by Wilde, Tanya
“How did you come by this information?” Belle asked with interest.
“I always have an ear pressed to the ground, Lady Belle. Nothing gets past me.”
Jo did not doubt that. James may be charming with a smile never far from his lips (the exact opposite of his brooding brother), but he was still a formidable male and possessed the same darkness as Derek, a side Jo hoped to never be found on.
“Is Richmond aware of our impending rescue? It may prove to be disastrous should he interfere without our knowledge.”
Belle nodded, looking expectantly at James.
“Yes,” James confirmed, his eyes hooded. “I warned him.”
“And he agreed?”
James hesitated. “He is afraid we may get his niece killed.”
“But he agreed?” Jo pressed.
James shrugged. “He will not be a problem.”
Jo shook her head in exasperation. “Very well, but if we survive this mission we may very well be axed by the Duke.”
“Just be careful, no one can know we are sniffing around her skirts.”
Belle pulled a face. “That’s not an image I wished to imagine in my head, but we are not simpletons, Mr. Shaw.”
But he had already started to retreat out of the alley.
“If you are not careful you may not have a head in a few weeks’ time,” he shot over his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Jo and Belle to stare at one another perplexed.
“Finally, some excitement.”
In the days that followed, Jo had—to her complete satisfaction—avoided St. Aldwyn and replaced thoughts of the rogue with thoughts of rescuing Lady Constance. She had also steered clear of Craven, for it seemed every time she found herself ever in his near vicinity, St. Aldwyn appeared. Even so, it had become quite the chore to elude him around every turn. It appeared he wished to speak with her, though she had rather hoped after their last encounter, he would leave her be.
“Jo!” A chirpy voice called from behind her and Jo heaved a soft sigh. Damien had not been the only one she hoped to steer clear of.
“I have been searching for you everywhere,” Evelyn said unhappily as she reached Jo’s side. “Are you keeping me at arm’s length?”
“Of course not,” Jo lied, “but St. Aldwyn seems to be molded to your husband’s side and I am very much trying to avoid him.”
“Oh good, I thought perhaps you had another project which you did not want to include me in. So tell me about the wager,” Evelyn said.
Jo’s head spun as her friend hopped from one topic to another. “Perhaps, if you had not been seducing your husband at every event you may have gathered I have nothing to tell. Have you any shame?” Jo teased.
Evelyn cheeks turned a rosy hue. “We do seem to get carried away a lot.”
“I’ll say. You cannot keep your hands off each other. It’s positively wicked.”
“I never imagined marriage would be so… exciting,” Evelyn admitted with a small smile.
“You are lucky on that account,” Jo agreed.
“Oh yes,” Evelyn murmured, her gaze locating her husband in the crowd with a dreamy eyed expression. “If you will excuse me, I will be right back.”
“Of course,” Jo muttered. Clearly Evelyn and her husband were about to sneak away for a private moment. The couple was painfully obvious.
“Avoiding me will not make me go away,” a voice drawled from behind her. Jo whirled around to find Damien staring down at her with a questioning brow. Double damn.
“My lord, to what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?”
“For one thing,” he hesitated, perhaps to consider his words with care. “An apology.”
“I have done nothing to apologize for.”
“On the contrary, my dear, first you kiss—”
“I never kissed you!” she interrupted, and then quickly glanced around to make sure no one overheard her exclamation.
He ignored her. “Then you insult me.”
Ah yes, she did do that.
“You may not have initiated the kiss,” he said, leaning forward, his mouth almost pressing against her ear. “But you kissed me back, quite ardently, I might add.”
“I did not!”
“Liar, but I still deserve an apology.”
“Fine, I apologize.”
His brow rose. “That was hardly a heartfelt apology. If you prefer, you may apologize with a kiss.”
Jo stared up into the eyes of the devil. What nerve! “Have you ever meant an apology?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
“That’s hardly the point.”
