To Pleasure a Lady (4 page)

Marcus felt the same heat surging through him, the same rush of hunger he'd experienced at his first meeting with Arabella…only this was more powerful. The sensation rocked him. And her, too, he had no doubt, feeling her shiver of aroused excitement.

He tightened his embrace and deepened their kiss, claiming and wooing, wanting much more of her. His erection throbbed, his pulse pounded.

When at last he broke off to stare down at Arabella, a tangible desire shimmered between them, filling the air. She was profoundly shaken, Marcus knew. He felt her trembling in his arms as she returned his gaze.

“Let me go,” she finally demanded in a hoarse whisper.

“Arabella…” he murmured, not wanting to obey.

Her spine suddenly stiffening, she glowered back at him, her eyes sparking with renewed fire. When still he didn't release her, she deliberately drew back her fist and cuffed him on the jaw.

The unexpected blow snapped Marcus's head back and sent stinging pain vibrating through his jaw, making him swear a low oath. His body's reaction was even more primal: He felt the savage urge to kiss her again, to conquer her and prove his mastery.

Arabella, however, took advantage of his momentary hesitation to break free of his embrace. When she attempted to scramble down, he forced himself to let her go this time, grasping her arm solely to help her descend from his horse.

Landing awkwardly, she whirled to face him, as if not wishing to give him any further advantage. Marcus remained in the saddle, scrutinizing her in rueful disbelief.

Once more she had totally taken him by surprise, yet it was his own unexpected response that had startled him more. He'd tried to convince himself that his fierce attraction to Arabella was an aberration. For the past four days, he'd attempted to put her out of his mind entirely. Perversely, he hadn't been able to forget her for a moment.

Instead, all he could think about was meeting her again, to see if she was as full of life and fire as he remembered.

He had his answer now. Arabella stood there defiantly, her cheeks flushed, her lips wet and softly passion-bruised, her fists clenched as if she were girded for battle.

Every inch the beautiful spitfire who had invaded his dreams the past four nights.

He hadn't intended to take her in his arms just now. He certainly hadn't meant to kiss her. But he'd been seduced by the tempting fire of her. The blazing indulgence had left him hot and painfully hard. His body shuddered with the primitive urge to lay her down in the soft spring grass and take her right there in the meadow, to bury his throbbing cock deep inside her delectable flesh, to vanquish her with pleasure.

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, either. Certainly not as your wife.”

“Perhaps you haven't considered the advantages to you.”

“Advantages?” she echoed.

“As my countess you will lack for nothing.”

“Except the freedom to control my own life. As my husband you would have even greater power over me than you do now as my guardian. By law you would be my ‘lord and master,' and I would legally be your possession. I don't want any man ruling me like that.”

Lord Danvers grimaced. “I have no desire to
rule
you, love. I am merely interested in a marriage of convenience.”

That struck a painful nerve in Arabella. She had always vowed she would never have a convenient marriage like her parents' bitter union. That she would never marry for any reason but love. “Well,
you
may be willing to abide such an arrangement, my lord, but it has no appeal whatsoever for me,” she declared. “My parents married for convenience, and they made each other utterly miserable.”

“We needn't have that sort of union,” he said patiently.

“We needn't have any sort of union at all!”

At her ardent exclamation, Danvers eyed her thoughtfully. “I would of course make you a large marriage settlement and provide generously for your sisters. I should think you would be grateful that you needn't earn your livings any longer, teaching at your academy.”

Arabella took a slow breath, striving for calm. “You obviously don't understand. We don't
wish
to give up teaching. Our employment is not only enjoyable but highly rewarding, besides allowing us the independence to do exactly as we wish.”

At her answer, he took yet another tack. “Marriage to me will go a long way toward restoring your reputation in society.”

Arabella raised her chin at the reminder of her tarnished social standing. “What of it? I have long since resigned myself to being a byword with the ton. There is a blissful measure of freedom that comes with not having to maintain a spotless character. And as long as we maintain standards of behavior acceptable to our pupils' parents, we needn't concern ourselves with anyone else's opinion.”

The earl studied her for a long moment before saying easily, “You might think of your sisters. Don't they deserve a chance to lead the normal life of young ladies of quality?”

His perfectly reasonable question made Arabella feel uncomfortable and a bit guilty, knowing she was rejecting the opportunity to help her sisters. But then she adamantly shook her head. “I
am
thinking of them. Roslyn and Lily feel as I do about matrimony and men. They are just as determined to control their own futures as I am.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand why you hate men. Your betrothed unceremoniously abandoned you once he learned of the scandal your family was facing.”

It shouldn't hurt to have that humiliating memory rubbed in her face, since it had occurred four years ago. She was over the despair and heartache by now. But she couldn't forget the painful experience or the harsh lesson she had learned then.

She had foolishly believed she was making a love match. Indeed, she'd only accepted the viscount's proposal because their mutual feelings had blossomed into love. But her joy at falling in love with a man who vowed he loved her had been abruptly crushed by his very public betrayal. Never again would she make
that
mistake.

“I do not
hate
men,” Arabella insisted. “I simply have no need for a husband.”

“You don't want children?”

The question caught her unawares, and Arabella couldn't repress the stab of regret that went through her. Being unable to have children was an immense drawback to never marrying. The only one, she had come to believe.

“Not enough to suffer a husband,” she answered at length.

“I want children eventually,” Lord Danvers admitted. “It is my obligation to carry on my family name and titles. But that requires I first have a wife.”

