The last man in the world Sophie Treneham expects to betray her is her stepbrother. Stephen was the only one to stand by her when society ostracized her for giving birth to an illegitimate child. Now, Stephen puts her in the position of marrying a stranger. If Sophie does not agree, what little security she has will be gone. For self-preservation and protection of her child, Sophie agrees. However, she demands that it be a marriage in name only. After seeing her intended, Sophie is afraid there's no way he'll agree. A six-foot pirate with dangerous eyes and a scar down his face will not want to meet her conditions.
Following his father's attempt to kill him, Jagger Remington fled to India. After years of working hard, he's made his fortune. Now he plans to return and exact revenge. When Stephen chases Jagger down in India with his offer, Jagger cannot refuse. He owes this man a debt that he can never repay. Stephen refuses to give details about his stepsister, making Jagger wonder what's wrong with her. The first meeting dissipates any notion of a cool society lady. Jagger encounters a headstrong woman with a fierce temper.
Jagger plans a slow seduction to change Sophie's mind about the state of their marriage. When a murder occurs and Sophie and her child are threatened, Sophie must place their lives in the hands of a man she's afraid to trust. Will Jagger join the others who've betrayed her?
Janmarie Anello's debut is an interesting tale that holds readers' attention with sexual tension and conflict between the characters. The proud hero and feisty heroine meet the challenges life throws at them with dignity and courage. And as they solve the murder, Jagger and Sophie find that family has many definitions.
Living a quiet country life alone raising her young
daughter, Sophie Treneham closely guards a scandalous past.
When a dark and dangerously handsome stranger appears,
claiming her as his bride, she is outragedβand desperate.
But convincing Jagger Remington that theyβve both been
duped proves easier than resisting a temptation that could
shatter her safe worldβ¦
A Man Of Honor
A man living solely to avenge his past, Jagger is also a
gentleman of his word. There is a debt he must repay and
will do so with honor, but his intention to simply wed,
bed, and forget Sophie crumble under his growing desire to
uncover all her secretsβand share his own. Soon treacherous
circumstances forge an alliance that becomes irresistibly
seductive. But will it strengthen fragile bonds of trustβ¦or
become the undoing of them both?
EXCERPT
Calcutta, 1816
The bamboo shutters, pulled tight against the monsoon
winds, trapped the stench of cigars and unwashed bodies in
the crowded tavern. Orange lamplight flickered through the
silvery haze, casting shadows over the room.
Jagger Remington eyed the man seated across from him at the
table. He wished the man would go away. Conversation was
not on his list of things to do tonight. He wanted nothing
more than to get drunk and bed a willing wench or two,
preferably in that order. Still, he owed this man more than
he could ever repay. He had to listen to what the man had
to say, even if it did concern the odious subject of
matrimony.
He downed his brandy, then called for another.
The tavern maid sauntered over and refilled his glass.
She slowly circled her tongue around her full, sensuous
lips. βNeed anything else?β
Her blatant invitation teased a reluctant smile out of
Jagger, despite his foul mood. For reasons he did not
understand, women seemed to find his black hair and blue
eyes wildly attractive, so much so that they rarely seemed
to notice the hideous scar that marred the left half of his
face. He fingered the jagged flesh beneath his eye, a grim
reminder of the past he had left behind, the promises he
had yet to keep.
The tavern maid crossed her arms on the knife-scarred
tabletop. Flashing him a saucy smile, she leaned toward
Jagger until the scooped neckline of her smock gaped open,
giving him a tantalizing view of her big breasts bulging
out of her stays. Honey-blond hair curled around her face.
Sea-green eyes opened and closed seductively. He was about
to suggest they head to his room when the tavern keep, who
was as big as a bear and looked just as mean, growled her
name in a tone that clearly bespoke ownership.
Jagger grinned. βJust leave the bottle.β
She shrugged her shoulders and strolled away, her hips
swaying flirtatiously as she walked toward her man.
The slurred voices of drunken soldiers and sailors mingled
with sultry laughter as a kaleidoscope of painted whores
circled the room, plying their trade. All the while, the
man sitting with Jagger droned on and on about the benefits
Jagger would gain in a match with the manβs sister.
βHow on earth did you ever find me?β Jagger asked when the
man finally paused for breath.
Stephen Treneham, the fourth Earl of Hallowell, crushed his
handkerchief in his fist, then mopped the sweat from his
brow. He glared at Jagger. βWhat difference does it make? I
have followed you through the backwaters and malarial
swamps of this godforsaken region for nigh unto a year
now.β
The earlβs voice trembled with anger, but Jagger refused to
rise to the bait. He would explain himself to no one, not
even to Stephen, whom he had once loved like a father.
