Chapter Eighteen

How does one grovel properly? I think I owe it to Marcus for frustrating him so.

—Arabella to Fanny

“What in blazes has come over you, Marcus?” Heath demanded after nearly being skewered by a flurry of angry thrusts during their Monday morning fencing session at Marcus’s London town house.

Halting his ferocious attack, Marcus lowered his foil and stood breathing heavily.

From the sidelines, Drew stepped forward. “Why don’t you call it a morning, old man? You are bloody dangerous with that blade.”

Marcus raked a hand through his hair. “My apologies, Heath. I should not have taken my frustrations out on you.”

“How good of you to realize it,” Heath drawled before adding more seriously, “I wish to hell you would find a cure for your ailment. You have been acting like a wounded wolf ever since you returned to London.”

“I know.” His mood had been foul since parting from Arabella, despite his fiendishly intense bid to work off his frustrations.

“Why don’t you simply throw Miss Loring over your shoulder and carry her off somewhere?” Heath suggested. “If you had a month alone with her, surely you could convince her to accept your suit.”

That idea had merit, Marcus thought before shaking his head with sardonic humor. “I haven’t quite reached the point of resorting to barbarism.”

“Well, you need to do something, old fellow, before you accidently exterminate us. You would regret it, I’m certain.”

“I expect I would.” Biting back a rueful grin, Marcus withdrew to the sidelines as Drew took the floor with Heath to resume fencing practice.

He would settle for abduction if he had to, Marcus knew, tossing his rapier on a table. He damned sure wasn’t willing to admit permanent defeat in his courtship of Arabella. In fact, he was devising a new plan. His solicitors had drawn up the legal documents granting her and her sisters independence from his guardianship, but he hadn’t sent them yet, since he was still determining how to use them to his best advantage.

Meanwhile, he was letting his temper cool. He had wanted to throttle Arabella last week when she refused to believe his declaration of love. He’d never made that startling confession to any woman before, and having it thrown back in his teeth along with his proposal had made his blood boil.

He still felt the urge to return to Danvers Hall and shake Arabella out of her stubborn blindness. She was making a grievous mistake, letting her past ruin her future. She would miss him, he had no doubt. Just as he missed the devil out of her—

The distant rap of the front door knocker intruded on Marcus’s dark thoughts, but knowing his butler would answer it, he paid little attention until the sound of a familiar feminine voice followed. Marcus felt his stomach muscles clench. Arabella.

He suspected she had come to demand her emancipation but moved closer to the door, the better to hear.

Hobbs’s forbidding voice floated down the corridor. “His lordship is otherwise engaged at present, Miss Loring.”

“Ah, yes, I can tell he is fencing again. But I believe he will receive me.”

There was a notable pause while Hobbs likely debated his chances of turning her away. Evidently he realized the futility of it. “If you will wait here, Miss Loring, I will inquire if his lordship is receiving at present.”

“We needn’t stand on such ceremony, Hobbs…isn’t it?” Arabella asked, her tone charming.

“Yes, madam, the name is Hobbs.”

“Well, Hobbs, you clearly do not approve of my calling at a bachelor’s residence, and under ordinary circumstances I would agree with you. I assure you, I am usually quite proper. But in this instance, I have urgent business with Lord Danvers. And since he is my guardian, the infraction is not so very egregious, is it now?”

“Perhaps not,” the butler answered, stiff with resistance.

“Then you will allow me to see him?”

“Very well, Miss Loring, if you insist…you may follow me.”

“Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself. I can find my way.” Her footsteps sounded on the marble entrance hall, then hesitated. “Hobbs?” she called. Marcus could picture her speaking over her shoulder. “You are to be admired for protecting your master’s privacy. I will make certain he knows of your devotion.”

“Thank you, miss,” the butler replied, clearly exasperated.

A moment later Arabella appeared in the doorway. Although Marcus had braced himself, he felt his heart jolt at the welcome sight of her. As she paused to survey the room, heat and hunger stabbed through him. Then her gaze locked on him, and the hunger worsened.

