Courtship Wars: To Pleasure A Lady Part 14

"What do you mean, following me this way, Marcus?"

"I am merely escorting you to your room."

"I am entirely capable of finding my room on my own."

"Of course you are, sweeting, but I want a moment of privacy with you."

When he took her hand and drew her along the deserted corridor toward her door, Arabella tried nervously to pull back. "Our allotted time was more than fulfilled today."

"I will borrow from tomorrow's allotment."

"You cannot enter my bedchamber, Marcus!"

"I don't intend to."

Although hardly rea.s.sured, Arabella ceased resisting, knowing it would do little good.

Guiding her into the adjacent music room, Marcus shut the door behind them and turned to face her.

"This should prove adequate."

"Adequate for what?" she asked, her voice suddenly breathless.

"For your next lesson. We won't be interrupted here."

"But I don't need another lesson."

Those midnight blue eyes glinted down from beneath heavy brows. She had only to look into those compelling eyes, gleaming with wicked knowledge, to feel aroused.

"Yes, you do."

Arabella felt her heart quicken alarmingly at the sensual smile that curved Marcus's mouth as he advanced toward her. She retreated a step, holding up her hand to ward him off. "Aren't you aware that when a lady says she doesn't want a gentleman's attentions, it is rude to disbelieve her?"

"Since I never attended your academy, I never learned that particular rule." He caught her hand and halted her retreat. "I mean to educate your senses, sweet Arabella." Raising her hand to his mouth, he pressed his lips to the tender middle of her palm. A soft gasp escaped her at the erotic feel.

"You did this yesterday," she pointed out even more breathlessly.

"No. Yesterday I taught you about the power of touch. Today we'll focus on the power of taste."

"Taste?"

"Kissing, love." His tongue flicked out to lightly dampen her palm, making her gasp again. "I won't use my hands this time. I intend to teach you about kissing using just my mouth, to let you learn the taste of me."

Her heart leapt with excitement. And even though she parted her lips to issue a protest, she couldn't find her voice. The deplorable truth was, she wanted this lesson. She had no doubt that the tame pecks her betrothed had once given her would be nothing compared to Marcus's devastating kisses.

When she didn't reply, he offered her another enchanting smile. Still keeping hold of her hand, he turned Arabella and guided her until her back was pressed again to the wall. Then releasing his grasp, he bent his head.

His warm breath eddied and caressed her lips before he kissed her lightly. His mouth brushed sparks across the surface of hers, jolting her pulse into a wild rhythm, yet Arabella held herself still, fighting the overwhelming temptation to kiss him back.

Marcus lifted his head to study her. "No response? I see I will have to do better."

His dark lashes lowering over his vivid eyes, he bent again, his mouth warm and vibrant as it settled on hers with slow, sure pressure. This time Arabella couldn't keep still, not with all the incredible sensations spiraling through her.

"Open for me, Arabella," Marcus murmured against her lips as she s.h.i.+vered.

His mouth coaxed and beguiled until she did as he bid. Immediately his tongue delved inside, exploring in a sensual invasion that dazed her with pleasure and completely stole her breath away.

It was a long, long moment before she realized he had broken off to ask her a question. "How does that taste?"

Delicious, was Arabella's unspoken reply. The taste of him was exquisite and filled her with a hungry yearning. Her senses dazed, she gazed back at him mutely, grateful to have the wall supporting her back, since her limbs had grown so weak. When finally she licked her lips in response, she saw Marcus's eyes flare.

He took his time, however, when his kiss resumed. This caress was languid and intimate, his mouth mating with hers while his tongue played in a leisurely, erotic dance. Arabella closed her eyes at the surge of desire sweeping through her, oblivious to everything but the movement of his enchanting mouth, his beguiling penetration.

She wanted to whimper in disappointment when at length he ended the kiss, but thankfully, he didn't leave her entirely. Instead, his lips traveled upward, feathering across her cheek to her temple.

"You have the most erotic mouth I have ever tasted," he murmured.

"So do you," Arabella replied honestly.

His soft laugh was a warm burst of breath against her skin. The intoxicating sensation sent a s.h.i.+ver of pleasure rippling down her spine, but when he touched his lips to her ear, drawing the lobe into his mouth, she gave a helpless moan.

"I want to taste your b.r.e.a.s.t.s," Marcus added.

His whispered words, so provocative and tantalizing, made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s tingle shamefully.

She should pull away, Arabella told herself when she felt his hands moving at her back, working loose the hooks of her gown, but all she could do was stand there quivering, her heart pounding. She watched, spellbound as he drew down her bodice to reveal the rounded swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s above her chemise and corset. Then he tugged down the edge of her chemise to expose the rose-hued crests.

His eyes flashed at the sight.

"Marcus..."

"Hush, you'll like this."

His husky murmur silenced her. Another tremor shook Arabella when she realized he meant to kiss her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but she did nothing to stop him.

