by Wilde, Tanya
He shrugged. “I’m bored.”
Something in his voice gave her pause. Could there be more than he let on?
“How did you know what to search for?”
“Excuse me?”
“I merely batted my lashes. Why would you search for anything?”
His lips twitched. “I may have contemplated for a brief moment that you were playing St. Aldwyn against me,” he answered. “The coincidence, you see, struck me as odd.”
“What coincidence?” Jo demanded.
“You seemed to be within my reach every time St. Aldwyn arrived,” he said noncommittally. “Then I remembered your quip about kidnapping me if I learned your secrets, which gave me pause. I still wasn’t sure, until I saw your exchange with James Shaw moments ago. Quite the men you are acquainted with, heh.”
Jo stared at him dumbfounded.
He continued, “St. Aldwyn may now be hounding your every step because of me, but he started because of Shaw. Now Shaw, he has called on Richmond, which can only be because of his niece. Cartwright is a dangerous man, my lady.”
Astonishment lit her eyes. The way he’d figured out their plan was nothing short of alarming. Was there a sign stamped on her back that read “I’m planning to kidnap Lady Constance?” James had to be informed post-haste of this new development.
“I’m sorry, I need to go.”
Jo spun around to leave, panicked, but Craven caught her arm. This time, his grip unrelenting, he jerked her to him. His icy blue eyes bore down on her, narrow and suspicious. For an instant they just stood there, staring at each other when suddenly, Craven cursed softly. Then his lips came crashing down upon hers in a brutal force.
It was a kiss meant to teach her a lesson. Jo had to admit that perhaps she needed to be taught a lesson. How else was she to learn to heed caution when someone warned her of danger? On the other hand, the last time Craven had kissed her they were rudely interrupted, so it offered the perfect opportunity to see if he measured up to Damien. Jo supposed she should have realized her current reflections meant all rational thought had left her mind and that she indeed, played a dangerous game. But instead of pushing him away, she rose onto her tiptoes.
So far as kisses fared, it seemed pleasant enough—as to be expected—but not nearly as earth shattering as Damien’s had been. Deliberately, her palms slid up the front of his coat, and then her fingers curled into the softness of his hair, just as she had done with St. Aldwyn.
His lips molded over hers again and again, seductive and sinful. And when his tongue teased lightly across her lips, Jo melted against him, and opened, inviting his tongue to slide silkily along hers. In the back of her mind warning bells sounded. The music, the loud chatter, everything seemed to disappear in the background, everything except…Damien. Damn, Craven’s kiss did not come close to igniting a raging fire within her. For a long, disappointing moment, he deepened the kiss, pulling her up against him as his tongue plundered her mouth, to no avail.
She was about to push him away when his lips were torn away from hers, and left Jo swaying in his embrace, blinking her eyes as if dazed. Not because of the kiss, but at the utter realization that she felt nothing. Bad news indeed, because it meant that if Craven, with his angelic beauty and sinful mouth could not ignite passion from her, no other man would. That blasted rake called St. Aldwyn had ruined her. A shocking revelation, one she had no interest in pursuing. At the moment.
Craven cursed again, this time more vehemently. “This has to stop.”
“What?” Jo asked, disoriented from the wine or the unwelcome revelation.
He gave a soft, rueful smile. “My dear, you are on the verge of ruination and I am on the verge of losing what little control I have left. I am not a man to deny myself the simple pleasures, so this has to stop.”
Jo nodded, her cheeks flaming and guilt unfurling. She possessed the power to make him loose control while she portrayed but mild interest, and not in the way he preferred.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the view of the drawing room, muttering, “No harm has been done.”
But that was not true, Jo acknowledged. Lucien may only have kissed her again, but inside she still trembled. His kiss had made something perfectly clear—she needed to find a way to stay away from Damien.
Jo took a step away from Craven, closer to the exit.
“Do you not think it best to tell me what you are attempting to do?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“With St. Aldwyn,” he clarified, his arms crossing his chest. “What is going on between the two of you? You wish to make him jealous? I thought you above such petty ministrations.”
Jo tried to keep her expression blank but couldn’t quite keep the scowl from her face. “There is nothing between us.”
“He does not act like a man with nothing between you.”
“Yes, well, unfortunately it dates back to before I even met you. His hackles have been raised ever since.”
He laughed softly. “So he took it upon himself to save you from your little projects, has he?”
Jo stared at him in shock. “How did you know?”
He lifted his shoulders. “I make it a habit of knowing everything about a woman who wishes to gain my attention.”
There lay a wealth of meaning behind his words—regardless, his skills of observation bordered on genius. They may have use for him yet, for the most part since James’s brother would not be back in time to aid them. “I will take your offer under consideration.”
“That is all I ask.”
Jo nodded and turned to go, but jumped when the doors were thrown open with sudden force by none other than her brother. Well, at least some things never change, Jo reflected while she watched her brother heave under his anger. Willow stood a short distance behind her brother, mouthing an apology. Damn.
Her brother pierced Craven with a murderous glare before his heated eyes flicked to her.
“What are you doing out here with this mongrel?” Brahm hissed in a low voice, mindful not to draw attention to them.
