To Pleasure a Lady

Worse, their physical clash had only heightened the mental challenge between them. As he sat staring down at her, Marcus was struck by two thoughts at once: He wanted Arabella Loring, more than he’d wanted any woman in his life. And he couldn’t have her.

He wasn’t enough of a rake to debauch his own ward, a young gentlewoman under his protection. The only honorable way to have her in his bed would be marriage-

The reflection made Marcus inhale a sharp breath.

Marriage.

No, his conscious mind automatically rebelled. He had no intention of marrying anytime soon, certainly not merely to produce an obligatory heir.

But if you want her, a more insistent voice argued, you will have to put your relationship on a more equal footing than guardian and ward.

Marcus shook his head, scarcely believing what he was contemplating. He was acutely aware that his desire was overriding all his common sense.

Or was it?

If he looked at the situation logically, marrying Arabella was not so irrational. He had wanted to see to her welfare by finding her a proper husband, and he was a better candidate than most. And she was qualified by birth and breeding to be his countess, despite her family’s recent history of scandal.

By marrying her, he could also fulfill his duty to carry on his illustrious line. And he could honorably satisfy his fierce desire to have her in his bed.

The only important argument, however, was how he felt about chaining himself to her for life in an irrevocable union.

And the answer? The undeniable truth was, Arabella Loring was the only woman he’d ever met whom he might actually enjoy having as his wife. And he greatly doubted he would ever find anyone better to fit his needs.

Marcus let out his breath as he came to a decision. Perhaps he’d gone daft, but he intended to propose to his eldest ward.

Still regarding her in bemusement, he offered her a crooked smile as he gingerly rubbed his jaw. “Gentleman Jackson would have admired your right hook, Miss Loring,” he remarked, referring to England’s greatest boxing champion.

Arabella’s mouth pursed with vexation. “How did you expect me to react when you accosted me that way? I was merely defending myself.”

At her retort, Marcus nodded in sympathy. “Which you did admirably. And no doubt I deserved worse for allowing myself to get carried away like that. I sincerely beg your pardon.”

When she didn’t reply to his apology, he dismounted slowly, keeping his eye on her.

Looking around for her own mount, Arabella seemed dismayed to see her horse grazing half a meadow away. She retreated a step, clearly preferring to remain a safe distance from him.

That made Marcus halt. He didn’t want to scare her off…not that he believed for one minute that she would scare easily.

“I am not accustomed to women running from me,” Marcus commented laconically.

“I am certain you aren’t,” she said, her tone dry.

“Yet you and your sisters appear to be making a habit of it. I’m informed that Roslyn and Lilian have been missing for several days now, ever since you received my missive expressing my intention to call today.”

Stiffening, Arabella lifted her chin. “I knew it! Your servants have been spying on us!”

It was indeed true, Marcus reflected. Over the past few days, he’d installed his own staff at Danvers Hall to supplement the two elderly retainers, chambermaid, and man-of-all-work, who tried valiantly but futilely to keep up the large estate. Servants loyal to him, who were willing to make regular reports on his wards. Arabella, he’d been told, had kept out of their way as much as possible, while her sisters were nowhere to be found.

“I wanted to begin setting the Hall to rights,” Marcus replied truthfully. “But pray don’t change the subject, Miss Loring. I don’t doubt that you arranged your sisters’ disappearance in an effort to thwart me.”

Arabella returned an innocent smile. “They developed a curious case of spots.”

“Did they now?” Marcus said.

“Yes. A rash that was obviously a reaction to your intended visit. I worried that it was catching, so I sent them away in order to spare your health.”

Marcus laughed. “Come now, Arabella. Can’t we agree to sheathe our swords for a time? I don’t want a battle with you.”

Her determined expression softened a measure. “I don’t want a battle with you either, my lord, but you refuse to understand that we won’t be married off by a dictatorial guardian.”

“I don’t intend to marry you off to anyone, I promise. In fact, I mean to marry you myself.”

He could tell by the hiss of her breath that he had shocked her almost as much as he had shocked himself. It was incredible, Marcus thought, that he would actually consider the astonishing step of abandoning his precious bachelorhood and marrying his eldest ward.

But his decision felt…right somehow.

Now, though, he had to make Arabella see the logic of his proposal and convince her that accepting was in her own best interests.

“You mean to m-marry me?” she repeated, clearly not trusting her hearing.

“Yes, marry you,” Marcus said genially, becoming more accustomed to the prospect the more he considered it. “I know I’ve taken you by surprise, my sweet, but I would like to tender you an honorable offer of marriage.”

Chapter Three

The new earl is possibly mad as well as vexing!

– Arabella to Fanny

Her speechlessness lasted a dozen heartbeats. “Have you gone mad?” Arabella said finally, her tone wary.

Wry amusement flickered in his eyes. “I assure you I am quite sane,” his lordship replied. “I am simply paying my addresses to you.”

She started to laugh; she couldn’t help it. Here she was, still weak-kneed from the earl’s wicked assault on her senses, and now he was deliberately making her head spin with his astounding offer of marriage.

“You wound me, darling,” Lord Danvers drawled. “I admit my proposal is unexpected, but I assure you, it is no laughing matter.”

Her mirth fading, Arabella raised a hand to her temple. “I cannot believe you are the least bit serious. Lady Freemantle told me you were a confirmed bachelor.”

“I was-until two minutes ago. But kissing you had a startling effect on my judgment. It made me realize that I want you for my countess.”

She stared at him in bewilderment. “How can one kiss possibly lead you to that conclusion?”

The earl shrugged his powerful shoulders. “It wasn’t merely the kiss. There are several reasons you would make a good choice of brides for me. But chiefly…I must marry at some point, and you are the first woman who has ever interested me enough to make me contemplate taking the leap.”

“But you know almost nothing about me.”

“I know enough to think we might be well-matched. Certainly neither of us would ever be bored.”

Still stunned, Arabella regarded him for another long moment. “Did you not hear a word I told you in London about my aversion to matrimony?”

“I heard quite clearly. But I intend to persuade you to reconsider.”

His confidence took her aback. “You could never persuade me, my lord.”

“No?” A smile played across his lips. “You obviously do not know me very well, Arabella.”

Now he was beginning to exasperate her. “Indeed, I don’t-and I have no desire to further the acquaintance,