Courtship Wars: To Pleasure A Lady Part 5

Not pausing to further debate the deficiencies of her character, Arabella wheeled her horse and spurred it into a gallop, making for the copse of beech trees in the distance. Any hope that Lord Danvers hadn't seen her, however, died a swift death when she risked a glance over her shoulder. He was giving chase.

Her heart quickening, she bent low over her sidesaddle and urged her mount on. When shortly she reached the beechwood and plunged inside the cool shadows, she was forced to slow her pace to negotiate the low-hanging branches that snagged at her bonnet.

Not so the earl. The sound of hoofbeats behind her told her that he was still pursuing her. When she came out again into another sunlit meadow, Arabella doubled her efforts but knew he was rapidly gaining on her.

Her pulse was hammering in time with the thudding hooves when he drew even with her. For an instant they raced side by side, while her heart pounded with unexpected exhilaration.

Then suddenly he reached out to wrap a strong arm about her waist and pluck her from the saddle as if she weighed no more than thistledown.

Arabella's gasp of alarm turned to outrage when she found herself hauled sideways in front of his saddle and enveloped in his powerful embrace. As she clung desperately to him for balance, her breathless demand, "Let me go, you devil!" was m.u.f.fled ineffectively against his shoulder and received no reply.

Instead of releasing her, the earl merely tightened his grasp.

When he finally brought his mount to a plunging halt, Arabella sucked in a panting breath and lifted her head to glare up at him.

A mistake, she realized at once, for her mouth rested only inches from his. A delicious shock flared through her. She had fantasized about those firm, sensual lips....

Then their gazes locked, and her breath faltered altogether.

The sudden silence seemed deafening. Arabella felt her heart nearly pounding out of her chest, yet this time she couldn't blame her response on physical exertion. Rather, it was because she found herself pressed against his lords.h.i.+p's hard-muscled male body, her heaving b.r.e.a.s.t.s nestled against his broad chest.

He sat there unmoving, eyeing her in speculation, and she stared back at him, frozen. When his gaze dropped to her bare throat and then even lower, to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s that were thrust prominently upward, she wished she had worn something more substantial than a low-collared muslin gown in deference to the warmth of the spring afternoon. She was acutely conscious of the way her nipples had brazenly hardened at the contact.

He, too, seemed aware of her body's wanton response, for his blue eyes darkened with a sensual gleam.

His voice fell to a languid murmur when he observed, "I had antic.i.p.ated any number of greetings from you, Miss Loring, but I confess this was not one of them."

Arabella stiffened at his husky, amused tone. "Nor I, my lord. What do you mean, manhandling me in this brutish way?"

The glimmer in his eyes deepened. "Why, I was rescuing you, of course."

"I did not need rescuing!"

"No? I a.s.sumed your horse bolted. You would never have been so rude as to deliberately ignore my request for an audience. I arrived an hour ago at the hall to find you and your sisters nowhere in sight."

She had no legitimate reply for that, since her absence had indeed been entirely deliberate.

"You must have forgotten the time," the earl prodded, "for I'm certain you didn't mean to put me to the trouble of searching for you."

Arabella had the grace to blush. "I was previously occupied at the hour you demanded."

"Demanded?" He raised a dark eyebrow. "It was hardly a demand."

"It seemed very much so, since you gave me no choice in the matter."

His gaze dropped to her lips again. "It appears your flight had consequences you never intended." At her puzzled look, he s.h.i.+fted slightly beneath her. "Perhaps you didn't realize that physical exertion rouses a man's blood. And combined with the thrill of the chase..."

He let the words hang until she felt the swelling hardness of his loins against her thigh and comprehended his meaning. She had aroused more than his blood, quite obviously!

Regaining her wits, Arabella pressed her hands against his chest, determined to break free. Yet it was too late. His mouth suddenly lowered to capture hers in a kiss.

A slow, devastating, spellbinding kiss.

The unexpectedness of his a.s.sault stunned her. She felt light-headed. She couldn't breathe. At the searing heat of it, panic melded with insidious excitement, but she couldn't summon the desire to fight him. Instead, her entire body softened instinctively against him as his lips moved over hers with exquisite pressure. When his tongue delved deep inside her mouth, exploring, she gave a helpless moan.

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 s.h.i.+ver 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 s.h.i.+mmered 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 hoa.r.s.e 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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sion-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 gra.s.s and take her right there in the meadow, to bury his throbbing c.o.c.k 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 relations.h.i.+p 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 ill.u.s.trious 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 bemus.e.m.e.nt, 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 astonis.h.i.+ng 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 f.a.n.n.y *

Her speechlessness lasted a dozen heartbeats. "Have you gone mad?" Arabella said finally, her tone wary.

Wry amus.e.m.e.nt flickered in his eyes. "I a.s.sure you I am quite sane," his lords.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sault 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 a.s.sure 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."