Her expression was intensely focused, her gray eyes searching. After another heartbeat, though, she gave him a smile of such sweetness, such utter brilliance, that he felt dazed.

Arabella was the first to tear her gaze away and seek out his friends’ attention. The marquess and duke had halted their practice in order to observe her.

She turned her bright smile on the two noblemen as she advanced into the room. “My lords, I hope you will forgive me for interrupting your fencing session yet again. You must think me very vexing.”

His grace, the Duke of Arden, lifted an eyebrow. “You do seem to be making a habit of intruding on our practice, Miss Loring.”

But the Marquess of Claybourne’s response was more congenial. His eyes gleaming, Claybourne gave her a roguish smile. “It doesn’t follow that the intrusion must be unwelcome. It is indeed a pleasure to see you.”

She glanced at Marcus briefly. “Would you mind terribly if I steal his lordship away for a few moments?”

The duke answered her. “You may speak to him here, Miss Loring. We were nearly finished anyway.”

Arabella was glad that the imperious duke seemed prepared to leave, for he was obviously not delighted she had come. She doubted she would be able to win over his opinion any time soon, even if she tried. Moving to the table, the duke returned his foil to its case and, after offering her a polite bow, strode from the salon. The marquess shrugged and followed suit but flashed her a charming grin as he passed.

Alone with Marcus, Arabella turned slowly to face him. He had said not a single word thus far, and she couldn’t tell if that was an ominous sign or a propitious one. She only knew how she felt upon seeing him again: sheer happiness. That, and yearning. She wanted to fling herself into his arms. Wanted to press ardent kisses all over his dear, handsome face…

If she hadn’t already realized the depths of her love for Marcus, being with him again after enduring a wretched week of despondency would have clarified her feelings.

She was keenly aware, however, that Marcus did not look happy to see her. Arabella gazed at him in uncertain silence, conscious of her thudding heartbeat brought on by a sudden case of trepidation. He was watching her soberly—not at all the welcome she had hoped for.

“So, sweeting, to what do I owe the honor of your visit this time?”

Arabella’s heart sank at his impassive tone. Hesitantly, she stepped forward. “For one thing, I wished to thank you for seeking out my mother in France and bringing her home. You went to a great deal of trouble on our behalf, Marcus, and you have my gratitude, as well as that of my sisters.”

His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Your gratitude is unnecessary. I merely did my duty as your guardian—which doubtless is your real concern. If you’re here to discover the status of your emancipation, you can set your mind at ease. The proper documents granting your independence have been prepared and only require my signature.”

She managed a smile. “Thank you, but that is not my chief reason for coming.”

“Then what is?”

“Actually…I am here to accept your proposal of marriage.”

The silence that met her declaration was profound. Several heartbeats passed before Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Did you find yourself with child, Arabella?”

Her own eyes widening, she felt a flush heat her cheeks. “No, I am not with child. My…courses came last week. But according to Fanny, the likelihood of my conceiving is small, since you and I were only together a few nights.”

Marcus’s expression remained infuriatingly enigmatic. “Sometimes it takes but once for a man’s seed to take root. And that would explain your willingness to accept my offer now when you refused so adamantly barely a week ago.”

“Well, that is not why I changed my mind about marrying you.” Arabella eyed him with misgiving. “I thought you would be pleased by my surrender.”

“It depends wholly on the reason.” Marcus crossed his arms over his chest, his stance the picture of resistance. “I told you, Arabella, I am not interested in a marriage of convenience.”

“Neither am I. I want a love match, just as you do.”

“Is that so?”

Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she clasped her hands together. “Yes. You were right, Marcus. I was acting out of fear. I was afraid to have my heart broken again, so afraid that I wouldn’t risk loving you. But in the end I couldn’t help myself.”

Some emotion flickered in his blue eyes but she couldn’t read it. “So you are saying you love me.”

“Yes…I love you.”

He gave her a skeptical look while his arms remained firmly crossed. “Why should I believe you? Perhaps you’ve mistaken your feelings.”

