A Warriner to Seduce Her Read online

  A sensible schoolmistress...

  Awakened by the notorious rake!

  In this The Wild Warriners story, schoolmistress Felicity Blunt feels old beyond her years—and desperately dull. Meeting confirmed rake Jacob Warriner brings her gloriously to life, yet no matter his allure, she must remain immune to his obvious charms and unashamed flirtation. But is Jacob merely a mischievous scoundrel, or is there much more to this Warriner than meets the eye?

  The Wild Warriners miniseries

  Book 1—A Warriner to Protect Her

  Book 2—A Warriner to Rescue Her

  Book 3—A Warriner to Tempt Her

  Book 4—A Warriner to Seduce Her

  “The first of The Wild Warriners series will have readers asking for more of these four brothers [...] The book’s delightful characters experience tenderness as well as sexual tension—and danger. The story strikes just the right chord with readers.”

  —RT Book Reviews on A Warriner to Protect Her

  “The sweetness of the story, combined with strong and sensitive characters, captures readers attention as they quickly turn the pages, cheering the lovers on to their HEA.”

  —RT Book Reviews on A Warriner to Rescue Her

  “A tale of self-forgiveness and love’s healing power. A Warriner to Tempt Her is tender and loving, powerful and poignant.”

  —RT Book Reviews on A Warriner to Tempt Her

  The Wild Warriners

  Four brothers living on the edge of society...scandalizing the ton at every turn!

  Tucked away at their remote estate in Nottinghamshire are the ton’s most notorious brothers.

  The exploits of Jack, Jamie, Joe and Jacob Warriner’s parents—their father’s gambling and cheating, their mother’s tragic end—are legendary. But now, for the first time, the brothers find themselves the talk of the ton for an entirely different reason...

  Because four women are about to change their lives—and put them firmly in society’s spotlight!

  Find out what happens in

  Jack’s story

  A Warriner to Protect Her

  Jamie’s story

  A Warriner to Rescue Her

  Joe’s story

  A Warriner to Tempt Her

  Jacob’s story

  A Warriner to Seduce Her

  All available now!

  Author Note

  When I started The Wild Warriners series I had no idea how attached to the family I would become. By the end of book one, A Warriner to Protect Her, I knew all four brothers. I understood all their quirks and foibles. With each story, I fell head over heels in love with each brother. There is a line in A Warriner to Seduce Her where the youngest brother, Jake, describes his brothers as responsible, brave and clever—in that order. He’s right, and that is what makes them adorable. Jack Warriner’s noble, selfless pride, brave Jamie’s tortured soul and brilliant Joe’s need to heal the world. But what about the mischievous Jake?

  In this final installment, Jake claims he is the family disappointment. A confirmed rake with the ability to charm the birds from the trees, Jacob Warriner now lives in London, where his brothers despair of him and wish he would settle down and make something of his life.

  I was looking forward to completing the quartet with this story because I had a surprise in store. A big one. A secret Jake has been keeping from his family for years. I won’t spoil it here—suffice to say that there is more to the youngest brother than meets the eye. Which is just as well, as poor Jake is pushed to his limits in this book. There is intrigue, danger, skulduggery and heroism. And a feisty heroine who is wholly unimpressed with the handsome charmer who has made it his mission to seduce her...

  A WARRINER TO SEDUCE HER

  Virginia Heath

  www.millsandboon.com.au

  When VIRGINIA HEATH was a little girl, it took her ages to fall asleep, so she made up stories in her head to help pass the time while she was staring at the ceiling. As she got older, the stories became more complicated—sometimes taking weeks to get to their happy ending. One day she decided to embrace her insomnia and start writing them down. Virginia lives in Essex with her wonderful husband and two teenagers. It still takes her forever to fall asleep...

  For Dave.

  Welcome to our crazy family!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Knight’s Forbidden Princess by Carol Townend

  Excerpt from Kept by the Viking by Gina Conkle

  Prologue

  Markham Manor—February 1803

  ‘Why don’t we go and walk in the orchard, Mama?’ He tugged her hand, hoping she would cease staring at the river. While her distant mood and melancholy were nothing new, and nor was the route their daily walk had taken, the water was high and angry after the week of rain and the sight of it bothered him.

  ‘When I was a young girl, Jake, we used to promenade along the River Thames at Putney. Sometimes my father would row us out onto the water, but more often than not we used to sit on the banks with a picnic. He used to love escaping the crowds of London and while away the hours on that pretty stretch of the river.’ At least she was talking, albeit about the past again, which was a marked improvement on the painful silence he had endured for the last two hours.

