He lowered his body to hers, covering her, and eased her thighs wider with his. The tenderness in his eyes deepening, he bent to kiss her again. His mouth, which had been fierce and hungry before, gentled from ravishment to tantalizing seduction.

She could feel his hard length probing for entrance. As he pushed inside her a fraction of an inch, Arabella froze, but he brushed her temple with his lips. “Try to relax, Belle. I will be as careful as I can.”

With exquisite care, he pressed forward, gliding in slowly, slowly…his huge, swollen arousal stretching her flesh, filling her. There was a moment of pain, but it quickly subsided. Arabella felt only a throbbing fullness as at last he sank in the entire way.

Marcus held completely still so she could grow accustomed to his alien hardness, feathering light kisses over her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.

After another moment, he began to move, withdrawing the slightest measure, then pressing in again. Meanwhile his hands were stimulating her breasts, softly kneading, his thumbs stroking the sensitive buds. Arabella trembled, then gasped as another streak of fire ignited deep and low inside her.

She hadn’t expected to be aroused this intensely so soon after his last devastating assault on her senses. But to her shock, the inferno began to build within her again. She was suddenly on fire. Marcus’s naked skin burned hers, his body setting hers ablaze. Her breath came in short panting bursts as her hips began to move of their own accord, seeking completion from him in a rhythm as old as time.

His breath as tortured as hers, Marcus braced his weight on his forearms and lifted his head to gaze down at her lovely face. He wanted to watch Arabella climax as he took her, wanted to watch her skin flush with passion as they consummated their union for the very first time.

And yet he could feel his control slipping, could feel his need and desire swelling to overwhelming proportions. He struggled to go slowly as Arabella writhed and moaned beneath him, but when she suddenly arched and cried out in ecstasy, he surrendered to his need with a hoarse cry of his own, his body clenching and spasming with the same blazing pleasure she was feeling.

The shattering, searing explosion left him gasping for breath. In the aftermath, Marcus collapsed upon her, trying to spare her the brunt of his weight, and lay there bonelessly as the fire slowly receded.

It was a long while before either one of them could breathe with any semblance of calm. Then slowly, with great care, he pulled out of her…flinching when she winced.

“Did I hurt you?” Marcus murmured in concern.

Shaking her head, she gazed up at him with a dazed, dreamy smile. “Fanny told me that lovemaking was supposed to be unpleasant the first time, but it wasn’t in the least.”

Relieved, he rolled onto his back and gathered Arabella in his arms, drawing her into the haven of his body.

Snuggling against him, she gave a deep, languid sigh. After a time she found her voice. “Is it always like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like fire. Like fiery…magic.”

He smiled faintly. “Almost never.”

She buried her face in his shoulder as if suddenly feeling embarrassed. “You probably felt nothing like magic-”

“You’re wrong, sweetheart. I felt it, believe me.”

Arabella eased back to peer up at him. “You are just trying to charm me.”

His laugh was soft, decisive. “If I had wanted to charm you, sweeting, I would have done so before we made love.”

His declaration must have reassured her for she closed her eyes again and relaxed against him with another blissful sigh. “I suppose so.”

Marcus exhaled as well, relishing the delight of having Arabella warm and naked in his arms. Fiery magic was an apt description, he thought, experiencing a sense of triumph and something even more profound: heartfelt exhilaration. Arabella’s passion was as vibrant and exciting as he’d known it would be, and so were the feelings she’d aroused in him. He had never felt more alive with a lover, more satisfied.

Holding her close, he pressed his face into her hair and breathed in her fragrant scent. He thought fleetingly of past lovers-of their seductive charms, the endless ways they’d tried to please him-but not one of them had ever succeeded in arousing such a stark hunger in him without even trying.

A dangerous hunger. His desire for Arabella had made him forget his rational mind, Marcus realized. He’d taken her virginity tonight without any concern for the consequences.

Yet whatever guilt he felt for deflowering her, he was able to reason away. It would have happened when he made her his bride. This was only sooner than either of them had expected. Still, he should have considered the possible repercussions. He could have gotten her with child tonight.