“Will it make you leave?” she snapped.
“Yes.”
“Very well,” she clenched her teeth. Odious man. “My humble apologies for insulting your kiss. Are you satisfied now?”
“No, but I suppose it will have to do.”
“I suppose it does, now please leave,” Jo said, turning away.
“I’m not ready to leave quite yet.”
Her head snapped back. “You said if I apologized you’d leave.”
He lifted his shoulders. “I lied.”
Jo opened her mouth to impart a scathing retort when she spotted Craven approaching through the crowd, causing her to smile instead. St. Aldwyn’s gaze had turned suspicious at her sudden change of mood and Jo’s smile deepened even more. She did not care if Craven’s sole purpose was to rile St. Aldwyn, in all likelihood to get back at him for their brawl in the gardens. It suited her all the same.
“Lady Josephine, you look lovely this evening,” Craven spoke, prompting St. Aldwyn to stiffen, his face seemingly carved in stone.
Ah good, her smile widened and she turned to direct all her attention to Craven. At her offered hand he a placed a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, holding her palm slightly longer than deemed proper. The action caused St. Aldwyn to clench his fists and bunch his shoulders, as to void of a sudden attack.
“What do you want, Craven?” His sharp voice pierced the air.
Blue eyes locked with Jo’s, unaffected by St. Aldwyn’s rudeness. “I’m here to escort Lady Josephine to our dance.”
Jo saw a spark of amusement before it was gone. Craven was indeed baiting the lion.
“That won’t be necessary.” St. Aldwyn’s expression remained unchanged. “I will be dancing this set with Josephine.”
“Oh stop it, both of you. I shall sit this dance out, thank you very much,” she finished in a huff and stalked away from the men, annoyed to be in the center of their tug of war. Almost like a piece of scrap two dogs were fighting over. She had thought it would be entertaining to see St. Aldwyn’s reaction to Craven, but both men proved to be equally bullheaded.
While Jo had put some distance between them, she still overhead Craven’s amused voice when he said, “I see you’re still your charming self.”
“Go to hell.” Came the reply, followed by the stomping footsteps of someone following her. St. Aldwyn seized her arm and proceeded to drag her to the far corner of the room.
“Let me go,” she hissed, having seen her brother witness their exchange and begin to make his way through the crowd, his face like a thundercloud. She only possessed a few precious moments before her brutish brother reached them. “What has gotten into you?”
That seemed to bring him up short.
“I simply have to taste your sweetness again,” he replied.
For pity’s sake.
“Tell me you want me to kiss you again.”
“I can’t, my brother will be on us in a moment,” she pleaded in a whisper.
“Tell me or I will kiss you now for your dear brother to see.”
“You would not dare!” Jo gasped, her eyes wide.
“Tell me or you can explain to your brother why you allowed me to take such liberties.”
Jo stared up at him, saw the truth in his eyes, the desire. Her breath caught. She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted to be pressed up against his hard chest, strong arms holding her captive.
“Yes, I do want to kiss you,” she admitted on a sigh. A heated spark entered his eyes, but it disappeared with her next words, “But we can never do so again.”
“And why is that?”
He seemed angry, but Jo could not dwell on the handsome man who stood before her. He’d flirted with many women in his life, shared their beds. Jo was not like those women. She would never be able to separate her heart from the deed and it became clear she’d be way out of her league where Damien was concerned.
“We just can’t,” she whispered, looking over to see (with relief) that her brother had been detained by one of the Middletons.
St. Aldwyn leaned close, his scent overpowering her senses, and lowered his voice. “You are scared.”
Jo managed a snort.
“Perhaps not scared, but you, my lady, enjoy the element of danger. So why not live dangerously and kiss me again?”
Because my heart would never survive it.
She chose her words with care. “As I’ve said, it cannot happen again.”
“Am I not dangerous enough for you then?”
“Too dangerous.”
He flashed a wicked grin.
