“No?” He raised a brow. “Even the most hardened rogue eventually realizes he must one day settle down, or at the very least, slow down.” He leaned in closer. She could almost feel the heat of him brushing her skin. “What is it about marriage that frightens you?”
His question, or rather the implication that she might be frightened by the more intimate consequences of marriage, caused a shiver of anticipation to prickle her skin and bring a blush to her cheeks.
“Very little frightens me,” she assured him, using her chilliest, haughtiest tone. “I would think last night would have unquestionably proven my courage.”
“I’m not sure whether I’d consider what you did last night a mark of courage or a streak of madness,” he drawled. Mischief sparkled in his blue eyes. “Besides, if you are so courageous, my dove, why do you blanch whenever I speak of marriage?”
“I don’t—” But that was a lie. She did blanch at the thought of marriage, especially marriage to her cousin. “We’re wasting valuable time. No matter how skilled a teacher you are, I would hardly think one lesson adequate for my education. I wish to plot our next session.”
At that, his grin deepened. “And what else, my dear lady, does your daring heart desire from me? More seductive kisses? More sensual caresses?” His voice deepened as he advanced on her. A heated look darkened his celestial blue eyes. “Or are you looking to experience something more permanent?”
She held up her hand and retreated a step. “An adventure,” she said rather breathlessly since he continued to advance, stopping only after his chest was firmly pressed against the palm of her upraised hand. “I-I wish to experience another rogue’s adventure. Nothing more than a simple adventure where my fate is in my own hands.”
She couldn’t help remembering how eager he’d been to protect her last night, vowing how he’d make her his wife, if need be.
His wife! After six seasons of carefully avoiding marriage proposals, she could not fathom how she ended up with landing two in less than a week. She needed to be more careful.
Her gaze strayed to where his chest was still pressed against her hand. They were in the middle of the garden where anyone might wander by, see them and wonder what she was doing with this well-known rake. She sent her gaze tripping over the landscape. No one appeared to be paying much attention.
With a huff, she dragged her hand away. “You were supposed to meet me at the grotto so we could plan my next lesson without any danger of being seen together.”
“As you already know, I do not always do what is expected of me, my lady,” he said and took her hand, placing it firmly on his arm. “In this case, I will not let you lead me into a situation where, if discovered, your virtue will be questioned. We will stroll along the canal with the respectable couples.”
But a stroll along the canal wouldn’t give him any opportunities to steal another kiss. Not that she wanted one…because she didn’t. She only wanted her will to win out, she assured herself as she tried her best to dissuade him. “This is imprudent,” she said. “Have you forgotten? You have been banned from nearly all of polite society. The matrons of the ton believe you to be too dangerous around innocent maids such as myself. It is risky for me to be seen with you like this.”
While she argued, he led the way to the canal walk. His determined tread remained steady.
“A true rogue wouldn’t worry about what others might see or be thinking.” He patted her hand. “Consider this your second lesson.”
“A proper stroll in a garden with an unredeemable rogue? It hardly qualifies as an adventure.”
He stopped in the middle of the path and lowered his head until his lips were so close that his warm breath tickled her neck. Close enough that she suspected he was about to kiss her in front of two couples, a finely dressed lady chasing after a rambunctious tot and an elderly gentleman being pushed toward the hotel in a wicker wheelchair. Iona’s stomach did a little flip.
“Adventures can come in any form, Lady Iona,” his voice brushed up against her ear.
She turned her head toward him and found her lips were nearly touching his. Her breath held fast in her throat as she waited, anticipating how it would feel to have his lips master hers again.
“Shall we plot your next lesson?” he asked and pulled away without giving her so much as a playful peck.
Iona allowed herself to be led and chewed on the inside of her cheek, stewing. What game was he playing? She’d given him a perfect opportunity to steal a kiss and he’d ignored it.
Certainly he wasn’t so dense that he didn’t recognize her invitation. He was supposedly one of the most skilled seducers in England and would know without question when a lady was close to begging for his attentions.
She did want his attentions, didn’t she?
Oh, he was ever so vexing. She ground her jaw as she bit back a frustrated shriek that would have been worthy of one of Lillian’s tantrums.
Yes, she wanted the adventure, the excitement of living her life on her own terms, just as he had said. And if that adventure included a replay of the previous night’s intimacies, then that was what she wanted too.
He seemed to understand and accept the rules of their friendly game. Seemed to understand that she wanted to delve beyond the respectable and experience some more of the shocking things in which he seemed terribly knowledgeable—things no proper lady was supposed to admit to knowing.
So why in blazes wasn’t he playing along?
Lady Iona was in quite a charming temper by the time Nathan had steered her down the steps to the canal walk. Her cheeks were prettier than the delicate honeysuckle and sweet-pea blooms draping over the canal’s bricked embankment. She twirled her royal blue parasol faster and faster.
If only she knew how difficult it had been for him to deny her and himself the pleasure of a brief kiss. He silently groaned. No lady in all of Bath, not even Iona’s younger sister, could hope to rival Iona’s quiet allure as she walked beside him, her tread lightening—in sharp contrast to her prickling temper—until her step was so light she could have waltzed across the lily pads.
