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How to Marry a Rake in Ten Days by Samantha Holt

The years had added the slightest touch of grey to his hair at the temples. Though he must have shaved in the morning, stubble was beginning to show on his jaw and upper lip. Something about that roughness made her want to reach out and stroke it. Lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. Not a lot but enough that his intense eyes were softened. And his lashes...dear Lord a man should never have such thick, long lashes. It was thoroughly unfair to the fairer sex.

“I always watched you,” he told her in a low voice, the timbre of it spearing deep inside her and making her feel warm and all twisted up inside.

She knew that. But she wouldn’t admit as much. A lady shouldn’t be aware of these things. However, he likely didn’t realise that she understood the reasons behind his stares. He probably had little clue that she even knew he was responsible for Robert’s change of heart.

“I never noticed.”

The lift of one brow told her he didn’t believe her. “I watched you dance. Watched you flirt. Watched you laugh.”

“A lady does not flirt.”

“You did.”

“Well, I have changed.”

His gaze met hers. “I noticed. A pity.”

Angelina eyed him. A pity? Here was the man who had so thoroughly disapproved of her behaviour that he had warned his all too impressionable friend away from her and now he was claiming that he liked that behaviour. Though she supposed such behaviour was favourable in a conquest but not in a wife.

There was no chance she would be a conquest. She was here for a marriage.

“I have grown up, Benedict, that is all.”

His lips curved. “You have grown up in many ways.” He glanced over her figure. “The years have done you many favours, Angie. However, I’m not sure you are all that different.”

“I am,” she insisted. “I’m nothing like I was when we knew each other.”

Benedict released the curl and tilted his head to view her. “Well, we have ten days together. I’m certain it will become clear whether you have or not.”

“That sounds almost like a challenge, my lord.” She cursed the words once they were out. Those were the words of impulsive, silly Angie. Even the addition of his title had been used with every intention of being daring instead of polite.

He lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. She eyed their gloved fingers meeting and tried to force her arm to retreat but she had gone boneless at his touch. He eased his palm into hers and held her hand.

“A challenge would certainly make this rather dry party a little more interesting, do you not think?”

She was too busy gaping at their linked hands to even agree with him. Or tell him no. She already had one challenge to worry about, she didn’t need another.

“We have ten days together. Let me prove to you that you are not changed. That the Angie I knew still resides behind those stiff manners.”

“Why on earth would I agree to such a thing?”

“To prove me wrong.” He lifted her hand up toward his mouth and brushed it over her knuckles.

“I have no need to prove it.”

“Are you scared?”

She raised her chin. “Never!”

He released a flash of a grin. “Ah, there she is.”

“Damn you, Benedict.”

His grin widened. “And again.”

She puffed out her cheeks, feeling how hot and red they were. This was all going so wrong. How was she meant to act like a lady when he was so infuriating? She should probably start thinking about a new job already. She’d never persuade Oliver they’d do well together if this continued.

Angelina tugged away her hand and shook her head. “You won’t win, Benedict. I can assure you of that. Now it is not appropriate for us to be alone together so I shall bid you good afternoon. Will you tell the marquess that I am suffering with a headache and I shall join them for dinner?”

“Of course, my lady.” He offered a mockingly formal bow and Angelina just knew he had no intention of giving up his idea of scandalising her.

She shook her head again. As if he could scandalise her further. 

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Notorious rogue, Lord Nathaniel Kingsley always tended to leap without thinking. Becoming a smuggler, adopting a sheep, getting engaged to Miss Patience Grey….

Patience has no need for a fiancé, or a husband. For once in her life, she wants to prove she’s just as good as a man and she does not need Nathaniel Kingsley getting in her way. With her brother injured, it is up to her to continue her family’s work…and that means tracking down a French spy and ensuring said spy will turn.

Unfortunately, no one believes she can do it alone. Which is where Nathaniel comes in.

Nate is happy to be of service. Why pass up the opportunity to repay an old friend, especially with a little intrigue along the way? Find the spy, play escort to Patience, return home to continue smuggling. Easy.