“My brother will be upon us soon, you need to go, please, my lord.”
His mouth curled in displeasure. “You persist in calling me ‘my lord’ but still call Craven by his first name.”
True, but then her heart was not in any danger from Craven. What Damien failed to understand was she had no interest in Craven. She never had. Yet for some reason his mind had latched onto the notion and would not let it go. To keep him at a distance, it seemed easier for him to believe she had set her cap on Craven. But it only fueled his determined to meddle in her affairs.
Another glance at her brother revealed he’d escaped Holly’s clutches and was barreling her way.
“Craven and I have formed a friendship of sorts.” And with that said, Jo turned and started to move away, leaving him to ponder that statement.
But his hand shot out to grasp her wrist. “You do understand that I fully intend to seduce you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I’m bored and if I recall, you threw down the gauntlet when you implied that his kiss was much better than mine.” When Jo only lifted a brow he continued in a more seductive tone, “And deep down, you desire me.”
“Your confidence is misplaced, my lord,” Jo said, already stalking away.
He flashed another wicked grin, this time letting her go. “My confidence is never misplaced.”
Chapter 7
The following evening Josephine attended a ball held by Lord and Lady Weatherly, dressed in a simple gown of green silk, having decided it best not to aggravate her brother any further for the time being. It had taken hours of explanations and arguing for her brother to even allow her to set foot out of the house. Unsurprisingly, he did not approve of her recent choice of wardrobe and her consortment with certain gentlemen.
She slipped out onto the terrace with a breath of relief, sipping on a glance of wine she’d snatched from a footman’s tray. At this very moment, her brother fended off the advances of Willow, while St. Aldwyn had yet to make an appearance. It presented the perfect opportunity to slip away to meet James, who wished to deliver urgent information on the plan to rescue Lady Constance.
Her lashes fluttered closed and Jo inhaled the crisp night air. How delightful and refreshing after hours of enduring a stuffy ballroom. Out here one could breathe and clear one’s mind.
She feared the task that lay ahead may be much riskier than they first envisioned, after some research on Lady Constance’s husband. The man was a tyrant, uncaring of the law. He sparked fear in to the hearts of everyone he came in to contact with and did not suffer disobedience. The task may even prove impossible to accomplish.
There existed no room for mistakes, which meant no room for kisses or any manner of seduction from a certain lord. However, she did not foresee St. Aldwyn being much of a problem. For one, his meddlesome interference did not include any hours during the day. Since their plan would most likely take part in the day, she would not need to avoid him so tirelessly.
“I must confess,” a quiet voice pierced the darkness, “I do not much care for the way St. Aldwyn has been following my every step.”
Eyes flying open, Jo whirled toward the dark voice.
Craven stood few feet away, leaning against the balustrade. His arms were thrown casually over one another and his long legs crossed at the ankles. He seemed the picture of perfect relaxation—except for his eyes. They appeared watchful and cold, instead of lazy and warm. His hair—a reddish brown mass of unruly waves—hung carelessly on his shoulders, much like St. Aldwyn’s, although on St. Aldwyn the look appeared more savage than handsome. Ironic really, since Damien’s eyes were never cold, but always warm. Even so, both men symbolized sin, temptation, and wickedness combined in one irresistible package. Funnily enough, unlike St. Aldwyn, Craven would never hold her interest. She may exhibit wicked thoughts in Craven’s presence but when she looked at Damien… she felt them.
Perhaps because she’d met St. Aldwyn first, perhaps even because of the warmth in his eyes. She did not know. It may even be because his presence had always been there, reminding her of his allure. Or perhaps the quandary lay not with the men, but her heart. Gah, stop it, Jo!
“Lady Jo?”
“Really, Lucien,” Jo murmured on a breathless whisper, but not from desire. “Must you lurk about like that, frightening unsuspecting ladies?”
