Lady Iona's Rebellion (5 page)

Ch
apter Three

He was late.

Iona moved deeper into the shadows, keeping to the far corner of the grand portico fronting the entrance of the Lower Assembly Rooms. She tapped the glass of her dainty pocket watch. Six minutes after eleven.

A couple of the lower gentry were leaving the dress ball early. Their laughter tinkled through the cool night air. Iona pressed her back against the marble wall, worried someone might notice her. She’d slipped away from her family a few minutes before eleven o’clock, thinking she’d be able to return before the night’s final dance at midnight. If Lord Nathan delayed much longer, he wouldn’t have enough time to teach her much of anything.

Visions of him shamelessly enjoying a liaison with another woman sprang to her all-too-vivid imagination. She kicked the tip of her pink satin slipper against the pavement.

The rogue. If he didn’t intend to come, he could at least have had the decency to send a note.

Did he care so little for her good name? What if she were discovered lurking in the shadows without a proper escort? Eyebrows would be raised. People would whisper behind their hands.

A shadow moved beside her. She caught a distinctive whiff of honey and pine.

“You are unforgivably late,” she whispered.

“A thousand pardons, my lady.” He moved closer and draped a dark cloak over her white crepe pelisse. “In this particular instance, I felt discretion was vastly more important than timeliness. Shall we go?”

He offered her his arm. He’d dressed the part of a dangerous rogue. His clothes were black from head to foot. Even his cravat was fashioned from the darkest muslin. His hat sat low on his head and was tilted forward toward his nose. A person would have to take a long, close look to recognize him.

Under different circumstances, she’d surely mistake him for a highwayman or a smuggler.

A thrill of fear surged in her gut. What did she truly know about him? She fingered the heavy cloak he’d laid over her shoulders. The dark color was necessary to serve as a disguise, she supposed.

“I won’t tease you if you wish to change your mind,” he said, staring down his long aristocratic nose at her. His blue eyes looked as dark and vast as the night sky. “It’s a considerable leap of faith on your part to put your reputation in my hands like this.”

“My mind is set.” She lowered the cloak’s hood over her head, careful not to disturb the throng of pink daisies threaded through her hair. She placed her hand on his arm. “Please, lead on.”

A look of mischief danced in his eyes. His lips curled into a thoroughly wicked grin that sent her heart tripping.

Iona licked her lips. “I have less than an hour before I am missed. I hope that will not be a problem.”

“This first lesson in debauchery shouldn’t take very long at all, my lady,” Nathan replied. She could have sworn she heard a soft laugh hiding under his curiously formal tone.

She gripped his arm tightly as he led her in silence through the Bath streets. He kept them cloaked in the darkest shadows near the buildings as they hurried past several familiar faces. She hadn’t realized how many people promenaded the streets after dark. She lowered her head and touched her hand to the brim of the hood. Her heart thundered in her chest.

This was madness. She would be caught. Her father would glower in silence. Her mother would shriek. And she would forever lose her status as their dear, obedient daughter.

Cecile, her older sister, was the lucky one, happily married and producing heirs for her husband. Lillian, her younger sister, was the beauty of the family. Stuck in the middle, Iona had forever been relegated to playing the part of the good child, the quiet child and later, the pliable young lady.

Lord Nathan pressed a finger to her lips as he led her past Abbey Street and toward the King’s Bath. Light reflected from the streetlamps sparkled in his eyes like stars. A smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“In a moment we shall test your mettle,” he whispered. He clamped his warm, gloved hand over hers.

They came upon a man with a tweed cap atop his greasy head slumped at the King’s Bath entrance. He perked up at their approach. Without a word, Lord Nathan slid a handful of coins into the man’s outstretched palm.

“I ‘ad the place opened up, just as you requested, my lord,” the stranger drawled.

Lord Nathan gave the man a friendly pound on the back as he passed into the front room of the King’s Bath. His grip on Iona’s hand tightened. He led her into a dimly lit passageway.

“Have you ever taken a dip in the waters?” he asked.

“Not in a public bath.” She had once dipped her toes in Bath’s sulfuric waters when keeping her mother company at one of the private bathing facilities.

The King’s Bath however was open to all who could pay the fee and the bathers were on display for anyone strolling on the terrace or visiting the Pump Room.

He guided her down a few steps and opened a door. Moonlight poured into the corridor. The fine mist rising off the green waters appeared to glow.

“You don’t expect me to actually step into the water?” Panic fluttered in her belly. “I-I would be dripping when you returned me to my family at the Assembly Rooms. And I would ruin my evening gown.”

He chuckled and then removed the cloak from her shoulders. “I don’t expect you to wear your gown in the water, my lady.”

