To Pleasure a Lady

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.

Chapter Fourteen

What fools we females can be, letting ourselves be seduced by a charming address and a handsome face.

– Arabella to Fanny

Protectively, Marcus stepped in front of Arabella, but she wouldn’t allow herself to hide behind him.

“Good night, my lord,” she murmured, slipping past him.

He caught her arm. “If you need me-”

“Thank you, but I had best speak to my sisters alone.”

Aware that she had badly disappointed them, Arabella mounted the stairs to the second-floor landing. Both Lily and Roslyn followed her down the corridor to her bedchamber and closed the door behind them. The strained silence that ensued did not last long.

“How could you, Arabella?” Lily demanded unhappily. “Sneaking out with the earl for a midnight tryst. You have been kissing him, haven’t you? Your hair is disheveled and your mouth is red and bruised.”

Indeed, she looked a perfect wanton, Arabella realized when she glimpsed her reflection in the cheval glass. She bit her lower lip in chagrin. At least the damp, tender ache between her thighs wasn’t visible.

Her muteness only distressed Lily more. “Just how far has your affair with Lord Danvers gone, Belle?”

She could feel heat searing her cheeks. She had no desire to confess that she had not only given her virginity to Marcus, she’d spent the last three nights making mad, passionate love with him.

Before Lily could press her further, however, Roslyn intervened in a gentler but just as troubled tone. “We are worried for you, Arabella. You are exhibiting all the signs of a dangerous ardor. We don’t want you to be hurt again.”

Arabella grimaced. “You needn’t worry, truly. I won’t let myself fall in love like last time.”

“But you could still be hurt,” Roslyn pointed out. “Think carefully, Arabella. If you continue in this vein, you may have no choice but to wed Lord Danvers. You cannot afford to create a scandal-not unless you are prepared to see our academy’s reputation suffer. If your indiscretions become known, marriage to him will be your only course.”

Disliking to acknowledge that possibility, Arabella swallowed hard. She had deliberately ignored the risk of scandal for the momentary pleasure of being with Marcus.

“Yes, please think, Arabella,” Lily pleaded. “You don’t want to be forced to wed him to save your reputation.”

“Even worse,” Roslyn added softly, “is the prospect of being locked in a union like Mama and Papa were. If the earl doesn’t love you, he could make your life a misery the way Papa did Mama.”

“I know,” Arabella murmured. “My behavior has been reckless. But it won’t happen again.”