Arabella shook her head, torn between exasperation and fear. Apparently Marcus wouldn’t readily forgive her for rejecting him so soundly, but it frightened her to think he didn’t care at all about her change of heart. “No, I have not mistaken my feelings. I love you, Marcus.”

“You will have to convince me.”

The words were a challenge and sounded more like the Marcus of old.

She offered him a nervous smile. “What must I do to convince you? I am willing to grovel, if you wish me to.”

When a glimmer of amusement finally lit his blue eyes, Arabella sucked in a sharp breath of hope.

“I think perhaps some amount of groveling is in order,” Marcus remarked. “After all the torment you put me through, you deserve to suffer a little.”

“I have suffered,” Arabella replied emphatically. “I felt utterly wretched from the moment you left. I missed you unbearably.” When he showed no further sign of yielding, she realized she would have to make him believe that she truly loved him. Her voice lowered to an imploring murmur when she continued. “Marcus, once you were gone, there was this great void in my life…in my heart.” Her fist closed over her breastbone. “I felt empty without you. I can’t bear to live like that the rest of my life. I don’t want to live without you. It is love I feel for you, Marcus,” she insisted, repeating the same words he had said to her a week ago.

When he didn’t reply, Arabella searched his face. “You said you feel the same way. You said you love me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “That was last week. Perhaps I’ve lost interest by now.”

She swallowed. “Perhaps you have. But I want to be your wife, even if you don’t love me.”

It seemed, however, that he still wouldn’t relent. “I’m afraid that isn’t good enough.”

“What…do you mean?”

“I want your trust, Arabella, as well as your love.”

“I do trust you, Marcus.”

“Enough to believe me when I say I will remain faithful to you to the end of our days?” His eyes held hers intently as he waited for her answer.

“Yes.” She regarded him solemnly, understanding what he was asking. “You are not my father.”

When his expression softened with something resembling satisfaction, her heart at last started beating again in a more normal rhythm.

“I’m glad you realize it, angel.” He uncrossed his arms and strolled toward her. “Then I suppose I could consider marrying you.”

If not for the hint of laughter in his eyes, she would have been alarmed. But Marcus was provoking her on purpose, she knew. Relief coursing through her, she let herself smile. “You could consider it? What the devil do you mean? You have been after me to marry you for weeks now.”

“But I see no reason to rush now that you have finally capitulated.”

Her own eyes glimmering with faint amusement, Arabella placed her hands on her hips. “I think perhaps I have groveled enough.”

“I’m not so certain. I rather like this humble side of you.”

“You don’t want a humble wife, you said so.”

“True, I don’t. But I would be wise to hold out for better terms.”

“So now you want to negotiate the terms of our marriage?”

“What if I do?”

Arabella’s gaze settled on the rapiers the noblemen had used for their fencing session. Moving over to the table, she picked up a foil, then advanced toward Marcus. “You should know better than to leave weapons lying around when you are deliberately provoking me.” She prodded his chest lightly with the tip. “You had best answer me now, Marcus. Will you marry me or not? I warn you, I may do you bodily harm if you refuse.”

Laughing, he caught her wrist and pulled the rapier from her grasp, then wrapped a strong arm around her waist and drew her close, against his warm, hard body. “Ah, sweetheart,” he said with delight, “you never fail to enchant me.”

“Do I?” Arabella asked, smiling mistily up at him.

“You know damn well you do. Everything about you enchants me. I love the fire flashing in your eyes. I love the fire you make me feel. I love you, Arabella.”

“But will you wed me?”

He considered her for another endless moment while she held her breath. “Yes, I will…but first I have something to give you.”

“What is it?”

“Come with me.”

Surprising her, Marcus released Arabella only to take her hand and draw her from the salon. She found herself being ushered down the corridor and across the entrance hall, where Hobbs stood ready to assist her departure. The butler pretended not to notice his lordship’s odd behavior as Marcus, still carrying the foil, led her into a large room that looked to be his study. Going to a massive desk, he set down the rapier, then fished out a sheaf of papers and handed them to Arabella.

“These are the documents modifying your guardianship?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then what are they?”

