A Gentleman's Guide to Save a Lady: Misadventures of the Heart

by Wilde, Tanya

What in the blazes? His eyes shot open and then to the empty space beside him as he recalled his beautiful, albeit foxed guest.

  Evelyn.

  His lips twitched as he recalled the fascinating creature whose dress hugged her curves almost too tightly, seductively. She’d stumbled into his room with a bottle in each hand, and when she lost her balance she’d laughed at her own clumsiness. He’d been about to make his presence known when she’d spotted him and hiccupped. “You sir—hic—are in the—hic—wrong room.”

  He chuckled at the memory as he stretched languidly across the bed. She’d been the most adorable foxed woman to ever accidentally stumble into his room. The only one as it happens.

  Her beautiful heart-shaped face held the most tempting full lips. They begged to be kissed. Thin brows defined the shape of her eyes. And what eyes! They were a haunting shade of violet-blue with lashes so long her eyes took on a dreamy appearance. Her hair had fallen from their pins and appeared brown until she stepped into the candlelight and hues of red highlighted the freckles on her nose.

  Mine.

  The ferocity of that one word robbed him of his breath. It punched him in the gut and tempted him to go where he vowed never to go again. Then his mind filled with her laughter and he remembered the sound to be mesmerizing. When she’d spoken his fate had been sealed.

  She had believed him to be the devil and like an idiot all he had done was stare at her face. To his utter surprise, she’d then stumbled further into his room and closed the door with a resounding kick, offering him one of her bottles. He had taken it without a word, not certain what else to do, and still in a state of wonder. Then she’d numbed him with a smile so radiant any intelligible speech disappeared from his brain. She was the most exquisite creature in existence. If he were any kind of gentleman he would have directed her back to her room. He wasn’t a gentleman.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that she believed him to be a dream. If one took into consideration the amount of wine she’d consumed it was quite possible. After all, the bottles she clutched in each hand had been empty. Throughout the entire exchange, which consisted of hiccups and gaping, she’d never once perceived him to be a man but continued to believe him a dream. A fact finally confirmed when she simply undressed and climbed into his bed. Her name had been the last whisper on her lips.

  Again if he’d been any kind of gentleman he would have left, instead, he’d settled in beside her. An unusual act. He only spent the night in a woman’s bed to bed her. He left after that, having no need for what came afterward. He preferred it that way. Until the mysterious Evelyn.

  He hadn’t even considered what might happen when she woke up to find him very much flesh and bone. He’d just wanted to be there when she did. She’d touched a chord deep inside his soul. How long since something had stirred within him, anything in the company of a woman? Six years if he recalled correctly. Perhaps it was her innocence that called to him, or perhaps because she had seen him as a dream, he can now pretend she had been one as well.

  He let his hand run over the empty space and longed for her presence. No one had ever looked at him and seen a dream. His mouth twitched when he recalled that she snored ever so lightly, a soft sound that signaled a deep, peaceful slumber. His smile, however, faltered when a slither of unease settled over him.

  She would not have thought him a dream when she awakened. She would have been shocked, even scared. He did not bother to look and see if her belongings were gone. They were. He pressed his palm deeper into the empty space beside him. Warmth still touched his skin. He sunk his face into her pillow and inhaled the lingering scent of her into his lungs.

  Oranges.

  He groaned and tossed back the sheets. She hadn’t been hysterical when she left. It appeared to be significant somehow. He wanted to find her. He wanted—no—needed to learn everything about her.

  Yet, something nagged at him. Evelyn somehow seemed infinitely familiar… But hers was not a face he would forget.

  He hoped her journey did not take her to London—the one place he swore he would never return to. He hated the city and everything it represented. The crowds, the noise, the smell, the filth, the pettiness of the ton and the games they played.

  He reached for his shirt when he noticed it was missing. Muscles rippled as he pushed away from the bed with a frown and strolled over to the chair where her gown lay rumpled on the floor. She had taken his shirt. If lions could grin he would have put them to shame. She wore his shirt. A predatory glint entered his eyes. It instantly made him hard. It was all he could do not to imagine her legs wrapped around his—

  The door burst open.

