Playing the Rake's Game

  Ren Dryden has a spark she can’t risk igniting…

  Emma Ward is in trouble. The devilishly handsome part-owner of her beloved Caribbean sugar plantation has arrived, and clearly he doesn’t trust her. But his eyes promise pleasures she can only imagine. Maybe there’s a way to get him onside…

  Ren Dryden may be fresh off the boat from London, but he knows when a woman is playing him—and when she’s as intriguing as the alluring Emma, he’s more than happy to play back! But several sultry nights and secrets shared later, Ren realizes just how high the stakes are in this game of seduction!

  Rakes of the Caribbean

  Sun, sand and sizzling seduction

  Notorious rogues Ren Dryden and Kitt Sherard used to cut a swath through the ton, but they were too wild to be satisfied with London seasons and prim debutantes.

  Now they’ve ventured to the sultry Caribbean

  to seek their fortunes…and women strong enough to tame them!

  Ren meets his match in spirited Emma Ward.

  Relish their seductive battle of wits in

  PLAYING THE RAKE’S GAME

  Available January 2015

  Kitt has never met a woman as unconventional as Bryn Rutherford. Enjoy their scorching chemistry in

  BREAKING THE RAKE’S RULES

  Available February 2015

  And look for the

  Harlequin® Historical Undone! ebook

  CRAVING THE RAKE’S TOUCH

  Already available

  You won’t want to miss this sizzling new series

  from Bronwyn Scott!

  Author Note

  I hope you enjoy the new locale for this miniseries: the sunny Caribbean! There was plenty of British activity in the Caribbean not just in the eighteenth century when Britain tamed the waters against piracy, but in the nineteenth century, too. Ren’s story is set against the backdrop of Barbados entering into the era of emancipation. His story is right after the abolition of slavery—which had some significant anticipated and unanticipated repercussions. One of the big issues which was anticipated dealt with wages and labor. Would it ruin the plantations’ abilities to make a profit if laborers had to be paid? To offset this, the British parliament did give the planters what we might call today a “financial incentive package.” They also set up the apprentice system. One historian notes the system was meant to instruct newly freed slaves in the management of wages while helping planters access a “stable labor force.” Needless to say, what worked well in theory was soon abused by the planters who were bemoaning the loss of their power. The other concern was political—the planto-cracy feared that freed slaves would want to vote and, of course, those votes would outnumber the white vote. The final, perhaps somewhat unlooked for consequence of emancipation was the finite availability of land. Freed slaves who wanted to be landowners and farm their own land simply didn’t have access to it. On an island, land is finite.

  This is the scenario Ren Dryden enters when the story opens. He thinks a plantation in the Caribbean will be the answer to his family’s own financial problems, only to realize he’s inherited far more than he bargained for. I hope you enjoy Ren’s story and learning a little about the context in which it is set.

  Bronwyn

  Scott

  Playing the

  Rake’s Game

  Available from Harlequin® Historical and

  BRONWYN SCOTT

  Pickpocket Countess #889

  Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady #896

  The Viscount Claims His Bride #929

  The Earl’s Forbidden Ward #986

  Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress #1001

  A Thoroughly Compromised Lady #1030

  Secret Life of a Scandalous Debutante #1058

  §Unbefitting a Lady

  *How to Disgrace a Lady #1104

  *How to Ruin a Reputation #1108

  *How to Sin Successfully #1113

  ΔA Lady Risks All #1145

  ΔA Lady Dares #1149

  A Sprinkling of Christmas Magic #1159

  “Finding Forever at Christmas”

  **Secrets of a Gentleman Escort #1168

  **London’s Most Wanted Rake #1180

  ◊Playing the Rake’s Game #1216

  Did you know that these novels are also available as ebooks?

  Visit www.Harlequin.com.

  And in Harlequin Historical Undone! ebook

  Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss

  Pleasured by the English Spy

  Wicked Earl, Wanton Widow

  Arabian Nights with a Rake

  An Illicit Indiscretion

  *How to Live Indecently

  ΔA Lady Seduces

  **An Officer But No Gentleman

  **A Most Indecent Gentleman

  ◊Craving the Rake’s Touch

  And in Harlequin Historical Royal Weddings ebook

  Prince Charming in Disguise

  *Rakes Beyond Redemption

  ΔLadies of Impropriety

  §part of Castonbury Park Regency miniseries

  **Rakes Who Make Husbands Jealous

  ◊Rakes of the Caribbean

  For my awesome staff on the Disney Fantasy; Gabriella and Nicola, who kept us fed, and Puhl, who had to clean my kid’s stateroom every day and still greeted me happily every morning.

  BRONWYN SCOTT

  is a communications instructor at Pierce College in the United States, and is the proud mother of three wonderful children (one boy and two girls). When she’s not teaching or writing she enjoys playing the piano, traveling—especially to Florence, Italy—and studying history and foreign languages.