  But then it was always the same after his parents had been fighting, which they did with the same regularity as the sun rose in the mornings and set at night. His elder brothers Jack and Jamie always claimed it was best to leave them both be afterwards, and although he knew they were probably right, Jake’s bedchamber was next to his mother’s and the familiar sounds of his parents’ explosive, poisonous relationship taunted him and haunted him in equal measure. Her angry shouts and spiteful words, his father’s drunken slurring, the short and terrifying bouts of violence which they both participated in and then the odd silence, broken only by whispers, intimate laughter and the inevitable rhythmic creaking of the bed frame. When his father left her soon after, as he always did to find more brandy or whisky or whatever cheap grog he had managed to procure instead, there would be more cruel words followed by his mother’s noisy tears. It was so very hard to sleep with all that wailing going on and his poor childish heart wished he could make her happy, even though Jake knew that was impossible, too. His mother’s happiness remained in the past, well before she had met his father and stupidly married him.

  If he had been Joe, he could have read to her. Mama liked that—sometimes—but although only one year separated him from his closest sibling, Jake had struggled to learn his letters and his mother became impatient when he stumbled over the words. Jamie earned her smiles by painting her beautiful pictures, although he did that less and less because he said she was selfish and self-indulgent and he had no time for either. His eldest brother saved her from the worst of their father’s daytime violence, by absorbing the blows in her stead, and took on the main brunt of the par
enting because neither she nor his father could be bothered. The only thing Jake excelled at was making her laugh or by being the ears which listened to her incessant ramblings about her old life, back when she had been happy and he could only do that by keeping her company.

  ‘Tell me about London, Mama.’

  As he’d hoped, the usually dead light flickered in her eyes. ‘It’s a grand place, Jake. So vibrant and exciting. Every night there is a different ball or party to attend and my dear papa made sure I had enough gowns for all of them. They were always in the first stare of fashion and the gossip columns frequently commented upon them. The dancing was my favourite. I was renowned for my grace as much as for my beauty...’ She sighed and closed her eyes, picturing it all. ‘It’s the most wonderful feeling, Jake, swaying in time to the music and being adored by the lucky gentleman I had deigned to dance with...’

  Jamie often said she was vain, too, preferring to spend hours having her hair dressed for dinner than spending any time with the sons she conveniently forgot existed. Jake secretly agreed, but felt guilty for agreeing, because she was always so sad he reasoned it had to be good that looking pretty pleased her.

  ‘That’s where I met your father. Without waiting for the proper introductions, he pencilled his name on my dance card. He was a wonderful dancer and so handsome.’ Two of the few positive things anyone could say about him.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she noticed Jake for the first time in an hour. Her hand came up and cupped his cheek. A rare and precious moment of parental affection in a home devoid of any. ‘You’re the most like him, you know. You have his smile and his way with words.’ As his father’s words were always slurred or nonsensical from inebriation that comparison didn’t particularly please him, but Jake didn’t move or speak because at least she saw him. ‘He was a charmer, too, just like you are... I dare say you’ll grow up to be identical as well. His bad blood runs the strongest through you.’ Her hand slipped back to her side and her expression soured. Because he reminded her so much of his father she looked away in disgust. That cold, dead stare out to nothingness reserved wholly for him for disappointing her so. How he hated that look.

  ‘Go fetch him, Jake.’

  ‘Not now Mama. It’s still early.’ Two in the afternoon was practically dawn by his father’s standards. ‘Let him sleep it off a bit longer. Tell me more about your picnics in Putney.’

  ‘No, Jacob! Fetch him now.’

  He never understood how it was possible for her to simultaneously loathe and love his horrid father at the same time. How could those opposing emotions exist together? He loved his brothers, sometimes they irritated him, but Jake never hated them. Joe reckoned this was because the love between men and women was entirely different from brotherly love. If that was true, then he wanted no part in that destructive other kind of love. Jake hated arguments. And bad moods. He preferred fun and laughter to tears and tantrums.

  ‘Let’s walk in the orchard instead.’ Away from the dangerous, angry water which she seemed intent on staring at.

  ‘I don’t want to. I want my husband. Bring him to me! Tell him I will throw myself in the river if he doesn’t come!’

  And there it was, the usual threat. Mama was always threatening to end her life in whichever violent way was closest to hand to get her own way. Yesterday, she had threatened to stab her heart with her embroidery scissors, last week she was going to fling herself under a carriage. She never once tried, but his father still came running, after Jake had borne the brunt of his drunken temper at being awoken when his head still pounded. He would haul his dissolute carcass from his pit, dash to his woman and the pair of them would go at it again like vicious cats with their claws bared until they disappeared into her bedchamber.

  With the threat of the customary angry punch from his hateful father and the petulant, dramatic whining he would hear from his mother if he refused, Jake nodded. Resisting was futile. This was the way of things. His parents hated each other and were addicted to each other at the same time. The emotions so powerful they blotted out and excluded everyone and everything from the personal hell they preferred to share together.

  With heavy feet he trudged back towards the house and tried to fill his head with happy thoughts instead. Purposefully light and cheerful things which he would one day enjoy, but which did not exist in his miserable childhood. Parties, balls, dancing ladies in beautiful gowns, rowing boats and sunny picnics...