  If he’d been less of man he would have jumped out of his skin.

  “What the hell—”

  His head snapped up as Carleton, his groom, filled the doorway breathing heavily. Growling in irritation that the man had interrupted his thoughts of Evelyn, he snapped, “Don’t you ever knock?"

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So get out and knock.”

  Carleton didn’t move, ignoring his master’s command. “Sylvester has been stolen my lord,” he managed to croak, still trying to find his breath.

  “What are you—”

  “By a woman my lord,” he interrupted, uncaring of his master’s wrath. “Wore nothing but a shirt, saw it with me own eyes. Rode out of town like the devil himself nipped at her heels.”

  Matthew blinked. A half-naked woman stole his horse? He snorted. Preposterous. “There are only two people in this world who can handle Sylvester, Carleton. A woman is not one of them,” he replied confidently.

  “My lord—”

  “It was not Sylvester that you saw.”

  “She wore your shirt, my lord,” Carleton interrupted, yet again.

  Matthew narrowed his eyes on his groom.

  Carleton nodded in understanding.

  “The blood stain on the back?” He had taken a fall the day before.

  His groom nodded.

  Matthew stared at Carleton in disbelief and growing horror.

  “Describe her,” he whispered.

  Matthew’s anger mounted with each word as he listened to Carleton’s description of Evelyn. Fury rose in the pit of his stomach with such force that his breath came out in gasps. Bloody foolish woman! Did she not realize that she could be killed? If not by his horse then by cutthroats?

  Saints protect her; he would strangle her if she wasn’t dead already. He stilled. The thought of any harm befalling her left him cold. He cursed his growing fear. Later he would examine it and what it meant, for now, he needed to go after her. With his decision made, he ran from the room.

  Naked.

  A Lady’s Guide to Kiss a Rake

  Excerpt

  http://amzn.to/29gN9WV

  Prologue

  “I’ve never been kissed.”

  “What!” Lady Belle said, smothering a laugh of horror at Lady Josephine’s confession.

  “Oh my,” said Lady Evelyn, “I can’t imagine not being kissed before.”

  Jo glanced down at her pretty silk taffeta gown as a flood of despair swept over her. She was going to die a virgin.

  “All I want is one kiss from a man who would make it spectacular. A kiss to rule over all kisses.”

  Belle smiled, her eyes sparkling. “You mean a kiss from a rake.”

  “St. Aldwyn seems to enjoy your company,” Evelyn said thoughtfully.

  “St. Aldwyn enjoys taunting me,” Jo replied.

  A loud bubble of laughter escaped Evelyn, drawing the attention of a group of ladies near them. “That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard!”

  “Well he does, and besides, St. Aldwyn doesn’t count.”

  “Oh Jo, stop being such a ninny! I wager you can seduce a kiss from any man in this crowd of gentlemen,” Belle said gleefully.

  “No, I—”

  “She is right,” Evelyn chimed in, “any man would be lucky to have your attention.”

  “No,
I—”

  Belle clapped her hands together. “I have a fabulous idea! We pick a gentleman, who you then have to seduce a kiss from. Oh, don’t look at me like that. We will make it worth your while. A wager, if you will.”

  “I believe I have just the right gentleman for the wager,” reported Evelyn. “My husband told me that the Earl of Craven arrived in London today and will be in attendance tonight.”

  A mischievous glint entered Belle’s eye. “He will be perfect as he is rumored to be quite handsome and wicked.”

  Jo stared at them in horror. Lord Craven was a rake, and not just any rake, a notorious one at that. Whispers that one glance from him could ruin you circled his name. No way would she be able to seduce a kiss from him.

  “What shall we wager?” Evelyn asked just before Belle excused herself, slipping into the crowd.

  Jo wrinkled her nose. “There is nothing that can move me to accept your wager.” Movement to her right caught her attention and she groaned. “What’s he doing here?” He being the insufferable—delectable—Marquis of St. Aldwyn.

