To Pleasure a Lady

roasted chicken and bread and several kinds of fruit. He served her plate, then his, and poured them each a generous glass of wine. As she ate, Arabella sat with her legs tucked under her, her blue muslin skirts arranged demurely around her. Marcus stretched out on his side, his head propped on one elbow.

The warmth of the spring sunshine contributed to the tranquility of the setting. When Arabella was nearly finished eating, however, she purposefully broke the mellow silence. “This is quite lovely, Marcus, but you shouldn’t go to all this trouble to court me.” She gestured at the feast. “It won’t change my mind about wedding you.”

Marcus smiled. “If I could endure the torture of taking tea with your pupils, the least you can do is allow me the chance to play the romantic lover.”

“True. And I have every intention of fulfilling the terms you set. But honestly, I don’t understand your insistence.” She regarded him inquisitively. “You know you don’t truly want to wed me. You only want to win our wager.”

Marcus eyed her over the rim of his glass, contemplating her statement. In fact, making Arabella share time with him each day so he could woo her was no longer solely about winning her agreement to wed him.

He simply wanted to be with her. Wanted her company for the pleasure of having her near. To his genuine surprise, these past few days he’d found himself making excuses to avoid returning to London to deal with his pressing business affairs. He couldn’t ever remember that happening with any other woman.

The plain truth was, he felt comfortable with Arabella. He could talk to her and laugh with her as well. He delighted in sparring with her and found himself glad to earn her smiles. He even liked her stubbornness.

Marcus bit back a chuckle, remembering the way her gray eyes had danced with mischief yesterday when she’d made him sit through four rounds of tea with her awestruck pupils. If that was the sort of torment he could expect in a future with Arabella, then he would gladly endure it.

He took a long swallow of wine, acknowledging his remarkable change of heart. The thought of being leg- shackled for life no longer gave him chills. Not if the shackle was Arabella. For the first time in his life, he wanted something more for his future than simply to carry on his titles and estates.

He truly wanted Arabella for his wife.

She wouldn’t believe him, of course. She thought his courtship was only a diversion for him. But it was no longer a game. He was wholly determined now to claim her for his bride.

Only during the past hour, however, had he been able to identify why: Because Arabella added a spark of fire to his life that, until now, he hadn’t even realized was missing. With her, he felt alive in a way he’d never felt before-lighthearted and reckless and filled with exhilaration.

He felt lust also, of course. And desire. Arabella might be sexually inexperienced, but she was more woman than any of his former mistresses, and he wanted her far more.

A vibrantly sensual woman who stirred his senses.

Now, however, he would do his best to wreak havoc on Arabella’s senses. He’d been successful in getting past some of her defenses, but gaining her full capitulation would be difficult. Arabella was still vulnerable to hurt, despite her declarations to the contrary.

A wave of tenderness hit Marcus as he studied her. She had been betrayed by her idiot betrothed, who was fool enough to value his consequence more than her. And after her parents’ warlike marriage, she wasn’t willing to risk suffering any sort of callous union of convenience.

Marcus knew their own marriage would be very different-far from cold-blooded. But he would have to change Arabella’s perspective by escalating the intimacy of their relationship.

He wanted to show her pleasure she’d never even dreamed of, for her own sake as well as the sake of his courtship and his own gratification. She truly had no idea what she was missing by disavowing men. Marcus was convinced that once she understood how pleasurable their marriage bed would be, she would be much more inclined to accept his proposal.

He also knew he would be playing with fire, considering the effort it took to control his own primal urges when he merely touched her. But an urgency was growing in him to win her and put an end to this state of uncertainty.

Resolving to make his next move, Marcus sat up and wiped his hands on a cloth napkin, then took her glass from her and set it aside.

At his unexpected action, Arabella suddenly grew tense. “Marcus, I was not finished eating.”

“You can finish later. For now, it’s time we proceeded to the next step in our courtship.”

“What do you mean?” she asked warily.

“I intend to teach you about lovemaking.”

She felt her heart start to pound. “We agreed you wouldn’t go beyond the limits of gentlemanly conduct.”

“But you want me to.”

Arabella opened her mouth to deny it but couldn’t.

When she fell mute, Marcus scrutinized her face. “Just because you refuse to marry me, doesn’t mean you don’t want to experience passion.”

His assertion had a significant truth to it, Arabella acknowledged. She couldn’t help wondering about passion. But she shook her head. “I won’t do anything so shameless, Marcus. I mean to remain chaste outside the marriage bed.”

“I can show you about passion without taking your virginity.”

“I know.” When his eyebrow shot up, she colored a little in embarrassment. “I am not entirely ignorant about lovemaking. A friend of mine told me about the procedure in detail.”

Wry amusement curved his mouth. “What sort of friend would foster a proper young lady’s carnal education?”

“A close childhood friend,” Arabella responded, her chin lifting. “Fanny Irwin. I should think you would know her, since she is currently one of the most celebrated Cyprians in London.”

“We have a passing acquaintance,” Marcus replied mildly, “although I have never patronized her.”

Somehow that casual revelation comforted Arabella. “Fanny is my age, but she is far more experienced than I. She was our neighbor in Hampshire before she left home to make a new life for herself in London’s demimonde. We remained fast friends, even though her family disowned her for her wickedness.” Arabella smiled a little defiantly. “I continued to acknowledge her during my comeout in London, before our own scandal, and afterward, Fanny was one of the few people who stuck by me and my sisters. She even visited us here on occasion after we came to live with our step-uncle. Fanny told me a good deal about her new life.”

“And she satisfied your curiosity about lovemaking?”

“Well, I admit I was curious. And when I became betrothed, I asked her what I should expect on my wedding night. So I know in theory what is supposed to happen.”

“But knowing in theory is not the same as experiencing for yourself,” Marcus said. “Come, admit it. You want me to show you what our wedding night will be like.”

At his confident tone, Arabella narrowed her gaze on him. “We will not be having a wedding night. And you cannot kiss me witless to convince me otherwise.”

When his own eyes narrowed speculatively on her mouth, Arabella realized her mistake. “That was not a challenge,” she hurriedly said.

“It was a challenge. My male pride is at stake.”

“Marcus…” she exclaimed as he reached for her.

The smile he gave her was utterly beautiful and utterly maddening. “Let me demonstrate, darling.”

Before she could scurry out of harm’s way, he pulled her onto his lap and into his arms. Arabella opened her mouth to protest, but he took possession of it with searing deliberation. Clasping her nape in a firm hold, he gave her a lingering, blatantly sexual kiss that heated her blood and set her pulse racing.

She was breathless when Marcus finally broke off to gaze down at her. “You heard your patroness last night, Arabella. Loneliness is a bleak bedfellow.”

She licked her tingling lips. “I don’t need a husband to ward off loneliness. I have my sisters and my school.”

“But those are not nearly as pleasurable. You don’t want to remain a spinster all your life.”

“I do so.”

“No, you don’t. You have too much fire and passion in your veins.”