Or at least it would be if the stubborn Patience would let him do his job. The breeches-wearing woman is determined to do it all alone and, he has to admit, there’s something quite distracting about a woman in men’s clothes.

Can he keep his attention from her long enough to complete their mission and persuade Patience to let him do his job and protect her? A job he’s beginning to find he’s enjoying a lot more than he thought he would…

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Excerpt

“There would have been many a heartbroken lass had you really been engaged,” Drake said. His grin grew wicked. “I was looking forward to offering my comfort and condolences.”

Nate shook his head and ignored his friend’s jest. Instead he turned his attention to the ale in his hand. It would be his last for a while. He’d need a clear head for what was to come, especially if he was to keep that minx under control. If her own mother could not make her wear a dress, what chance did he have?

Either way, he was looking forward to the challenge. Smuggling was all well and good but they had only gone out once in the past month and all had been quiet. No excitement to be had. He was rather looking forward to the chance to indulge in some espionage and adventure.

Of course, Jacob Grey was aware of their illicit activities. Being a government agent had meant they had helped him before. He was one of the few residents of Penshallow who quite understood who was behind all the smuggling that took place in their small fishing village. Most thought Knight the face of it—the big, brooding, scarred hulk of a man opposite who spoke only when absolutely necessary.

At present, Knight’s attention was on something near the bar. Nate flicked a glance over but could see nothing of interest. Only the usual overly drunk patrons gathered while Louisa, the innkeeper, worked her hardest to keep up with demand.

Other patrons littered the room, gathered around small tables. Some had cards in their hands while all had drinks. The Ship Inn was not the most savory of places but it was out of the way and the food was good. Not to mention Louisa was uncannily good at ensuring the customs men never came near the place. She had saved their skin many times and they repaid her help generously, ensuring she had a good supply of excellent French wine.

“You were a damned fool, signing up for this,” Nate’s brother said, thrusting a finger at him.

“What was I to do? You were off enjoying yourself with Hannah. Far too much it seems.” His brother’s gaze darkened and Nate immediately ceased any idea of talking of Red’s fiancée. Hannah was currently installed in lodgings in the village while they awaited the license for their marriage and to finalize all the details. His brother was, unbelievably, utterly in the love with the woman. It was not such much the woman he had fallen for that surprised Nate but that his brother had the ability to fall so heavily for her. Red had always been too busy to think of love or even marriage.

Drake leaned in. The captain fixed Red with a slight smile on his lips. “Face it, Red. While you were distracted by petticoats, Nate held down the fort. I don’t blame him for offering to help, after all, are we not in this to help the crown?”

“Since when are you so noble?” Red demanded.

“Since I have a pocket full of coin,” Drake said smugly. “Things have been going uncommonly well of late. I don’t see why Nate cannot help Jacob Grey and be back in time for our next outing.”

“Uncommonly well?” Nate’s brother lifted a brow. “After Knight’s illness and the storm that near tore your ship in half, you were complaining of curses. Now you think things are going uncommonly well?”

Knight glowered. The giant of a man sat with his arms folded, a great scowl etched upon his face that in some lights looked as though it could be made of granite. Were it not for being friends with him, Nate would give him a wide berth. The man looked like trouble and, potentially, he was. No one really knew anything about him apart from the fact he was useful muscle and a damned hard worker. Though Nate suspected there was something more under that silent exterior. What that was, however, he was not sure.

“It was not an illness,” Knight protested.

Drake laughed. “You vomited on my boots, Knight. What would you call it?”

Knight fell back into silent mode and glowered some more.

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Red never shies away from a challenge.

Never.

But when Miss Hannah St. John strides into his life demanding—yes, demanding—he help her, he’s certain she’s more challenge than even he can handle.

Hannah is determined to transport an artifact from France—one that will change everything—even if it means working with a lawless man like Red. Nothing is more important than preserving history.

Nothing.