“Read for yourself.”

Arabella’s gaze scanned down the first page, then returned to the top to scrutinize the lofty legal language more slowly. As she turned the succeeding pages, recognition dawned on her. Marcus had purchased the deed to the Freemantle Academy from Winifred and had signed it over to her.

Tears springing to her eyes, Arabella looked up at him in awe. “You bought our academy for me?”

“Yes—and before you take my head off, it isn’t charity. In the first place, you’ve worked damned hard for this. And in the second, I hoped to give the school to you as a wedding gift.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” she said softly. “I will cherish this.”

Setting the papers down on the desk, she stepped closer. Smiling warmly, she reached up and threaded her arms around his neck. “Did I tell you how very much I love you?”

“You did. But I want to hear you tell me again. I won’t ever tire of hearing it.”

“I love you dearly, Marcus.”

His expression turned smugly satisfied. “I know. You couldn’t help yourself.”

Arabella felt laughter bubbling up inside her. Marcus had known she would come to love him. He had understood her better than she understood herself. “You are very confident, my arrogant lord.”

His bright blue gaze was amused, tender, loving. “Only now, darling. Ten minutes ago I wasn’t nearly so sanguine.”

“I do love you, Marcus. I love you wildly, madly. I always will.”

“The feeling is mutual.” He chuckled. “I admit I never intended to lose my heart to you, Belle. You intrigued me from the first. I wanted you in my bed from the moment you threatened me with my foil. But I never thought I would feel this kind of love for anyone.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” He bent his head to press a light kiss on her lips. “I never expected to be so fortunate, either, Arabella. I found the woman who is my ideal match, the perfect challenge for me.”

Her heart rejoiced at his declaration. “Thank you, Marcus.”

“For what?”

“For not giving up. For giving me reason to risk loving again. For opening my heart.”

His thumb came up to stroke her cheek. “I’ll never break your heart, Arabella. You have my solemn promise on that. I will never forsake you. I’ll never stop loving you, no matter what happens in our future.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “I feared I might have lost you through my own obstinacy.”

Marcus grasped her chin lightly, forcing her to look at him. “Never. Your wits have gone begging if you thought I would ever be content to let you go. I was only regrouping and planning my new campaign strategy.”

Arabella laughed, her heart spilling over with love and desire. “And I was planning mine. I told my mother I intended to come here today and confess how much I love you. I was prepared to make you a new wager if you no longer wanted to marry me, but she didn’t think it would be necessary.”

“So she approves?”

“Yes. Mama is eager to see us wed. You clearly charmed her, just as you do every female you meet.”

“Not every female. I had the devil of a time charming you, not to mention your sisters. What do they have to say about our union?”

Arabella’s smile turned even softer. “Roslyn is happy for me and Lily is hopeful. I convinced them I couldn’t live without you.”

In response, Marcus gave her a kiss of such intimacy, such warmth and sweetness, that her knees went weak. To her surprise and disappointment, though, he broke off suddenly. Going to the study door, he turned the key, locking them inside.

“What are you doing?” Arabella asked curiously as he returned to stand before her.

“Exploring how deeply we feel for each other.”

Heat flooded through her at the sensual look he was giving her, and her heart began to throb, thick slow beats. He untied the ribbons of her bonnet and set it aside, then unfastened the buttons of her spencer and slid it off her shoulders. Beneath, she wore an elegant gown of sky blue muslin.

When he drew her over to a plush leather sofa, Arabella realized Marcus intended to indulge in a passionate bout of lovemaking. “Your butler will be scandalized,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Hobbs and I did not begin on the best footing, and if I am to become mistress here, perhaps I ought not offend his sense of propriety any further.”

Marcus’s grin was tolerant as he sank down onto the sofa. “Hobbs will have to become accustomed to us being private together. When you are my wife, I intend to spend a great deal of time behind locked doors with you. Don’t worry—I won’t dishevel your gown or your hair just now. But this may be the last chance I have to make love to you for some time, and I won’t let it go to waste.”

