To Pleasure a Lady

always heard you were a wicked charmer. I can see why you have a bevy of lovestruck mistresses and admirers all trying to set traps for you.”

“Winifred!” Arabella exclaimed again. “It is hardly proper to speak of a gentleman’s mistresses at the dining table.”

“Now, don’t be so missish, dear. You know I believe in plain speaking. And if you want my advice, you could do much worse than to wed his lordship.”

“See,” Marcus interjected with a provocative glance at Arabella, “even your patroness thinks you should accept me.”

Winifred continued as if Arabella wasn’t there. “You won’t find it easy to win her over, my lord, but don’t be discouraged just because she doesn’t want you right this minute. Persistence, that’s the key. You should take a page from my late husband’s book. He practically had to fight off my other suitors, which is why my papa chose him for me-because he admired Rupert’s persistence. And even though Rupert only wanted me for my fortune, it turned out to be a good enough marriage. We became right fond of each other.” Her eyes suddenly shimmered with tears. “I miss him with a powerful ache sometimes.”

She sniffed loudly, then turned her attention to Arabella again. “Which is why, my girl, you don’t want to remain an old maid all your life. I know you have your reasons for not wanting to wed, but loneliness is a bleak bedfellow.”

With effort, Arabella managed a smile. “I will keep that in mind, Winifred. Now, may we please change the subject? All this pointless talk about marrying Lord Danvers has diminished my appetite.”

Arabella was glad when they obliged, but to her chagrin, Winifred was not willing to give up the subject entirely. She brought it up again an hour later when she took her departure. While Marcus waited politely on the front landing, Arabella accompanied her ladyship down the steps to her carriage.

“I think you should seriously consider wedding Lord Danvers,” Winifred whispered in a voice loud enough to carry back to the house. “That magnificent specimen of manhood would make you a fine bedfellow, I’ll wager.”

Arabella felt her cheeks flame, knowing that Marcus had overheard. “That is not a wager I intend to take, Winifred.”

She was determined to pretend indifference, but when she returned to the house, Marcus stood blocking her way to the entrance hall, his blue eyes alive with humor.

“Don’t say it,” Arabella warned as she brushed past him.

“Say what, love?” he asked innocently as he followed her inside and shut the door.

“Whatever you intended to say. No doubt you meant to remind me of your superior qualities as a bedfellow.”

He chuckled but shook his head. “You malign me unjustly. I merely wanted to invite you to accompany me on a picnic tomorrow.”

She gave him a curious glance. “A picnic? I would not have expected you to be fond of picnics.”

“I am in this instance, since it’s how I wish to spend some of my allotted time with you tomorrow. I’ll order a lunch packed, and we’ll drive my curricle instead of riding. That way you won’t be able to gallop off and leave me to eat your dust.”

Arabella hesitated. The prospect of a picnic with Marcus was indeed appealing, even if it afforded him another opportunity to seduce her into accepting his proposal. Yet she had agreed to his terms, promising him a sporting chance to woo her. Moreover, she owed him for his kindness to her pupils this afternoon.

“Very well,” Arabella replied evenly. “I would be pleased to accompany you on a picnic tomorrow, my lord. For now…good night.”

When she mounted the sweeping staircase, however, Marcus remained only a few steps behind. And at the head of the stairs, when she turned left toward her bedchamber, he continued to accompany her.

When she was halfway down the corridor, Arabella came up short and gave him a look of exasperation. “What do you mean, following me this way, Marcus?”

“I am merely escorting you to your room.”

“I am entirely capable of finding my room on my own.”

“Of course you are, sweeting, but I want a moment of privacy with you.”

When he took her hand and drew her along the deserted corridor toward her door, Arabella tried nervously to pull back. “Our allotted time was more than fulfilled today.”

“I will borrow from tomorrow’s allotment.”

“You cannot enter my bedchamber, Marcus!”

“I don’t intend to.”

Although hardly reassured, Arabella ceased resisting, knowing it would do little good.

Guiding her into the adjacent music room, Marcus shut the door behind them and turned to face her. “This should prove adequate.”

“Adequate for what?” she asked, her voice suddenly breathless.

“For your next lesson. We won’t be interrupted here.”

“But I don’t need another lesson.”

Those midnight blue eyes glinted down from beneath heavy brows. She had only to look into those compelling eyes, gleaming with wicked knowledge, to feel aroused.

“Yes, you do.”

Arabella felt her heart quicken alarmingly at the sensual smile that curved Marcus’s mouth as he advanced toward her. She retreated a step, holding up her hand to ward him off. “Aren’t you aware that when a lady says she doesn’t want a gentleman’s attentions, it is rude to disbelieve her?”

“Since I never attended your academy, I never learned that particular rule.” He caught her hand and halted her retreat. “I mean to educate your senses, sweet Arabella.” Raising her hand to his mouth, he pressed his lips to the tender middle of her palm. A soft gasp escaped her at the erotic feel.

“You did this yesterday,” she pointed out even more breathlessly.

“No. Yesterday I taught you about the power of touch. Today we’ll focus on the power of taste.”

“Taste?”

“Kissing, love.” His tongue flicked out to lightly dampen her palm, making her gasp again. “I won’t use my hands this time. I intend to teach you about kissing using just my mouth, to let you learn the taste of me.”

Her heart leapt with excitement. And even though she parted her lips to issue a protest, she couldn’t find her voice. The deplorable truth was, she wanted this lesson. She had no doubt that the tame pecks her betrothed had once given her would be nothing compared to Marcus’s devastating kisses.

When she didn’t reply, he offered her another enchanting smile. Still keeping hold of her hand, he turned Arabella and guided her until her back was pressed again to the wall. Then releasing his grasp, he bent his head.

His warm breath eddied and caressed her lips before he kissed her lightly. His mouth brushed sparks across the surface of hers, jolting her pulse into a wild rhythm, yet Arabella held herself still, fighting the overwhelming temptation to kiss him back.

Marcus lifted his head to study her. “No response? I see I will have to do better.”

His dark lashes lowering over his vivid eyes, he bent again, his mouth warm and vibrant as it settled on hers with slow, sure pressure. This time Arabella couldn’t keep still, not with all the incredible sensations spiraling through her.

“Open for me, Arabella,” Marcus murmured against her lips as she shivered.

His mouth coaxed and beguiled until she did as he bid. Immediately his tongue delved inside, exploring in a sensual invasion that dazed her with pleasure and completely stole her breath away.

It was a long, long moment before she realized he had broken off to ask her a question. “How does that taste?”

Delicious, was Arabella’s unspoken reply. The taste of him was exquisite and filled her with a hungry yearning. Her senses dazed, she gazed back at him mutely, grateful to have the wall supporting her back, since her limbs had grown so weak. When finally she licked her lips in response, she saw Marcus’s eyes flare.

He took his time, however, when his kiss resumed. This caress was languid and intimate, his mouth mating