Lady Iona's Rebellion (17 page)

She bit back a cry when he tucked those magical hands of his behind his back. “No!” She shook her head in earnest. “The only thing that scares me is that this night is only a dream and that I’ll wake up before I find out what will happen next.”

His frown eased a little but his cursed hands remained behind his back and much too far away. “I’m suffering from that same worry.” Finally he reached out for her and gently brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her brow. “Promise me you won’t disappear.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she vowed and wiggled closer to him.

His playful grin, slightly crooked and heart-wrenchingly adorable, returned. “Part of me wishes I was peeling a frothy dress off these lovely shoulders.” He gently untied her strangling cravat and began unbuttoning her gentleman’s cotton shirt. Starting at the column of her slender throat, he placed a kiss on each inch of skin he revealed as one button after another came undone. “But then again, this feels right. I’m beginning to believe you’ve got the heart of a scamp. It’s only natural you should come to me dressed as one.”

The heart of a scamp
. She liked how that sounded. She was about to tell him so when he cupped her cheeks in his palms and tilted her face up toward him. His thumb traced the arch of her cheek, an altogether surprisingly pleasant experience.

“My beautiful, daring scamp. Tonight has trimmed years off my life but I’d repeat it all again if it meant I’d end up here…with you.” He spoke softly. “Like this.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “There is no other place I’d want to be and no other man I’d want to be with.”

He twined his fingers in her golden hair, pulling away the pins, and gently, oh so gently, stroked her. Iona could barely catch her breath. She wanted him to do more. She wanted to feel more of what he was making her feel. But she didn’t know what to do.

“You’re trembling.” He moved closer. His breath feathered against her cheek. This closeness thrilled her. “Are you frightened?”

“No,” she breathed. “Not at all.”

His lips covered hers. The kiss was gentle at first but, as she melted into his embrace, he became more demanding. He pressed her chin with his thumb to open her mouth to him. His tongue plunged, filling her, igniting sensations that had never existed for her before.

He held her fast against his taut body. Each new sensation led to another more intense one. His hands caressed the length of her spine, urging her closer. Her breasts crushed against his chest and became rigid under the pressure. Her nipples tingled, demanding more. She rubbed the swollen tips against his body, sending urgent tremors coursing through her veins.

He lifted her from the bed and lowered her onto his lap so that she straddled his legs. His long, hard member pressed against her. He was hot there. His heat easily spread through her breeches and to her belly. A sudden moisture and a sweet burning surged between her legs where he was pressed hard against her.

He groaned and with a smooth motion pulled her cotton shirt over her head and discarded it on the hard floor.

“Oh, we can’t have this,” he said. The wicked spark in his eyes zinged through her. He glared at her tightly bound breasts. “We can’t have this at all.”

He reached down to his boot and withdrew a knife that looked as menacing as the card shark’s back at the club. With one careful cut, the cotton batting fell away and her breasts were bared for him to see.

And touch.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

He gently caressed her. At first she felt awkward. He had the look of a man who was gazing at a truly magnificent sculpture.

And taste.

Much to her surprise, his mouth closed over her breasts, his tongue teasing her nipples, each one in turn, until they became hard and sensitive. And then he sucked. Hard. Demanding.

She felt him all the way through her body. Her heart drummed, vibrating everywhere, especially between her legs. A wet heat burned there and she wondered what would come next. She wiggled against him, becoming more and more enamored with that interesting bulge in his pants.

Not one to sit idly by and let someone else do all the work, she drew a deep breath and stroked his chest.

“Please.” She threw back her head and groaned when he nipped her breast. She rocked against him, rubbing herself along his length, no longer convinced that she’d be able to survive this sweet torture. She twisted her hips, pressing herself against his breeches.

He seemed as frustrated and needy as she. In a flurry of movement, she was naked and she had managed to peel Nathan’s shirt off. The hair on his chest was golden, tapering into his pants. She pressed her face to his warm chest and breathed in his heady scent.

He tossed her onto the red silk sheets and followed with his own body, kissing and caressing every silky inch of her. His touch was demanding but gentle. And even as he discovered places on her she had never known existed, the sensations building inside her felt oddly familiar and comfortable.

There must be more, she could tell that there was more. She bucked against him and bit his earlobe, as her frustrations grew nearly unbearable.

