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He can keep her safe. . .or be her very ruin. . .
Jacob Preston has three requirements for a woman desiring access to his bed: She must be enthusiastic in affairs of passion, jaded in matters of the heart, and—to ensure the first two qualifications—she must be married.
Lady Julianne Cambourne has all the makings of a passionate lover, and she certainly shows no signs of sentimentality. . .but her unmarried status should render her firmly off limits to Jacob.
Instead, it proves only a temptation. One that grows stronger when she comes to him in desperation, looking for the kind of answers only he can give. For beyond his rakish reputation, Jacob is known for the mysterious—even otherworldly—power of detection he commands through his sense of touch. And Julianne, surrounded by long-hidden secrets that threaten to ensnare her in a deadly trap, will do whatever it takes to recruit his skills. . . using every form of persuasion at her disposal. . .
Praise for Mia Marlow and Touch of a Thief
"Sensuality, sexuality, passion and mystery blend into a wonderfully entertaining tale." —Romantic Times
"Both historical and paranormal readers will love this crossover tale." —Publishers Weekly starred review
"Mia Marlowe proves she has the 'touch' for strong heroines, wickedly sexy heroes, and love scenes so hot they singe the pages." —USA Today bestselling author Jennifer Ashley
Unfortunately for Jacob Aubrey Preston, he was not the man in the bed. Instead, he was under it, tugging his trousers back up, with nothing to show for his evening except a deeper acquaintance with dust balls.
When he and Lady Bothwell had heard her husband stomping up the stairs, he'd barely had time to dive beneath the slats. Lady B. had shoved Jacob's boots and walking stick after him a heartbeat before Lord Bothwell threw open the door to her boudoir with the announcement that he was fully tumescent and his wife must prepare herself forthwith.
Fortunately for Lord Bothwell, Jacob had prepared his wife quite well.
"Oh, Bothy," she said in a breathy tone as the creaking continued. "You're quite vigorous this evening."
Bothy? Jacob mouthed and rolled onto his stomach. The bottom of the mattress smacked the crown of his head as if in reproof.
"Well, I ought to be," her husband answered. "Just relieved Lord Hampleton of two thousand shares of railway stock at the poque table this night."
"Oh, are they very valuable?"
Jacob imagined Lady Bothwell's rouged lips curved in a calculating smile. She was probably trying to figure the shares' worth in French millinery. The amount she had spent on her collection of bonnets would clothe a small English hamlet for a year.
Maybe two.
"At the moment, the shares are at the peak of their value," Lord Bothwell wheezed, clearly winded by his repetitive activity. "But I have it on good authority the principals in the company are quietly disposing of their holdings. I'll sell them all tomorrow before the market gets wind of it and the bottom drops out. Now do be quiet, madam, and kindly allow me to concentrate."
Jacob laid his cheek on the cool hardwood and sighed. At least he'd gleaned a valuable bit of intelligence from this ridiculous situation. He, too, held a considerable number of railway shares. Or rather, his brother Jerome did. But Jerome Preston, the Earl of Meade, took little interest in the actual running of the far-flung estate he'd inherited from their uncle.
At first, Jerome had been so tightfisted with his new wealth and position, he'd even cut off the previous earl's family from receiving badly needed support. However, his stinginess had bled into his investment choices as well and left him teetering on the brink of insolvency before Jacob had stepped in to help. He'd put the new earl's financial house in order and reinstated their aunt's support. Even now, Jacob couldn't let his brother manage the earldom's assets or they'd both find themselves light in the pockets in no time.
Jacob wished he could find a way to thank Lord Bothwell for the tip about the rail shares, but decided it would be deucedly awkward to explain how he'd come by the information.
The bed bounced for another thirty seconds by Jacob's pocket watch. Then Lord Bothwell emitted a sound rather like an old bullfrog struggling to stay atop a lily pad as the mattress shuddered to a halt.
Jacob waited.
Then he heard a whuffle, a grunt, and the beginnings of a stentorian snore. "Bothy" was enjoying the sleep of the just. Jacob propped his chin on his fist, wondering how long he'd be trapped beneath the bed.
Then he heard the rustle of sheets. The baroness lifted a corner of the counterpane and motioned for him to come out.
"He'll sleep till noon now," she whispered, knotting the sash at the waist of her wrapper. "We could use his chamber. It's just through that door."
Jacob swallowed hard. Granted, any man who thought simply saying "prepare yourself" constituted foreplay deserved to be cuckolded on principle. But after listening to the whole ghastly interlude with her husband, he feared he'd never be able to look at the lovely Lady Bothwell again without a chorus of frogs chirruping in his head.