She was dressed in a lovely white spencer promenade dress Nathan recognized as being the height of this season’s fashion. The empire waist accentuated her slender curves and the satin-rimmed neckline plunged as daringly as some evening gowns, drawing his gaze to the proud pair of breasts he’d so tenderly cupped in his hands the previous evening.
The slightest tug on her gown and he’d be able to bare them for his pleasure. One small tug and he could put his mouth to suckle them.
And she’d wanted to lead him into the darkened grotto. Foolish girl. If only she knew what kind of a hungry wolf lived inside his head, waiting for a darkened moment.
She’d certainly run away from him as fast as her virginal legs could carry her if she could hear his vastly improper thoughts.
This was the lady he intended to make his wife, he reminded himself, not some doxy he hoped to seduce into his bed for a lurid liaison. He plucked a pale honeysuckle bloom and threaded it in the ribbon of her bonnet. She graced him with a smile, her lips still trembling with frustration.
She’d been expecting a kiss.
It had been a dirty trick to deny her.
But sometimes it was better to leave a lady wanting, to make her work to earn his devotion and loving attentions. Since Iona saw him as nothing more than a friend, a thought that still rankled him, he intended to treat her as just that. A friend.
Watching her struggle to hide her temper, while they strolled as a couple in full view of anyone happening to pass by, was heartening enough to give him hope for their future.
“I have been thinking about your next lesson,” he said as if he were discussing nothing more interesting than the afternoon’s warm weather. “If daring is what you’re seeking, we could take two of Bath’s swiftest horses on a blistering ride across—”
She held up her hand. “You picked our last adventure and, as I already pointed out, des
igned it specifically so I would refuse.”
Nathan gave a self-depreciating smile and shrugged when she looked up at him expectantly. There was no need to lie. Teaching her to be more like him was still a terrible idea.
She believed she’d find happiness at the end of his gilded trail. He knew firsthand the kinds of ugly beasts waiting for her. Emptiness and despair were no substitute for the love and security a family could provide.
“And where do you suggest I take you?” he asked, though he didn’t really want to know.
“I wish to gamble.”
Was that all?
He let go of the breath he was holding. Although gambling was illegal—outlawed by Beau Nash, the Master of Ceremonies who had transformed the city into a leading resort nearly a hundred years earlier—lively card games could be found in nearly every public room and at many private events. It wasn’t unusual for a married lady to join in a game or two, more often than not losing her pin money to the kind of gentleman who turned ruthless when sitting behind a hand of cards.
Although the cards were played fast and sharp, the stakes were relatively tame compared to the gambling hells in London.
“I believe I could work something out.” He would enlist the aid of some friends to make the game exciting without putting Iona at risk of losing her money or reputation. “The card room at the Upper Assembly Rooms always seems to have space for a new player. Do you know the rules for faro?”
“If I wished to waste my time playing cards at the Upper Assembly Rooms, do you think I would be asking you for help? The players who congregate there are more timid than I am.” She stopped in the middle of the path and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she rose up on the tips of her toes, leaning in close to him.
“I am looking for a truly dangerous adventure,” she whispered a hairsbreadth from his lips. “I have heard of a place in Bath where I can find it. Goldsmith’s. I believe it is the only gambling establishment in town worth visiting.”
Nathan stepped away from her teasing lips and grabbed her wrist. “You can’t be serious. Goldsmith’s? Are you sure that is the name you have heard?”
How in blazes would a young lady even learn the name of such a notorious establishment? Certainly she didn’t understand what kind of place she was asking to visit.
“I understand there is a back room where the worst sort of cutthroat gambling can be found. A man might be shot outright for winning too many hands. And the ladies who are allowed entrance are not the least bit interested in the action on the tables, nor can they be considered ladies, can they?”
Ah, she did understand what sort of place she was asking him to take her to.
“Do you know the place?” she asked. A spark of innocent excitement shined brightly in her cornflower blue eyes.
“Yes, I know of the blasted place.”
“Good.” She slipped from his grasp and latched onto his arm. “Then you will take me there.”
“I would sooner impale myself with a sword!” he protested.
She gave him a hard look that made him suspect she was determined to attempt to breach the Goldsmith’s establishment and carry out her latest madcap idea with or without his cooperation.
“It cannot be done,” he said. “It would be impossible. Goldsmith’s doesn’t admit ladies…only women of a certain sort. And the establishment certainly would not allow a woman to play cards at any of the tables.”
“Do not speak so loudly,” she said in a very proper, very prim tone. “People will hear you.”
“So what if they hear me? Nothing you can say will convince me to help you with this…this…madness.” He wanted to throw his hands in the air and march away from her. If he could guarantee that she wouldn’t go running to Talbot or Harlow, he might have done just that.
Instead he lowered his voice. “If you dare try and do something so foolish, I will go straight to your father and tell him all about this budding rebellious streak of yours.”
“You wouldn’t—” she breathed.
“Don’t tempt me.”
