Lady Iona's Rebellion (25 page)

C
hapter Seventeen

“Ah,” Nathan said. A malicious smile curled his lips. “Just the bastard I’ve been searching for.”

Harlow backed himself up until the heels of his boots knocked against a partition that separated the garden’s dining boxes from the Sydney Hotel.

“I-I already told Lady Iona and her mother, the Duchess, that I would leave her alone,” Harlow stuttered. In the brief flash of the fireworks, Nathan caught a glimpse of the stark terror paling Harlow’s features. “Her secrets are safe with me, I vow it.”

Nathan was unmoved. “But, you see, the damage is already done.” He cracked a knuckle. “You were a little too anxious to put a wedge between us, weren’t you?”

Harlow whimpered when Nathan cracked another knuckle.

“Well?” Nathan said, his anger growing. “Your need to win her overshadowed both her tender feelings and her reputation?”

“She wasn’t supposed to become all emotional and confront you,” Harlow spat out. “I swear it. I only wanted her to know the truth.”

“The truth?”

“That she shouldn’t hold out for you since your heart was already taken. That you were in love with Mrs. Sharpes. That you used her to create a host of lurid rumors about your involvement with someone new in order to lure Mrs. Sharpes into accepting your marriage proposal.”

Good God that was what Harlow had said to Iona?

“So you didn’t tell Lady Iona that I’d been working just as hard as the rest of you sorry sops trying to win her hand in marriage?” He wasn’t sure whether to beat Harlow into the ground or give him a friendly pound on the back.

“Lawks, no. I’d lose any chance at her if she suspected you actually wanted her. Haven’t you noticed the way she lights up whenever you come around?” Harlow sighed. “How is a man supposed to compete with that?”

“I wonder,” he grumbled, not willing to let the glimmer of hope that was knocking on his chest access to his heart, “if that is true, then why does she continue to reject me at every turn?”

“If you don’t know, then why would the rest of us?” Lady Lillian huffed. She’d appeared at his side from out of nowhere and tugged on his arm. “And there isn’t time for all this gabbing. We’ll all be in a terrible coil if you don’t come and do something. My fool sister has just blistered Papa’s ears, declaring she’s determined not to marry anyone—ever. And then she marched off into the gardens only to be followed by your ghastly Mrs. Sharpes.” Lillian paused only long enough to suck in a quick breath. “Iona has a hard look in her eye, Lord Nathan. I’m afraid she’ll take a strip of Mrs. Sharpes’ hide if someone doesn’t put a stop to it.”

* * * * *

Nathan caught sight of Iona near the eerily lit castle ruin that sat on a rise in the middle of the garden. The crystals on her gown sparkled in the reflected glow of the colorful luminaries hanging from the trees. And the pale spectral candles burning from the depths of the carefully aged stones cast an otherworldly light on her frighteningly stricken features.

Just as Lillian had claimed, Jane trailed Iona by several paces.

“I say,” a finely dressed elderly gentleman drawled to his lady companion as Nathan passed them, “what is all that fuss over there about?”

“Isn’t that the Duke of Newbury’s daughter dashing up those steps like some hoyden?” the lady on his arm replied. She straightened her lavender silk turban. “I cannot understand what has possessed the child tonight. She is usually such a quiet and demure child.”

The gentleman squinted through an eyeglass. “Shameful that,” he said and then tutted. “Youth these days have no regard for good manners.”

If that conversation were any indication, come morning, Iona’s odd behavior would be the talk of Bath. Which meant that all of Nathan’s efforts to protect her over the past several days, including bruising her heart and her pride, would have been for naught.

Unless…

Perhaps he could deflect attention away from her by creating an even more spectacular scene with Jane. By the time a plan had formed in his mind, he’d broken out into a full run.

“Jane,” he said as he caught his mistress’s arm. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” Jane said bitterly. “Our engagement is off. I was trying to catch up with your
precious
Lady Iona to tell her that she is welcome to you. It is obvious you are much more interested in her than me. How she can believe otherwise, I cannot imagine.”

For the second time that evening, a lovely lady slapped him across the face with surprising strength. He stumbled back a step.

“My pardon?” he said, feeling somewhat dazed.

“You are not the first man in my life,” Jane said, biting off the words. “I know men’s hearts. You are besotted with her.”

He was besotted, that was true. But merely accepting that he was in love with Iona didn’t mean he could have her.

