She was indeed perfectly capable of handling her relationship with Marcus on her own, Arabella repeated to herself two hours later when she dressed for dinner. She had every intention of treating him with cool, rational dispassion.
The difficulty was that the moment she saw him, she forgot every bit of her resolve. When he joined her in the drawing room just in time for dinner to be announced, there was nothing cool or rational about her body’s response to him. Her heart leapt and her pulse soared, while her skin instantly turned hot at the intimate look he was giving her.
His blue gaze was sensual and very male. That, combined with the low, husky sound of his voice when he merely apologized for his tardiness, stroked Arabella’s nerve endings with pleasure and turned her limbs to jelly.
It took all her willpower to greet Marcus in kind and allow him to escort her in to dinner. When she placed her hand on his arm, she actually felt it tremble. They were lovers now, and all her senses were trumpeting the fact.
His behavior was all that was proper, however, no doubt for the benefit of the servants. It was only when the soup had been served and the footmen had withdrawn that Marcus allowed the conversation to become more intimate.
“Simpkin said my sister called on you this afternoon. What did she want?”
“She wished for us to become better acquainted,” Arabella answered.
“I confess that worries me.”
Arabella gave Marcus a curious glance. “Why would that worry you?”
“If I know Eleanor, she did something outrageous such as request an introduction to your courtesan friend.”
Arabella smiled as she picked up her wineglass. “Not quite, but I imagine she would have accepted had I offered. Instead, she made me an offer. Your sister kindly invited me to London to visit her.”
Marcus gave her a penetrating look. “I trust you don’t intend to introduce my sister into Fanny Irwin’s circles.”
“Of course not. I have a perfectly good understanding of propriety, Marcus. I merely refuse to be ordered to abandon my own friendship with her, by your aunt or anyone else.”
Marcus’s mouth quirked. “As long as you don’t solicit any more of Fanny’s advice about lovemaking. Anything you want to know, I will teach you. We can continue your education when you come to my rooms tonight.”
Arabella arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you presuming a great deal, expecting me to share your bed tonight?”
“No. I still have to prove that you don’t want any other lovers after we are wed.”
She didn’t need proof. After Marcus, she was certain she would never want anyone else. But she had no desire to prolong their futile argument. “The question is immaterial because we won’t be marrying.”
His blue gaze narrowed on her. “If you think I will allow you to stray from our marriage bed, sweeting, you are gravely mistaken.”
Arabella narrowed her own gaze. “I thought we declared a truce last night.”
“That was last night. And truce or no, you won’t be taking any other lovers.”
There was an unmistakable ring of possessiveness in his tone, which unaccountably mollified Arabella’s vexation. The possibility that Marcus might be jealous somehow pleased her.
Unwilling to admit it, however, she returned a cool stare of defiance.
As if realizing how sharp their discussion had become, Marcus suddenly stopped himself and smiled-a charming, enchanting grin that warmed Arabella down to her toes. “You are right, love.” Taking her hand, he brought her fingers to his lips for a lingering kiss. “I am supposed to be playing the role of romantic suitor. Pray, let me rephrase. Will you do me the great pleasure of sharing my bed tonight?”
Arabella applied herself to her soup while she pretended to consider his request. “Perhaps.”
“You still owe me the better part of four hours of your time today,” Marcus reminded her as he lifted his own soup spoon. His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “We can spend it exploring the depths of your sensuality.”
The mere thought sent a thrill of excitement and anticipation surging through Arabella. “Very well, since I owe you,” she allowed, ignoring the laughing gleam in Marcus’s dark eyes.
He knew perfectly well she couldn’t possibly refuse such an irresistible offer.
Later, after retiring alone to her bedchamber, she waited another three quarters of an hour for the household to settle down for the night before slipping down the silent corridors to the masters’ apartments. Marcus had prepared carefully for her visit, Arabella saw with surprise as she shut the door behind her. Flickering candle flames cast a golden glow about the room, illuminating the massive bed, which was strewn with crimson rose petals.
Her heart melted at the romantic gesture, but it was the sight of Marcus that made her breath falter and her throat go dry. He looked stunningly handsome lounging there on the bed, wearing only a dressing gown. His raven hair was slightly tousled, while his robe was partway open to expose his broad, muscular chest. A chest she had explored at length last night and hoped to do so again very shortly.
Remembering the enticing feel of him, Arabella felt her pulse start to throb wildly. Suddenly weak-kneed, she leaned back against the door for support.
When she hesitated there, Marcus raised an eyebrow, taking in the silk gown she had worn to dinner. “You are still dressed.”
“I thought it unwise to risk being seen near your bedchamber in my nightshift.”
“True. But you have on far too many clothes. We will have to remedy that at once.”
Casually rising, Marcus sauntered over to her. He bent his head and kissed her lips, a slow, lazy, utterly possessive kiss that sent her blood racing. Then he led Arabella to stand beside the bed, where the fragrance of roses scented the air.
Taking his time, he undressed her with tantalizing slowness, starting with her hair, removing the pins one by one, letting the tresses fall in a rippling mane around her shoulders. The candlelight caught the red-gold sheen, turning it to flame and capturing his intent gaze.
“You have the most glorious hair,” Marcus murmured, threading his fingers through the silken mass almost reverently.
“Thank you-” Arabella started to say before her reply was cut off by her helpless moan. Marcus had left off caressing her hair and moved his hands to cup her breasts. Even through layers of fabric-bodice, corset, and chemise-she could feel the arousing heat of his palms. Her nipples peaked instantly…a fact he evidently recognized, if the sudden darkening if his eyes was any indication.
With a knowing half smile, Marcus drew down her bodice and underclothes to bare her breasts, then lowered his head to feast. Arabella gasped at the erotic feel of his mouth suckling her nipples, the titillating caress of his tongue. Her hands reached up to clutch his shoulders, bracing herself against the delicious sensations he was causing.
“And you have the most luscious body,” he murmured between warm strokes of his tongue.
“Do I?” Arabella asked hoarsely, barely able to breathe.
Leaving off his ministrations, Marcus lifted his head to flash her an amused look. “What is this, sweeting? Are you fishing for compliments?”
“No…not at all.” Color rose in her cheeks. “It’s only that I have no way of knowing what a man finds… appealing about a woman’s body. I don’t have the experience to judge.”
“Didn’t your friend Fanny tell you?”
“She only told me about a man’s body…what to expect.” Arabella glanced down at Marcus. He had purposely let his dressing gown hang open, exposing his nudity. He looked like a very beautiful, very aroused male, intensely vital, intensely appealing. With a smile, Arabella trailed her fingers down his powerful chest to his abdomen. “And I have discovered all on my own that you have a very splendid body.”
“I am honored you think so,” Marcus said graciously. When Arabella’s hand would have moved lower to his loins, however, he caught her wrist. “Not yet, love. If you touch me, I can’t vouch for my control.”
He undressed her fully this time, removing her slippers and stockings, then her gown and underthings. When she stood naked before him, he shed his robe and drew her fully against him, letting her feel the hard, heated press
