The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection

by Dorothy McFalls

  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.

  This was how he had wished to have her the first time. All feminine softness in her woman’s finery.

  She moaned into his mouth when his roaming fingers bushed the apex of her silky legs. As he rocked against her thigh, he carefully slipped a finger into her tight, damp opening. She sucked in a breath, pulling his tongue into her mouth. She suckled him as he showed her again the motions of lovemaking.

  He groaned. He was going to lose his mind, touching her so intimately, while knowing she wasn’t his. That this magical moment was but a stolen illusion.

  Her hips rose and fell in response to his deep strokes. They moved as one and, for one thrilling moment, she again belonged to him and he to her. With her, he was finally complete. Happy.

  Her velvety flesh tightened around his finger and she rolled her head back and breathlessly cried out.

  He was feeling rather breathless himself. And hard as hell.

  She was panting softly from the pleasure he’d just given her while clinging to his chest. He worked on unfastening the flap of his breeches. One more button and he would be free to slip into her and claim her again for himself.

  Though he may not be able to marry her, she would forever be seared as his. Perhaps he’d even let his seed spill into her womb this time.

  Biting off a disgusted oath, Nathan slammed his fist into the ground.

  Unlike that sensual night in the King’s Bath, it wasn’t his honor that stopped him but his deep regard for her. He couldn’t send her to her future marriage bed pregnant. She might not realize it now but he knew her well enough to know she’d be humiliated by the daunting and rather graphic conversation that was already going to take place the morning after her wedding night. Her future would only get worse if he didn’t stop himself. Immediately.

  “Lovington is a damned lucky man,” he groaned as he tugged down her skirt.

  “I’m not going to marry him. I’ll drown myself in the Avon first.”

  He dropped down on his back in the grass beside her. “No, you won’t.”

  “You’re right, I won’t. But I will get myself out of this marriage.”

  “That’s my lovely rogue, willing to do what you have to do to survive. You know, you could always marry me.”

  “I cannot do that,” she whispered and then drew a line of kisses on his neck. “I don’t plan to marry anyone.”

  “Not even Lovington?”

  “He’s so…so much like my father.” She kissed him. “Regimented.” She kissed him again. “Tame. He’s not you.”

  Nathan gathered her into his arms and hugged her. Brigh
t, twinkling stars filled the night sky. The night air was turning cool.

  His heart ached for her. She was too innocent to realize that she’d damned herself by confronting him so publicly. Her reputation was already in tatters. Her family would have no choice but to quickly marry her off. To remain unwed would only prove more damaging to her name than a hasty wedding.

  He hugged her even closer.

  “Do you remember the lesson I taught you while we walked along the canal?” He felt her nod her head. Her hair tickled his chin.

  “I remember how you wouldn’t kiss me even though I dearly wanted your lips on mine.”

  His breath trembled in his throat. “That wasn’t the lesson.”

  “I suppose not,” she said.

  “I wanted you to know that no matter what the situation, it is up to you to make your own adventure, to live your own life.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow. “If that is the case, how can I agree to marry anyone? How can I possibly hope to live my own life—to have the freedom to become a sculptress—when I’d be duty-bound to a husband?”

  “How can it be otherwise, love? You can never really control your fate. No one can. Sometimes you just have to take the lumps it gives you and deal with it the best way you know how. Lord knows, my life is far from ideal but I forged my own path using what little I’ve been given.” He gently squeezed her hand. “You will too. That is what living is all about.”

  “But—”

  “Do you think I chose to have my family turn their backs on me? Or wanted to ever hear my father curse my very existence?”

  “Oh, Nathan…” Iona stroked his cheek. He pushed her hand away. Confessing the pain that he’d hidden away for all these years was going to be difficult enough. He’d never talked about this to anyone. Never had wanted to before. But she needed to hear this. She needed to know that she too could make a life out of any circumstance.

  “I was never good enough for him,” he said. “No matter what I did, the Marquess found fault in it. For a while, I was invisible to him. The forgotten second son. That was before my reputation took a turn for the worse and it forced him to notice me.”

  She crawled into his arms and rested her head on his chest. Somehow she seemed to know that he needed to feel her against his heart in order to bear the pain. She’d been his hope for the future. And now it seemed he was losing that too. Like her, he would have to fight to survive the heartache and harsh disappointment.

  “Never, not even in the darkest times, did I let those horrible things I couldn’t control keep me from pursuing my dreams—even when success seemed impossible. No matter what happened, I never once stopped living my life.”

  He wiped the tears from her cheeks, wishing that he could change their circumstances. He never wanted her to experience the hell he lived, never wanted her to know what it was like to look into her father’s eyes and only find disappointment. But that was how it was going to be. There was no changing what had happened earlier at the gala. Society wouldn’t wait to ask questions. Those who saw her emotional display would easily guess that she was the mysterious lady in Nathan’s life.

  He knew from experience that she would be swiftly condemned, her name bandied about with peals of laughter, her reputation ripped to ribbons. Not even his marriage proposal could save her from the humiliation she was going to suffer once they left the quiet of this grotto. His worst fear had come true. He’d tainted the most precious love in his life.

  “Promise me that one day you’ll forgive me, my sweet,” he whispered and held her tightly against his chest one last time. She would soon realize the difficult situation they were in. She would soon hate him for letting his battered reputation ruin hers. Soon there would no love left for him in her heart. Knowing that, he held onto her and savored the few precious moments they had left together.