“I will not be a second choice,” Jane declared. “I had thought you might make a good mate. I stand corrected. There are other men in my life who also want and need the money and lands marriage to me would provide. Goodbye, Nat. I wish you and Lady Iona a miserable time together.”

Nathan tried to stop Jane from pulling away but she resisted. “Do not worry about my heart. I assure you it’s not the least bit broken,” she said coolly.

He might have been insulted by her lack of feeling if he weren’t so wrapped up with worry that his errant pupil was about to do something irrevocably stupid.

“I am sorry, Jane,” he said and brushed a kiss on her cheek before dashing off after a fluttering blue corner of fabric as it disappeared into a darkened section of the gardens.

Quiet as a hushed morning breeze, Iona stole through the bushes. Nathan followed, hoping he might be able to shake some sense into her.

Seemingly unaware of his presence, she muttered softly to herself as she made a straight path to where the secluded, scandalous grotto was hidden beneath a thick growth of willow trees.

Someone had lit over two dozen candles and arranged them on the rim of the grotto’s archway. Wax dripped down the moss-covered stones, forming summer icicles over the entranceway to an underground passage that led to the labyrinth’s center.

Iona surveyed the romantic scene and, after turning full circle, sighed deeply.

“What is this?” Nathan asked as he emerged from the shadows of the trees. “What are you doing here?”

Iona gave a start. With a couple of deep breaths, she quickly gathered her composure. “Before everything changed, I’d arranged for these candles, hoping to set the perfect mood.” She closed the space between them and pressed her hands against his chest. “I had planned to lure you here to…” Her voice trailed off.

He didn’t wait for her to think about what she was doing or what she didn’t want to say. He swept her into his arms and took her mouth with a possessive kiss.

Her tongue tentatively sought his. Her daring move had the power to weave a spell around him. Forgetting everything that had happened that evening and the confounding way she seemed to spin his emotions, he drew her closer. There was only one thought on his mind when he cupped the back of her head. He answered her unschooled lust with a desire that flared so brightly it blinded his need to protect his already battered heart.

It didn’t matter that anyone could stumble upon them at any moment. Nor did he care to understand why she wasn’t pushing him away.

“My lovely seductress,” he whispered, tumbling even deeper under her spell. The world around him fell away until there was nothing but the feel of her against his body. “I am yours for the bidding.”

“Yours for the bidding?” She ripped away from his embrace with such force it felt like she’d torn a vital organ from his chest. All he could do for several moments was suck down deep breaths and try to untangle his suddenly dangerous emotions.

“What do you mean
you are mine
?” she asked.

“What do
I
mean?” he asked slowly. His jaw tightened.

“Oh, you vex me! You play the part of irresistible rogue only too well. When we’re alone, I can think of nothing other than how I might entice you to kiss and caress me.” She stomped her dainty foot. “But do not pretend I’m the only one you ply with those sultry midnight blue eyes and that sinfully tantalizing body. I know only too well that you cannot help yourself.”

“If this is about Jane—” he started to explain though in truth she didn’t deserve any sort of explanation.

“No, this is not about that cursed mistress you plan to marry. This is about you and me!” Her voice grew so shrill that it cracked.

“You and me?” He gave a frustrated laugh. “You and
me
? There isn’t a ‘you and me’. There never has been a ‘you and me’, as you’ve made only too painfully clear. There is only
you
playing with my heart. There is only
you
making me into your damnable puppet.”

“You are wrong. I have never—”

He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You have and you do! What is this game you’ve playing with me about?” He gently shook her again. “What in blazes do you want from me?”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I only wanted a friend.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened and he pressed his nose to hers. “So you claim! But you act as if you’re searching for a lover.” He crushed his lips to hers with a bruising kiss. “I’m only too willing to oblige on both accounts as long as you are willing to become my wife.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Why, damn it? Am I not good enough for you? Is my reputation too tarnished for England’s most pristine lady? Am I only good enough for trifling with in the dark and in the bushes?”

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head fervently, “that’s not it at all.”

“Then why? Why seek me out, making me feel as if I can hold the world on my shoulders, only to knock me down with your next breath?” His head grew cold in anticipation of her answer. If it wasn’t his reputation that was scaring her away, then it could only be one other thing.

Something over which he had no control.

As the lofty daughter of a duke, she was looking higher than the marriage to a worthless second son. Marriage to a damned spare.