  Instead of fetching his father he sat down to daydream, waiting long enough to ensure she believed his lie that dear Papa couldn’t be woken. Another habit which earned him censure from both his parents. Sometimes that worked and she would march back to the house in a temper to give him what for. Other times, she scowled at Jake and called him useless like his father, then ordered him straight back, but at least he had delayed the inevitable.

  It was always inevitable.

  With a sigh he stood and headed back to where he’d left her. As soon as he emerged from around the trees she turned and smiled, then promptly launched herself off the bank into the swirling water.

  At first he stood frozen to the spot, but then realised the gravity of the situation. She had carried out her threat and he’d failed to fetch his father. His father might well be a roaring drunk, but he was a strong one and could save her. Now all she had was Jake, the smallest and most useless Warriner.

  He sprinted towards the river bank calling to her, dropping to his belly at the edge and stretching out his arm. ‘Mama! Grab my hand!’ But she was too far away from his childish arms to reach, clinging to overhanging branches of the bare weeping willow as the river foamed and rolled around her, coughing violently as water splattered into her lungs.

  He ran to the tree, screaming for help. ‘Jack! Jamie! Come quick!’

  His elder brothers were in the field somewhere, working because most of the labourers had left long ago. He had no idea where Joe was, but willed him here, too. Joe was cleverer than Jake and his quick brain would find the solution, although anyone else would be better than just him. In desperation, he clung to the sturdy trunk and leaned out as far as he dared, knowing that if he tumbled in then the raging river would take him and they would both be dead.

  ‘You need to grab my hand, Mama!’ Hot tears were streaming down his face. Tears of guilt and terror, of shame at not being good enough and too selfish to sacrifice himself. ‘Please!’

  Her heavy winter coat and long skirts were weighing her down like an anchor. Jake could see that as well as he could see the fear in his mother’s eyes just before her head plunged beneath the water. It bobbed up, but barely. Only her face was visible as she gulped for air, but her eyes locked with his and beneath her fear he saw the disappointment that he had failed her just as his father had so many times. In that moment, he realised she had never meant to die.

  ‘Grab my hand...please!’ Her chilled fingers were losing their grip on the slippery fronds, the fast current was greedily flowing around her, each new surge ebbing higher and higher as she struggled to stay afloat. Soon her fingers, then her face disappeared beneath the water and all Jake could see was the tangled whirl of her green skirts trailing like river weed among the branches of the willow.

  He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the dreadful sight, even for the thumping sound of racing feet behind him, watching powerless as his two eldest brothers selflessly risked their own lives to correct his mistake. Joe arrived soon after and was stood frozen behind, his face white and terrified. Like a statue, he was so still.

  In his daze, the tragedy unfolded.

  Jack, his eldest brother, waist deep in the water, holding Jamie’s hand tightly on the bank as he tried to grasp her.

  Jack carrying his mother’s limp and bedraggled body towards the bank.

  Jamie laying her out on the ground, pumping her chest. The eerie gurgle of water trickling from her mouth with each push. Painful minutes t
icking by before pressing his ear to her chest. Shaking his head.

  Joe’s pleading voice. ‘We have to save her. There must be something we can do?’

  His eldest brother’s arms went around his shoulder. He didn’t offer platitudes or false hope, simply his strength, and Jake leaned on him.

  ‘This is all my fault.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. You did all you could.’

  Which was never enough.

  His mother’s lifeless eyes as she gazed up from the mud. That final cold, dead stare out to nothingness. Disappointed for evermore.

  Chapter One

  Lord Fennimore’s Mayfair study, on a very wet night in February 1820

  Thanks to the splendid port, the cosy heat from the fire and a distinct lack of sleep the night before Jake would soon need a pair of matchsticks to prop open his eyes. Viscount Linford was droning on about the latest numbers of confiscated barrels of brandy in every coastal county the length and breadth of the entire British Isles, or at least he had been before Jake’s mind had wandered off to greener pastures while listening to the man’s soporific voice.

  As always, the Viscount measured success in numbers, seemingly oblivious to the fact it made no difference how many cargoes the blockade men had seized this month compared to last. Those dull statistics were a drop in the ocean—albeit the English Channel—compared to the massive cargoes which slipped past them daily. For a small pile of coin, most people could be relied upon to be resourceful. But smugglers weren’t most people, the piles they wanted weren’t small and their resources far outstripped those of the rag-tag disorganisation of the Board of Excise. Whoever the mysterious Boss was, his toxic network was proving near impossible to infiltrate. Crowbars wouldn’t budge the terrified sealed lips of the few crews they had arrested and for every ship they seized another twenty sailed right past.

  ‘All well and good, but can we trace any of those barrels back to Crispin Rowley?’ Lord Fennimore’s curt tone suggested he was as bored by the Viscount’s bean-counting as Jake was.