Courtship Wars: To Pleasure A Lady Part 25

Yes, she could fathom it, for she had done the same since the moment she'd awakened this morning.

His lips feathering kisses along her neck, he eased Arabella back upon the bed and followed her down to lounge on his side, his weight braced on one elbow as he continued nibbling at her skin. "I've wanted this for ages...making love to you on a bed of rose petals. Ever since you gave away all my bouquets, in fact."

A soft laugh tumbled from her throat as he pressed his warm lips there. When she would have replied, he found her mouth and gave it the same erotic attention, wooing her with laughter and tenderness and incredible sensuality.

It was quite some time before he finally drew back to survey her. "Luscious," he repeated, his appraising scrutiny flickering over her nakedness.

Holding her gaze, he scooped up a handful of rose petals and sprinkled them over Arabella. Then gathering a few more in his fingers, he ran them slowly over her body...the swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the curve of her hip, her belly, and lower...stroking her woman's mound, the sensitive folds below. Exhaling in a whimper, Arabella arched hungrily against him.

"You're very responsive to my touch," Marcus observed.

"You make me that way."

The rose petals on her skin felt incredibly sensual. The velvet softness caressed her flesh as his hot gaze was doing, making her tremble.

"Marcus, you cannot torment me this way...."

"Yes, I can, angel. I want you senseless from wanting me."

She was already senseless with desire for him, and she wanted him the same way. She wanted to torment Marcus and make him ache with the feverish hunger he had kindled in her.

Struggling for a semblance of control, Arabella raised her hands and pushed at his shoulders, compelling him to roll over onto his back amid the rose petals. She could tell by his look that her unexpected action had surprised him.

"Turnabout is fair play," she said with a faint smile.

"So it is." Marcus lay there, compliant, but his eyes held a bold challenge. "Do you intend to have your wicked way with me?"

"Precisely." She had never felt the least urge to be wicked and wanton with anyone else. With Marcus she felt that way every moment he was near, and often when he was not.

She felt supremely wicked now as the soft candlelight gleamed tantalizingly over his body. He was beautiful, lithe and strong and totally irresistible.

Suspecting he could see the yearning in her eyes, she gathered some rose petals of her own and dragged them slowly downward over his chest, smiling when he inhaled sharply. Rather than continue caressing him, however, she scattered the handful of petals over him, letting them drift down to his loins, where his manhood stood stiffly erect.

"Roses become you," Arabella murmured, a hint of husky laughter in her voice.

She could tell Marcus was striving to remain still, for his hands curled into fists at his sides. Yet he made no move to stop her. Instead, he watched intently as she knelt above him.

Her hair teasing his skin, she bent and pressed a light kiss to his chest. She could feel the tension in his body, feel his heart thudding beneath her lips. And that was before she let her kisses glide lower. When her lips touched him beneath his rib cage, his stomach contracted reflexively.

"Does that hurt?" she asked innocently, raising her gaze to his.

"You know d.a.m.n well it doesn't hurt," Marcus muttered.

"Then what does it feel like?" When he didn't answer, Arabella caressed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh with her fingertips. "Does it feel pleasurable?"

He gave a low, strangled sigh as her hand curled around his thickly engorged shaft. "G.o.d, yes."

Holding him lightly in her grasp, she bent low over him to let her breath whisper over his skin. His arousal jerked eagerly, and when she pressed her lips to the crest, she made him shudder.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he rasped.

"From you, Marcus. I am only following the example you set me last night."

His ragged laugh turned to a groan. "You are an excellent learner."

Encouraged, Arabella closed her lips over the swollen head, tasting him with her tongue, intent on pleasuring him as he had pleasured her. His entire body went rigid as he fought for control.

His helpless response roused a potent feminine sense of power in Arabella. She had never felt more keenly aware of her senses; the sweet scent of roses, the alluring musk of Marcus's skin, the heat swelling between them, the arousing taste of him. She could imagine him thrusting inside her, darkly male and powerful, as she sucked and pulled gently, coaxing another groan from him.

Savoring the sound, Arabella sighed at the sweet spasm of desire that arrowed down to her loins, deep in her center. She could feel her own secret flesh grow moist and swollen, her blood stirring thickly with *

excitement.

Marcus had squeezed his eyes shut, while his hands clenched at his sides. His restraint was obviously slipping, though, pleasure eroding his will.

