A Lady's Guide to Kiss A Rake: Misadventures of the heart by Tanya Wilde

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