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

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