A scorching blush pricked her cheeks.

“You-you expect me to strip in front of you?”

“It is what any rogue would do.” He proved his words by shrugging out of his evening coat and pulling off his cravat. When he started to unbutton his shirt, she whirled around.

“This isn’t proper.” Her legs suddenly turned watery.

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. He lightly touched her arm. “Teaching you to be more like me is more than improper, Lady Iona. It is wrong.”

She drew an unsteady breath. Her gaze latched onto the dark waters. Was her freedom waiting for her in the bath’s shadowy depths? Tossing off her dress and diving into the steaming puddle wasn’t something she’d ever dreamed of doing. Perhaps that was the problem in her life.

“Very well,” she said.

He breathed a deep sigh. “I will escort you back to the Assembly Rooms then.”

She spun around. “No.” She grabbed his hand before he could button up his shirt. Her gloved fingers brushed against the hard plain of his broad chest. Touching him so intimately nearly unraveled her resolve.

“I will do as you instruct.”

“You’re not serious.” He peeled her fingers from his hand. “You fail to understand what you seek to learn.” His nimble fingers worked the buttons on his shirt.

She blinked. Had he chosen this task knowing she’d be too shocked to try it? Did he truly believe she lacked the spirit to…to…

Jumping in the King’s Bath in the middle of the night
was
foolhardy. Her heart pounded as if it was about to burst from her chest. She closed her eyes. Drew a deep breath. Then peeled off her gloves. And with several quick twists and turns, managed to untie her pink ribbons, kick off her slippers and wiggle out of her gown and corset.

“Iona, wait!” he shouted a moment before she charged down the steps into the bath wearing nothing more than a thin linen chemise that hung no lower than her knees and a pair of pink stockings.

The blistering water stung every inch of her body.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling more alive.

* * * * *

Nathan had expected the reserved Lady Iona to blush and stammer in the face of his outrageous suggestion. Not even in his world of fantasies did he expect her to tear off her virginal white gown and…

Heavens above, a deep blush heated
his
cheeks!

He’d chosen this late-night dip in the bath with full confidence that she would refuse. He wanted her for a wife, not a partner in debauchery. This path she’d set herself on was fraught with danger and ruin—not freedom. He knew the truth of a rogue’s lifestyle only too well.

His plan was to push her into seeing, really seeing, the harm she was asking him to do to her. He’d been confident that he’d chosen a task that would send her rushing back to her delightfully proper life.

That confidence had been bolstered when he’d met her outside the Lower Assembly Rooms. She appeared as pure as a girl fresh out of the schoolroom. She wore a proper white crepe gown that was banded just under her pert breasts with a pale pink satin. Miniature daisies trimmed the sleeves and hem. The pink daisies adorning her blonde hair matched the flowers on her gown and were the same shade as the slippers on her dainty feet.

If he hadn’t known better, he would have taken her for a chit experiencing her first turn on the marriage mart. It was out of the bounds of reality to picture her splashing into the steaming water like an unschooled hoyden.

Lust kicked low in his gut. He watched as she floated on the surface like an exotic water lily. Her icy blonde locks and short white shift glistened in stark contrast to the dark green waters.

The strangely erotic scene struck him as surreal. He rubbed his eyes, losing himself in the sight of how her chemise clung to her delightfully plump breasts. He’d never seen anyone play the part of seductress better. And he doubted she even understood how her display could affect a man.

If anyone else were to happen by and see her displayed thusly, there would be hell to pay.

And ruin.

His reputation was already pitted with so many chinks he doubted it could look any worse. Any member of the
ton
would merely shake their head, muttering how they would expect no better from the likes of him. But sending her down the very same path he’d taken into hell two years earlier ran cross-purposes to the reason he’d returned to this frightfully dull town in the first place.

His visit to Bath was his first step in his return to society. He had come in humble supplication, hoping to repair his name, not drive the last nail into his own coffin.

Ruin the untouchable Lady Iona, daughter of the highly respected Duke of Newbury, and he’d be lucky if the worst he suffered was lifetime banishment from England.

More likely, he’d be shot.

Why in the devil did she jump into the water in the first place? He had to get her out of that damned bath and back into her family’s care as soon as possible.

“No, don’t thank me. I am only too happy to show you the late-night sights the town has to offer, ma’am,” a young dandy drawled. A group of women tittered with answering giggles. “This here is the famed King’s Bath.”

Nathan’s gaze flew to the terrace that overlooked the bath. Three gentlemen and four ladies were fast approaching the railing. They’d take one glance and it would be all over for him.

Hell and damnation.

Without a whit of hesitation, Nathan dove, fully clothed, into the water.