“Shhh.” His voice was smooth against her throat.

He drew her legs up, bending them at the knees, spreading them wide. She tensed. She wanted him to join her in her nakedness.

She tugged on his breeches, ripping the top button off when she couldn’t seem to figure out how to get him out of his elaborate contraption.

He stilled her fingers. “Easy, love. I’ll gladly strip for you.”

She’d never seen a naked man before. And he was very different from her, large and hard and jutting out. She nearly swooned when she suddenly understood what it was all about.

“Would you like to touch me?” he asked. His voice quivered.

She nodded and reached out. On the surface, he was soft and warm, much like his sunny disposition. But under the smooth skin, his member was hard, unbending. His breath caught in his throat when she first touched him there. Pleased by the reaction, she stroked harder.

“Please, Iona, I’m not made of stone,” he said through clenched teeth, his voice strained.

He could have fooled her, he was hard like stone, though not at all cold like marble. A beautiful statue to be stroked.

And loved.

“Do you understand how this all works?” he asked, peeling her fingers off him. Before she could answer he knelt between her legs.

“W-what—” she started.

He lowered his mouth to her soft flesh.

“Relax.” His voice was hot and moist against the soft hair between her thighs. “Let me teach you.”

“Oh,” she breathed her surprise when his tongue touched her.

“Oh,” she repeated as his warm tongue caressed her again. He showed no sign of pulling back. The intimate pressure of his lips and hot tongue against her most tender place made her eyes roll back into her head. She felt outside of her body as if she was nothing more than a feeling, a building force of excitement.

“I’m going to put myself here,” he said and stroked her with his tongue again. And then his caressing fingers touched her there—in that most private of places—a place she’d yearned for him to touch.

“And I’ll enter you.” She felt one finger push against her tender folds and then another, easing into her. She felt tight, like she was being stretched to accept him. But he was gentle. Her legs fell open as she relaxed. She gave a short gasp of pleasure when his fingers became bolder, pushing into her, filling her. Pumping her.

“Make love to you.”

Her hips rocked with the rhythm he set. Her eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed completely into his arms. His touch was warm as it filled her. She pressed against him, guiding him deeper as her urgency grew.

“Mark you as mine.”

And then reality intensified. She dug her fingers into his strong arms as her body tensed, being pulled apart. She was dying, there had to be no other explanation.

She had long ceased to breathe.

She cried out when a beautiful release came. Sparks of energy exploded throughout her body. Surely she had died.

He continued rocking her, cooing softly. He tenderly kissed her eyelids, her forehead, her nose, her chin and her lips. He held her tightly against his chest absorbing lingering tremors coursing through her.

“Thank you,” he breathed on a ragged breath and shifted above her. She felt the wide tip of his member press against her still trembling flesh.

He rubbed himself against her wetness until he slid easily against her. Slowly he pushed into her.

Inch by inch, she took more and more of him. He filled her and pushed deeper. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he looked very serious about what he was doing.

She stilled, her gaze latched onto his steely eyes. They were a steady comfort.

“Iona, this will hurt but for a moment.” He took her hands into his and thrust hard. The pain surprised her. She cried out.

He gently kissed away her tears, apologizing with every breath. He didn’t understand that her tears weren’t from the pain, or even regret. They were born from a deep relief that swept through her. With her innocence gone, she was free. No man would want to marry her.

“Hold still,” he said, “Just get used to me. I promise it will feel better in a moment.”

He began a slow rocking movement. His hands covered her body, caressing, teasing. He suckled one of her nipples.

“Oh,” she breathed.

With greater urgency, he pushed her legs wider and tilted her hips so he could go deeper.

Her own sense of urgency followed. Her hands were everywhere, tugging at him. Her body moved with instincts she did not know she owned. She nipped his shoulder, his fingertips. Moaned into his mouth.

As he was pumping her, she gazed into his eyes and saw her future. One with him at the center of it.

And that was her undoing. Her body responded to a desire she’d fought from the moment Nathan had caught her eavesdropping in on the tearoom gossips.

“No…”

Her logical thoughts and plans didn’t matter. Her heart took control and surged from the emotions that poured through her as her world came apart for a second time that night, sweeping her away.

No other, her heart sang. I am in love.

