To Pleasure a Lady

Chapter Thirteen

I can imagine little worse than marriage without love, except marriage where love is purely one-sided.

– Arabella to Fanny

When Roslyn and Lily came home the next morning in response to her summons, Arabella was torn between gratitude and regret. Gratitude because she would be far safer with her sisters in the house to bolster her defenses. Regret because she would be spending no more enchanting nights in Marcus’s bed.

She avoided him at breakfast, and from the moment her sisters arrived, she kept herself busy with renovations to the second-floor bedchambers.

To Arabella’s further gratitude, Roslyn and Lily didn’t press her to explain her change of heart. They simply remained close to her all day and refused to leave her alone in Marcus’s company.

She was wise to keep away from him, Arabella tried to convince herself as she and her sisters set out together for afternoon classes at the academy. She didn’t trust herself to be with Marcus and keep her emotions uninvolved. She had even less faith that she could resist her growing desire for him.

Roslyn and Lily would help save her from herself.

It was better this way, Arabella knew, even though she didn’t have to like it.

Marcus admittedly did not like the lack of privacy or having his two youngest wards present to interfere with his courtship of their sister. Nor was he overjoyed when Lilian and Roslyn confronted him in his study shortly after they returned from the academy.

“Arabella has gone upstairs to change for dinner,” Lily said gravely upon entering, “but we wished a word with you, your lordship.”

Following behind her, Roslyn added more politely but just as seriously, “If you could spare a moment of your time, my lord?”

Setting down his quill pen, Marcus rose from behind his desk and offered them seats near the tall windows. “For my lovely wards, I will make the time.”

Though grimacing at his flattery, Lily settled in a wing chair as if forcing herself to behave with proper decorum. Yet she came straight to the point. “We think it best if you stop wooing Arabella, Lord Danvers.”

Marcus leveled a curious gaze at his youngest ward as he sat on the sofa across from her. “I collect you mean to tell me why?”

“Because you are too beguiling. You are likely to make Arabella forsake all her good sense. We don’t want to see her hurt again by a fickle suitor.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I am hardly fickle. I have every intention of marrying your sister.”

“But you would not make her a good husband.”

Willing himself to patience, Marcus leaned back against the sofa. “So you believe you can judge my qualifications as a husband?”

“You don’t love her, my lord.” Lily leaned forward in her chair, her dark eyes bright with the glisten of frustration, her expression intent with worry. “Arabella has always been too tenderhearted. Her last betrothed humiliated her and left her heartbroken, and we won’t let it happen again. She has been hurt enough.”

Lily’s distress was obviously heartfelt, Marcus realized.

Roslyn’s voice held the same troubled note when she chimed in. “It was very hard for Arabella when her betrothed repudiated her, especially after losing both our parents and our home and having to face the public scorn that resulted.”

“From all accounts,” Marcus responded, “her betrothed abandoned her at the first test. I am made of stronger stuff.”

“Do you love her?” Roslyn asked quietly. “If not now, then could you ever come to love her?”

The question took him aback. Roslyn was eyeing him with her perceptive gaze, which made him feel as if she could see deep inside his mind. But he couldn’t reply to her discomfiting question when he himself didn’t know the answer.

He had strong feelings for Arabella, certainly. When she wasn’t with him, he missed her. And at the prospect of seeing her again, his heart began racing with anticipation. She roused a passion in him that he hadn’t felt in years, perhaps never.

But just because he wanted Arabella-and wanted to be with her-didn’t mean he would ever feel the romantic love he presumed Roslyn was speaking of.

“I think,” Marcus finally said, “that my feelings for your sister should remain private between us.”

Roslyn inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Perhaps. But we do not want to see Arabella hurt again.”

“I assure you, the last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

“But you cannot promise that you won’t.”

In all truth, he couldn’t make any such promise, Marcus reflected soberly, but he would try his damnedest. “I can promise you that if I wed your sister, our marriage will be nothing whatsoever like your parents’.”

Evidently Lily wasn’t satisfied. “If you make Arabella fall in love with you, you will break her heart. We won’t let you hurt her the way Viscount Underwood did.”

“There is no chance of that,” he replied with all sincerity.

“How can we be certain?” Lily demanded.

“I regret,” Marcus said, “that I won’t be able to persuade you of my benevolent intentions, but I mean to continue my courtship of your sister.”

When Lily continued to stare back at him in frustration, Marcus finally changed the subject. “Actually, I am glad for a chance to speak to you both in private.” He paused, glancing from one sister to the other. “Pray, tell me about your mother.”