“Take a deep breath,” he warned Iona and pushed her head under.

She struggled against him. Water bubbled all around him like an angry tempest. Her foot slammed his side with enough force to make him grunt an oath.

“Ho, there,” one of the men in the small group leaned over the railing and called out just as Iona emerged, sputtering for breath, from under the water. “What’s going on down there?”

“Are you trying to murder me?” Iona’s raspy voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“We have company,” Nathan whispered back.

Iona took one look, sucked in a deep breath and dove back under.

“I say,” the man hanging over the railing called out louder this time. “What’s going on down there?”

“Got a little top-heavy from the brandy and tumbled in. Drat my luck,” Nathan shouted back while guiding the twisting and kicking Iona toward the colonnade that covered one side of the bath, doing his earnest best to keep between her and those prying eyes above them.

She fluttered her arms in a flurry each time she started to float to the surface. Thanks to the darkness, she seemed to stay far enough under the water that her white chemise and fair skin remained hidden from view. The daisies that had adorned her hair one by one bobbed up to the surface all around Nathan.

“Do you require assistance?” one of the ladies asked. “There seems to be quite a lot of splashing. I daresay you are not about to drown, are you?”

He wasn’t in any danger of drowning but if he didn’t get Iona up for a breath soon, she would be. He prayed that in her panic she hadn’t swallowed a lungful of water.

“Go on, I beg you. Leave a man to wallow in his foolishness alone,” he shouted.

Thankfully, the steps were only a few feet away and shadowed. Without a backward glance to see if the audience they’d attracted was still watching, he tossed Iona out of the water and onto a stone ledge.

She remained in a motionless heap for a harrowing moment before lifting her head and coughing up a puddle.

He pulled himself out of the bath and found the cloak he’d used to secret her away from the Assembly Rooms. With a quickening breath, he returned to her side and crouched beside her. The poor gel looked miserable. He quickly wrapped the cloak around her sodden chemise.

“Are they gone?” she asked and broke into another fit of coughs.

“I believe so.” He used one corner of the cloak to dab her face dry and then drew her dripping body into his arms. Her heart thrummed like a frightened rabbit’s against his chest.

“Consider ourselves lucky. That group of gadabouts could have spotted you floating around in all your—” He choked on the memory, breaking out into a fit of coughing himself. “All your glory.”

Her glassy blue eyes widened. “Oh my,” she breathed.

“Oh my, indeed,” he answered, feeling suddenly somewhat breathless himself. “You were very brave to hold yourself under the water for such a long time.”

Dark shadows rimmed her unusually bright eyes. The curls, in her once expertly coiffed hair, drooped in hopeless disarray about her face. She dripped worse than a sodden kitten. A frown wrinkled her brows as she chewed her full, lower lip.

She’d never looked more tempting.

Oddly, she’d transformed so many times this evening that it left his head spinning. First she had been all schoolgirl innocence, then she’d tossed off her virginal gown and floated in the water like a siren with the power to seduce a man to his doom.

Yet neither the pure innocent nor wanton seductress appeared as attractive as the soggy Iona he held now in his arms. With all pretensions washed away, she was simply a woman.

An incredibly desirable woman.

And he was a hot-blooded man.

His lips sought hers. The heat growing in the shrinking space between their bodies seeped into his core.

Ah, but those lips weren’t his to take. She was the Duke of Newbury’s daughter, he reminded himself. And she was at her most vulnerable, damp and as close to ruin as he hoped she’d ever be. Still, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from taking a taste.

His lips gently brushed hers. The finest silk couldn’t have felt softer. The sweetest honey couldn’t have tasted sweeter. Even so, he tried to pull away and failed.

She reached out and wound her cool, wet arms around his neck, making it nearly impossible to stop what he’d foolishly started. When her lips parted slightly with a sigh, his conscience lost the battle against his lust. He deepened the kiss, planning to devour her lips like he would a sweet confection.

With agonizing care, he moved. The press of her lips against his sent a spiraling tremor boring deeper and deeper into his essence until every inch of his body throbbed with desire. Their tongues touched just as his roaming hand found the peak of her perfectly rounded breast.

He teased the nipple into a tight nub and lowered her to a stone ledge.

Two years ago, he’d dreamed of kissing her like this. Two years ago, he’d fantasized how she’d move under him. She had utterly charmed him with her quiet grace, a trait his family had claimed he woefully lacked. Her impeccable manners had called to him like an oasis in a desert. Two years ago, he had followed her from Bath to London like a besotted swain, hoping their brief friendship might bloom into something more romantic. Hoping he might finally grasp the one thing he needed to gain his family’s respect.