Chapter Seven

I understand now what you meant about passion— and why a woman might throw caution to the wind for a taste of it.

—Arabella to Fanny

To Arabella’s dismay, she succumbed the very next day. She couldn’t blame Marcus entirely, however. Her own feminine weakness was as much at fault as his male perseverance.

Admittedly, she was glad to accompany him on an alfresco luncheon in the countryside, for even though she found pleasure in redecorating the house, the outing was a treat that gave her a respite from the demands of the tradesmen as well as her duties at the academy.

She also had to admit that she enjoyed being with Marcus, particularly since he put himself out to be charming as he expertly drove his curricle along the country lanes.

For their picnic spot, he chose a glade beside the river that was open to the sky but protected from prying eyes by chestnut and sycamore trees. After helping Arabella down from his curricle, he spread a blanket on the grass and gallantly led her to it.

When she had settled there, Marcus sat beside her and opened the straw basket to reveal a small feast of 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.”

He bent his head again, this time brushing her lips with a much more tender kiss. “Don’t you want to know what it is like to be fully a woman? What it is like to desire a man? To feel passion and pleasure and physical fulfillment?”

Arabella felt herself wavering, yet her long-held scruples stopped her from yielding. “I cannot make love to you, Marcus! It would be too scandalous.”

“If you never intend to marry, what difference does it make if you keep your virginity?”

It was a rational argument, Arabella knew. And the truth was, she did want to know about passion. To know what she was missing in life. To experience the kind of intense pleasure Fanny had claimed was possible between lovers.

Arabella had no doubt that Marcus could show her. And she would likely never have another chance. At least not where she could be assured of keeping any sinful transgressions secret. As her guardian, Marcus was perhaps even more concerned for her reputation than she was, so he would do his best to remain discreet.

While she debated, however, he took the choice from her. Arabella felt herself being lowered to the blanket. Then he followed her down, stretching out beside her, his body half covering hers.

“I mean to use my hands and my mouth together this time,” Marcus murmured against her lips. “The power of touch and taste combined.”

She pressed her own hands against his chest, struggling for willpower, but he caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged with soft nips. When Arabella gave a little whimper, his tongue soothed the sensitive flesh before dipping slowly, insistently, inside her mouth.

Finding him impossible to resist, she gave a tiny, shuddering sigh of defeat and returned his kiss helplessly.

His mouth was magical…and so was his touch, Arabella thought long moments later. While his kisses enchanted, his hand moved on her throat, then lower, his long fingers stroking her skin as he explored the contours of her breasts beneath the round neckline of her gown.

Shortly Arabella gave a start upon realizing that Marcus had lowered her bodice and chemise to expose her nipples, but the teasing caress of his fingers on her skin soothed her, his palm molding the ripe swells as his hot lips worked their spell. Arabella found herself arching against his touch, seeking more of the delicious pleasure he was arousing in her.

It was some time before he paused in his seduction and raised his head to contemplate her. His gaze was frankly, sharply male as it fixed on her bare breasts, surveying the high mounds crested with rosy nipples.

Arabella felt herself flushing. She was lying there wantonly, accepting his brazen scrutiny without protest. Yet when she made to cover her breasts with her hands, he caught her wrists and held them away.

“No, let me look.”

It was arousing in itself, Arabella realized, to have Marcus studying her body. She never would have believed a simple look could be so titillating. The heat of his gaze, combined with the warm sunlight on her skin, made her restless and feverish.

And then his fingers joined his gaze, his knuckles brushing over her tautly straining nipples, dredging a soft gasp from her.

His eyes sparking at her helpless response, he plucked at the tight buds, pinching lightly and then soothing with his thumbs. Arabella nearly moaned at the sweet torment. “Marcus…you make me feel so…”

“So what?”

“Hot…like all my senses are inflamed.”

His eyes darkened further. “I know.”

He desired her, she knew. The thought gave her a powerfully feminine feeling to combat the vulnerability she felt lying here at his mercy. Determinedly, she returned his gaze, vowing she wouldn’t run this time.

His eyes held hers, hot and blue, as he reached for the hem of her gown and drew it up above her knees. Then, very gently, he ran his hand up her stockinged calf to the bare skin of her thigh.

Arabella tensed until Marcus bent his lips to her again. “Just relax, love, and let me caress you,” he murmured against her throat as he pushed her skirts higher.

