Seduced by the Scoundrel

Seduced by the Scoundrel
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SHIPWRECKED – AND SCANDALOUS! Shipwrecked and washed up on an island, Averil Heydon is terrified – and being rescued by mysterious roguish naval captain Luc d’Aunay doesn’t calm her fears! Virginal Averil knows that falling for Luc is dangerous, but the pull of their sexual attraction is deliciously irresistible…After her first taste of wild desire in Luc’s arms, Averil must return to society and convention. Except Luc has a shockingly tempting proposition for her – to flout duty, and give in to her newly awakened sensuality…Danger & Desire Shipwreck, Scandals and Society Weddings


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Introducing Louise Allen’s most scandalous trilogy yet!


Leaving the sultry shores of India behind

them, the passengers of the Bengal Queen face a new life ahead in England—until a shipwreck throws their plans into disarray …

Can Alistair and Perdita’s

illicit onboard flirtation survive the glittering social whirl of London?

Washed up on an island populated by ruffians,

virginal Averil must rely on rebel captain Luc for protection.

And honourable Callum finds himself

falling for his brother’s fiancée!

Look for




from Mills & Boon>® Historical

‘You could become my mistress.’

‘Your mistress?’ For a moment Averil did not seem to understand, and then her whole body went rigid with indignation. ‘Why, you …! You don’t think I am good enough to marry, but you would keep me for your pleasure!’ She wrenched round. ‘Let me go—’

Luc shifted his grip, afraid of hurting her, too aroused to release her. She thudded against his chest and he held her with one hand splayed on her back, the other in her hair, and kissed her. It was wrong, it was gloriously right, it was heaven. She tasted of wine and fruit and woman and he lost himself, drowning in her, until she twisted, jerking her knee up. If not for her hampering skirts she would have had him, square in the groin. As it was her knee hit him with painful force on the thigh and he tore his mouth free.

About the Author

LOUISE ALLEN has been immersing herself in history, real and fictional, for as long as she can remember, and finds landscapes and places evoke powerful images of the past. Louise lives in Bedfordshire, and works as a property manager, but spends as much time as possible with her husband at the cottage they are renovating on the north Norfolk coast, or travelling abroad. Venice, Burgundy and the Greek islands are favourite atmospheric destinations. Please visit Louise’s website——for the latest news!

Previous novels by the same author:


and in Mills & Boon>® Historical Undone! eBooks:


Author Note

Once I had chosen the treacherous seas around the Isles of Scilly as the setting for the wreck of the Bengal Queen, right at the end of her three-month voyage from India, I knew I had to go there to experience the islands for myself.

The heroine of this novel was going to be washed ashore on one of the uninhabited islands—but which one? On the Scillies small boats take the place of cars and buses, and I spent a happy week in the sunshine—criss-crossing from island to island, waving at seals, walking on sand so fine it was exported for use to blot ink in the eighteenth century. Finally I chose St Helen’s, with its tiny old isolation hospital—a perfect base for the mysterious and dangerous man who will rescue Averil Heydon when she is washed, naked, onto the beach at his feet.

While I was there I was privileged to see the wonderful pilot gigs racing—their speed and the distances they can cover have not been exaggerated in this book. However, I have taken liberties with the Governor of the islands at the time, whose name and family are entirely imaginary and bear no resemblance to the real Governor.


With happy memories

of a wonderful week on the Isles of Scilly and the kind staff in the tiny library


by the Scoundrel

Louise Allen

Chapter One

March 16th, 1809—Isles of Scilly

It was a dream, the kind you have when you are almost awake. She was cold, wet … The cabin window must have opened in the night … she was so uncomfortable …

‘Look ‘ere, Jack, it’s a mermaid.’

‘Nah. Got legs, ain’t she? No tail. Never got that. How do you swive a mermaid if she ain’t got legs?’

Not a dream … nightmare. Wake up. Eyes won’t open. So cold. Hurt. Afraid, so afraid.

‘Is she dead, do yer reckon?’

Uncomprehending terror ran through her veins in the dream. Am I dead? Is this hell? They sound like demons. Lie still.

‘Looks fresh enough. She’ll do, even if she ain’t too lively. I ‘aven’t had a woman in five weeks.’

‘None of us ‘ave, stupid.’ The coarse voice came closer.

No! Had she screamed it aloud? Averil became fully conscious and with consciousness came memory and realisation and true terror: shipwreck and a great wave and then cold and churning water and the knowledge that she was going to die.

But she wasn’t dead. Under her was sand, cold, wet sand, and the wind blew across her skin and wavelets lapped at her ankles and her eyes were mercifully gummed shut with salt against this nightmare and everything hurt as though she’d been rolled in a barrel. Wind … skin … She was naked and those voices belonged to real men and they were coming closer and they wanted to …

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