  “I do not understand why you dislike him so,” Evelyn said, glancing his way. “He’s very entertaining.”

  Jo snorted. “No, he is not.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Well, he’s obscenely wealthy.”

  “Yes, it is rumored to be so,” Jo said tartly, eyeing the devil in question before glancing away.

  “Oh stop, what has St. Aldwyn done to deserve such scorn? Oh bother, now he’s looking at us. What might he think now?” She gave Jo a teasing nudge.

  “He best look passed us if he knows what is best for him,” Jo muttered under her breath, but her gaze shifted to him again, only to note that he indeed stared their way. Her attention refocused on the crowded ballroom in search of the notorious rake, Craven. Not that she would recognize him if she saw him, she had only ever heard rumors about him, never having the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the scoundrel.

  “I wonder if he has arrived yet.”

  “If who has arrived yet?”

  Evelyn and Jo swirled as St. Aldwyn came up from behind them. Sneaky little rat.

  “Beatrice,” Jo answered with the first name that came to mind. “I haven’t seen her around yet.” She frowned down at Evelyn’s foot that nudged her.

  “He as in Lady Beatrice?” St. Aldwyn asked in a mocking tone.

  “Well no—” Evelyn began but was interrupted as Belle rushed toward them, bubbling in excitement.

  “He is here! You should see—oh, good evening my lord. I did not see you there.” Belle’s excitement faded to a calm and collected smile.

  “Apparently.”

  “Well if you will excuse us?” she said as she dragged Evelyn and Jo in another direction. “Mother wishes to have a word.” The last words were said over her shoulder, knowing very well that her mother passed away when she was but a fledgling.

  “How rude you are, Belle,” Jo chastised her friend as they stopped in front of a potted plant, leaving St. Aldwyn to stare at them with narrowed eyes across the ballroom.

  “Oh posh, he was never going to leave. Anyhow, Lord Craven arrived only moments ago,” she whispered in a hushed tone.

  Jo swallowed her panic as she listened to her friends conspire her ruination. She couldn’t do this, she told herself. If Craven was as handsome as the man who had just materialized out of the crowd like an avenging angel, she would call for an urgent discussion with her friends. Jo gaped at the image of the man. “Goodness.”

  She was aware of her friends jerking their heads toward her. Upon seeing her expression, they turned to what had discomposed her so. Jo only barely noticed their mouths drop open as well.

  “Oh, my.” She heard Evelyn whisper and then Belle’s, “That’s him, that’s Lord Craven.”

  The man was sin incarnate with his dark hair combed back from of his face and dressed entirely in black. She was pretty certain his eyes were black as well but it was too far away to tell. He reminded her of the angel of death.

  “He is the one I’m supposed to kiss?” Jo asked stunned.

  “Amazing, is he not?” Belle said with excitement.

  “Impossible.”

  Chapter 1

  It should have been an ordinary day for Lady Josephine Tremont, but fate, it seemed, had made other arrangements. Oh, the day had begun normally enough—except for two little things: the wager Jo had somehow managed to get muddled in (that alone seemed to hang over her head like a thunderous cloud) and the fact that her friends Lady Belle and Lady Evelyn stood before her, schooling her on how to go about luring a kiss from the most notorious rake in England.

  The Earl of Craven.

  All in all, Jo had lacked the foresight to say no, and now she was reaping the consequences in one of the most opulent rooms in her home: the parlor. Needless to say, it seemed reasonable to believe that her friends were not only schooling her on how to entice a kiss but ultimately, how to ruin her sterling reputation. Not that her reputation could be considered sterling, she was a self-proclaimed spinster after all. In the eyes of society that placed her in the category of being crippled in some way.

  The dramatic motion of Belle’s arms interrupted her musings.

  “First,” Belle put in, “you will need to draw Craven into a web of mystery and intrigue.”

  “No problem.”

  Evelyn chortled at the sarcasm in Jo’s voice.

  Belle ignored them and continued, “Then you must send a smoldering stare in his direction, one that promises untold pleasure. After which, you shall ignore him for the remainder of the evening.”