She tilted her head up so he could clearly see her face. Her determination appeared unwavering. It was almost as if he could watch her calculating thoughts flowing through her clever head.
“Goldsmith’s is not a place a lady needs to visit,” he said, softening his voice. “Believe me, it is not because I believe you lacking in any way. It is not that at all. Most gentlemen are wise enough to stay far away from such a den of thieves.”
“I see,” she said tightly.
He had a feeling she didn’t though. For she appeared to be quite set on this ruinous course.
No doubt, his refusal to help her while threatening to go to her father would only drive her to be more secretive, or worse. He could very well be pushing her into a life-threatening situation.
There were too many unsavory characters roaming Bath’s dark alleyways. Like lone wolves, they lay waiting for a sheep to stray from the safety of the pack. One misstep into the wrong area of town at the wrong time of night and Iona would be swiftly torn to pieces. He’d be left with nothing but the memory of how she’d once shimmered like a siren in the moonlight.
He shuddered at the thought.
He should go straight to the Duke and demand he lock his daughter in a tower. But would a doting father do something so severe based solely on the word of a scoundrel?
He doubted it.
But what else could he do to dissuade her—besides make love to her until she didn’t have any energy left over for mischief? For such a seemingly biddable young lady, Iona was fast turning into one of the most stubborn creatures he’d ever met.
“Very well,” he found himself saying and cursing himself for saying it. What kind of man would bring his future fiancée to such a disreputable establishment? He must have lost his mind, he decided. That was it. Spending time with Iona was driving him straight to Bedlam.
But what else could he do but obey her wishes? “I have a strong suspicion you will hie yourself to Goldsmith’s with or without my help. So—against my better judgment, mind you—I will escort you in this folly. You will not however attempt to interact with any of the so-called gentlemen you might encounter when inside.”
Her cheeks brightened. A smile captured the corners of her heart-shaped mouth. “Oh, thank you, Lord Nathan,” she said and impulsively planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “This will be great fun, you will see. I will have to find a pair of inexpressibles and a man’s coat.” She eyed him critically. “You are much larger than me. Your garments would surely swallow me up.”
Lord, it wasn’t his garments that were about to swallow her up right then and there. He did his best to tamp down a desire to toss her slender body over his shoulder and carry her off to his apartment so he could teach her exactly why young innocents should be wary of rakes and rogues.
Perhaps he could lure her into a secluded spot for a bit—conceivably back to the grotto—so he could cover her with kisses and stroke her until she cried out his name and—
“When and where shall we meet tonight?” Iona asked, breaking into his straying thoughts. “I have plans to attend a musicale but I could fall victim to another megrim, if need be.”
“No, not tonight.” Never, actually. “I need time to make plans. I will send a note.”
“I do not wish to wait long,” she warned and slipped away, leaving him standing alone alongside the canal.
Her hasty departure suddenly dampened his cheerful mood. It felt as if a dark cloud had descended between him and the bright sun.
He’d wanted her to leave, to run back to her family, hadn’t he? Already a few heartbeats into his loneliness, he wasn’t sure. Her antics would eventually lead both of them into ruin.
But for the moment, Nathan couldn’t seem to care.
Chapter Seven
Iona had tried to sketch all afternoon. Yet whenever she touched her graphite point to the page, no matter what lines she drew, they formed the same image.
With an angry scribble, she scratched out the laughing eyes that stared up at her from her sketchbook and tried to turn her thoughts to something else.
Anything else.
She pressed her nose to the drawing room window. Was that Lord Nathan riding by on a chestnut-colored horse?
“Why the sudden fascination with the outdoors, Iona?” Lillian asked, glancing up from the letter she was penning.
Amelia, who was seated opposite of Lillian at a small gold and ebony writing table with growling lions at the base of its feet, looked up and smiled.
“Your sister is lovesick,” she offered not unkindly. “Has he truly not tried to contact you since the fancy dress ball?”
“Pish-posh,” Lillian said, “my sister would be foolish to have a real interest in a bounder like Lord Nathan. Have you heard what they are saying about him now?”
“I will not listen to idle gossip, especially not about him,” Iona said, turning her attention to the sketchbook on her lap. “Lord Nathan is a dear friend. And with all due respect, Amelia, I am not lovesick.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Amelia said and returned to write in her diary.
Two letters had arrived for Iona in the morning post. They sat open on the cushion next to her. One was from her dearest friend, the former May Sheffers, now Viscountess Evers. May, once an independent spinster, gushed for several paragraphs over the joys of marriage and pleasures of motherhood. Now over a year into her marriage and few months after the birth of her first son, May’s letters were glowing testaments to the bonds of matrimony—a stark contrast to her original scorn of that singular institution.
Iona sighed. May had also written in her letter that she wouldn’t be able to visit until the end of the summer. Unfortunately Iona needed her friend’s advice now.
She needed it most desperately thanks to the second letter. It was from her cousin, Byron Lovington. Though addressed to her father, Byron had included a few short, very business-like paragraphs to Iona in which he asked her to write to him and describe her wishes for their wedding day.
Lady Iona's Rebellion Page 8