“So, you want a broodmare to give you heirs?” Arabella asked archly. “I suspected as much.”

“No,” he said in exasperation. “I want a companion and helpmate as well.”

She found it hard to believe that a rakish nobleman like Lord Danvers was seeking a life companion, but she managed to bite her tongue before calling his veracity into question. Instead, Arabella made herself smile pleasantly. “The polite response in these cases is to express appreciation, so I will thank you for your generous offer, my lord. But I must decline.”

“I intend to change your mind.”

Her spine stiffened a little at his provoking declaration. When he offered her a charming smile of his own, she felt a responsive flutter in her stomach that she quickly tried to quell.

“I do not see how I can state my position more clearly, Lord Danvers. I won't marry you for all the spices in India. Is that articulate enough for you to understand?”

He raised an amused eyebrow. “Do you know how many women would be elated to receive an offer of marriage from me?”

“Then apply to any of them. Doubtless they will be deliriously happy to accept. I would not.”

Her retort brought a genuine grin to his lips. “I don't want any other woman. I have chosen you, Arabella, and I mean to have you.”

Her mouth dropped open. The infernal arrogance of the man!

No longer desiring to continue this impossible conversation, Arabella whirled and headed across the meadow to retrieve her grazing horse.

The earl's next words, however, made her halt in her tracks. “I
could
make you deliriously happy, Arabella. You would enjoy our marriage bed, I have no doubt.”

Unsure whether to be offended or amused by his bold declaration, she turned back to face him. “Rather boastful of you, is it not, my lord?”

“It is no boast. You would relish being my lover, I would make certain of it. But the only honorable way for us to be lovers is through marriage.”

She was too exasperated to reply—which was likely his intention; he was attempting to keep her off balance by throwing such brazen statements at her.

Her silence made him smile again. “I admit I am intensely attracted to you,” he continued, “and you felt it too when we kissed, don't deny it. You were quivering with desire for me.”

Color stained Arabella's cheeks. She
had
quivered in his arms…although she certainly would never admit it to him.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she replied. “It was simply shock at your assault. I could not believe you would act like such a brute. I assure you, I am not attracted to you in the least.”

He took a step closer. “Shall I prove it to you?”

“If you dare try, I swear I will box your ears!”

His blue eyes danced with restrained amusement as he reached up to rub his injured jaw. A faint bruise discolored the spot where she had struck him, Arabella noticed. She was ashamed for a moment, until she recalled what had precipitated her struggle—how the earl had hauled her from her horse unceremoniously and refused to release her even after kissing her witless. Or perhaps she had reacted with such desperation precisely
because
he had kissed her witless.

He did not seem intimidated by her threat now, however. “If you were aiming for my ear, love, I take leave to tell you, you missed by a few inches.”

He was deliberately provoking her, she knew very well. And his tactics were working. Arabella curled her hands into fists, barely refraining from marching up to him and taking another swing at his handsome face. “You are without a doubt the most infuriating man I have ever met, Lord Danvers.”

“Perhaps, but only because I haven't properly exerted myself to please you. You wouldn't be able to resist me if I seriously tried to woo you.”

Her mouth fell open. “Of course I would be able to resist you!”

“Would you care to wager on that?”

At his dulcet tone, Arabella suddenly felt wary again. “What do you mean, wager?”

“How important is your independence to you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Her head was beginning to spin once more from Lord Danvers's unexpected offensive.

“What are you willing to do for emancipation from my guardianship?”

A great deal,
was her immediate thought. “Why?”

“I cannot renounce my responsibility for you, but I can have my solicitor draw up a legal document granting you complete control over your own affairs. For you
and
your sisters.”

“To what end?”

“To provide me a legitimate opportunity to court you.”

“To
court
me? Why the devil would you want to court me? I already told you I won't marry you under any circumstances.”

“I want the chance to change your mind. If I cannot persuade you to accept me for your husband in say, a month, I will give all three of you your freedom and make you legally and financially independent of my guardianship. Close your mouth, sweeting,” the earl added when she stood there staring at him. “You are much too lovely to be gaping like a landed fish.”

Arabella complied, even though she felt completely out of her depth. “Let me see if I understand your wager, my lord. You will give us our freedom if I can resist your ‘persuasion'?”

“Precisely.”

“You have an astounding faith in your powers of seduction.”

His mouth curved. “You could put it that way. In exchange, you must allow me to woo you properly. And if you cannot resist me—if I can make you admit you want me for your husband—then you will have to marry me.”

The arrogance of the man, thinking he could seduce her into accepting his offer of marriage! He wouldn't be able to…surely.

When she hesitated, Lord Danvers shook his head sadly. “I never expected you to turn craven. You're afraid I will win the wager.”

He was purposely goading her again, she realized. “I am not afraid!” Arabella insisted. At least not much. She might be susceptible to his stunning kisses, but there was little risk she would ever want him for her husband, for she planned never to marry. “You won't win, my lord.”

“Then you should have no trouble agreeing. After all, I am offering you the chance to gain exactly what you say you want most. Your independence.”

“Very well, I will take your blasted wager!”

The glimmer in his eyes indicated his satisfaction and pleasure, which made Arabella almost regret her capitulation. She had let him provoke her into accepting his challenge, despite the danger of her fierce attraction to him.

And yet the stakes were irresistible: Not only could she ensure financial security for her sisters, but they could be rid of the earl's unwanted guardianship for good. He would no longer be a threat to their independence. He would have no right to try to marry them off, or to force them to give up their positions at the academy.