At the mention of their mother, Lily stiffened, while Roslyn looked wary. “What do you want to know?”

“I understand she is living on the coast of France, in Brittany. Have you heard from her recently?”

Lily gave a brittle little laugh. “Not recently. Not in four years, in fact. She hasn’t sent us so much as a letter since she fled England with her lover.” The hint of bitterness in her tone was unmistakable, and Marcus could tell that Lady Loring was yet another painful topic for Lilian.

“Perhaps she had little chance,” Marcus observed. “The war on the Peninsula intensified shortly after she left for France, so communication would have been extremely difficult.”

“She could somehow have sent word to us,” Roslyn said more softly, “if only to let us know she was safe.”

“Your step-uncle never tried to contact her?”

“That is doubtful. Our step-uncle would not let Mama’s name be spoken in his hearing. He wasn’t willing to forgive her for the disgrace she brought his family name.”

“Do you know if she ever attempted to return home to England after the war ended?”

“Why would she?” Lily asked. “She would not have been welcome here.”

“What about now? Now that your step-uncle is gone, would you welcome her return?”

“No,” Lily answered, her voice quivering with conviction. “I don’t care if we never see her again.”

Marcus steepled his fingers under his chin as he studied his wards. Roslyn seemed a bit more forgiving of their mother, but he suspected Arabella’s feelings were almost as bitter as Lily’s.

“Why do you ask?” Roslyn said, watching him again with those shrewd, knowing eyes.

“I am curious,” Marcus replied, which was only a partial truth.

He decided it best not to mention the recent turn of events until he had more details to properly judge the situation. His unexpected business in London yesterday had solely to do with Lady Loring. She had written to him a month ago after hearing about her stepbrother’s passing, to express her condolences and to extend her felicitations to Marcus on attaining the earldom.

After a long discussion with his solicitors, Marcus had ordered them to locate Victoria Loring in France and provide her safe passage home to England, if she cared enough to come. He wanted to hear her story, since he wasn’t wholly convinced she was the black villainess the late earl had painted her. According to Simpkin, who had fulfilled the duel roles of butler and secretary for the former Lord Danvers and had managed all his lordship’s correspondence, Lady Loring had written several letters to her daughters over the years, but her stepbrother had burned them without so much as breaking the wax seal.

And if there was the slightest possibility of healing any of the painful wounds caused by her abandonment of her daughters, Marcus couldn’t let the opportunity pass. Lady Loring’s heartless actions had helped turn Arabella against marriage, and if she could come to forgive her mother, then she might be more willing to accept his own suit.

But he had no intention of sharing his hopes with his wards, in part because he didn’t want to risk rousing their disappointment in the event he was wrong about their mother.

His reply evidently did not satisfy Lily, however, for she eyed him intently. “If introducing the subject of our mother is a ploy to distract us from protecting Belle, your lordship, it will not work.”

A faint smile curved his mouth. “It isn’t a ploy.”

Lily continued to scowl as she abruptly stood. “If you dare hurt Arabella, I swear I will make you regret it.”

He had no doubt she would keep her word, either, or that her desire to protect Arabella was well-meant.

Politely Marcus rose to his feet. “I will take your warning to heart.”

Rising also, Roslyn started to follow her sister from the room, but then she hesitated, looking solemnly back at Marcus. “Do we have your word, my lord?”

“You have my word,” he said gravely. “I will do everything in my power to see that Arabella isn’t hurt.”

His vow seemed to reassure her, for Roslyn nodded slowly and offered him a tentative smile. “For some reason I trust you.”

Marcus was touched by her admission. Roslyn might not have declared herself his ally, but at least she was willing to allow him to prove himself.

When she was gone, Marcus frowned, contemplating his next step. He had no intention of hurting Arabella, but there was no way he would give up his courtship. He had only a few more nights with her and every moment counted.

Dinner that evening was an odd affair, leaving Arabella puzzled by the unmistakable undercurrents between Marcus and her sisters. Lily continued to treat him with wary reserve, but Roslyn seemed to have thawed toward him significantly.

Even odder was the conversation Roslyn carried on with Marcus-asking him about his family history, his tastes in music and literature, his political leanings, the condition of his various properties and estates…almost as if she were a protective mother and Marcus a potential suitor for her daughter.

Roslyn’s purpose made little sense to Arabella, since her sister was still presumably set against his courtship.