The space between them filled with a charged silence,
broken only by the incessant chatter of voices in the
taproom and the drumming of Stephenβs fingertips on the
table.
Murky lamplight played over the earlβs bony hand. Jagger
was amazed at how much the man had aged since the last time
he had seen him. Gone was the full head of blond hair,
replaced by thin, silver strands combed from ear to ear.
Harsh lines cut into the flesh around his mouth, as if he
never smiled, and his sagging cheeks were flushed from the
heat.
His eyes were the same as Jagger remembered, thoughβ
vibrant blue and burning with determination as he pointed
at the legal documents spread out on the table. βWith no
entail attached to that estate, once you sign the papers,
itβs as good as yours. Granted, I have made no recent
improvements, but you know as well as I what that property
is worth. Why, there is a fortune just in timber on that
estate!β
Jagger couldnβt mask the momentary interest that no doubt
flashed across his face. The fact that Stephen noticed, as
evidenced by his satisfied smile, goaded him into
irrational anger. βI am not for sale.β
Stephen shrugged. βNor am I buying. I am merely making a
settlement upon my sister.β
βShe is agreeable to this?β
βShe signed the papers, did she not?β
Jagger picked up the documents. Her signature was at the
bottom of each page, a graceful, flowing sweep across the
paper. It was the most bewildering aspect of this ludicrous
scheme. Why would she agree to wed a man she had never met?
βI didnβt even know you had a sister.β
Stephen snorted. βWhy would you? You have been gone from
England for what, fifteen years now without a word?β His
voice had grown louder with each word he had spoken until
he finally bellowed, βDid you never think to let me know
you were alive?β
The accusation rang through the room. Conversations stopped
as the drunkards around them turned to stare.
Jagger clenched his fist but said nothing. He could never
explain the anguish he had suffered over his exile from
England. Nor did he want to. He would return when he was
ready. When the time was right. Then he would have his
revenge.
βDid not my mother mention my letters?β Jagger asked,
pinching the bridge of his nose. He had written to her as
often as he could and had provided for her maintenance, but
heβd never invited her to join him. Given her delicate
health and the drastically reduced life span of a European
in India, he had not thought she would survive.
βIβve not spoken with her,β Stephen said in a voice so low,
Jagger had to strain to hear him. βNot since the
arrangements were finalized and she retired to the
country.β
Stephen cleared his throat, waved his hand. βNever mind. It
does not matter. Sophie is my stepsister. From my fatherβs
third marriage. There is no blood between us, but I would
see her safely settled before I die. In truth, I should
have seen to it long ago. So, what do you say?β
Jagger laughed. βYou honestly expect me to do this thing?β
βWhy not? I admit itβs a bit out of the ordinary way.β
βThatβs a mile short of nowhere,β Jagger drawled.
βBut I see nothing wrong with it,β Stephen continued as if
Jagger hadnβt spoken. βThat is, of course, unless you are
already engaged?β
Jagger shook his head. He tossed back his brandy, relishing
the warmth as the smooth liqueur slid down his throat.
Stephen smiled. βThen I see no reason not to proceed. What
say you?β
βI say you have gone daft, man. I have no need of a wife.β
βWhy not? Every man needs a wife. If for no other reason
than to care for him in his old age.β
βNonsense.β Jagger poured himself another bumper of
brandy. βYou cannot be more than fifty. I am certain there
are any number of nubile, young maidens eager to wed a man
of your station, regardless of your years.β
βNo.β Stephen stared into his drink. A hint of despair
crept into his voice. βI loved a woman once . . .β
Wretchedly uncomfortable at the mournful expression on the
manβs face, Jagger shifted on his seat. Romantic drivel, he
thought harshly. He had never met a woman who inspired
anything more in him than momentary lust, and that was
easily assuaged by a night spent in carnal bliss.
Stephen drew a shuddering breath. βBut she was lost to me,
so I did my duty and married another.β
He leveled his piercing gaze on Jagger. βWhen everything is
said and done, duty is all we have. Unfortunately, my wife
died in childbirth along with the babe. Now the title will
go to my brother, but I need to see to Sophieβs future. I
need to know she is safe.β
βWhy me?β Jagger asked bluntly. βThere must be a dozen or
more eager young bucks vying for your sisterβs hand. Choose
one of them.β
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