoffed. Nevertheless, Ash continued. “This very village is famous, because Father Christmas is known to live among us. People have caught sight of him delivering gifts on Christmas Eve to all good little girls and boys.”

  “What does he look like?” one of Reed’s youngest asked.

  “He wears a long, hooded velvet robe, like a bishop of old, with a sprig of holly in his buttonhole. He has white hair and a long white beard and carries a sack of gifts. If you behave while you are with us, he will bring a gift for each of you.”

  “No such thing as Father Christmas,” said the scoffer in a cockney accent.

  “Harry!” Reed snapped.

  “There is too,” Micah said, stance defensive, almost as if he were defending Ash, which made him proud.

  Harry stepped briskly forth, matched Micah’s stance, and popped him a good one, smack in the nose.

  Briana shrieked and charged Harry, in defense of the brother she usually fought.

  Other boys got into the fray—Briana was the only girl, but she was street-wise, was his Briana, and game for anything. Ash beamed.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Lark shouted over the din.

  “They’re fighting,” Ash said.

  “I can see that. Stop them!”

  “Why would we stop them?” he asked. “They’re getting to know each other, becoming friends.”

  “That’s not how you become friends.”

  Ash regarded the rogues. “It’s how we did.”

  They, each of them, nodded in turn, regarding his wife as if she might be daft, though, truth to tell, their own wives looked as horrified as Lark.

  “What is wrong with you?” Lark said. “You think beating each other to a pulp is sporting?”

  “Right.” Ash grinned, and Hawk nodded.

  “Exactly,” Reed echoed.

 
; “Glad you understand,” Gideon said.

  “You’re in trouble,” Hawk told Gideon, who turned to regard his narrow-eyed wife.

  Reed took one look at Chastity and separated Harry and Briana—the only two left fighting—before his own wife beat him to a pulp.

  “You let him pummel a girl?” Chastity said, turning the military war hero’s ears scarlet.

  “She’s no ordinary girl,” Harry said, wiping the blood from his nose.

  “Thank you!” Briana beamed then licked her bloody lip.

  “See?” Ash said. “They’re friends now.”

  Lark raised her arms then dropped them to her skirts. “Wash up, children,” she said, “and that includes the ones who fought Boney. It’s nearly time to dress for dinner.” She turned back to regard him rather pointedly, Ash thought. “We’re having parsnips,” she said. “Mashed parsnips.”

  Myles Quartermaine and Hunter Elijah Wylder arrived fully five hours late, at about the time everyone congregated in the drawing room after dinner. Even the rogues had finished their brandy and cigars and joined their ladies by then.

  As the two rogues Lark recalled from her wedding night entered her drawing room, all smiles, Grimsley formally introduced them.

  They had surely been carousing, she thought, for they smelled like the Pickled Pigsty and appeared as foxed and oblivious as she remembered them. Fact was, they reminded her too much of her low beginnings for her to like them any more now than she had that night.

  Nevertheless, she smoothed her royal velvet gown over the mound of her child and rose with Ash to step forward and welcome her guests into her home.

  When she offered her hand, the two stood as addled as the last time she had seen them. Again she wanted to beat them bloody, the both of them, a heathen urge she thought she’d long since conquered, though it reminded her how shocked she’d been over the children’s brawl earlier. Had she come so far she forgot who she was?

  Lark supposed there was good and bad in that.

  “Couldn’t take the guttersnipe, eh, old man?” Myles said, belatedly slapping Ash on the back. “Can’t blame you. This one’s not only beautiful, she smells better.”