And Marcus was doing his best to increase her desire, his knuckles slowly gliding over the silk-covered peaks. Then boldly he cupped one ripe swell, making her knees go weak. Fire radiated from the hand that held her throbbing breast, bloomed between her thighs, shocking her. Fanny had described such powerful feminine feelings as this, but Arabella had never expected to experience them for herself.
She closed her eyes against the pleasure. It was maddening the way Marcus drew out each brazen caress, yet she didn’t want him to stop. His touch was so tender, so wicked…so right. The sensations left her shaking inside, kindling a heavy ache deep in her lower body…
It was some time before she realized his demonstration had ceased.
“Do you understand now?” Marcus asked, his voice husky and low.
Dazed, Arabella opened her eyes. Oh, she understood perfectly. Marcus had intended to show her the power of a man’s touch-of
“I want to return to the house now,” she said unevenly, her voice deplorably weak.
At her nonanswer, he gave a satisfied smile. “Of course. I think your lesson is sufficient for now. You’ll dream of me tonight, of me touching you like this…”
He raised his hand to her throat again, and another frisson of fiery sensation sparked from his fingers to her skin.
Arabella drew back sharply and gave Marcus a dismissive look. But as she slipped past him and turned toward the house on shaky legs, she was very much afraid his prediction about her dreams would come true.
Chapter Six
– Arabella to Fanny
Arabella did dream of Marcus…all night long. But she awoke determined to regain the offensive in their rivalry. As soon as she had washed and dressed, she joined Marcus in the small dining parlor.
He looked surprised to see her as he rose politely from the table.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he settled Arabella in her chair and returned to his seat beside her.
“I am fulfilling part of my daily quota. I realized that if I must share your company, it would be best to do so in broad daylight.”
Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “You realize that won’t deter me.”
“Yes, but somehow I feel safer.”
He surveyed her gown of blue muslin. “Had I known you intended to join me for breakfast, I would have dressed more formally.”
He wore no cravat or waistcoat again this morning, Arabella saw, and his shirt was open to his breastbone. She had the most scandalous urge to touch that broad male chest, to feel the muscled flesh she glimpsed beneath the fine cambric.
Instead, Arabella cleared her throat. “Are you occupied this afternoon?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that depends on what you have in mind.”
“I have decided to invite you to tour our academy. You said you wanted to judge whether teaching there is an appropriate endeavor for your wards. Well, this is your chance.”
“Then I accept.”
“I am instructing a class at four. We usually take tea then, and I thought to use your visit as a learning opportunity for our young ladies. They rarely receive gentlemen callers, so they can practice on you.”
His amusement deepened. “So I am to be your test subject.”
“I don’t doubt you are up to the challenge.”
“And you will have protection in numbers,” Marcus observed shrewdly.
Arabella smiled. She had indeed counted on that advantage. With two dozen schoolgirls to divert Marcus from his wooing of her, he would have little chance for intimacy, and she would use up much of her obligatory four hours in his company. “There is that benefit, too,” she agreed.
“Very well, I will concede to tea if I must. Are you free for a ride this morning?”
She shook her head. “I am afraid I won’t have time. I am meeting with the merchants again, and then I am expected at the academy at one. But I’m certain you can enjoy a ride without me. If you will arrive at the academy at half past three, you may inspect the premises before tea.”
“I will be counting the minutes,” Marcus replied in pained resignation.
Having postponed Marcus’s courtship for the time being, Arabella spent a busy morning choosing furnishings for the remainder of the main floor. Later, when she went out to the stableyard, intending to drive herself in the gig to the academy, she found the earl’s carriage waiting to take her there.
The afternoon crept by with surprising slowness. Absurdly, Arabella caught herself glancing frequently out the windows in anticipation of Marcus’s visit. When his carriage arrived promptly and halted on the gravel drive before the entrance hall, she accompanied the school’s headmistress outside to greet him.
“Gentleman caller reporting for duty,” he said as he stepped down from his barouche.
Arabella introduced him to Miss Jane Caruthers, the elegant spinster who ran the day-to-day operations of the academy. Allowing Miss Caruthers to lead the tour of the grounds, Arabella remained a few steps behind, yet she found herself watching Marcus intently, surprised to realize how eager she was to have his approval.
Of course, if he saw the good she and her sisters were doing here, he would be more likely to sanction their continued employment. Yet her desire for his approbation was more personal than acquiring his legal consent, she knew. The academy was mainly her creation, her pride and joy, and she wanted Marcus to understand how much it meant to her.
The school was actually comprised of several buildings so as to prepare pupils for the varied experiences they would encounter in high society. Classes were usually held in a large manor house such as one might find on a nobleman’s country estate, and a second, more formal mansion that was representative of where the London Quality dwelled. The academy also boasted a large stable and park to practice outdoor skills, and a large dormitory to lodge the young ladies who boarded full-time. The vast majority of the pupils lived in the dormitory, except during summer term when only a handful remained on the premises.
Arabella couldn’t hide the little glow of warmth she felt at the tour’s conclusion when Marcus praised the facilities.
“Impressive,” he said sincerely. “I can see why merchants would want to send their daughters here.”
She smiled with pleasure. “The accommodations are excellent thanks to Lady Freemantle’s generosity, but our parents appreciate even more the quality of the instruction their daughters receive. Come, let me show you.”
When they returned to the “London” mansion, Arabella led Marcus upstairs to a large drawing room, where he instantly became the target of attention of two dozen bright-eyed young females dressed in afternoon finery.
Miss Tess Blanchard rose to welcome him with a polite smile. When Marcus had bowed over her hand, Arabella stepped forward to address her pupils. “Ladies, I am pleased to offer you a treat today. Lord Danvers has generously agreed to join us so that we might practice the art of properly receiving a gentleman when he calls. We will concentrate particularly on graciously pouring tea and making witty conversation. Miss Blanchard has already arranged the seating, so if you will please take your places, we may begin.”
The girls were to take tea with the earl in groups of six while the rest observed. There were servants standing by with tea services and trays filled with scones and crumpets and tiny sandwiches. When Arabella and Tess were seated with the first group, Marcus was announced by a “butler” and shown into the room.
Watching him over the course of the next hour, Arabella couldn’t help but admire his fortitude. Some of the girls were painfully shy, and some were crassly bold, but Marcus suffered them all with good grace. It was clear he