  The way his eyes glistened when he drew a slow breath and the regret she felt coming from him as he pulled away from her embrace added up to what felt like the most heart-shattering farewell Iona ever knew. She reached out, trying to draw him back. She wasn’t ready for this ending. She’d told him that she wouldn’t marry him. And she’d told him the truth. She didn’t want to trade her freedom for a husband. But he had opened her world and she needed him. Imagining a life without her free-spirited rogue felt as dry and empty as the vastest deserts she’d read about in the schoolroom.

  “Please don’t leave me,” she barely managed to choke out over her tears.

  He dipped his head and silenced her sob with a tender kiss.

  “Don’t be sad, Iona. Even if I cannot have you in my arms tomorrow or tomorrow’s tomorrow, never forget that you will be here, my love,” he said, pressing her hand to the steady beat of his heart. “No matter what happens, you will always be with me.”

  * * * *

  The skirt of her gown was hopelessly creased and rumpled. More wrinkled than if she’d donned it straight from her wardrobe without letting her maid take it below stairs to first be pressed. Or perhaps her gown simply looked slept in.

  Iona blushed at the thought. If anyone knew how much she’d enjoyed the intimate way Nathan had touched her, she’d be ruined. Utterly ruined. Even so, she couldn’t convince herself to feel a thimble’s worth of regret.

  Truly the only emotion she could find tumbling around inside her was a heartbreaking sadness.

  He had vowed she’d always be in his heart. She wasn’t sure she wanted that kind of eternal devotion.

  If they couldn’t be together, he deserved to be free.

  She clung to the strength of his hand and thought she should say something. She would have babbled like a flooded brook if there was the slightest chance her words could chase away the silent goodbye hovering in the stiff air between them.

  He took a moment to reposition several of her hairpins before taking her hand again. They slipped through an opening in the thick hedge surrounding the secluded grotto and emerged on a winding garden path that would lead them back to the Sydney Hotel and the center of the festivities.

  The band music grew ever louder as they strolled toward the gala. A steady, deep drumbeat filled her ears.

  That was probably how the gossipy Mrs. Luxborough managed to round a corner and stumble upon them with Lady Pulteney and Mr. James King a mere step behind.

  “Ho, there! What’s the meaning of this?” Iona heard her father’s demand before she saw him. He pushed his way through the thoroughly scandalized matrons who were blocking the path, their mouths gaping.

  “I-I-I…” Iona stuttered. She tightened her grip on Nathan’s hand. Oh bugger, this was a disaster.

  “I say,” Mrs. Luxborough breathed, “the timid Lady Iona and the wicked Lord Nathan mere steps away from the notorious grotto? I would have never guessed it.”

  “It’s true,” Mr. Harlow crowed as he emerged from the darkness.

  Lady Pulteney slowly clicked her tongue. “I daresay she fell under his seductive spell. His charms are supposedly irresistible. Could have happened to any young lady.”

  “He’s a wolf,” Mrs. Luxborough charged.

  “He’s nothing of the sort,” Iona protested.

  The garden path suddenly felt impossibly crowded. Her gaze bounced from one unpleasant expression to the next. Her father, Mrs. Luxborough, Lady Pulteney, Mr. King, Mr. Harlow.

  And at her father’s right appeared her cousin Byron. The bouquet of lilies he was holding with special care sank toward the ground.

  Blast it, her cousin wasn’t supposed to get into Bath for another couple of days!

  “I had hoped to surprise you, my treasure,” he said in response to her overlong stare.

  Nathan peeled her hand from his and took several steps to one side. Doing his best to separate himself from her, she supposed.

  “Papa, I—”

  “I did what I thought best, poppet. I left you to your own devices. I gave you time,” her father choked out. His unblinking gaze was fixed on Nathan. “I gave you ple
nty of time to compose yourself after that emotional outburst.”

  It took everything she had inside to raise her chin and say, “This changes nothing. What I told you, Papa, still stands. I don’t wish to marry anyone.”

  Her father ground his jaw. “Mr. King, escort the ladies back to the gala.”

  “Come along, my dear,” Lady Pulteney said and extended her hand to Iona.

  Even if she had wanted to leave with the other ladies—and she didn’t—she couldn’t. Her feet seemed frozen in place.

  Mrs. Luxborough shook her head sadly as she and Lady Pulteney followed Mr. King back the same way they had arrived.

  “I can explain,” Iona whispered. Her heart had stopped beating when she saw the murderous look darkening her father’s brows. “Please, let me explain. Lord Nathan and I—”

  “Bastard,” her father spat out. With an unsteady, angry motion, he tugged off his gloves. “You picked the wrong girl to ruin this time.”

  “No!” Iona cried. She put herself between her father’s fist and Nathan just as Nathan lifted an arm to deflect the blow. Not even in her worst nightmare could she have dreamed up such a harrowing scene.

  This was madness! If she didn’t stop her father, he might very well murder Nathan with his bare hands. And on her behalf, no less! Byron pulled her away when she tried to toss herself on her father’s mercy.

  “Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” she sobbed, her heart tearing apart with the thought of Nathan suffering even one blow because of her. “Father, I swear it, he didn’t seduce me.”

  She struggled fiercely against her cousin but his hold on her shoulders only tightened. She was helpless to stop this. Nathan had warned her that the consequences of her games were real but she’d refused to listen. And now, thanks to her, he was about to pay the price for her desire to be something other than the biddable daughter and paragon of quiet graces.

  “Come, my lady,” her cousin said as he turned her away, “you shouldn’t be a witness to this.”

  She fought him at every step. By the time he’d dragged her back to the bright lights and happy festivities of the Victory Gala she was shaking like a leaf, barely able to stand. The ominous crack-crack of her father’s first blow echoed in her ears until she feared she’d never hear anything else.