"Charming as that offer is"—he whispered back as he slid out of hiding and tugged on his boots—"with regret, I must decline. I never romance a lady while her husband, however sound a sleeper he may be, is in residence."
Jacob had yet to be accosted by an angry spouse demanding satisfaction and he didn't relish beginning with Bothy. He felt little guilt about swiving another man's wife. He wasn't the one violating a vow after all, and a satisfied lady didn't cast her eyes elsewhere. But it went against his conscience to add insult to injury by embarrassing or, God forbid, killing a fellow in a duel over a wandering wife's dubious honor.
"Farewell, my dear."
He gave Lady Bothwell a peck on her cheek, then made for the French doors leading to a small balcony. Jacob threw his leg over the balustrade and climbed down the trellis, which was denuded of blooms with the first frost of autumn. He looked back up when he reached the bottom and blew a kiss to the lady whose ample bosom was in serious danger of escaping her wrapper as she leaned over to waggle her fingers at him.
"Tomorrow?" she whispered hopefully.
"I'll send word." He loped away through Lord Bothwell's fussy garden. Unfortunately, the word would be "no, thank you." While Lady Bothwell fit all his criteria for a lover—enthusiastic, slightly jaded, and most of all, married—he wondered if he ought to rethink the last qualification. While a married lover freed him from the entanglements possible with a green girl, there were difficulties inherent in bedding another man's wife as well.
Perhaps if the lady's husband was on an extended voyage abroad ...
Provided he sired no child, Jacob might even consider that he was doing the man a favor by keeping the home fires burning, as it were. He supposed he could keep a mistress, but it made no sense to spend the blunt necessary to support one. Not when whispered rumors of his bed skills brought a steady stream of ladies of quality sidling up to him at every soirée, ready for a dalliance.
He stepped out of the alley and onto the street. Gas lamps rose amid pools of yellow light, their bases fading into the low-lying fog along the thoroughfare. Jacob ploughed through the swirling mist, the slap of his soles on the cobbles the only thing dispelling the fanciful notion that he trudged through clouds.
Gray, odiferous clouds. Wind whipped around him. The fish-and-tar reek of the Thames was in rare form this night.
He passed by his brother's posh town house, a redbrick Georgian with white trim and wide granite steps leading to an entrance designed to impress. The earl always insisted Jacob was welcome to share the well-situated Grosvenor Square home, but he preferred to keep his own place.
It was all well and good for him to be privy to Lord Meade's business. However, he didn't need his brother's long nose in his. Most of Jacob's activities wouldn't bear close scrutiny.
The direct route to his town house near Leicester Square led him down an alley with no gas lamps at all. A gang of ruffians made to approach him, but he didn't slow his stride. Jacob carried a rapier hidden in his ornate cherry walking stick and knew how to use it. Last week he'd fended off a would-be thief and pinked him proper in the upper arm. He stepped into a shaft of moonlight pouring into the narrow way, grasping the platinum hilt, in case he needed to defend himself.
The gang stopped in mid-step as recognition widened their eyes. As Jacob pushed past them, they gave him a respectfully wide berth. Evidently, rumors of his bed skills weren't the only bits of intelligence circulating about Jacob Preston.
From the end of the block of unassuming town houses, he was mildly surprised to see an elegant equipage stopped before his red door. A crest with a boar and crossed swords was emblazoned on the side. He didn't immediately recognize the heraldic symbol. In veritate triumpho was etched above the device.
"I triumph in truth," Jacob translated. Who in the world ... Then he clapped a hand to his forehead as the memory flooded back. He'd received a note from the dowager Countess of Cambourne a couple weeks ago announcing her intention to call on him for help on a matter of business while she was in London.
Probably another lonely lady hoping to entice him to her bed. Dowagers invariably had liver spots or warts or both, and Jacob didn't handle business for anyone but his brother, though he'd been known to dabble in a discreet investigation from time to time. Since Jacob made it a point not to respond to social notes that didn't interest him, the time Lady Cambourne specified for her visit had never settled in his mind. A quick glance up showed a light burning in his first floor parlor.
He pushed open his front door, swallowing back a curse. Who knew how long it would take to rid himself of the late caller? If he wasn't going to find a pleasing woman's bed, the least the Fates could do was allow him to find his own at a reasonable hour.
"Good evening, sir."