Arabella put up no argument. She didn’t stand a chance of refusing Marcus anyway. Not when he was bent on seduction. Not when he was so irresistible. She allowed him to pull her down onto his lap and immediately twined her arms around his neck. He obsessed her, tantalized her, drove her mad with wanting him.

He took advantage of her compliance by nibbling at the soft skin below her earlobe.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice suddenly husky and thick, “when it comes to propriety, you set a terrible example as my guardian.”

“True, but it hardly matters, since I am abdicating my role as guardian. From this moment forward, I’m concerned solely with my role as lover and husband.”

Marcus nipped at her neck, his breath sending a warm shiver of pleasure down her spine, while his hand roved downward over the skirts of her gown. Finding the hem, his fingers glided up her bare thigh to cup the moist, feminine folds of her woman’s mound.

Arabella felt the insistent swell of her own desire and arched against his magical hand, yet she didn’t want the pleasure to be hers alone. “Marcus…you needn’t wait. I am more than ready for you.”

“So you are.” He lifted his head, a lazy heated smile curving his mouth. “But I mean to torment you a little as punishment for driving me to distraction this past week.”

“I should have known.”

His fingers stroked the sleek flesh between her parted thighs, fondling her sex in a lush assault on her senses. When he slid one finger deep inside her, finding her wet with wanting, her inner muscles shuddered around him.

Gasping with pleasure, Arabella clutched at his arm. “That is quite enough torment.”

“I disagree. If it were enough, you would be begging me to stop.”

“I won’t beg….”

“We shall see, love.”

He bent his head, muffling the rest of her words with searing kisses, while his hand, seductive as his voice, continued playing maddening games with her ready flesh.

He caressed her until she was aching with need, until she was light-headed and liquid with arousal, plying her with deft, skillful touches, punctuating his kisses with heated pulses of his tongue. When she felt his probing fingers slowly thrust inside her again, it kindled a soft cry from her throat.

“Hush, no screaming,” Marcus admonished. “You don’t want to scandalize Hobbs, remember?”

“I don’t know if I can manage.”

Almost whimpering, she buried her face in his throat as he went on working his tormenting magic. Soon she was shivering and trembling, yet though it was blissful, it wasn’t entirely satisfying. Arabella wanted Marcus filling her, wanted him joined to her intimately, wanted him soothing the empty ache his absence had created. Even more, she wanted him feeling the love that shimmered inside her so deeply she thought she might burst with it.

“Marcus, please…take me,” she pleaded finally.

“Are you begging me yet?”

“Yes…whatever you want.”

His husky chuckle rasped in her ear, yet he evidently had had enough torment also, for he gathered Arabella in his arms and slid off the sofa with her. Lowering her to the Aubusson carpet, he laid her back, watching her with hot-bright eyes as he made short work of the front placket of his breeches. Easing over her then, he fitted his body to hers and sank his weight into the cradle of her thighs.

He cherished her mouth with kisses as his hard length slowly filled her. With a sob of pure pleasure, Arabella wrapped her arms tightly around him and drew Marcus close, welcoming his possession. Her chest ached with love for him; all of her senses were heightened by love. When he sank in all the way, the rapture was almost too much to bear. She let her head fall back and her eyelids fall shut.

“No, open your beautiful eyes, angel. I want to watch the expression on your face when you come for me.”

Arabella obeyed, gazing up at Marcus dazedly. She knew he was seeing love and passion in her eyes, for she recognized the same emotions in his. Joy and triumph and sheer sensuality blazed in his face as he surged into her, his movements slow and passionate as he began a rhythm as timeless as man and woman, the rhythm of love.

Arabella responded with all her heart, and it wasn’t long before their pleasure built into a firestorm, then exploded in a fiery blaze of lightning bolts. Marcus drank in her sobs of ecstasy as he joined her in the stunning tempest.

Afterward, she lay cupped into his body, breathless, sated, joy whispering through her. When at last he eased away to lie beside her, she opened her eyes to find Marcus still watching her tenderly. She sighed with perfect contentment and offered him a drowsy, teasing smile. “I’ve known for some time that you were a marvelous lover, but I think you will make a marvelous husband also.”