Marcus’s response also confounded her. He bore the inquiries with gracious charm rather than the vexation she might have expected. And after dinner, when they all moved to the drawing room, he made a concerted effort to become better acquainted with both her sisters, even Lily.

Arabella herself remained mostly silent, for she knew every word she uttered would be scrutinized by her sisters. And she was far too aware of Marcus’s nearness to feel at ease.

For the most part, Marcus paid her little attention the rest of the evening. And he made no attempt for a private word with her, even when it was time to retire to bed. In truth, he had no chance, for Roslyn and Lily accompanied Arabella out of the drawing room and escorted her to her bedchamber, apparently taking their roles as her protectors quite seriously.

Feeling restless and out of sorts, Arabella found herself staring out her window at the moonlit darkness, regretting not being able to sleep with Marcus tonight and wishing she could assuage the urgent longing she felt for him.

Realizing where her foolish reflections had taken her, though, Arabella made a scoffing sound and turned away to undress. She had just removed her evening slippers and started to unbutton her gown when someone scratched on her chamber door.

Disappointment flooded her when she saw it was only her maid, Nan, come to help her prepare for bed, and not the sensual lover who had been occupying her thoughts so obsessively of late.

“You may go to bed, Nan,” Arabella said, preferring to be alone. “I won’t require your services tonight.”

“As you please, Miss Loring,” Nan replied with a curtsy, “but Mrs. Simpkin ’as a problem in the kitchen that needs yer attention.”

“At this late hour?”

“She said it couldn’t wait.”

“Very well,” Arabella acknowledged. “I will come as soon as I fetch my shoes.”

She dismissed Nan and put on the slippers she had just taken off, then left her room quietly so as not to disturb her sisters in the adjacent bedchambers. Their doors were shut, Arabella noticed as she made her way down the corridor to the back service stairs in search of the housekeeper.

When she reached the kitchen, however, she came up short. There was no sign of Mrs. Simpkin. Instead, Marcus was sitting on the edge of the long dining table with his hands braced behind him, looking very much at ease. He had removed his coat and cravat although he still wore his evening breeches.

It was deplorable how her heart somersaulted at the sight of him. Chiding herself, Arabella disciplined her features into impassivity. “Where is Mrs. Simpkin?” she asked, although already suspecting the answer.

“I dismissed her,” Marcus said easily.

“So you lured me down here under false pretenses?”

“What did you expect, sweeting? I was compelled to be creative since your sisters are guarding you like mother hawks.”

Arabella had to admire his resourcefulness, even if she was the target for it. “My sisters are only acting in my best interest.”

“I know they believe so.” His mouth twisted. “Lily fears I will beguile you into losing your common sense.”

Arabella felt a little stab of dismay. “You didn’t tell her about us-”

“Of course not, love. I don’t want it known that we sampled the marriage bed before the wedding.”

She let that provoking comment pass. “What do you want, Marcus?”

“Simply to invite you to take a midnight stroll with me.”

“Why?”

“So I can have some time alone with you. How else can I woo you effectively with your sisters watching my every move? Their presence here at the Hall is putting a significant constraint on my courtship.” Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “But that is precisely why you summoned them home, isn’t it? Because you fear I am gaining ground with you.”

The amused gleam in his eye told her there was no point in denying the charge. When Arabella remained silent, he shook his head. “You didn’t think I would be so easily daunted, did you?”

“Regrettably, no. I doubt anything could daunt you.”

Casually, Marcus slid down from the table and crossed to where she stood. Arabella felt her pulse quicken at the intimate look he was giving her, at the heat in his gaze that sparked a responsive heat in every part of her body.

“Come with me outside, Belle. We’ll walk down to the river.”

“I shouldn’t,” she replied, even as she felt her defenses weakening.

“Craven,” he teased softly. His eyes glinted wickedly, making her heart pound harder.

Determined to resist his seductive charm, she lifted her chin. “I am only being wise. You know what will happen if I come with you.”

“I know what I want to happen. But whatever we do will be solely at your discretion.”

Raising his hand, Marcus stroked a thumb over her bottom lip. The frisson of fire that streaked through Arabella at that simple touch made her quiver.

And that was before his voice lowered to a sensual murmur. “A fighting chance to win you, Arabella. That is all I’ve ever asked from you. If you lock yourself away in your chaste bedchamber with your sisters as watchdogs, how can I possibly convince you to marry me?”

She felt her willpower wilting. Marcus was devilishly irresistible and he knew it. “My sisters cannot find out,” Arabella said finally.