Not even the touch of a smuggler who inconceivably makes her stomach twist.

When it becomes clear the irritating bluestocking will do anything for this blasted artifact and needs saving from herself, the earl-turned-smuggler steps in.

Carting a cursed stone across the country with a know-it-all woman is not Red’s idea of fun, particularly when their journey runs far from smoothly…so why does he find himself enjoying her company just a little too much?

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Excerpt

“Excuse me,” she started but her voice came out like nothing more than a mouse’s squeak. She coughed and tried again. “Excuse me, are you Red?”

His head jerked up. “Who wants to know?”

She took another step closer and gasped. The firelight cleared the shadows around his features. She was not sure what she expected from an infamous smuggler but it was not this. Where were the pock marks? The scars? The missing teeth?

There were no missing teeth to be sure. Though he kept his mouth in a firm line of disdain—or perhaps annoyance—the quick flash she had seen had revealed a mouth of perfectly healthy teeth. As for scars or pockmarks, his skin was perfect.

His light brown hair was, admittedly, a little too long and his face was unshaven, revealing several days of neglect. There were shadows around his eyes too, and he looked weary. However, that could not take away from that fact he was a handsome man.

He stared at her expectantly. She gulped. “I need your help.”

“And if I do not wish to give it?”

She shook her head. Impossible. He had to help her. He was her only chance. She dragged out the chair opposite and sat. One dark brow rose at the action. Chin lifted, she propped her arms on the table and leaned forward. He smelled of the sea.

“I need your help bringing across something from France. I’m told you are the man for the job.”

“Then you were told wrong.”

“I can pay handsomely.”

“I don’t need coin.”

“Do you not? I thought all smugglers did.”

He leaned forward abruptly. “You need to watch your tongue, miss.” He glanced around. “Not everyone here is a friend.”

She jerked back a little. Handsome he might be, but he was also intimidating. His strong jaw, finished with a slight dip that was just visible under the stubble, was set firmly. His eyes glinted in the firelight though she could not tell their color properly.

She took a breath and cast her gaze over him. It was something she was in the habit of doing. Study everything closely enough and any fear she might have of it left. It had worked with spiders. When one looked closely, one could see they were no more than a few legs and a body pieced together. Those long legs no longer appeared so terrifying once she had seen them under a microscope and appreciated the unique design of the creatures.

It did not seem to quite work with this creature. His slightly creased forehead and the still lifted brow did not lose any of it sternness. His lips, she concluded, were generous for a man’s, but it did not soften his appearance. She pictured him in evening wear and that helped a little, though she could tell he would be ridiculously handsome and likely still no more polite.

“I was told you were the man to help me,” she said, aware of being a little breathless.

“As I said, you were told wrong.”

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Chapter 1: You're the Rogue That I Want

Coming 26th October--a sexy, fun, intriguing Regency romance. Taking you from Cornwall to London, immerse yourself in the world of the Rogues of Redmere--four determined men who are about to meet the biggest challenge of their lives.

Red never shies away from a challenge.

Never.

But when Miss Hannah St. John strides into his life demanding—yes, demanding—he help her, he’s certain she’s more challenge than even he can handle.

Hannah is determined to transport an artifact from France—one that will change everything—even if it means working with a lawless man like Red. Nothing is more important than preserving history.

Nothing.

Not even the touch of a smuggler who inconceivably makes her stomach twist.

When it becomes clear the irritating bluestocking will do anything for this blasted artefact and needs saving from herself, the earl turned smuggler steps in.

Carting a cursed stone across the country with a know-it-all woman is not Red’s idea of fun, particularly when their journey runs far from smoothly…so why does he find himself enjoying her company just a little too much?

_______________

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Chapter One

Red spat out another mouthful of salty water. The sea spray struck him across the face, bitter and unpleasant. Waves rolled in, sloshing over the edge of his boots and filling them. He grimaced. The seas were particularly rough tonight. They’d be lucky to haul in all the goods before sunrise. His muscles burned as he dragged what had to be the tenth keg of the night to shore.