He scowled at the man who served as his butler, valet, and general factotum. Fenwick at least had the grace to look chagrined as he collected Jacob's coat, gloves, and hat.
Jacob's privacy was his most prized possession. When he hired Fenwick a few years earlier, he'd specifically instructed him that part of his duties included keeping unexpected and unwanted guests at bay.
"I see we have a visitor," Jacob said, glancing up the polished mahogany banister with a frown. Light from the parlor reflected off a long mirror hanging in the first floor landing and spilled down the stairs in jagged shards.
"Oh, yes, indeed we do." Fenwick attempted a cheerful smile to cover the dereliction of his duty. "The lady said as you were expecting her."
"Did I tell you I was expecting her?"
"No, sir."
"Then why is she still here?"
"Well, Lady Cambourne insisted upon waiting." Fenwick's pale eyebrows nearly met over his watery blue eyes. "The countess is a ... most persuasive person, sir."
"Hmph!"
"Sir, I took the liberty of looking the lady up in DeBrett's for you. Here are the particulars." Fenwick produced a much folded square of paper from his vest pocket, covered with his small, spidery handwriting.
"You have almost redeemed yourself," Jacob said, glancing at the information from the registry of the peerage. Julianne Tyndale (nee True) Dowager Countess of Cambourne, wife of Algernon Tyndale, 8th Earl of Cambourne. No issue from the marriage. Widowed two years ago when the earl reportedly did away with himself.
Jacob's brows arched in surprise. Unless a member of the aristocracy was despondent over gambling debts or losses in the market, it was rare for one of them to "shuffle off this mortal coil" ahead of schedule. He wondered which reversal of fortunes had sent the earl over the edge. Jacob resumed reading, glad he'd had the foresight to hire a literate fellow like Fenwick as his right-hand man, even if he occasionally let the rules of the house slide.
Lady Cambourne was formerly known as Julianne True of the Drury Lane Theatrical Company.
"I stand corrected, Fenwick. You have totally redeemed yourself. You obviously have more sources of information than I suspected. This last bit in particular could not have come from DeBrett's."
Fenwick grinned. "No, sir. I recognized her. Saw her play Lady Macbeth some six or seven years ago."
"So I'm assuming this is one dowager who doesn't possess three chins."
Fenwick shook his head and gave a nervous chuckle. "Couldn't blame Macbeth a bit. Every man in the theatre would have killed for her, sir."
Jacob smiled as he tucked the paper into his pocket. An attractive young widow waited in his parlor. Perhaps the evening wasn't a total loss after all.
But on second thought, money wasn't the only thing that could drive a man to an early grave. If what Fenwick said was true about the actress turned countess, perhaps the lady's husband had killed for her sake.
A black widow bore close watching.
Julianne checked her pendant watch for the umpteenth time, irritation sizzling in her belly. She smoothed the collar on her lilac bodice, flicking a speck of London's ubiquitous soot from the gray piping. The smart traveling ensemble bespoke her status as a wealthy widow in the final stage of mourning. The pale shade flattered her delicate coloring far more than the black she'd endured for the first two years after Algernon's death. Of course, even with the right hue against her skin, when frustration flamed her cheeks, the effect of a cool, collected lady of quality would be hopelessly lost.
And if Julianne knew one thing, it was the value of a first impression.
She looked up when she heard masculine footfalls on the stairs. Mr. Preston's servants crept about the immaculate townhome silent as wraiths. The heavy tread could only mean the man himself had finally deigned to arrive.
When the shadow of a man filled the doorway, she stood and tossed him a haughty glance. He stepped into the light of the gas lamp.
She noted with pleasure that Mr. Preston was exceedingly fine to look upon.
Of course, he would be. A man didn't gain the reputation for being a dissolute rogue without being charming, cynical, and blessed with armloads of masculine beauty. Jacob Preston possessed all three in sufficient quantities to overcome the combined scruples of a nunnery.
A shock of chestnut hair fell over his forehead above strikingly pale, almost silver-gray eyes. His fine straight nose divided a face of strong planes and angles, evidence of determination ingrained in his features. His lips turned up in a smile that was slightly crooked, dispelling the notion of perfect balance.
Good. She found small imperfections in a man attractive. Her experience in the theatre had taught her that perfectly sculpted males tended to be drawn to other perfectly sculpted males.
Jacob Preston was taller than most men of her acquaintance, with a corresponding breadth of shoulder.
She wondered if he was proportionate in other ways as well. Her body registered a response with a quick flutter under her ribs and a heightened sense of awareness that brought the masculine scent of bergamot and sandalwood to her nostrils.