  Jo shook her head in disbelief. “You are insane.” A smoldering stare that promises untold pleasure? Why it must be the most ridiculous thing Jo had ever heard.

  Belle continued, ignoring Jo and tucking a wayward curl behind her ear, “Lastly, you will accept a dance from him, and while you are twirling about, your body shall make love to his to the rhythm of the music. He will never be able to resist you after that.”

  Jo stared at Belle, mouth agape. “I take that back, you are not insane, you’re beyond demented. How am I to accomplish all your instructions in one evening? And make love to him with my body while we dance? How is that even possible?”

  “Oh, you do not have to do all that in one evening,” Evelyn said with a crease in her brow. “It will take at least three or four evenings.”

  Jo lifted an incredulous brow. “You agree with this insanity?”

  Her friend choked back a laugh. “I don’t see why not. I’ve seen Belle wrap gentlemen around her finger. If there is a method that will work, it will be hers.”

  Jo regarded them with a skeptical look. A few months ago, Evelyn had married the renowned recluse, the Earl of Grey, and never once had to seduce her husband. On the contrary, she had done everything in her power to resist the Earl’s relentless pursuit, but love had won out in the end. Belle, on the other hand, was as unattached and inexperienced as Jo.

  Belle nodded. “Exactly—besides it’s not so hard. When you dance, the rhythm of your body should inspire the suggestions. Trust me, he will pick up on it, no matter how subtle.”

  “Yes, but you do not want to come on too strong. Remember, your goal is one kiss, not to be seduced,” Evelyn commented in a thoughtful manner.

  “A kiss could still ruin me.”

  “Well then, you will just have to make it worth your while,” Belle murmured with a sly smile, reaching for a lemon cake.

  “I’m not as fearless as you are,” Jo argued.

  Two snorts were her only answer.

  “Very well, I am not as fearless at flirtation. Draw him into a web of mystery and intrigue? I do not even know what that means.”

  “Oh, that’s the easy part,” Belle said brightly. “Evelyn and I will whisper some intriguing tidbits in the right ears and the rest, as they say, will be history. All you need to do is work on your smolder, woven with a hint of surprise, to cast his way.”

  “Woven with
a hint of surprise?” Jo asked, skeptical.

  Evelyn nodded. “When you draw his attention, he will recall the intriguing whispers about you. So when you note his regard, a hint of surprise should be displayed in your gaze, as though you haven’t even noticed him before that moment.”

  “Then you drop your gaze to admire his well-built form, a hint of a smile playing across your features, only then do you glance away,” Belle explained.

  “Uh, where does the smolder come in?” Jo asked, surprised she could even speak after hearing that.

  “I suggest she imparts the smolder when she admires his body,” Evelyn said, excitement lighting her eyes. “Then when she locks gazes with him, there should be a hint of a smile on her lips. It will give him the impression that whatever thought had crossed her mind during her perusal was her little secret.”

  “Brilliant Evelyn!” Belle said with a clap of her hands. “She can turn away without even acknowledging him, as though she had played her mind fun and now she’s moving on.”

  “Mind fun?” Jo recognized the terror in her own voice.

  “He will be curious enough to ask for a dance,” Evelyn agreed with a nod.

  “No,” Belle said tapping her chin in thought, “he will not ask out of curiosity, I wager it will irk him to no end that she dismissed him from her mind after what he would assume to be a thorough examination of his body.”

  “I do believe you are right.”

  “And I believe,” Jo put in, exasperated, “you have forgotten I am still here!”

  “Oh, Jo we are sorry,” Evelyn said with a shake of her head. “It’s just so exciting!”

  “Yes, but am I not supposed to be the excited one?” Jo muttered under her breath, then on a louder note, “I daresay I may not be able to pull it off.”

  “Oh, posh!” Belle said waving her hand in the air. “Of course you will, but you must want to pull it off, otherwise it won’t work and you will come off looking strange.”

  “And we would not want that,” Jo muttered.

  “Besides it’s a wager,” Evelyn reminded her. “If it was easy, it wouldn’t be this fun.”