Cold wind slapped his face and ruffled his shirt. He cursed the unpredictable English weather through his teeth.

Though truth be told, they’d dealt with worse. However, considering the mood he was in tonight, he did not much fancy dealing with anything other than a shot of whiskey. Some days he wondered what possessed him to drag his arse out in the middle of the night and fight the weather, and sometimes the local excise men, all in the name of a profit.

Beside him, two other men worked hard to fight the waves and ensure their cargo was not lost. Frosty ribbons of moonlight glinted off the white tips of the waves farther out. The rowboats that had been used to bring in the goods were long since stowed away and the ship would be headed to the docks.

 As another strong wave nearly toppled him, he muttered what could perhaps have been conceived as sarcastic thanks. At least they had avoided the worst of it when rowing in, but could that damned wind have not waited until after they’d brought in their haul?

Red glanced over at Knight, who worked a darned sight faster than he or Nate. Of course, the muscle-bound man had quite the advantage over them and seemed to cut through the waves like a frigate.

“Nearly done,” Knight declared over the wind, hefting a trunk onto the cart.

Red pushed his sodden hair from his face with one hand and dragged the cask out of the sea by the fishing net. He paused to squint into the sea. Once upon a time they had been able to unload their cargo in broad daylight while the weather was calm, but the customs men had increased their patrols of late. Red and his crew had been forced to become sneakier.

Nate brought in what looked to be the last keg and paused to take a breath. “At least it isn’t raining,” he said with a grin.

“That’s all of them?” Red asked.

They all paused to study the surf as it churned and bubbled. Their haul had been left in fishermen’s nets just past where the waves broke. The nets could be spotted easily enough in the light but the knotted floats were not so easy to spy in the inky ocean at night. However, their new method of bringing smuggled goods in from France was worth it. It gave them time to bring in the cargo—and time, they had discovered, could be vitally important when it came to the excise men.

“Let’s get this stowed away before we get any wetter. I have a hankering for a whiskey.”

Nate chuckled. “When do you not?”

Red grunted at this. “Don’t be jealous of my finer tastes. You’ll enjoy the finer things in life one day—once your balls have dropped.”

Nate, only two years his junior and his brother, laughed again. Knight clapped him hard on the shoulder, and Red saw Nate wince. Sometimes the giant of a man seemed to forget he was twice the size of them all.

“We had better get moving. Louisa said the excise men had already been in tonight.”

Red nodded. “Hopefully that means they have been and gone but—”

“They’re sneaky bastards,” finished Nate.

“Yes,” he agreed. He let a grin break across his face. “But we are sneakier.”

They all chuckled. After he and Nate clambered onto the cart, he took the reins and urged the horses forward. With the help of a push from the behemoth that was Knight, they eased the vehicle off the stony shore and onto the grass. Knight walked behind them until they hit the dirt tracks and then he climbed onto the cart. He understood well enough that they could do without his extra weight until they were on the roads.

Red directed the wagon along the narrow track until the hedgerows grew close. The road itself could hardly be considered a road and was impassable when it rained. On days like those they were forced to bring in the haul on foot, stowing it in a cave not far from their landing spot until the path dried out.

He shuddered, aware of water still sloshing about in his boots. As much as the cursed wind made life difficult, Nate had been right. The rain would have made their job twenty times harder and their last lot of cargo had been a bother to bring in. Christ, he longed for the days when they could bring in their goods with as much ease as a merchant man.

Once they reached barn, he paused to drag on his greatcoat.

“Cold?” Nate asked.

“Damned right I am.”

“It’s that noble blood of yours,” he said with a smirk.

“Yours is the same,” Red muttered.

“I’m plenty warm,” Knight remarked.

They both glanced at him. Red shook his head. Knight could not fail to be warm with the bulk of him. He suspected the man could stand out in the snow for two weeks and be perfectly content. He’d never met a man so hardy, and in their business, it was quite the asset.