Steady on, she chided herself. This is about business, not pleasure.
Still, Jacob Preston was devilishly attractive and perception was everything among the ton. Since she would likely be in the public eye while in London, it would enhance her standing to have a handsome man at her side. And she intended to keep Jacob Preston near her for as long as it took to accomplish her goal.
"Mr. Preston, I presume." She consulted her pendant watch again, though she knew perfectly well what time it was. Then she closed the silver filigreed cover with an annoyed snap. "I live in the country most of the year, so perhaps I'm not as well versed in city manners as I ought to be. But in Cornwall, it is considered beyond impolite to keep a countess waiting for three hours."
The man strode forward and made a correct obeisance over her gloved fingertips. "Your pardon, Lady Cambourne."
That was better. Julianne preferred to begin relationships, even those of a business nature, as she meant them to continue, with herself firmly in charge.
"As long as we're recounting deficiencies in our education, I too must confess to ignorance over country manners." His voice was a deep rumble, but he didn't boom as most men with bass notes tended to do. The low sound shivered over her like the purr of a lion in its prime. "For your future reference, my lady, in London it is customary not to call if one's intent to do so has not been acknowledged."
She narrowed her eyes at his insolence, but he seemed uncowed by her displeasure. In fact, the wretch's mouth twitched in a wider smile.
A sensual smile that sparked with recognition.
He'd probably seen her on stage. If she didn't need his help so badly, she'd storm out in a fiery scene that would put her Drury Lane days to shame. She realized suddenly that he hadn't released her hand, so she tugged it away.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Touch of a Rogue by MIA MARLOWE Copyright © 2012 by Diana Groe. Excerpted by permission of BRAVA BOOKS. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Kendra_Readers_Edyn
Posted March 11, 2012
Overall enjoyable read, but I didn't love it. ~~~
For full review including excerpt and dialogue highlight, please visit Reader's Edyn at:
readersedyn (dot) blogspot (dot) com ~~~
Review: ~~~
>>>Overall, I enjoyed this book, but it did have a couple of faults. I liked both main characters, but I didn’t fall in love with them. Their wit and humor was absolutely fabulous and is possibly the component that made the book for me. I love snark and Ms. Marlowe excelled at it. ~~~
The problem, I think, is that there was just too much going on in the book to make it flow seamlessly. First, Julianne used to be an actress. She married an older man, but she had no title what-so-ever. While marrying below station is not outside the realm of possibility, I don’t know that her status as a former star of the stage served any purpose other than to mention it here and there. I was also a bit taken back by Jacob’s power. I read the blurb, but his power is more so in the genre of paranormal ability. I wasn’t expecting an entire paranormal component as this book is listed as a historical romance. Not that I didn’t enjoy Jacob’s ability. It was out-of-the-box and added a bit of excitement to the story. It was just unexpected. ... I think the book blurb just barely touched on the contents of the book and so a lot is left to discover within the book. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it could be slightly misleading to the readers as far as expectation. ~~~
Another thing I found odd was that there was no resolution to the step-son issue. He just kind of dropped out of the story. He was mentioned a few times and then, POOF, nothing. He is, quite possibly, an unnecessary character. In the end, other than a few missives sent to tell Julianne to get her butt back to the estate to marry his friend, he served very little purpose. And finally, the ending. The book worked up to this final “battle” if you will and then just ends. There could have easily been another chapter or two or even an epilogue. Anything to keep the book from ending to suddenly. I felt a bit let down with the abrupt ending. In fact, abrupt is even too long in meaning to describe the ending as it was only a matter of a few paragraphs. The showdown of sorts between good versus evil and about five paragraphs following. The ending was actually unfortunate because even with the pointless past and character, I still didn’t count my time spent reading the book as wasted. With the rushed ending, I have to re-evaluate my feelings. I only hope that as an uncorrected proof, the ending was given a bit of a makeover. ~~~
So here is what I think. If you are a fan of the author, you are probably going to like the book regardless. If you have read the first book, you will know what to expect with this one and not be in store for any unexpected aspects. If I had the chance for a do-over, I would definitely read the first book prior. Hindsight from book one may have given be a bit better understanding before beginning this book. If you enjoy historical romance with a paranormal slant, you will very possibly find this book to your liking. For those who dislike abrupt endings and details that could be interpreted as superfluous, I caution you: You may well enjoy the read until the end. Like I said, I did enjoy the book for the most part, but it could have been better. ~~~
(Uncorrected paperback proof provided by Kensington for review.)