  Readers can stay in touch on Bronwyn’s website, www.bronwynnscott.com, or at her blog, www.bronwynswriting.blogspot.com—she loves to hear from readers.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Bridgetown, Barbados—early May, 1835

  Ren Dryden believed two things about the nature of men: first, a wise man didn’t run from his troubles and, second, only a foolish man ran from his opportunities. Ren considered himself in league with the former, which was why he’d spent two weeks aboard a mail packet aptly named the Fury, braving the Atlantic and sailing away from all he knew. In truth, a large part of himself had revelled in the danger of the adventure; revelled in pitting his strength against the sea. He even revelled in the unknown challenges that lay before him on land. At last, he could take action.

  Ren levered himself out of the bumboat that had rowed him ashore, tossed the boatman a coin and stood on the Bridgetown dock, feeling a kindred spirit with the bustle of commerce about him. His blood hummed with the excitement of it. Ah, the Caribbean! Land of rum and risk.


  Ren surveyed the activity with an appreciative eye, taking in the vibrant colours of people, of fruits, sky and sea, the scents of citrus and sweat, the feel of heat against his face. It was a veritable feast for the senses and he engaged the feast wholeheartedly. Life began today, more specifically his life, a life of his choosing and his making, not a life predestined for him based on the caprices of earlier generations of Drydens.

  There were plenty of people in London who would say he was avoiding his problems. The list was long and distinguished, ranging from his family, who’d found the ‘perfect solution’ to their little problem of ‘dynastic debt’ in the form of a weak-eyed, sallow-cheeked heiress from York, to the creditors who hounded him through the grey streets of London, even being so bold as to lie in wait for him outside his exclusive clubs.

  There were also plenty of men of his acquaintance who would have bowed to the inevitable, married the heiress, paid the debt and spent their lives blindly acquiring new debt until their sons had to make the same sacrifices a generation later. He had promised himself years ago when he’d come of age he would not be a slave to the past.

  Ren found it rather frightening that not only would those men have bowed to the inevitable, but they would have preferred to bow instead of breaking free. After all, there was a certain comfort to be found in the known. He understood the penchant for the familiar and he pitied the men who craved it. Ren had never counted himself among that number.

  On the outside, perhaps he resembled his peers in clothing, clubs and mannerisms, but inside, he’d always been different, always railed against the things and people that kept him leashed, his hopes restrained by the narrow parameters that defined a gentleman’s potential.

  All that railing had paid off, all that hope was now fulfilled. He was here and he’d broken free, although it came with a price, as freedom always did. If he failed in this venture, his family failed with him; his mother, who had wilted after his father’s death; his two sisters, one waiting for a debut, the other waiting to wed; and thirteen-year-old Teddy who would be the earl of debt-ridden lands should Ren not return.

  Ren’s hand curled tightly around the valise he’d brought with him from the boat. He’d not trusted it to remain with his trunks to be brought ashore separately. His future was in the valise: the letter of introduction and a copy of Cousin Merrimore’s will bequeathing him fifty-one per cent interest in a sugar plantation—majority interest in a profitable business.

  There would be shareholders to deal with, but technically the entire place was his to control. He would not fail. As unseemly as it was for a gentleman of his birth, he’d made it a point to know the dynamics of trade—he’d quietly made investments on the Exchange, invested in an occasional cargo. He’d listened to discussions in Parliament and taken an active interest in political circles when he was in London.

  As a result, he did not come to Barbados without at least some knowledge of Britain’s colonial gem. Nor did he come without his opinions. He would make an honest profit and he would pay an honest wage to see it done. He would not raise his family up by abusing the sweat of other men. Even a desperate man had ethics.

  ‘Ahoy there, Dryden, is that you?’ A tall, bronzed man with sun-bleached hair cut through the crowd, taking Ren by momentary surprise. Ren might not have recognised the man, but he’d know the voice of his one-time best friend anywhere in the world, case in point. London would have an apoplexy if it could see its one-time ballroom favourite now. The Caribbean had bleached his dark-blond hair and tanned his pale skin.

  ‘Kitt Sherard!’ Ren felt his face break into wide grin. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.’ He’d sent a letter on the mail packet preceding him telling Kitt of his arrival, but there’d been no chance to receive a response.

  ‘Of course I made it. I wouldn’t leave you stranded at the docks.’ Kitt pulled him into a strong embrace. ‘What has it been, Ren? Five years?’

  ‘Five long years. Look at you, Kitt. Barbados agrees with you,’ Ren exclaimed. He couldn’t get over the completeness of his friend’s transformation. Kitt had always been wild at heart, but now the wildness had entirely taken over. His hair was not only bleached, but long, and his dress more closely resembled the loose clothing of those swarming the docks than the traditional breeches and coats Ren had on. They looked more comfortable too. But the eyes were the same: a sharp, shrewd sea-blue. It was Kitt all right and it felt good to see a friendly face.

  ‘It does indeed.’ Kitt laughed as a pretty, coffee-skinned fruit seller approached, swinging her hips.