What he asked was impossible, for when he eased her thighs open with his knee, the pressure on the sensitive core of her sent a shock of fire rippling through her.

He touched her frantic pulse with a stroke of his tongue while his hand dipped between her legs to find the wetness there. When she whimpered at his scandalous touch, Marcus kissed her again, a slow, lazy, possessive kiss that had her shivering. At the same time he used his fingers to stroke her, rimming the sleek cleft of her femininity, teasing the tiny bud hidden there.

Completely breathless now, Arabella reached for him and clutched at his shoulders. Her body was feverishly hot, straining against his hand as he continued his delicate ministrations…drawing his fingers between her feminine folds, cupping her naked center with his palm. When she began to pant, he drank deeply of her mouth, as if he treasured every gasp she surrendered to him.

And it was a surrender, Arabella realized dazedly, unable to understand why she had fought him for so long.

She was filled with dismay when his kiss suddenly ended, then startled when he unexpectedly transferred his attentions below her waist. Dipping his dark head, Marcus settled his mouth on her inner thigh and began moving upward, tracing the earlier path of his fingers, trailing searing kisses on her skin.

It shocked Arabella when he pushed her skirts above her hips, baring all her secrets, and shocked her more when she felt his warm breath dampen the golden curls at the juncture of her thighs. She trembled violently as she realized his intention. He meant to kiss her there!

At the tender flick of his tongue over her sensitive flesh, she jerked, lifting her hips halfway off the blanket.

“Steady,” he whispered, his hands moving to her thighs to hold her down.

His tongue stroked her, probing her folds. Then he drew the swollen bud into his mouth as his middle finger slipped inside her.

The sensation was incredible—his hard finger sheathed in her flesh, his scalding mouth working its magic on her sex.

Her breath coming in hoarse whimpers, Arabella shut her eyes, her head shifting desperately back and forth on the blanket. She was unbearably hot, filled with tension and excitement and wild anticipation.

Her hands clenching spasmodically, she gripped Marcus’s shoulders, clinging blindly, seeking more of this fevered pleasure that had caught her up in a maelstrom of desire and frustration. She needed something she couldn’t even begin to imagine, something that was clawing at her, tearing her apart.

Yet Marcus wouldn’t give her surcease. When she uttered a low, keening moan, the growl in the back of his throat signaled his approval. He continued laving her, caressing her, arousing and teasing and tormenting until she thought she might die from the wild pleasure he had kindled in her.

Then suddenly her senses exploded. Arabella cried out as reality splintered into a thousand sensual fragments of pleasure and her entire world dissolved in pulsing heat.

She was only dimly aware of the passage of time. Even when her pounding heart slowed, she lay there limp and unmoving. Her whole body felt gloriously weak and blissful from the ecstasy Marcus had given her.

When finally she regained her senses, it was to find him stretched out beside her, watching her tenderly.

“See now what you have been missing?”

Yes, she saw very clearly. His lovemaking had stunned her. She’d been overwhelmed by a storm of emotion and sensation.

This was what made sensible women turn insensible, Arabella realized. Yet her insensibility had a great deal to do with Marcus himself. He was undoubtedly a magnificent lover.

“It is no wonder,” she murmured hoarsely, “that females fall all over themselves trying to attract your attention.”

“I am gratified you noticed.”

He smiled lazily down at her, a dark glint in his blue eyes, as solicitously, he drew down her skirts to cover her bare limbs.

Arabella sat up shakily. Something was missing, though. According to her friend Fanny, there was much more to lovemaking than what Marcus had just shown her. She eyed him in puzzlement until it struck her: He had seen to her pleasure but not his own.

Her gaze slid downward toward his hips, where she could see his buff breeches straining across the thick bulge at his groin. “That is all you mean to do?”

His eyebrow rose to his hairline. “You weren’t satisfied?”

“No…I mean, yes, of course I was. It’s just that…I understand that it is painful for a man to be aroused without…you know.”

He laughed softly. “It is painful, love—almost excruciating. But I will endure it. You are not yet ready for your next lesson. Now the anticipation will make it all the more pleasurable when I finally make love to you completely.”

The prospect of Marcus making love to her completely made Arabella’s pulse leap with wild excitement, but she didn’t mean for it to happen. Rather than argue, though, she said somewhat shyly, “Would you like me to…to stroke you to ease your pain?”