She continued her tender ministrations, wanting to drive him to a frenzy of longing. Her fingers fondled the turgid length of his shaft and the velvety, swollen sacs beneath while she plied him with warm caresses of her tongue and lips. A low, panting growl rumbled up from his throat, and a dozen heartbeats later, his hips rose up to meet her, driving his length deeper into the recesses of her mouth.

His hunger only served to heighten her desire, and she suckled harder, which pushed Marcus to the edge of his restraint.

His jaw knotted tightly, he grasped Arabella's shoulders and pulled her away.

"That is quite enough ." His voice was harsh and husky, his eyes brilliant with heat as he captured her gaze.

But it is not enough, she wanted to protest. She stared at him in the simmering glow of candlelight, faint with desire for him. She wanted him desperately, longed to feel him deep inside her.

Marcus must have wanted the same thing, for he drew her up to lie upon him so that her thighs straddled his. The melting hunger inside her turned to a relentless ache as his hands settled on her hips and he lifted her, holding the naked core of her poised above his thick shaft.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Arabella drew a long, shuddering breath, yearning for the searing pleasure of their joining...a breath that sighed out of her as Marcus complied with her unspoken wish.

Lowering her slowly, he parted the wet, swollen folds of her s.e.x with his phallus and gently, very gently eased the silken head into her quivering flesh.

Impaled on his hardness, she bit back a soft moan at the rapturous feel of him, the fullness of his penetration.

And then he began to move, igniting a burst of fire inside her. When Arabella arched her back in response, his hands reached for her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, stroking them, teasing her taut, straining nipples. And when she rocked against him, he lifted his hips to meet hers, thrusting his huge, burning shaft into her.

His face was hard with need; the desire she saw there made her chest feel tight as he slowly drove upward again, and then again with more urgency. Her moan turned to a sob, a sound that seemed to enflame him.

Grating out her name, Marcus grasped her hair to pull her face down to his. He kissed her as if he was determined to steal every ounce of willpower she had. Arabella struggled to remain in control, but his tongue plunged into her mouth like the driving rhythm of his flesh sheathed deep in her body. Her inner muscles clutched at him as shuddering tremors began to ripple remorselessly through her.

A keening whimper escaped her throat. She could feel the fire, the all-consuming need, swelling and building.

An instant later, Arabella cried out, convulsing wildly as the relentless waves of pleasure engulfed her entire body.

His control broke then. Marcus's strong body arched helplessly beneath her, guttural groans of release ripping from his throat as he reached his own harsh, powerful climax deep within her.

His arms came around her as she collapsed upon him. In the melting afterglow, Arabella lay there bonelessly, still joined to Marcus, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against his sweat-dampened chest, her face nestled in the curve of his throat, their ragged breaths mingling, their frantic heartbeats slowing.

It was a long while before Arabella recovered her senses. Marcus was stroking her hair, a tender gesture that made her sigh.

"I believe you won that round," he murmured hoa.r.s.ely.

Not moving, Arabella suddenly swallowed hard. No, she hadn't won at all. Once again Marcus had shattered all her control.

Yet that wasn't solely what worried her. It wasn't even that his vaunted powers of seduction had proved so overwhelming. It was that her resolve to remain emotionally indifferent was slipping away with his every sensual caress.

There was supreme peril in letting herself become too attached to Marcus, a warning voice clamored in her mind. She could hear her sisters' worried voices questioning whether she was in danger of falling in love with him. You need us to help defend you against him, Lily had insisted.

Perhaps she should have listened, Arabella reflected as she pressed a kiss against the warm bare skin of Marcus's neck. Perhaps she did need reinforcements to help maintain her defenses. If she had any hope at all of remaining dispa.s.sionate toward Marcus- A helpless laugh whispered from her lips as she caught herself nibbling on his delicious skin. Even a fool could see she wasn't able to defend herself against him on her own. Not when she was so desperately attracted to his lovemaking.

Just then Marcus s.h.i.+fted beneath her, reminding her that their flesh was still joined in the most intimate way possible. A sweet jolt of fire s.h.i.+vered through Arabella as he captured her face in his hands and brought her mouth to his for another burning kiss.

Most definitely she would be wise to ask her sisters to come home, Arabella decided as she gave herself up to the searing enchantment of his kisses.

Chapter Thirteen.

I can imagine little worse than marriage without love, except marriage where love is purely one-sided.