Nathan feared the worst when she shook her head, sniffling while refusing to answer.

“After what you have put me through, I deserve the truth,” he said.

She pulled out of his grasp and turned away from him. “I told my father this evening I do not wish to marry. That he has no right to force me.”

Candlelight flickered through her shimmering blonde hair. This should have been a scene for a grand seduction and yet she stood with her back to him. He stood still, his heart growing more impatient as he waited for her to explain why she was toying with his affections.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” she said at last with a sigh. “But marriage—it’s so confining. I have dreams of my own. Desires I wish to pursue. If I marry, I will have to set them all aside and become my husband’s helpmeet. His life and his desires would drown out my own. With a husband in my life, I’d never be given the freedoms to follow my passions and become a sculptress. In this world, a lady has to make a choice between marriage and scholarly pursuits. I’m choosing my art.”

He took her hand and turned her back toward him. “It doesn’t have to be that way. With the right man, anything is possible.”

“Yes, with the right man…” She shook her head and gave a pained laugh. “But, you see, I don’t really have a choice when it comes to my marriage. My father has already arranged an engagement for me. Though I’ve tried to tell him as forcefully as possible how unhappy I am with his choice, I fear it is for naught.”

A blade of ice sliced through his heart.

She was already engaged? Even from the beginning he never had a chance with her? She should have told him. She should have saved him from hoping. Saved him from the pain.

“I took your virginity.”

“I had hoped there would be some way out of this engagement my father has arranged.” She shrugged. “There isn’t.”

“Do you realize what you’ve done? I took your virginity, dammit.”

“I know,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes closed.

“Who is he?”

“My cousin, Lord Byron Lovington,” she tossed the name out without realizing how deeply this was hurting him. “The betrothal will be publicly announced shortly after Byron arrives in Bath in two days’ time. Mama has already planned a grand dinner party and musicale. Your family is invited.”

He never had any hope of winning her? The realization slammed like a hammer into his chest. He looked around him, the soft glow of romance in the grotto melted into something cheap and ugly.

“You should have told me this a long time ago.” He played her games and done her bidding with the hope, the insane hope, that she might agree to become his wife, that her spotless reputation could heal his. And, just perhaps, bring him closer to his family.

Instead he’d fallen to a new low. He prided himself for having some standards. Poaching on another man’s preserves had always been off-limits.

Always.

If he’d known that she was fated for Lovington, he wouldn’t have taken her to the King’s Bath or urged her to strip off her gown. And he certainly wouldn’t have taken her back to his apartment or let her talk him into bringing her to his bed.

“You used me to hurt your father?”

Her delicate brows furrowed. “No, I—”

“
No
? You pulled me deeper into hell because you were looking for a little bit of fun, a meaningless affair before your marriage?”

“Nathan, no—”

“Did you ever care for me or what horrors might happen to me if our relationship was discovered? Was this all a game to you? And was I your pawn?”

She reached up and clapped her hand over his mouth.

“No, none of that is true. I came to you because I was scared and in need of a friend.” She rested her head against his chest. “I still need a friend.”

It was not a feeling of friendship that made him pull her back into his arms or take possession of her mouth. She’d played a dangerous game with him. Why not act the part society had cast for him, the part of untrustworthy rogue? No matter how hard he fought against it, there seemed to be no escaping his fate.

For that, Iona would suffer the consequences.

When he had her panting for his kisses, he lowered her to a patch of soft grass. She clung to him like a desperate kitten and pawed at his coat buttons as she tried to bury herself in the gentle folds of his shirt.

The part of him still furious with her let her struggle with getting his coat off his shoulders. It wasn’t until she’d managed to free his shirttails from his breeches so she could stroke his bare chest that his blazing anger began to dim.

In her haste to rediscover the feel of him, she brushed up against the hard bulge in his pants. Her eyes grew wide as her gaze traveled down the length of his body and landed on him there.

“Oh,” she breathed. Her legs instinctively parted as she squirmed underneath him.

His mouth went dry as he considered claiming, for a second time, another man’s prize. Why should he torture himself? If this was what everyone expected of him, why in blazes was he denying himself the pleasure?

This was what he wanted. God, he wanted her willing body almost more than he wanted life.

“Oh, indeed,” he agreed and dipped his head to kiss her. He slid his hand up her thigh, bunching the skirt of her dress and chemise until they were hiked up around her waist.