With a groan he pulled out, spilling his seed on the sheets.

* * * * *

He loved her.

In the quiet hours before dawn, Nathan gradually woke from the heavy sleep of the sated, the contented. The notion of giving up his heart to Iona didn’t bother him anymore. After last night, his heart would always belong to her.

He loved her.

It no longer mattered how much she might protest in the light of day, he wouldn’t let her deny the passion that swirled between them like a miniature inferno, or the tenderness he’d read in her stunning cornflower blue eyes when she’d offered him her maidenhead.

She loved him too.

No other, she’d said. Those two beautiful words rang in his heart. No other. She was his. Forever.

He inhaled deeply. He could still smell the fragrant honeysuckle scent of her clinging to him. She’d done this for him. She’d given him the peace he’d been craving.

“I should walk you home, sweet,” he whispered into the darkness.

Darkness answered him.

The poor dear, he’d exhausted her. Though he wanted to let her sleep, he knew he couldn’t let her greet the sunrise from his bed. Not yet. Not until after they were married.

He reached out, hoping to gently rouse her with a caress on her cheek. His fingers touched not her silky hair or her smooth skin but a cold pillow.

“Iona?”

Suddenly wide-awake, he sat up. His frantic gaze searched the chamber.

It was empty.

“Iona?” He launched out of the bed and rushed into the parlor. “Iona?”

The room was dark and silent.

Naked and confused, he stood stock-still in the middle of the parlor. And battled an urge to peek under the sofa or peep into the large blanket chest that was pushed up against one wall.

There had to be a logical explanation. Faeries hadn’t broken into his bedchamber to spirit her away. His door had been locked. And no one knew he’d taken her here. So kidnapping was out of the question.

So where the hell was she?

Be calm
, he told himself.
Rational
.

Gritting his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache, he returned to his bedchamber and slung on his dressing gown. While tying a knot on the robe’s sash, he went to rouse Freddie.

He knocked softly on his servant’s door. When there was no answer, he pounded.

Nothing.

He tossed open the door. The small servant’s chamber was deserted.

Iona kidnapped?

Freddie wouldn’t…couldn’t…

But if not Freddie, then who? Who could have taken Iona from his bed?

He’d kill him. Nathan rushed back into the parlor and went straight to his desk. Searching for his pistol, he pulled open drawers and tossed their contents on the floor.

His hand touched the cold, hard steel of the barrel of one of his dueling pistols when the front door swung open. Freddie, whistling a tuneless melody, strolled inside as if returning from a bawdy night at his favorite pub just a few doors down.

Nathan pointed the pistol at the man’s chest.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded of his soon-to-be erstwhile valet. Thoughts of murder glittered brightly through his mind. “What have you done with her?”

His valet’s back stiffened. “The lady roused me from my slumber and asked me to escort her home,” he explained as he closed and latched the door behind him. He then crossed the room and took the pistol from his employer’s hand. With a deep sigh, he laid the weapon on the desk between them. “I only did as she bid.”

“Why wouldn’t she have asked me?”

“I asked her that very question. She told me she was afraid.”

Afraid? Of him? Nathan’s heart tripped on that thought.

“Surely you’re jesting.”

Freddie curled his upper lip and shrugged. “That is what she told me.” His voice grew more frosty and clipped. “I did not argue with her.”

“And you saw her home?”

Freddie shrugged again. “She is a lady. It’s a matter of course that I’d do as she wished.”

“And you watched her go into her house?” He had to know she was safe. Once that was settled, he’d go back to trying to figure out what she must have been thinking.

“She crept through a back window at the Royal Crescent without a hitch.” He gave a low whistle. “She’s a nimble little catch, ain’t she?”

Nathan shot his valet a sharp glare.

“And she’s a right proper lady too,” Freddie quickly added.

“Regardless of what you may or not think of her, you mustn’t tell anyone about her. You understand that, don’t you? Not even those toadies you like to take a pint or two with on the weekends.”

“I never speak of your liaisons.” He sounded hurt by the accusation that he would. “It’s not my tongue but your own carelessness that gets you into trouble, my lord.”

“That will all change,” Nathan vowed. “Everything will change.” He would marry Iona. After last night, she must know there was no other choice. By begging him to take her to his bed, she’d agreed to the marriage, hadn’t she?