His gaze burned her as he bent lower, and then so did his breath as it fanned against her tender skin. At the delicate flicker of his tongue against her sensitive flesh, Arabella inhaled a sharp gasp. But when he grazed the tip of her nipple with his tongue, her breath fled altogether.

His teasing, velvet-rough tongue stroked her for a long moment, making her shudder with pleasure. Then with expert skill he drew the soft, swollen bud into his mouth, suckling the aching aureole. A whimper escaped her lips, while her hands rose to tangle in his raven hair. The brazen heat that coiled inside her was almost too intense to bear; it spiraled downward to the pulsing core of her body, weakening her further.

Eventually, though, Marcus s.h.i.+fted his arousing ministrations to her other breast, sucking more powerfully and sending another shaft of fire down to her loins. Stunned, Arabella arched toward him while the muscles of her inner thighs tightened almost painfully.

It was Marcus who drew back this time, however, leaving her hot and wanting.

Pressing his forehead against hers, he held himself rigid, as if straining for willpower. "I had best stop while I still can."

"What...if I don't want you to stop?"

He gave a ragged laugh. "G.o.d, don't tempt me." Finally he drew a measured breath and stepped back.

"Go to bed, Arabella... Alone. Before I forget that I'm a gentleman and decide to join you."

She swallowed in an effort to control her jagged breathing, yet it was impossible to recover her dazed senses so abruptly.

As she straightened her disheveled bodice, Marcus opened the door and checked the corridor. "The coast is clear."

His hands moving to her shoulders, he pressed another light, all-too-fleeting kiss on her lips before turning her and sending her from the room.

Still half dazed, Arabella hurried down the hall and slipped into her bedchamber next door.

Her breath was still ragged as she shut herself inside, her nipples jewel-hard, her limbs hopelessly weak.

It was a long while before her erratic heartbeat slowed, and even longer before she gathered her scattered senses enough to begin preparing for bed.

Arabella removed the pins from her hair and brushed out the red-gold tresses, then took off her gown, her task made easier because the hooks had been unfastened earlier by Marcus's dexterous hands.

When she entered her dressing room, she caught sight of her flushed face in the cheval gla.s.s. She looked like a perfect wanton.

Chiding herself not so much for her brazen conduct as her too-easy surrender, she hung her gown in the wardrobe. When she opened the door to the clothespress where she kept her nightclothes and undergarments, however, she froze as the scent of roses greeted her.

Arabella bit back a helpless laugh. Marcus had scattered red rose petals all over her lingerie.

There was no use protesting his wicked intimacy, she knew, for he would claim to be justified in using *

any means necessary to court her. And she had to admit his methods were effective. Knowing he had been here in her dressing room, touching her undergarments-her chemises, her corsets, her stockings, her nights.h.i.+fts-brought a flood of sinful images to her mind, including a powerfully potent one...of Marcus divesting her of those same garments as easily as he had exposed her upper body a brief while ago.

Her skin flushed with heat as she remembered how he'd drawn down her bodice and kissed her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s, how his wonderful mouth had lovingly teased and fondled her nipples. He'd demonstrated more than just the power of taste tonight; he'd shown her what he would be like as her lover.

At the burning memory, Arabella raised one of the rose petals to her lips, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

His devastating kisses just now were his latest lesson in the spark and fire between a man and a woman, and admittedly, the experience had stunned her. He'd not only aroused feminine yearnings she had forcibly buried when her betrothed had deserted her four years ago; Marcus had ignited a desire-no, a hunger -in her that she'd never even known existed.

A hunger she couldn't help wanting to explore.

And as she stood there quivering, she heard an insistent little voice whispering in her mind: What would happen if you gave in to him?

Wisely quelling the question, Arabella blew out a shaky breath as she began gathering up errant rose petals. The seductive devil was even more dangerous than she had feared. It unnerved her, the lengths Marcus was willing to go to to win their wager, even though she couldn't help but secretly admire his tenacity. He was a man who controlled his own fate, who refused to let anything stand in his way, including her . He was determined to wear down her resistance-and he was starting to succeed, blast him.

In her own defense, Arabella reminded herself, any female in her right mind would be thrilled by his romantic wooing, and she was no different. She might have disavowed any prospects of love and matrimony, but she was only human.

The trouble was, the temptation to succ.u.mb to his beguiling seduction was growing more irresistible by the moment.

Chapter Seven.

I understand now what you meant about pa.s.sion- and why a woman might throw caution to the wind for a taste of it.

-Arabella to f.a.n.n.y To Arabella's dismay, she succ.u.mbed 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 gra.s.s 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 gla.s.s 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 suns.h.i.+ne 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 gla.s.s, 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 t.i.tles and estates.

He truly wanted Arabella for his wife.

She wouldn't believe him, of course. She thought his courts.h.i.+p 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.