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.He has the magic touch!
Mia Marlowe’s jauntily amusing and arousing tale mixed with magic, sharp wit and the supernatural comes as a big surprise to a first time reader of her books, definitely a highly enjoyable read! Touch of a Rogue is the second installment in Mia’s “Scandal” series!
Jacob Aubrey Preston has a way with women, known as a rogue of the highest sort with the looks to match. In some circles, Jacob also has the reputation for solving cases that have baffled the best of Bow Street. His methods are unprecedented and his success in recovering items of value is nothing short of impressive. Jacob is just the man that Lady Julianne Tyndale, the Dowager Countess of Cambourne needs to solve a very important case of her own. Everything Julianne has and hopes to keep, rests in solving the mystery of her husband’s death and locating the missing artifact the late Earl had spent most his time whole-heartedly searching for. Somehow, Julianne knows the Duke’s search is the cause behind his sudden death currently documented as suicide, and she will do anything to prove it false, even if that means an alliance with a very questionable (and single), Jacob Preston. Time is of the essence; however, as not only does the Duke’s heir have other ideas in mind for Julianne, but a deadline to deliver the much needed artifact imposed by mysterious buyer who is willing to pay a small fortune for it looms all the closer.
TOUCH OF A ROGUE by Mia Marlowe is an exciting Regency Historical Romance. It is the second in “Touch of Seduction” series,but can be read as a stand alone. See,”Touch of A Thief”. This is the story of Jacob Preston,and Lady Julianne Cambourne’s they struggle to happiness,their secrets will be revealed as they find passion,danger,and love. A truly wonderful historical with a bit of paranormal twist. Jacob,has a mysterious command of touch. Lady Julianne needs his help,what she finds to the love of her life. Ms. Marlowe knows how to draw the reader into her stories as they journey with the characters through their troubles,passion and desire. I enjoy this author’s stories.I can hardly wait for the next installment in this delightful series. Received for an honest review from the publisher. Details can be found at Brava,published by Kensington Publishing Corp,the author’s website,and My Book Addiction and More.
RATING: 4.5
HEAT RATING:Mild: Mild detailed scenes of intimacy,mild violence or profanity
REVIEWED BY: AprilR, My Book Addiction and More
AVoraciousReadr
Posted May 24, 2012
Most Excellent!
Lady Julianne Tyndale, the Countess of Cambourne, needs to hire Jacob Preston for two things: to prove her husband didn’t kill himself and to find the mysterious sixth and final dagger in a matching set. Financial security is her goal because if she can find the sixth dagger she can sell the set to a buyer for a great sum of money and live comfortably in her widowhood. She has no intention of giving up her independence for a man.
Jacob Preston doesn’t bandy about that he has a special ability. He can hear metals. They call to him and tell him things which can be pretty handy, but it’s more of a curse. The ability to hear metals means he’s constantly bombarded by them and usually dealing with nasty headaches. Until he meets Julianne. When he uses his ability and comes away with a screaming headache, somehow her touch takes away the pain. Plus, she’s one hot lady and, surprising himself, the rogue finds himself thinking of settling down. First he has to find the blasted dagger then he needs to convince Julianne that he’s worth giving up her widowhood. Let the hunt(s) begin.
This second book in the Touch of Seduction series does not disappoint. Smooth-flowing, interesting characters, great plot, excellent villain and smoking sex scenes, I enjoyed every minute of it. I look forward to Book 3 Touch of a Scoundrel. Book 1 was gems, book 2 metals…I wonder what it will be in book 3?
*The publisher provided a copy of this book to me for review. Please see disclaimer page on my blog.
CarlyCarson
Posted February 28, 2012
Touch of a Rogue is a delightful new story from Mia Marlowe. This romance has a light touch of paranormal that binds together the rogue, the lady, and the villain in a satisfying journey of conflict. Jacob is my kind of hero. He may not know what hit him when Julianne enters his life, but he knows how to go after what he wants. Sensuality is woven throughout the story, as is a subtle sense of humor that sets this story apart from other historical romances. If you love a rogue with a heart, and a lady with both heart and determination, this will be a fun read for you.
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Overview
He can keep her safe. . .or be her very ruin. . .
Jacob Preston has three requirements for a woman desiring access to his bed: She must be enthusiastic in affairs of passion, jaded in matters of the heart, and—to ensure the first two qualifications—she must be married.
Lady Julianne Cambourne has all the makings of a passionate lover, and she certainly shows no signs of sentimentality. . .but her unmarried ...