He smiled. “I certainly won’t tell them.”

“Mrs. Simpkin may suspect what we are about.”

“Mrs. Simpkin is very discreet. And she approves of my courtship, remember?”

His thumb dipped inside her mouth, making her breath catch and her wits scatter. Arabella felt the last of her resistance melt away. Marcus was likely to have his way in the end in any case, so she might as well give in with good grace. Besides, what harm could result if she was with him one more time?

“Very well,” she said against her better judgment. “I will come with you this once.”

The slow smile he gave her was brilliant as he offered her his hand. “Come, we’ll sneak out the back entrance in order to foil your sisters.”

Arabella couldn’t help but laugh. “How dignified for a belted earl to be slinking around his own estate,” she said, taking his hand.

“Indeed,” Marcus agreed dryly. “But I am forced to employ desperate measures. Now keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to hear us.”

He led her out the rear kitchen door, which opened onto the herb garden, and from there to the main gardens. Arabella stifled a laugh as they wended their way through the neat rows of shrubs and beds of flowers toward the rear of the manor. She felt deliciously wicked, sneaking out of the house with her lover, yet she couldn’t summon any regrets. All her good sense had fled, but all her senses had come alive. The night was lovely, silver-bright with moonlight and fresh with the sweet scents of spring.

It was her aching awareness of the man beside her, however, that filled her with anticipation and excitement and need.

When they reached the terraced lawns, Marcus drew her closer and bent to whisper in her ear. “I feel like a schoolboy playing truant…except that no schoolboy was ever this painfully swollen.”

He guided her fingers to the enormous bulge in his breeches, and Arabella shivered. Knowing how much he wanted her roused a pulsing ache between her thighs and left her breathless with her own longing.

In unspoken agreement, they quickened their pace until they reached the line of trees that flanked the river and sheltered them from sight of the manor. They had to slow as they pushed through a glade, but the moment they came out into the moonlight again, Marcus halted and dragged Arabella against him, seizing her mouth in a fierce possession.

Their kiss exploded in a passionate blaze. The heat he generated ignited sparks in Arabella’s blood, filling her with savage hunger. She wanted him with a ferocity that shocked her.

Desperate to touch him, she reached down and fumbled at the front placket of his breeches. Marcus inhaled sharply at her boldness, but then hastened to help her, almost ripping at the buttons in order to free his rigid length.

It was Arabella’s turn to inhale when she saw the dark, pulsing shaft thrust proudly out from his sleek loins.

“Come here,” he demanded.

She obeyed, needing no further urging.

Swiftly, he raised her skirts to her waist and cupped the silken curls between her thighs. She was already shamelessly wet for him, and his eyes flared darkly in response. She could see his face in the moonlight-hard, beautiful, taut with desire-and knew the same desire was written on her features as he probed her feminine folds.

Arabella bit back a gasp as he stroked the sensitive bud of her sex and arched against him when he buried a long finger deep inside her. Only the need for discretion kept her from moaning in wild pleasure.

Her response apparently wasn’t wild enough for Marcus, though. His midnight-blue eyes smoldering, he insinuated his muscular leg between hers and slid his hands around her hips to her derriere, then lifted her up.

Startled by his unexpected action, Arabella clung to his shoulders for balance.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he ordered in a rough command.

“Marcus…”

He kissed her urgently again, drinking in any protest as his tongue thrust deeply into her mouth. Below, his arousal penetrated her cleft and forged in with a slow, inexorable pressure. Her body was soft and yielding, accepting the hard strength of his, but even so, Arabella gasped at the searing feel of his claiming.

Marcus captured the sound with his mouth. With his legs braced wide, he anchored her against him and drove in the rest of the way, till he was sheathed deeply inside her.

Arabella trembled in his arms as her flesh swelled tightly around his large possession. It was breathtaking, being filled by him this way. Breathtaking and stunning in intensity.

He held her locked securely against him and began to move his hips, withdrawing and then surging upward, plunging in long, forceful strokes. She shuddered at the impact as he drove himself into her, huge and hard, pumping in a demanding, arousing rhythm while his mouth devoured hers.

His raw desire left her shaken; his hungry plundering made her wild. Moaning, she writhed against him, matching her movements to his with frenzied abandon.

It was hard and fast and thrilling…and utterly explosive. The inferno broke over them at the same moment, splintering shards of fiery sensation through them both. Arabella sobbed against his mouth while Marcus staggered at the powerful convulsions, his arms clenching around her. Reeling with desire, he drank in her helpless cries, rendering his own hoarse groans as he poured himself into her.