The amused tenderness in his expression grew. “You are all kindness, to be so concerned with my comfort.”

“It seems only fair,” Arabella said, another blush rising to inflame her cheeks.

“In point of fact, I can deal with the ache myself.”

When he reached down to unfasten the front of his breeches, she automatically lowered her gaze again. Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned: Marcus meant her to view his naked loins.

Her breath went shallow as he drew out his long member. Thick and darkly rigid, it jutted out from a sprinkling of crisp black hair at his groin. The sight of that huge, swollen arousal caused her throat to go dry, her stomach to contract.

“I presume you have never seen a naked man before,” Marcus remarked.

“No,” Arabella rasped.

“Are you shocked?”

Not shocked exactly, she thought dazedly. Despite her genteel upbringing, regardless of the dictates of modesty, she was captivated by the sight of him. Indeed, she would have liked to see all of Marcus naked. She suspected his body was far more beautiful than any other man’s. Virile, masculine, hard, corded with lean muscle.

While she stared, he cradled his shaft, running his thumb over the blunt, velvety head. The casually erotic caress made her breath catch.

“You should watch as I pleasure myself,” he suggested.

Fascinated, she could do nothing else. Her eyes fixed on his loins, unable to look away, as he cupped the heavy sacs beneath his phallus.

“Of course this would be much more pleasurable with you,” Marcus said, curling his hand around his turgid length and squeezing.

Arabella inhaled a sharp breath when he began moving his hand slowly up and down, stroking himself.

“I’m imagining making love to you right now, sweet Arabella. It’s very arousing.”

She swallowed hard. It was indeed arousing. She felt a shameful thrill at the intimate picture Marcus painted.

“Can you imagine having me inside you?” he asked as he gripped his heavy shaft harder. When she didn’t reply, he raised his head. “I would like very much to be inside you, Arabella.”

He met her eyes, held them intently, as deliberately he increased the pace of his strokes. Shortly his face became tense with control, the skin flushed, Arabella saw. The teasing glint in the blue depths darkened into something both primitive and powerful.

Her heart began to pound while an aching tightness coiled throughout her body. She could almost feel Marcus’s lengthy shaft gliding slickly between her feminine folds…

His jaw locked as his fingers kneaded harder, sweeping up and down his tumescence in swift jerky motions. His breath was harsh and uneven…until his climax came abruptly.

Clenching his teeth, Marcus shut his eyes and arched against the explosive release. A low groan escaped him, but as his pulsing seed shot out, he captured the spurting milky liquid in his cupped palm.

Arabella watched, her heart thundering in her ears. Her body felt as if it had suddenly burst into flames with him.

When a moment later Marcus opened his eyes, he smiled. “Regrettably, my little exercise in self-satisfaction is only a temporary solace. I still want you as fiercely as before.”

Arabella couldn’t find the voice to respond. She was still staring at him, her lips parted, her breath shallow.

He took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his hand clean, then quite calmly refastened his breeches. She remained speechless even when he sat up and fastened his gaze on her still bare breasts.

Then he reached up to brush her nipples with his thumbs, making her gasp again. “Now that you know the kind of pleasure you can feel,” Marcus murmured, “you will be anticipating our lovemaking with relish.”

Before she could deny his prediction, he drew up her chemise and then her muslin bodice to cover her breasts. “However, we don’t need to debate the issue now. Finish your wine, sweetheart, so I may take you home. You have another class to give this afternoon, remember?”

“Y-yes…I remember.”

Arabella shook herself. She did have a class later today, yet her dazed mind had trouble concentrating on such mundane matters when she could still feel the erotic stroke of his hands and mouth on her body, still imagine his hard flesh moving inside her. Marcus had given her a stunning experience she would never, ever forget….

Arabella felt herself frowning as she readjusted her clothing into some semblance of decency. It wasn’t his lovemaking that was so troubling, she suddenly realized. It was that for the first time in her life, she could begin to understand her mother…why her mother had succumbed to the incredible pleasure an attentive lover could bring.

Of course, she would never fall in love and lose her head over a man the way her mother had done, Arabella vowed. She would never destroy her family for the sake of her own amorous gratification, no matter how rapturous.

Her gaze went to Marcus as he gathered up the remains of their picnic.

But at least now, however, she could wholly understand the temptation.