Craven answered before Jo had a chance to explain. “Your sister wished for a breath of fresh air and did not notice me on the balcony.”
Her brother ignored him. “Why did you not return inside when you realized you weren’t alone?”
“Stop being such a stubble head, Brahm. I desired a touch of fresh air. If you failed to notice it is quite hot and stifling inside. Nothing untoward happened and I remained in view of everyone.”
Her brother’s eyes narrowed, yet he remained silent as he regarded them with a steely glare. Craven, the rogue, had lifted a brow at her nothing untoward happened line. What had he expected, a confession?
“What a cozy little scene.” The deep, masculine voice of St. Aldwyn penetrated the silence and Jo stiffened as he came into view, stopping by her brother’s side.
His gaze hardened when he caught sight of Craven, but he said nothing. However, his displeasure could not be missed. By Jiminy! What happened to the charm from charming rakes? If only these men knew how united they were in the same cause—keeping her from trouble.
Her cheeks flushed in warmth and she fanned her face with her hand. The balcony, now crowded, left Jo to spare a longing glance to the interior beyond her brother. Her escape blocked by the two figures standing before her, she considered dashing off into the gardens.
“Have you also come for some fresh air, my lord?” Jo asked, albeit a bit snappy.
As if sensing her discomfort, Craven stepped forward, bringing him to her side. “St. Aldwyn, always a pleasure.”
“Too hot,” Jo muttered, not at all sounding like herself, suddenly dizzy and somewhat disorientated. She glanced down at the empty glass in her hands, her third one this night. A loud hiccup blurted from her lips, surprised at the own sound emitting from her throat.
“Oh! Beg pardon,” she said, her face flushed with embarrassment.
Three pairs of eyes fell on her crimson face.
“Oh!”
Her brother’s eyes dropped to the glass dangling between her fingers and narrowed. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Too much I would imagine,” she replied tartly. How unfortunate she hadn’t put a name to the effects of the wine. Until now. Still, she did not feel anywhere near intoxicated—only a bit fuzzy.
“If you wish, I will escort you home, Lady Josephine,” Craven said with a suggestive note, winking at her.
If he wanted to rile the two men it worked, for her brother exploded, “Like hell!” while Damien took a menacing step forward.
Jo giggled.
How embarrassing to be dragged away like some errant child by her brother, but Jo did not much care at the moment. Her mind was occupied by other matters, like Damien and the heated promise she’d seen in his eyes, just before her brother hauled her away.
Damien waited until Warton hauled Josephine out of sight before he folded his arms over his chest, his jacket straining over his muscled form. For whatever reason, Craven had just made Damien stink of roses in comparison to him. Warton now had someone else to dislike more than himself.
“What did you do outside with Josephine? And spare me the rot about fresh air,” Damien snapped, all pretense of civilization gone.
“No rot, only truth. I was already here when the little lady came out,” Craven drawled after several heart beats of silence. “And I do not practice the art of gossip.”
Damien had to force himself to stay calm. “Is that so?”
“Look, St. Aldwyn, before you threaten me, it would be best to consider why Lady Josephine chose me over you.”
The fact that Craven’s voice held no trace of triumph gave Damien pause. Even so, the subtle shift in Craven’s body alerted him to the fact the man prepared himself for another brawl.
Craven might be a bastard, but he appeared to be a smart one. He clearly sensed any further provocation on his part may end in fisticuffs. How unfortunate that Lady Josephine lacked common sense, but how fortunate for him. He had warned her but she’d refused to listen. Far from an empty threat, he would enjoy her punishment. Indeed, it offered him the perfect excuse to teach her some lessons in seduction.
With the roll of his shoulders he relaxed his muscles but still eyed Craven with a sneer. “I will say this only once more, stay away from her or next time you awake from a peaceful slumber, you will find yourself in a padlock.”
By the look of surprise on Craven’s face, he had heard the truth of Damien’s threat. His spirits somewhat restored, Damien turned on his heel and stalked in the direction of the doors, not bothering to greet his hosts. He wanted to drink himself to oblivion. If he was lucky, he would pass out and forget about the bewitching Josephine with her sweet cherry lips and captivating green eyes.
Chapter 8
Jo wandered through the halls of her home in search of her errant maid Sarah, who was supposed to inform her as soon as her brother departed for his club. She expected James and Belle to call on her within the hour and they relied on the utmost discretion for their meeting.
Secrecy and discretion aside, Jo’s mind refused to rid her of little nuisances like a certain marquis and his delectable kiss, which was a cause for concern. For if her mind remained fixed on kisses and heated stares instead of on Lady Constance, a blunder would be imminent.
All of a sudden Sarah barreled down the hallway, her face awash with relief when she spotted Jo. “My lady, I’ve been searching for you everywhere,” she rushed to say, out of breath.
“Well, here I am. Where is my brother? I do not know whether he’s left or hides in one of the closets.”
“Oh yes, my lady, he left moments before the marquis arrived.”
Jo stilled. “The marquis?”
Her head bobbed up and down. “He is quite insistent for an audience, my lady.”