They opened the back of the cart, and Red unlocked the barn door. “Put the wine near the door,” he ordered. “It will not be there long.”

Knight nodded and began unloading with a swift ease that made Red feel like a crippled old man, in spite of Knight being potentially older than him. At least they thought so. No one really knew, not even Knight.

Red stilled. He motioned to the men to do the same. Breath held, he listened.

“Horses,” Nate whispered.

He nodded. “Open both the doors, we’ll put the cart inside.”

Knight and Nate pulled them open and he urged the horses into the dark confines of the barn. Thankfully they had little left of their last loot or else it would never fit in along with the horses. He clambered off quickly and locked the barn door behind him.

All three of them were well-rehearsed in dodging the customs men or any potentially nosy strangers. The rugged Cornish countryside provided plenty of hiding spots, and they tucked themselves behind a crumbling stone wall.

The sound of horse hooves neared. Collectively they held their breaths. Should the revenue men come upon them, they would be nothing more than three drunken men, lost on their way home from the inn. But it would be enough to arouse suspicion and potentially search the barn. None of them wanted that.

Red twisted his head enough to view the horses and their riders as they belted past. Three of them, well-dressed. Excise men to be sure. He cursed inwardly. They were becoming more determined.

They waited until the patrol was long gone before moving from their spot. A curse from Nate drew Red's attention.

“What is—” Red laughed as a he spotted the sheep currently determinedly butting into Nate’s leg. “Looks like you’ve made a friend.”

“Or an enemy,” Nate grumbled when the animal retreated and came at him again. Nate held up his hands to try to stop the animal from coming near but the white, grubby-looking sheep was determined to butt into his leg. In spite of Nate clapping his hands and stomping his feet, the animal continued forward before coming to a stop and giving him a gentler nudge.

“She likes you,” Knight said.

“Come, let us finish our work here and leave Nate’s friend in peace. Then I can have a damned whiskey.”

“It is not my friend,” Nate protested as they opened the barn to continue unloading.

The damned sheep followed them into the barn.

Red shook his head. Nothing about tonight had gone smoothly.

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Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…well, Scotland…Rose lived tucked away from the world with her aunt. Orphaned as a baby and adopted by her aunt, she’s used to her eccentric ways—including her overprotectiveness. But Rose wants more from life. However, she never quite expected for Laird Hamish McTavish—complete with kilt—to change things. The brash, and admittedly braw, man is hardly like the charming men Rose has been dreaming of.

Freshly returned from the battlefield with an unexpected inheritance, highlander Hamish is struggling enough to fit in at the sleepy lowland village. When he comes across a feisty young woman with wild hair and a brash tongue on his land, he doesn’t expect it to lead to more than a five-minute argument.

But he cannot help himself. His curiosity is piqued. Who is this young woman surrounded by three slightly-crazed elderly women seemingly intent on keeping her from the world? He must find out more.

Unfortunately, there are several people more than willing to get in the way of that aim. Rose’s aunt for one—not to mention his late-cousin’s mistress who is determined to replace one cousin with the other. Not only must Hamish deal with his duties and find a way to get close to Rose, he must also find a way to get rid of this abhorrent woman…before she does anything truly evil.

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Excerpt

Something amongst the grass caught his attention. He paused and peered at it. Not a dog to be certain. He moved closer. A woman. Closer still. No, a girl. He tilted his head. A sort of girl. A girl-woman perhaps. She had the figure of a woman, to be certain. Even lying down, he could see there were ample breasts and some curvaceous hips. However, her face was far too girl-like with a petite mouth, small nose, and pale lashes and eyebrows. Her hair was technically fair but not as light as the few fair women he knew who likely had a little help from cosmetics to get that bright, light look.

Of course, he was able to observe all this at his leisure because she was sleeping. Fully and completely asleep. He looked at the basket at her side to see a small joint of ham. Why the devil was this young woman picnicking on her own with a mere slab of ham?

He coughed. Hamish supposed he could have let her sleep on but it did not seem safe to leave her out here all alone where anyone could do anything to her.

