He left her wrist then and slowly skimmed his fingertips up her arm, over the silk fabric of her sleeve and along her shoulder in a trailing, seductive caress. She sensed the raw power even in this light touch, and when he found her bare collarbone above the high edge of her gown’s neckline, she shuddered at the heated rush of feeling assaulting her. The heat only increased when he drew a line down the silky hollow between her breasts.

“Arabella…” Marcus warned again when she made to move away.

She swallowed hard, finding it nearly impossible to remain still as he resumed. The truth was, she wanted to be touched this way, wanted him to touch her.

His hand glided upward over her skin, along the column of her throat. “Can you deny how pleasurable this feels?” His voice stroked her senses like velvet, just as his fingers were doing.

No, she couldn’t deny the pleasure. His arousing caresses vibrated through her, thrumming at all her nerve endings.

When she didn’t answer, Marcus put a languid finger beneath her chin and made her lift her gaze. As she met his dark eyes, her heart thudded erratically, beating a wild pulse in her throat.

He touched her there, pressing faintly against the vulnerable hollow. Then moving higher, he grazed her jawline with his thumb. Arabella quivered at the alluring feel.

His thumb brushed her jaw twice more, his touch lingering and provocative, before wandering with tantalizing slowness to her cheek.

His blue gaze engulfed her as his fingers teased her flushed skin. Arabella couldn’t look away. She was too enraptured by his expression and the tender assault of his fingers. She could scarcely breathe as his thumb traced her moist, parted lips, then dipped to penetrate the corner of her mouth.

Her heart beat painfully hard, and for a moment, she wondered if Marcus intended to kiss her. But his hand left her cheek to roam down her throat again, his palm skimming with feathery, delicious sensations, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.

When he drew a seductive finger along the line of her collarbone, her skin burned. Yet he stopped just as he reached the swells of her breasts. Instead, his hands settled with warm possessiveness on her shoulders, and he stepped closer.

Arabella inhaled sharply when he drew her fully against him. His body was warm, hard, strong.

“You said you only meant to touch me,” she said breathlessly.

“Holding is part of touching. Don’t you like the feel of our bodies pressing together?”

There was an insidious delight in being held against his hard, sheltering body. She could feel the rush of her own blood, could feel the tremors shivering through her. “No, I don’t, Marcus.”

“Liar,” he murmured softly.

To her surprise and disappointment, he released her. Yet he didn’t step back. He merely raised his hand to her bodice and feathered the tips of her breasts with the backs of his fingers, making Arabella gasp at the sparks that shot through her. “If you don’t like it, then why have your nipples grown so hard?”

It was true, Arabella realized. Her nipples had instantly hardened, betraying her arousal, while her breasts felt heavy and swollen.

And Marcus was doing his best to increase her desire, his knuckles slowly gliding over the silk-covered peaks. Then boldly he cupped one ripe swell, making her knees go weak. Fire radiated from the hand that held her throbbing breast, bloomed between her thighs, shocking her. Fanny had described such powerful feminine feelings as this, but Arabella had never expected to experience them for herself.

She closed her eyes against the pleasure. It was maddening the way Marcus drew out each brazen caress, yet she didn’t want him to stop. His touch was so tender, so wicked…so right. The sensations left her shaking inside, kindling a heavy ache deep in her lower body…

It was some time before she realized his demonstration had ceased.

“Do you understand now?” Marcus asked, his voice husky and low.

Dazed, Arabella opened her eyes. Oh, she understood perfectly. Marcus had intended to show her the power of a man’s touch-of his touch-and he had thoroughly succeeded. She was aching with nameless longing…aching for him.

“I want to return to the house now,” she said unevenly, her voice deplorably weak.

At her nonanswer, he gave a satisfied smile. “Of course. I think your lesson is sufficient for now. You’ll dream of me tonight, of me touching you like this…”

He raised his hand to her throat again, and another frisson of fiery sensation sparked from his fingers to her skin.

