Read Online Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
Tags: Fiction, adventure, Romance, Historical, Adult, Action, Mission, Temptation, 18th Century, enchanted, american revolution, Embrace, Deceased, englishman, Colonies, Patriotic, LAVENDER LIES, Jail Cell, Brother's Disgrace, Colonial Wench, Female Spy, Rendezvous, American Agent, Code Name, Swallow
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in battle. Groves drove forward, advancing and thrusting like a charging bull. As Lavender agilely sidestepped the charge, her rapier sliced through his coat sleeve ripping the material to within a hairsbreadth of the skin underneath.
Julian's eyes never left the slender figure in black. As rapiers clashed again and again, his admiration for the woman increased. It became apparent to him that she would soon come out the victor. What he did not know was if the contest would result in Groves's death.
Groves attacked straight on, and Lavender parried. She wielded her weapon agilely, expertly, with the grace of expert swordsmanship. She was playing with him, wearing him down. Her mind was clear, while he allowed anger to rule his thinking. With practiced ease, Lavender made the Englishman look like a bungling fool.
The blades crossed many times. Lavender would parry, and then thrust gracefully, while Groves stumbled backward, driven by the swishing blade that sang through the air like an avenging angel. The women passengers were gaping in disbelief, but even their eyes revealed the admiration they had for Lavender's master swordsmanship.
Perspiration poured from Groves's face, and his knees buckled under him. His jaw fell, his eyes widened in disbelief. How could this slender youth have beaten him? For beaten he was, he had .to admit. He had the superior strength, but it had not helped in a duel of wits and mastery. With one last effort to defend himself, he caught his opponent's forward thrust, and their rapier's locked. It was a moment of muscle against mastery. Everyone present held their breath to see who would come out winner. With a twist of her rapier handle, Lavender sent Groves's blade sailing through the air for a second time. This time her blade slashed across his chest, popping the brass buttons off his coat, one by one. When the blade came to rest against his throat, Groves's eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he stared in fright at his triumphant adversary.
"You have me, I cede!" he cried out, fearing to move an inch least the lethal blade draw blood. "You all heard me," he said in a shaky voice. "I gave ground."
Soft laughter emitted from behind the mask. "This is your lucky day, Groves. I always feel generous toward cowards and fools on Tuesdays."
"But this is not Tuesday, it's Thursday," Groves whispered fearfully.
She stabbed his wig with the end of her rapier and raised it in the air, revealing a near baldhead, with only scraggly wisps of red hair. "Thursday, you say. Well, you are still fortunate, for 1 am generous to traitors on Thursdays."
Groves fell to his knees, his eyes streaming with tears, his lips trembling. "Have mercy, sir, please, have mercy."
The young mother raised her hand to her mouth and stared at Lavender with admiration shining in her eyes. "I know who you are. You are the Swallow! Everyone admires what you have done for our country."
Lavender was silent for a moment. Apparently her disguise had not been effective, since her sex had been discovered. "I do not admit to that, madame. You have made a mistake."
The young mother's face reddened. "Oh, 1 hope I have not placed you in danger; I did not mean to give your identity away ... I was only—"
Lavender turned her gaze on Mr. Groves, hoping to discourage the young woman from further incriminating her. "Have you nothing to say in your defense, George Groves?"
The frightened man licked his lips nervously. "It was not I who took the document. I did not know it was anything of importance. You have to believe m—"
"I care not for your sniveling, sir." Lavender could feel the heat of Julian West's hot gaze, and she tried to ignore the fear he stirred in her heart. She tried to keep her attention aimed at the Englishman.
"Now that we have your name, George Groves, for your own well-being, may I suggest that you might find the climate healthier back in England."
Mr. Groves scrambled to his feet, and crammed his shaking hands into
Julian's eyes never left the slender figure in black. As rapiers clashed again and again, his admiration for the woman increased. It became apparent to him that she would soon come out the victor. What he did not know was if the contest would result in Groves's death.
Groves attacked straight on, and Lavender parried. She wielded her weapon agilely, expertly, with the grace of expert swordsmanship. She was playing with him, wearing him down. Her mind was clear, while he allowed anger to rule his thinking. With practiced ease, Lavender made the Englishman look like a bungling fool.
The blades crossed many times. Lavender would parry, and then thrust gracefully, while Groves stumbled backward, driven by the swishing blade that sang through the air like an avenging angel. The women passengers were gaping in disbelief, but even their eyes revealed the admiration they had for Lavender's master swordsmanship.
Perspiration poured from Groves's face, and his knees buckled under him. His jaw fell, his eyes widened in disbelief. How could this slender youth have beaten him? For beaten he was, he had .to admit. He had the superior strength, but it had not helped in a duel of wits and mastery. With one last effort to defend himself, he caught his opponent's forward thrust, and their rapier's locked. It was a moment of muscle against mastery. Everyone present held their breath to see who would come out winner. With a twist of her rapier handle, Lavender sent Groves's blade sailing through the air for a second time. This time her blade slashed across his chest, popping the brass buttons off his coat, one by one. When the blade came to rest against his throat, Groves's eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he stared in fright at his triumphant adversary.
"You have me, I cede!" he cried out, fearing to move an inch least the lethal blade draw blood. "You all heard me," he said in a shaky voice. "I gave ground."
Soft laughter emitted from behind the mask. "This is your lucky day, Groves. I always feel generous toward cowards and fools on Tuesdays."
"But this is not Tuesday, it's Thursday," Groves whispered fearfully.
She stabbed his wig with the end of her rapier and raised it in the air, revealing a near baldhead, with only scraggly wisps of red hair. "Thursday, you say. Well, you are still fortunate, for 1 am generous to traitors on Thursdays."
Groves fell to his knees, his eyes streaming with tears, his lips trembling. "Have mercy, sir, please, have mercy."
The young mother raised her hand to her mouth and stared at Lavender with admiration shining in her eyes. "I know who you are. You are the Swallow! Everyone admires what you have done for our country."
Lavender was silent for a moment. Apparently her disguise had not been effective, since her sex had been discovered. "I do not admit to that, madame. You have made a mistake."
The young mother's face reddened. "Oh, 1 hope I have not placed you in danger; I did not mean to give your identity away ... I was only—"
Lavender turned her gaze on Mr. Groves, hoping to discourage the young woman from further incriminating her. "Have you nothing to say in your defense, George Groves?"
The frightened man licked his lips nervously. "It was not I who took the document. I did not know it was anything of importance. You have to believe m—"
"I care not for your sniveling, sir." Lavender could feel the heat of Julian West's hot gaze, and she tried to ignore the fear he stirred in her heart. She tried to keep her attention aimed at the Englishman.
"Now that we have your name, George Groves, for your own well-being, may I suggest that you might find the climate healthier back in England."
Mr. Groves scrambled to his feet, and crammed his shaking hands into
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