Not to mention, he was wildly curious about this woman. He had only been in Scotland mere weeks, but he had met a few of the local families and his tenants, and she certainly was not one of them. He would have remembered.

He coughed again.

Lashes fluttered and mossy green eyes stared up at him. A crease appeared between her brows, and she jerked up to sitting. “Who are you?” Her gaze raked him from head to toe, making him far too aware of his traditional Highland garb that had no place in the lowlands.

“Who are ye?” he demanded.

Her scowl deepened and she stood, snatching up her basket as though he might be very interested in her lone piece of ham.

“I asked first.”

“But yer the trespasser.”

“I certainly am not!”

Those mossy green eyes were not so mossy when they stared up at him. In fact, they were becoming more interesting by the moment, and he’d certainly never been interested in moss. Dark green at the center, radiating out to an almost sea green, then finished with a ring of dark color that he supposed had given him that plant-like impression.

She peered at him as though he was crazed, and he realized he was staring into them for too long.

“Yer on my land,” he stated.

Yet again, her gaze ran the length of him. He’d never been so aware of his height and stature before. In battle, his oversized body had been useful—apart from when it came to ducking bullets. But now he felt like an ogre or a giant, come to feast on this wee little lass.

However, though there was certainly distrust in her gaze, she did not seem frightened of him. In fact, she raised her chin and directed her challenging stare at him.

“This is the land of the Laird of Baleith.”

“Aye.”

She tilted her head. “The laird is six and fifty years.”

“He was.”

“Was?”

“Aye. He died several weeks ago.”

“He did?” Her eyes widened and she took a stumbling step back. He instinctively reached for her and helped her straighten, but she shook off his touch.

He flexed the hand that had met her skin. A mild burning sensation had struck him the instant they had touched. He tried to shake it from his mind but he could still feel it, still recall the softness of her skin.

Hamish opted for looking over her head. Golden strands of hair curled from it in wild disarray. What had once been a braid now looked to be a misshaped wodge of hair. Slightly brighter strands curled around her face, drawing attention to the pointed chin and tightly-pressed together lips.

Damnation, now he was looking at her mouth.

He forced his attention back to her eyes. Aye, they were far too intriguing but if he continued on the path he was on, he’d end up staring at her figure and he could not allow that.

“The laird had a fall. He died from his injuries unfortunately.”

“I did not know.”

“Well now you do.”

“But why would I not know?”

“I’m not sure. Do ye know all that goes on around here? Forgive me for not telling ye as soon as he hit his death bed,” he said, his tone dry.

“There’s no need to be rude. I am just sure my aunt would have known.”

“I can be as rude as I like, lass. Yer standing on my land.”

“You cannot really be a laird. No laird would speak in such a manner.”

Whoever this stranger was, it was apparent she felt she should know all that occurred on his private land. He chuckled. “Well this one does.”

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Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…well, Scotland…Rose lived tucked away from the world with her aunt. Orphaned as a baby and adopted by her aunt, she’s used to her eccentric ways—including her overprotectiveness. But Rose wants more from life. However, she never quite expected for Laird Hamish McTavish—complete with kilt—to change things. The brash, and admittedly braw, man is hardly like the charming men Rose has been dreaming of.

Freshly returned from the battlefield with an unexpected inheritance, highlander Hamish is struggling enough to fit in at the sleepy lowland village. When he comes across a feisty young woman with wild hair and a brash tongue on his land, he doesn’t expect it to lead to more than a five minute argument.

But he cannot help himself. His curiosity is piqued. Who is this young woman surrounded by three slightly-crazed elderly woman seemingly intent on keeping her from the world? He must find out more.

Unfortunately, there are several people more than willing to get in the way of that aim. Rose’s aunt for one—not to mention his late-cousin’s mistress who is determined to replace one cousin with the other. Not only must Hamish deal with his duties and find a way to get close to Rose, he must also find a way to get rid of this abhorrent woman…before she does anything truly evil.

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