  ‘Fresh fruit, me loves, de best on de island. Is this handsome fellow a friend of yours, Mr Kitt?’ She wafted a firm round orange under Ren’s nose, teasing him with its citrusy scent. The persuasion was effective. After two weeks without anything resembling ‘fresh’, the orange was a temptation nonpareil. She might as well have been Eve with the apple, and if Eve had been wearing a scoop-necked blouse like this island beauty, Ren completely understood why Adam had eaten it.

  ‘He’s come all the way from London, Liddie. You be good to him.’ Kitt gave her two coins and took the fruit, tossing it to Ren.

  ‘Are all your friends this handsome?’ Liddie flirted with Ren, the loose neck of her blouse gaping open to offer a quick glimpse of firm, round fruit of a more erotic sort. She flashed him an inviting smile.

  Kitt feigned wounded pride, a hand on his heart. ‘More handsome than me, Liddie?’

  Liddie laughed. ‘You’re too much for a poor girl like me, Mr Kitt. Are you going to introduce me?’

  ‘Liddie, this is Ren Dryden, Albert Merrimore’s cousin. He’s going to be taking over Sugarland plantation.’

  Ren thought he saw Liddie take the slightest step backwards. Her next words confirmed it wasn’t his imagination. ‘There’s trouble out there.’ She shot a warning glance at Kitt. ‘You better tell him about the spirits and the witch woman, Mr Kitt.’ She fumbled with a string about her neck and pulled a necklace over her head. A chunk of black coral hung from a strip of leather. She handed it to Ren. ‘You’re going to need protection. This will keep the bad spirits away.’

  Ren took the charm, unsure of what to say. The idea there was trouble at his plantation was more than a little unsettling. That the trouble involved spirits and a witch woman seemed to portend the ominous. He looked a hasty question at Kitt, who merely shrugged at the mention.

  ‘My friend and I are good Anglicans, Liddie. We don’t believe in spirits.’ Kitt dismissed Liddie’s worries with an easy smile

  Good Anglicans? Ren fought back a laugh at the notion. He didn’t think Kitt had ever been a good anything except a good amount of trouble. Decent simply wasn’t in Sherard’s vocabulary.

  Ren tucked the amulet inside his shirt and Kitt went back to flirting with Liddie. ‘I am a bit jealous though, Liddie. What about me? Don’t I get an amulet, too, just in case?’

  Liddie’s face broke into a pretty smile. ‘Mr Kitt, I pity the poor spirits that mess with you, Anglican or not.’ It was a good note to leave on. Liddie sauntered away, hips swaying.

  ‘She likes you.’ Kitt elbowed Ren. ‘Do you want me to arrange something?’

  ‘No. I think women will need to wait until I can get my bearings at the plantation.’ Ren laughed. ‘You’re the same old Kitt Sherard, women falling all over you wherever you go.’

  Kitt seemed to sober at that. ‘Well, not quite the same, I hope. I didn’t come here to be what I was in London and I’m guessing neither did you.’

  Ren nodded in understanding. For them both, Barbados was a place for new lives. Kitt had left London five years ago rather suddenly and without warning. He’d shown up one night on Ren’s doorstep needing sanctuary but unable to explain. He’d left the next day, slinking out of town towards the ports, leaving everything behind including his real name. Ren had been the last to see him. After that, Kitt ha
d cut all ties with the exception of random letter to him and the third of their trio, Benedict DeBreed.

  Ren had no idea what Kitt had been up to since then. A silence had sprung up between them, a reminder of the profundity of their choices. Ren steered the conversation back to the practical. ‘Were you able to bring a wagon?’ It was easier not to think about the larger scope of his decisions, but to take it all step by step. The next step was to get out to the plantation.

  ‘It’s right over here. I think they’ve just brought your trunks ashore.’ Kitt gestured to the returning bumboat. Ren’s questions had to wait while they loaded his trunks, but his nerves were rising. What had Cousin Merrimore done? What was wrong at Sugarland? He’d expected a bit of unease. There’d been four months between his cousin’s passing and his arrival, but surely there was enough sense in the group of investors to manage things in the short term.

  In fact, he’d assumed there would be very little to handle. Most plantation owners were absentee landlords who left the running of the estate to an overseer while they lived in England. But if that was the case, none of them had contacted him. It would have been simple enough to meet if they had been in England.

  Since no one had come forward, Ren was starting to believe the landlords were in residence on the island. Even so, with or without his cousin’s presence or the presence of any other shareholders, the overseer would keep the plantation going just as he always had. Ren ran a finger beneath his collar, the heat starting to make his garments uncomfortable. He shot an envied glance Kitt’s direction.

  ‘Take off the damn coats, Ren. We aren’t in England any more.’ Kitt laughed at his discomfort. ‘Even the heat’s different here, but you’ll learn how to cope. You’ll get used to it.’ He winked. ‘If you’re anything like me, you’ll even like it.’

  Ren grinned and shrugged out of his jacket. ‘I love the heat and I don’t think London ever had a sky this blue. This is paradise.’ Just minutes off the boat and he could see the allure of this place. Everything was different: the sky, the heat, the fruit, the people.