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 sex 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 breasts, 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 breasts 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 hoarsely.

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 dispassionate 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 shifted beneath her, reminding her that their flesh was still joined in the most intimate way possible. A sweet jolt of fire shivered 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 Fanny

When Roslyn and Lily came home the next morning in response to her summons, Arabella was torn between gratitude and regret. Gratitude 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 gratitude, 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 classes 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 courtship 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 lordship.”

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?”