Arabella drew back sharply and gave Marcus a dismissive look. But as she slipped past him and turned toward the house on shaky legs, she was very much afraid his prediction about her dreams would come true.

Chapter Six

I promise I will take care, Fanny, even if his kisses are as seductive as you warned me.

– Arabella to Fanny

Arabella did dream of Marcus…all night long. But she awoke determined to regain the offensive in their rivalry. As soon as she had washed and dressed, she joined Marcus in the small dining parlor.

He looked surprised to see her as he rose politely from the table.

“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he settled Arabella in her chair and returned to his seat beside her.

“I am fulfilling part of my daily quota. I realized that if I must share your company, it would be best to do so in broad daylight.”

Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “You realize that won’t deter me.”

“Yes, but somehow I feel safer.”

He surveyed her gown of blue muslin. “Had I known you intended to join me for breakfast, I would have dressed more formally.”

He wore no cravat or waistcoat again this morning, Arabella saw, and his shirt was open to his breastbone. She had the most scandalous urge to touch that broad male chest, to feel the muscled flesh she glimpsed beneath the fine cambric.

Instead, Arabella cleared her throat. “Are you occupied this afternoon?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that depends on what you have in mind.”

“I have decided to invite you to tour our academy. You said you wanted to judge whether teaching there is an appropriate endeavor for your wards. Well, this is your chance.”

“Then I accept.”

“I am instructing a class at four. We usually take tea then, and I thought to use your visit as a learning opportunity for our young ladies. They rarely receive gentlemen callers, so they can practice on you.”

His amusement deepened. “So I am to be your test subject.”

“I don’t doubt you are up to the challenge.”

“And you will have protection in numbers,” Marcus observed shrewdly.

Arabella smiled. She had indeed counted on that advantage. With two dozen schoolgirls to divert Marcus from his wooing of her, he would have little chance for intimacy, and she would use up much of her obligatory four hours in his company. “There is that benefit, too,” she agreed.

“Very well, I will concede to tea if I must. Are you free for a ride this morning?”

She shook her head. “I am afraid I won’t have time. I am meeting with the merchants again, and then I am expected at the academy at one. But I’m certain you can enjoy a ride without me. If you will arrive at the academy at half past three, you may inspect the premises before tea.”

“I will be counting the minutes,” Marcus replied in pained resignation.


Having postponed Marcus’s courtship for the time being, Arabella spent a busy morning choosing furnishings for the remainder of the main floor. Later, when she went out to the stableyard, intending to drive herself in the gig to the academy, she found the earl’s carriage waiting to take her there.

The afternoon crept by with surprising slowness. Absurdly, Arabella caught herself glancing frequently out the windows in anticipation of Marcus’s visit. When his carriage arrived promptly and halted on the gravel drive before the entrance hall, she accompanied the school’s headmistress outside to greet him.

“Gentleman caller reporting for duty,” he said as he stepped down from his barouche.

Arabella introduced him to Miss Jane Caruthers, the elegant spinster who ran the day-to-day operations of the academy. Allowing Miss Caruthers to lead the tour of the grounds, Arabella remained a few steps behind, yet she found herself watching Marcus intently, surprised to realize how eager she was to have his approval.

Of course, if he saw the good she and her sisters were doing here, he would be more likely to sanction their continued employment. Yet her desire for his approbation was more personal than acquiring his legal consent, she knew. The academy was mainly her creation, her pride and joy, and she wanted Marcus to understand how much it meant to her.

The school was actually comprised of several buildings so as to prepare pupils for the varied experiences they would encounter in high society. Classes were usually held in a large manor house such as one might find on a nobleman’s country estate, and a second, more formal mansion that was representative of where the London Quality dwelled. The academy also boasted a large stable and park to practice outdoor skills, and a large dormitory to lodge the young ladies who boarded full-time. The vast majority of the pupils lived in the dormitory, except during summer term when only a handful remained on the premises.

Arabella couldn’t hide the little glow of warmth she felt at the tour’s conclusion when Marcus praised the facilities.