Read Online Lady Iona's Rebellion by Dorothy McFalls - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy McFalls
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I have been known to abruptly leave a party, taking the family carriage home, because of them.”
He raised a brow. “Really?”
“Sometimes without telling but one or two acquaintances I’d chanced to meet on the way to the door.” She gripped her head and rubbed her temples with more force. Her head was beginning to pound while shimmering spots danced in her eyesight. It was looking as if this particular headache was going to quickly bloom into a full-blown, roil-her-stomach migraine.
“Steady.” He caught her when she stumbled on an uneven part of the pavement. “Here, let me help you.” He rubbed his hand vigorously up and down her back. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. His strong fingers kneaded her skin. The way he worked the tension from her neck and shoulders felt like magic. A warm tingling spread up her neck, gradually releasing her from much of the migraine’s twinges. She leaned back against his chest and sighed deeply.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Mmmmm,” she replied, wishing he would kiss her and caress her in some of those shocking places he’d explored earlier.
He cleared his throat a couple of times before saying, “Then we should go.” He helped her put on the dark cloak.
She groaned when his magical massaging fingers left her neck. But she obediently followed when he stepped around her and led the way through the dark passage and back out to the street.
“I need you to run as fast as you can and deliver a message to the Lower Assembly Rooms for me,” Lord Nathan called to the tweed-capped fellow who had unlocked the gates to the bath for them. He tossed the man a coin. “Tell the Master of Ceremonies that you’ve been given this message a half-hour ago and you only just remembered.”
“Aye, m’lord,” the man said, grinning at his coin. “I’ll be only too ‘appy to oblige, m’lord.”
“Now repeat this exactly as I tell you. Lady Iona, the Duke of Newbury’s daughter, has gone home in her family carriage with a headache. She would like the Master of Ceremonies to inform the Duke of this right away.”
“Newbury, you say, m’lord?” the man said with a tone akin to reverence and took a long hard stare at Iona, his mouth gaping. She lowered the hood on the black cape over her head while stepping back into the shadows.
“You heard me. And there isn’t time to delay,” Lord Nathan said rather crossly.
“No, m’lord.” The man tugged on his tweed cap and took off in a hard run down the carriage-lined York Street.
After making certain the man was running in the right direction, Lord Nathan tossed his evening coat over his shoulders and tugged on his shiny beaver hat until it sat low on his head. Even though he was soggier than Iona, he looked quite the dangerous rogue, which made her long to feel his hands on her body again. Lord, he had touched her shamelessly and in a manner only a rogue would dare, which meant his looks weren’t the least bit deceiving.
“Come along,” he said and rushed her toward his curricle that was waiting for them a few streets away, his boots and her pink stockings sloshing with every step.
The chimes of Bath Abbey began to herald the midnight hour as he lifted her up onto his carriage.
“We must hurry,” he said and climbed up onto the seat behind her. He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins, setting his pair of horses into a hard run.
While he steered his team with an expert hand, he argued with her that she should let him do the right thing. He seemed determined to go with her to the front door and demand an audience with her father. An idea she was adamantly opposed to. She held firm and so, instead of taking Brock Street to the Royal Crescent, he turned and made his way to Crescent Lane, the street that ran along the back property of the townhouses. Rows of long and narrow private gardens, stables and coaching houses lined the way.
Her heart picked up an excited beat as they neared the Newbury
He raised a brow. “Really?”
“Sometimes without telling but one or two acquaintances I’d chanced to meet on the way to the door.” She gripped her head and rubbed her temples with more force. Her head was beginning to pound while shimmering spots danced in her eyesight. It was looking as if this particular headache was going to quickly bloom into a full-blown, roil-her-stomach migraine.
“Steady.” He caught her when she stumbled on an uneven part of the pavement. “Here, let me help you.” He rubbed his hand vigorously up and down her back. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. His strong fingers kneaded her skin. The way he worked the tension from her neck and shoulders felt like magic. A warm tingling spread up her neck, gradually releasing her from much of the migraine’s twinges. She leaned back against his chest and sighed deeply.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Mmmmm,” she replied, wishing he would kiss her and caress her in some of those shocking places he’d explored earlier.
He cleared his throat a couple of times before saying, “Then we should go.” He helped her put on the dark cloak.
She groaned when his magical massaging fingers left her neck. But she obediently followed when he stepped around her and led the way through the dark passage and back out to the street.
“I need you to run as fast as you can and deliver a message to the Lower Assembly Rooms for me,” Lord Nathan called to the tweed-capped fellow who had unlocked the gates to the bath for them. He tossed the man a coin. “Tell the Master of Ceremonies that you’ve been given this message a half-hour ago and you only just remembered.”
“Aye, m’lord,” the man said, grinning at his coin. “I’ll be only too ‘appy to oblige, m’lord.”
“Now repeat this exactly as I tell you. Lady Iona, the Duke of Newbury’s daughter, has gone home in her family carriage with a headache. She would like the Master of Ceremonies to inform the Duke of this right away.”
“Newbury, you say, m’lord?” the man said with a tone akin to reverence and took a long hard stare at Iona, his mouth gaping. She lowered the hood on the black cape over her head while stepping back into the shadows.
“You heard me. And there isn’t time to delay,” Lord Nathan said rather crossly.
“No, m’lord.” The man tugged on his tweed cap and took off in a hard run down the carriage-lined York Street.
After making certain the man was running in the right direction, Lord Nathan tossed his evening coat over his shoulders and tugged on his shiny beaver hat until it sat low on his head. Even though he was soggier than Iona, he looked quite the dangerous rogue, which made her long to feel his hands on her body again. Lord, he had touched her shamelessly and in a manner only a rogue would dare, which meant his looks weren’t the least bit deceiving.
“Come along,” he said and rushed her toward his curricle that was waiting for them a few streets away, his boots and her pink stockings sloshing with every step.
The chimes of Bath Abbey began to herald the midnight hour as he lifted her up onto his carriage.
“We must hurry,” he said and climbed up onto the seat behind her. He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins, setting his pair of horses into a hard run.
While he steered his team with an expert hand, he argued with her that she should let him do the right thing. He seemed determined to go with her to the front door and demand an audience with her father. An idea she was adamantly opposed to. She held firm and so, instead of taking Brock Street to the Royal Crescent, he turned and made his way to Crescent Lane, the street that ran along the back property of the townhouses. Rows of long and narrow private gardens, stables and coaching houses lined the way.
Her heart picked up an excited beat as they neared the Newbury
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