“Am I not to have some peace?” Jo complained and turned on her heel and instructed over her shoulder, “Please send a note to Lady Belle that I will receive her in a quarter of an hour. I should be rid of the devil by then.”
Her pace brisk as she made her way to the drawing room, she cursed her luck, yet was secretly pleased. Had he come to badger her for being caught alone with Craven? Perhaps she may even receive a kiss. Her cheeks flushed at the notion and she entered the drawing room rather breathless.
“My lord,” she murmured when she spied him gazing out of the windows, his back to her.
At the sound of her voice, he turned around and Jo suppressed a simpering sigh at the sight of him. His hair seemed to have lost a battle with wind, tangled in a thick mass that never seemed to find any order on his head. A day’s growth of beard coated the lower half of his face, lending him the appearance of a polished pirate. Eyes filled with promise bored in to hers as he shortened the distance between them.
“My lady,” he murmured, capturing her hand in his. “You look ravishing as always.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sensation of his skin touching hers. Of their own accord her lashes lowered to gaze at where his hand held hers. Her hand was pale and small against the tanned strength of his; his touch, while strong, was gentle. Jo watched, transfixed, as he lifted her hand to his mouth. With his gaze locked on hers, he pressed a warm kiss to the palm of her hand. Though not the first time he had kissed her hand, it seemed more intimate, more meaningful.
Be still my traitorous heart.
The pressure of his mouth touching her skin sent a shiver up her whole body and before she recovered her breath, he lowered her hand and released it. Jo pressed her lips together to contain her disappointment and hoped she appeared disapproving instead of doe eyed.
“My lord, this is an unexpected surprise.” Not as unexpected as her sudden affections, she thought dryly. She would have to find a way to balance the scale, since it had tipped right into his rakish charm. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I wish to call a truce.”
Taken aback, she blinked. “A truce implies a war of some kind and we are hardly enemies.”
“Yet, I would not call us friends,” he murmured with half a smile.
Right. Jo wanted to summon up annoyance, which was far more preferable to this heated, almost painful awareness of him. But his strength, his confidence, it appealed to her in every damnable way. A truce was out of the question.
“It seems to be the way of things, for our encounters to end in an awkward manner.”
Something flickered in his eyes. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
He hadn’t moved, yet somehow he appeared closer, and Jo resisted the urge to take an involuntary step backward. “Yes.”
“I see.”
“Then you would understand if I did not agree to accept your boon. I would prefer you kept your distance.”
He stared down at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t read, and a hint of unmistakable amusement. “I can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“You should leave,” Jo said after a moment.
“I will leave, Josephine, but I warned you would not like what happened if I found you alone with Craven again.”
“You did not find me alone with him.”
“True, but that does not change the fact that you were alone with him. I will say this only once more—stay away from Craven. Next time I hear a whisper of the two of you together, I will throw you over my knee and give you the spanking you deserve. Did you kiss him again?”
His low whisper set her cheeks aflame, but she remained silent.
His eyes hardened.
Jo folder her arms over her chest and his eyes lowered to her bosom. How vexing this transformation was: from the seductive gentleman to the dominating male in a heartbeat.
“No, I did not kiss him, he kissed me.”
Jo watched a flurry of emotions passed his face. Anger, jealousy, desire, murder, all raged together forming such a rousing result s
he wished she had lied.
“Do not be mad; it will never be repeated again. He thought only to teach me a lesson. He thought I meant to make you jealous.”
His eyes narrowed upon hearing that. “Did you mean to?”
“Of course not. But what else was he supposed to think with you appearing around every nook and crook?”
Some of his anger faded away, but not all. She noted this with relief, though she remained displeased. Still, she did not pull away when his arm lifted to trace a finger across the line of her jaw.
Her footman chose that moment to arrive, followed by Belle.
Drat.
Her friend’s eyes widened in mock surprise when she spotted Jo’s guest. “Oh my, I did not realize you had a caller, Jo.”
“Oh, it’s quite all right. The marquis was just about to leave.”
His smile did not quite reach his eyes when he replied, “Yes, I still have some business I need to see to.”
“Let us hope your business does not give you a black eye.”
His lips quirked. “Doubtful.”
“Oh I don’t know, my lord, visiting a dragon in its lair is far different from kicking a dog when it’s down.”
Jo straightened when he took a menacing step forward, but Belle’s dry voice halted his advance.
“Should I perhaps come back another time? I seem to have interrupted a personal matter.”
Jo shot her a glare. “Do not dare leave. Damien is guided by a misplaced sense of duty to protect me. Apparently my brother is not a good enough a guardian.”
St. Aldwyn straightened his coat. “If your brother did a good enough job at keeping an eye on his charge, I would not have to.”
“I daresay my brother would argue with that.”
“Well by all means, where is the old fellow?”
“Listen, you oversized bull, perhaps you would care to tell me why an notorious rogue like yourself, and a somewhat amateurish one, like Westfield, feels the need to follow two ladies around like we are about to set fire to London?”
They stood so close her legs almost buckled under the heat radiating from his body. He was angry, too. His eyes were hard, while his face could have been carved in stone.
