Author/Uploaded by Eva Leigh
Contents Cover Title Page Dedication Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Ch...
Contents Cover Title Page Dedication Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Last Chance Scoundrels By Eva Leigh Copyright About the Publisher iii v 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 ii iv Guide Cover Contents Chapter 1 Dedication There’s a reason why every romance I write is dedicated to Zack—because he has been and will always be my IRL hero Chapter 1 Scotland, Inner Hebrides, 1819 “Fucking aristos,” Dominic Kilburn muttered as the boat pitched beneath his feet. Through sheer force of will—and using the strength of his admittedly thickly muscled thighs—he managed to keep from tumbling headlong into the churning waters, but it was close. If he wasn’t such a stubborn bastard, refusing to let this sea get the better of him, he would have fallen in. Which was a slight problem. He couldn’t swim. Men of low birth like his seldom could. “What has my class done to you now?” Finn Ransome asked, standing at the railing. “This damned sea is rough as a bottle of gin from a Ratcliff tavern,” Dom snarled at his friend. “Being on the water has got your nerves just as choppy as the waves,” Finn noted. “I’m hearing your old neighborhood creeping into your accent.” “Damn gambler’s insight.” But there was no hiding it. “No matter how many elocution lessons Da made me take, whenever I’m feelin’ rattled, I can’t stop droppin’ consonants like rotten flesh. Guess I’ll always be Ratcliff born and bred.” “It’s charming,” his friend noted. Dom snorted. “Ain’t too many of your class that think so. And you bein’ an earl’s second son, you got a voice as smooth and cultured as cream from the top of the milk bottle.” Finn also seldom revealed much emotion, not even when a twenty-foot boat heaved and rolled across Scottish waters. The vessel was just large enough to accommodate Dom, Finn, Finn’s wife, Tabitha, their luggage, and the skipper—who moved around the craft with the practiced ease of someone who had likely been born on the deck of this very boat. “You may as well be dealin’ another round of faro,” Dom accused, “you’re so damned composed.” “There’s nothing I can do about the state of the sea,” his friend said mildly. “It stands to reason that I should permit myself to enjoy it. Why are you standing in the middle of the boat? Come to the rail and savor the view.” “I’m stayin’ right here.” Dom remained rooted to his place in the middle of the boat’s pitching deck. “As far away as possible from the rail and the chance of a watery death. I ain’t sinkin’ to the bottom of the frigid Scottish sea.” Not without seeing her first. If he was going to end his miserable time in this godforsaken world, he wanted his last view to be of Willa’s face. Even if she was scowling at him and calling him every known curse word, it would be enough merely to look upon her one final time. He might not die happy, but he’d die content in the knowledge that she was alive and might have a chance at actual happiness. Yet he hadn’t seen Willa’s face or heard her voice in nearly a year, not since the night before that terrible spring day. Dom had run out