Marcus drew an uneven breath at the prospect of little Arabellas and even little Marcuses. He had always considered the responsibility of fathering children from an intellectual standpoint, if at all. He was resigned to fulfilling his duty to continue his titles and carry on his bloodlines.

The idea of being a father to Arabella’s children, however, not only held immense appeal but roused a profoundly primal emotion in him.

A faint smile curved Marcus’s mouth. Drew and Heath would laugh uproariously to hear him entertaining the notion of wanting a family. And to have said family, he would first have to persuade Arabella to wed him. But now there was no question that he would succeed. He would never let her go. Possessiveness had never gripped him so hard.

You are mine now, he thought, stroking her bare shoulder absently with his fingers.

At the caress, Arabella stirred in his arms, then raised her head to glance at his chamber door as if suddenly recalling where she was.

When she uncurled herself from him and started to rise, though, Marcus caught her arm before she could leave the bed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my room. I shouldn’t be here.”

He drew her down to lie beside him once more. “You are spending the night with me. We have barely begun to explore the delights of lovemaking.”

“But the servants could discover us-”

“The servants have their own wing on another floor. And as long as you return before dawn, no one will see you.”

Rising himself, Marcus went to the washstand to fetch a wet cloth. When he returned to wash away the traces of his seed from Arabella’s thighs, the enchanting flush that rose to her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment.

He stopped her from drawing the covers over her limbs to conceal her nudity. “Don’t hide yourself from me. You have a beautiful body, and there is no shame in my seeing it.”

Arabella bit her lower lip but didn’t protest his ministrations.

“It’s just as well that I destroyed your nightdress,” Marcus observed, seeing the smear of blood on the torn cambric. “I would rather not leave evidence that you gave me your innocence. You can throw your shift in the dustbin, or better yet, burn it. I’ll give you a nightshirt to wear when I take you back to your room.”

“We made a shambles of the bed,” Arabella said ruefully as he finished his task and returned the cloth to the wash basin. But when Marcus turned around, she sucked in a sharp breath. Her gaze locked on his loins. He was heavy and aroused-and clearly ready to make love again.

“You are still…” Her face flamed even more. “I thought it took hours for a man to…recuperate.”

Marcus smiled as he climbed back into bed and gathered Arabella in his arms. “Not with the right lover. Not when a man wants a woman as much as I want you.”

“Then you mean to make love to me again?” she asked, nestling her head on his shoulder.

“We’ll see. You will be tender enough tomorrow as it is.”

“It was worth it.”

His soft laughter teased her hair. “Then I was right.”

“About what?”

“Physically we are highly compatible. We would suit each other very well in the marriage bed.”

Arabella felt her defenses leap to life. “Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean we would suit in other aspects of marriage. A short while ago, we were fighting just as my parents did. That is hardly the model of an ideal marriage.”

“No, but I suspect an ideal marriage would bore us both to tears. Fighting can be invigorating,” Marcus said thoughtfully. “Admit it, you found it exhilarating, locking swords with me.”

“I found it perfectly wretched,” Arabella replied honestly.

“But it was exhilarating to make up,” he prodded, a smile in his voice.

Unable to deny the truth of that, Arabella felt a strange turmoil of dismay and contentment ripple through her. Marcus’s passion was as thrilling and overwhelmingly wonderful as she had feared it would be. She shut her eyes, savoring his tenderness, the intimacy, the bliss of lying here in his arms like this.

When she wouldn’t answer, he eased from beneath her and rolled onto his side so he could gaze down at her. “Why don’t we declare a truce for now? No more fighting tonight. Just pleasure.”

Arabella hesitated. She didn’t want to fight with Marcus. She couldn’t regret giving him her innocence, either. But did she want to entertain the scandalous notion of sharing his bed for the entire night?

The trouble was her foolish heart. Could she trust herself to keep emotionally uninvolved with Marcus if she surrendered to his lovemaking?

At her delay, Marcus bent to place a light kiss on her lips. “A truce, love. For the remainder of the night, we will forget about our wager and just enjoy ourselves.”