Saying I Do To The Scoundrel

Saying I Do To The Scoundrel
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A scoundrel among the Ton…Her knight in shining armour?Katherine Wilder will do anything to escape her forced marriage—even ask Brandt Radcliffe to kidnap her! Only she doesn’t expect a man so disreputable to say no! With her father now desperate to marry her off to line his own pockets, widower Brandt has become her reluctant protector—and it seems the only way he can do that is to marry her himself…!

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A scoundrel of the ton...

Her knight in shining armor?

Katherine Wilder will do anything to escape her forced marriage, even ask Brandt Radcliffe to kidnap her! Only she doesn’t expect a man so disreputable to say no! With her father now desperate to marry her off to line his own pockets, widower Brandt has become her reluctant protector—and it seems the only way he can do that is to marry her himself...!

“The rigid rules of the Regency period is always the perfect backdrop for Tyner’s mischievous, rule-bending characters.”

—RT Book Reviews on Redeeming the Roguish Rake

“A headstrong heroine, a determined hero, secrets, family squabbles and a large dose of pride propel this plotline...a fast, enjoyable read.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Wallflower Duchess

LIZ TYNER lives with her husband on an Oklahoma acreage she imagines is similar to the ones in the children’s book Where the Wild Things Are. Her lifestyle is a blend of old and new, and is sometimes comparable to the way people lived long ago. Liz is a member of various writing groups and has been writing since childhood. For more about her visit liztyner.com.

Also by Liz Tyner

The Notorious Countess

The Runaway Governess The Wallflower Duchess Redeeming the Roguish Rake

English Rogues and Grecian Goddesses miniseries

Safe in the Earl’s Arms

A Captain and a Rogue Forbidden to the Duke

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Saying I Do to the Scoundrel

Liz Tyner


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07394-3

SAYING I DO TO THE SCOUNDREL

© 2018 Elizabeth Tyner

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedicated to my generous, thoughtful

and always encouraging friend, Charlotte Schrahl.

Chapter One

The knocking on his door pounded like hooves against Brandt’s head, bringing him from ravaged dreams into the summer-baked room. He didn’t care where the hands on the clock might be—the hour was too early for him to awaken. He needed another bottle of brandy to cleanse his mouth. He called out to his valet, ‘Enter.

‘Enter,’ he commanded again when he heard no footsteps.

The door swung open.

‘Heathen.’ The word screeched into his ears as if attached to flying glass. A woman wearing a bonnet the size of a parasol stood beneath the transom. For a moment, he thought he dreamed of a butterfly, the dress fluttered so and bead trim sparkled. A pale face, with dark eyes rimmed in lashes any siren could be envious of, stared at him.

The drunken haze confused him. This was a boarding house—not his home. For a moment, he had forgotten.

Memories returned, anger flooding his body.

He rolled on to his side, and propped himself on his elbow, re-orienting himself, and feeling a breeze waft over his body. Completely over his body.

Everything came back to him. Or enough of it did. He’d shed his clothing when he’d returned from the tavern. He felt beside him for a covering. Nothing touched his fingers but a mattress so thin he could feel the ropes beneath.



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