-Arabella to f.a.n.n.y When Roslyn and Lily came home the next morning in response to her summons, Arabella was torn between grat.i.tude and regret. Grat.i.tude because she would be far safer with her sisters in the house to bolster her defenses. Regret because she would be spending no more enchanting nights in Marcus's bed.

She avoided him at breakfast, and from the moment her sisters arrived, she kept herself busy with renovations to the second-floor bedchambers.

To Arabella's further grat.i.tude, Roslyn and Lily didn't press her to explain her change of heart. They simply remained close to her all day and refused to leave her alone in Marcus's company.

She was wise to keep away from him, Arabella tried to convince herself as she and her sisters set out together for afternoon cla.s.ses at the academy. She didn't trust herself to be with Marcus and keep her emotions uninvolved. She had even less faith that she could resist her growing desire for him.

Roslyn and Lily would help save her from herself.

It was better this way, Arabella knew, even though she didn't have to like it.

Marcus admittedly did not like the lack of privacy or having his two youngest wards present to interfere with his courts.h.i.+p of their sister. Nor was he overjoyed when Lilian and Roslyn confronted him in his study shortly after they returned from the academy.

"Arabella has gone upstairs to change for dinner," Lily said gravely upon entering, "but we wished a word with you, your lords.h.i.+p."

Following behind her, Roslyn added more politely but just as seriously, "If you could spare a moment of your time, my lord?"

Setting down his quill pen, Marcus rose from behind his desk and offered them seats near the tall windows. "For my lovely wards, I will make the time."

Though grimacing at his flattery, Lily settled in a wing chair as if forcing herself to behave with proper decorum. Yet she came straight to the point. "We think it best if you stop wooing Arabella, Lord Danvers."

Marcus leveled a curious gaze at his youngest ward as he sat on the sofa across from her. "I collect you mean to tell me why?"

"Because you are too beguiling. You are likely to make Arabella forsake all her good sense. We don't want to see her hurt again by a fickle suitor."

He raised an eyebrow. "I am hardly fickle. I have every intention of marrying your sister."

"But you would not make her a good husband."

Willing himself to patience, Marcus leaned back against the sofa. "So you believe you can judge my *

qualifications as a husband?"

"You don't love her, my lord." Lily leaned forward in her chair, her dark eyes bright with the glisten of frustration, her expression intent with worry. "Arabella has always been too tenderhearted. Her last betrothed humiliated her and left her heartbroken, and we won't let it happen again. She has been hurt enough."

Lily's distress was obviously heartfelt, Marcus realized.

Roslyn's voice held the same troubled note when she chimed in. "It was very hard for Arabella when her betrothed repudiated her, especially after losing both our parents and our home and having to face the public scorn that resulted."

"From all accounts," Marcus responded, "her betrothed abandoned her at the first test. I am made of stronger stuff."

"Do you love her?" Roslyn asked quietly. "If not now, then could you ever come to love her?"

The question took him aback. Roslyn was eyeing him with her perceptive gaze, which made him feel as if she could see deep inside his mind. But he couldn't reply to her discomfiting question when he himself didn't know the answer.

He had strong feelings for Arabella, certainly. When she wasn't with him, he missed her. And at the prospect of seeing her again, his heart began racing with antic.i.p.ation. She roused a pa.s.sion in him that he hadn't felt in years, perhaps never.

But just because he wanted Arabella-and wanted to be with her-didn't mean he would ever feel the romantic love he presumed Roslyn was speaking of.

"I think," Marcus finally said, "that my feelings for your sister should remain private between us."

Roslyn inclined her head in acknowledgment. "Perhaps. But we do not want to see Arabella hurt again."

"I a.s.sure you, the last thing I want to do is hurt her."

"But you cannot promise that you won't."

In all truth, he couldn't make any such promise, Marcus reflected soberly, but he would try his d.a.m.nedest. "I can promise you that if I wed your sister, our marriage will be nothing whatsoever like your parents'."

Evidently Lily wasn't satisfied. "If you make Arabella fall in love with you, you will break her heart. We won't let you hurt her the way Viscount Underwood did."

"There is no chance of that," he replied with all sincerity.

"How can we be certain?" Lily demanded.

"I regret," Marcus said, "that I won't be able to persuade you of my benevolent intentions, but I mean to continue my courts.h.i.+p of your sister."