His own smile was devastatingly irresistible. “I’ve been trying to convince you of that for weeks now. How gratifying to know I finally succeeded.”

She reached up to trace his sensual mouth with her fingertip. “I am very glad you won our wager, but you will not always win, you know,” Arabella murmured.

“I wouldn’t want to always win. It’s doing battle with you that adds a delectable spice to life. As long as you love me, I can deal with losing to you every now and then.”

“I do love you, Marcus, more than I can say, but since we are negotiating terms of our marriage…”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are we still negotiating?”

“Yes, on one issue, I think we must.”

“I would rather make love to you again.”

When he leaned forward to take her mouth, Arabella pressed her fingers to his lips. “This is serious, Marcus.”

Instantly he sobered. “Very well, you have my full attention, sweetheart.”

“I want to continue managing the academy.”

“I see no reason why you cannot, as long as you make time for our wedding and a wedding trip afterward.”

Arabella smiled in relief. She had worried about Marcus’s response, yet she should have known he would be amenable to letting her continue her avocation.

“I should have ample time for a wedding after school lets out in two weeks,” she replied. “The summer term begins in mid-June, and since most of our pupils will be going home, I won’t be teaching any classes. Jane Caruthers will handle the majority of the work.”

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem. It will be at least a month before we can hold the ceremony. We could be married by special license, but I prefer to have the banns called. I don’t want it to seem as if we are rushing.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I want a large wedding. We can be married in the Chiswick church and invite several hundred guests.”

Her look turned dubious. “I doubt the church is large enough.”

“Then we’ll invite half the ton to a wedding breakfast at Danvers Hall afterward. I intend to put my countess on display, since it will help pave your acceptance into society.”

Arabella nodded, seeing the wisdom of his plan. An invitation to celebrate the nuptials of the Earl and Countess of Danvers would go far in winning over even her haughtiest detractors. Yet that was as far as she wanted to acquiesce to the high-browed notions of society.

“I would like my mother to attend our wedding and any succeeding festivities,” Arabella said, knowing that the scandalous former Lady Loring would likely be shunned by the ton’s highest sticklers. “And Fanny Irwin as well. Fanny may be a renowned Cyprian, but she is a dear friend and I won’t turn my back on her simply because I am marrying an earl.”

“Certainly they may attend. And my sister Eleanor would doubtless enjoy helping with plans for a breakfast. As for our wedding trip, I want to take you to my family seat in Devonshire for a few weeks. The Hall will afford us too little privacy with your sisters present. I want you all to myself for a while.”

Arabella’s smile was soft with pleasure. “I would like that.” Remembering the duke and marquess, however, she glanced at the closed door. “Do you think your two friends will come to accept me as your wife?”

“Yes, of course. They will eventually grow to love you. Meanwhile, they’ll be infinitely glad that we finally came to a resolution. I nearly took off Heath’s head this morning during our fencing practice because I was seething with frustration.”

“His grace won’t be overjoyed about our marriage.”

“Drew is just cynical about love because he’s never experienced it before. Heath is more adventurous, so he’s more willing to concede that I might love you witless. But he doesn’t want to see me turned into a tame milksop. I think he worries that you will lead me around by my bridle.”

Arabella laughed. “I don’t intend to bridle you, any more than I intend to wear a bridle.”

“Which is exactly how it should be between us.”

As Marcus gazed down at her, the passion she saw in the endless blue depths dazzled her, but it was the love shining there that made her heart sing. Then he kissed her again and made her heart race as he reached up to pull the pins from her hair.

“I thought you didn’t intend to dishevel my hair,” Arabella murmured.

“I changed my mind.” His slow, very male smile held the wonderfully wicked charm that had won her heart during his admittedly unwanted courtship. “If I can’t have you again until a full month from now, then I mean to make the most of our time here together, Hobbs or no Hobbs.”

She laughed again, her breath whispering against his lips as she gave herself up to Marcus’s incredible passion.