“My apologies,” his lips twitched. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” she returned with a snort. “But you meant to do precisely that. Why else would you skulk in the shadows, not making a sound, allowing me to believe I was alone?”
“Why else indeed.”
His voice, a soothing rumble, never failed to cause a shiver. He possessed one of those voices you could listen hours to, lulling you into a comfortable, relaxed state of mind. Goodness, wine did indeed loosen ones thoughts, Jo mused.
“You are not following me, are you?” she asked, her eyes narrowing on him, St. Aldwyn’s proneness coming to mind.
“So suspicious for a lady,” he murmured. “But I suppose with your beau nothing short of stalking your every step, you have every reason to be suspicious. Alas, I happened to be here when you came out.”
“Yes well, perhaps I should return inside.”
Aware James would show up at any moment, she turned to leave. It was bad enough Craven thought Damien stalked her, if he learned she met with another man alone on a terrace he may presume her to be some light skirt, prone to disappearing with men in dark places.
“Wait.” He caught her arm in a gentle grip, his body so close his breath touched her skin. When had he moved so close?
“I am sorry, my lady. I did not mean to upset you.”
Upset. He thought her upset? Inside the drawing room the music fell away and laughter floated out onto the terrace. If James did not make an appearance soon, another couple might.
“You did not upset me. I merely wished to be alone for a moment,” Jo said, turning to go.
“Then perhaps,” he persisted, drawing her near, “the drawing room is not the best place to be at the moment. Besides, St. Aldwyn may loiter inside and then you will have lost your chance at a small reprieve.”
A bubble of laughter spilled from her lips. True, but if he or her brother caught them alone together, Jo would not be the one who would be in need of a small reprieve. She spared a glance over her shoulder at the drawing room and took note of James, who had caught sight of her company. Oh bother!
She turned her green eyes back to Craven and saw that he’d noted her exchange.
She stepped away from him and he let her go, yet she did not retreat to the doors again. Instead, she took a step away from them, out of view from anyone else wondering by. Curious as to Craven’s persistence, she stared at him with innocent expectance. “I
take it you have something on your mind.”
His eyes widened in appraisal. She had been right.
“You are perceptive, my lady.”
“Or just smart,” she pointed out, enjoying another sip of her wine.
His eyes thoughtful as he assessed her, they drifted over her face, and then lower, over her bodice before returning her stare. “My, my,” he commented with a humorless voice. “No more flirtation, I suppose?”
“You suppose correct.” Jo tilted her head and studied him over the rim of her glass. He did not seem to care if that was the case or not. She got the impression of him being more wary of allowing anyone inside his heart, than the cold heartless man he would have everyone believe. He hid behind his cold exterior, behind the mask of a rogue. She still harbored no delusions about him.
“There are rumors of your activities, but I never imagined them to be true until I saw him.” His eyes flicked beyond her to the door and a sense of foreboding traveled down her spine. Those ice blue eyes settled on her again and any doubt Jo may have fostered evaporated.
“You are a handsome man, Lucien, no doubt used to women falling at your feet, but I will not be one of them, nor will I be threatened. What do you want?”
The lazy grin never wavered from his face as she spoke, but she caught a glimpse of respect flash in his eyes.
“Right to the point,” he said in approval, “but no threat, Lady Jo. I wish to participate.”
Jo blinked, certain she had not heard correctly. He wanted aid them? No, he wished to participate. A big difference.
“Where did you hear these rumors?” she asked, although Jo had her suspicions.
“You would be surprised by how much one learns, if one knows where to look and what to search for.”
How very vague.
“And since it’s clear you do not nurture any designs on me, there is no further need for games.”
His voice held a sensual note. His words flowed over her like…like...Jo shook it off. He may be in possession of a voice that reminded Jo of angels singing in harmony, but he was still dangerous.
“My intention has always been one kiss,” she admitted. “Nor am I fool enough to believe that you suffer any designs on me. Now, let us get to the point. Why do you want to participate?”