He was still gasping for breath when she sagged against him. He thrust into her savagely one last time, then went still except for the racking tremors that continued to buffet him.

They remained fused together for a long while, vibrating with aftershocks. Even when their bodies ceased their wild quaking, Marcus held Arabella tightly, savoring the feel of her.

Finally, though, he eased her to her feet, supporting her with his embrace when she leaned limply against him, too weak to stand on her own.

Marcus’s low curse was ragged in the hushed quiet of the night. “Damnation…no finesse again.”

The husky, exhausted laughter that tumbled from her lips touched him even more than her wild response had done, but he couldn’t excuse his own wildness. He pressed his lips against her hair in apology for his savagery. “Forgive me, Belle. I haven’t lost control like that since I was a callow youth, but I couldn’t wait.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she rasped against his shoulder. “I couldn’t wait, either.”

He could hear the laughter in her voice, the pleasure, the contentment, and another fierce stab of desire pierced him.

Then Arabella raised her head and looked up at him, her beautiful face glowing in the moonlight. His heart turned over at the sight.

“I had no idea it was possible to make love that way,” she whispered almost shyly.

He’d had no idea, either. He had never made love with such frenzy. The frantic urgency had left him gasping. He’d never felt such bliss with anyone but Arabella. The satisfaction of making love to her was shattering.

Perhaps it was her inexperience. Every aspect of lovemaking was very new to her, and her wonder and delight made it seem new to him, too. Tonight, however, she had responded to him with an ardent passion that had stolen his breath, his very heart-

Marcus suddenly went very still as the stunning realization shot through him.

He had fallen in love with Arabella. How else could he explain the powerful emotions he felt for her?

The thought jolted him badly; his head was reeling, his heart racing.

Yet he no longer had any doubt. He loved her.

It should have come as no surprise, he mused as he searched her face a little dazedly. Not when he felt such overwhelming possessiveness toward Arabella. Not when he felt such pleasure whenever he was with her. Such contentment. Such simple joy.

No woman had ever affected him as Arabella did; no one had ever come close. She supplied the fire that had been missing from his life.

Drew and Heath would call him mad-and perhaps he was. He’d been smitten, there was no other way to explain the feeling of tenderness and excitement that swept over him when he merely thought of Arabella. He’d never felt this profound need to be with someone the way he did with her.

Marcus inhaled a steadying breath. He hadn’t counted on developing an unexpected ardor for his beautiful ward. So now what the devil was he to do about it?

He found himself frowning. Arabella had stormed the defenses of his heart while hers remained still intact. He felt his gut clench, realizing he faced a much greater dilemma than winning their wager. He wouldn’t settle for a marriage of convenience with her now. Not when he finally recognized the depth of his feelings.

But winning Arabella’s heart would be an even more daunting task than gaining her hand in marriage.

“What is wrong?” she asked when he continued staring at her.

Marcus schooled his expression to nonchalance. She wouldn’t believe him if he told her; any professions of love he made would be considered mere blandishments in his effort to seduce her.

“Nothing is wrong,” he lied. “I was only contemplating how beautiful you are in the moonlight.”

The soft smile that curved her mouth made his heart quicken, but it started racing again when she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I had best return to the house,” she whispered, “before my sisters realize I am gone.”

No, I won’t let you go, Marcus thought fiercely. He was conscious of a savage urge to carry Arabella far away from here, a primal craving to keep her captive, in his sole possession, until she finally agreed to wed him and give him her heart.

Yet force wouldn’t gain her surrender, he knew. She didn’t trust him enough to love him. Didn’t trust him not to hurt her.

Somehow he had to convince Arabella otherwise.

Realizing he needed to give the matter careful consideration, Marcus stepped back and fastened his breeches, then straightened her clothing.

Crushing the urge to make love to her again, he took her hand and led her back through the glade and across the terraced lawns to the gardens.

They entered the house the same way they had left, by the rear kitchen door. Marcus escorted Arabella as far as the back service stairs, where he paused to gaze down at her in the dim light of a wall sconce. He meant to kiss her good night before sending her up to her bedchamber alone, but when he took her in his arms, a noise above him made him halt.

Looking up, Marcus cursed silently.

Arabella’s sisters were waiting for them at the head of the stairs, and neither appeared happy. Roslyn’s expression was troubled, while Lilian looked dismayed.

“See, I told you Belle was in danger,” Lily said, her voice low and hoarse and despairing.