“I dismissed her,” Marcus said easily.

“So you lured me down here under false pretenses?”

“What did you expect, sweeting? I was compelled to be creative since your sisters are guarding you like mother hawks.”

Arabella had to admire his resourcefulness, even if she was the target for it. “My sisters are only acting in my best interest.”

“I know they believe so.” His mouth twisted. “Lily fears I will beguile you into losing your common sense.”

Arabella felt a little stab of dismay. “You didn’t tell her about us-”

“Of course not, love. I don’t want it known that we sampled the marriage bed before the wedding.”

She let that provoking comment pass. “What do you want, Marcus?”

“Simply to invite you to take a midnight stroll with me.”

“Why?”

“So I can have some time alone with you. How else can I woo you effectively with your sisters watching my every move? Their presence here at the Hall is putting a significant constraint on my courtship.” Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “But that is precisely why you summoned them home, isn’t it? Because you fear I am gaining ground with you.”

The amused gleam in his eye told her there was no point in denying the charge. When Arabella remained silent, he shook his head. “You didn’t think I would be so easily daunted, did you?”

“Regrettably, no. I doubt anything could daunt you.”

Casually, Marcus slid down from the table and crossed to where she stood. Arabella felt her pulse quicken at the intimate look he was giving her, at the heat in his gaze that sparked a responsive heat in every part of her body.

“Come with me outside, Belle. We’ll walk down to the river.”

“I shouldn’t,” she replied, even as she felt her defenses weakening.

“Craven,” he teased softly. His eyes glinted wickedly, making her heart pound harder.

Determined to resist his seductive charm, she lifted her chin. “I am only being wise. You know what will happen if I come with you.”

“I know what I want to happen. But whatever we do will be solely at your discretion.”

Raising his hand, Marcus stroked a thumb over her bottom lip. The frisson of fire that streaked through Arabella at that simple touch made her quiver.

And that was before his voice lowered to a sensual murmur. “A fighting chance to win you, Arabella. That is all I’ve ever asked from you. If you lock yourself away in your chaste bedchamber with your sisters as watchdogs, how can I possibly convince you to marry me?”

She felt her willpower wilting. Marcus was devilishly irresistible and he knew it. “My sisters cannot find out,” Arabella said finally.

He smiled. “I certainly won’t tell them.”

“Mrs. Simpkin may suspect what we are about.”

“Mrs. Simpkin is very discreet. And she approves of my courtship, remember?”

His thumb dipped inside her mouth, making her breath catch and her wits scatter. Arabella felt the last of her resistance melt away. Marcus was likely to have his way in the end in any case, so she might as well give in with good grace. Besides, what harm could result if she was with him one more time?

“Very well,” she said against her better judgment. “I will come with you this once.”

The slow smile he gave her was brilliant as he offered her his hand. “Come, we’ll sneak out the back entrance in order to foil your sisters.”

Arabella couldn’t help but laugh. “How dignified for a belted earl to be slinking around his own estate,” she said, taking his hand.

“Indeed,” Marcus agreed dryly. “But I am forced to employ desperate measures. Now keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to hear us.”

He led her out the rear kitchen door, which opened onto the herb garden, and from there to the main gardens. Arabella stifled a laugh as they wended their way through the neat rows of shrubs and beds of flowers toward the rear of the manor. She felt deliciously wicked, sneaking out of the house with her lover, yet she couldn’t summon any regrets. All her good sense had fled, but all her senses had come alive. The night was lovely, silver-bright with moonlight and fresh with the sweet scents of spring.

It was her aching awareness of the man beside her, however, that filled her with anticipation and excitement and need.

When they reached the terraced lawns, Marcus drew her closer and bent to whisper in her ear. “I feel like a schoolboy playing truant…except that no schoolboy was ever this painfully swollen.”

He guided her fingers to the enormous bulge in his breeches, and Arabella shivered. Knowing how much he wanted her roused a pulsing ache between her thighs and left her breathless with her own longing.

In unspoken agreement, they quickened their pace until they reached the line of trees that flanked the river and sheltered them from sight of the manor. They had to slow as they pushed through a glade, but the moment they came out into the moonlight again, Marcus halted and dragged Arabella against him, seizing her mouth in a fierce possession.

Their kiss exploded in a passionate blaze. The heat he generated ignited sparks in Arabella’s blood, filling her with savage hunger. She wanted him with a ferocity that shocked her.

Desperate to touch him, she reached down and fumbled at the front placket of his breeches. Marcus inhaled sharply at her boldness, but then hastened to help her, almost ripping at the buttons in order to free his rigid length.

It was Arabella’s turn to inhale when she saw the dark, pulsing shaft thrust proudly out from his sleek loins.

“Come here,” he demanded.

She obeyed, needing no further urging.

Swiftly, he raised her skirts to her waist and cupped the silken curls between her thighs. She was already shamelessly wet for him, and his eyes flared darkly in response. She could see his face in the moonlight-hard, beautiful, taut with desire-and knew the same desire was written on her features as he probed her feminine folds.

Arabella bit back a gasp as he stroked the sensitive bud of her sex and arched against him when he buried a long finger deep inside her. Only the need for discretion kept her from moaning in wild pleasure.

Her response apparently wasn’t wild enough for Marcus, though. His midnight-blue eyes smoldering, he insinuated his muscular leg between hers and slid his hands around her hips to her derriere, then lifted her up.

Startled by his unexpected action, Arabella clung to his shoulders for balance.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he ordered in a rough command.

“Marcus…”

He kissed her urgently again, drinking in any protest as his tongue thrust deeply into her mouth. Below, his arousal penetrated her cleft and forged in with a slow, inexorable pressure. Her body was soft and yielding, accepting the hard strength of his, but even so, Arabella gasped at the searing feel of his claiming.

Marcus captured the sound with his mouth. With his legs braced wide, he anchored her against him and drove in the rest of the way, till he was sheathed deeply inside her.

Arabella trembled in his arms as her flesh swelled tightly around his large possession. It was breathtaking, being filled by him this way. Breathtaking and stunning in intensity.

He held her locked securely against him and began to move his hips, withdrawing and then surging upward, plunging in long, forceful strokes. She shuddered at the impact as he drove himself into her, huge and hard, pumping in a demanding, arousing rhythm while his mouth devoured hers.

His raw desire left her shaken; his hungry plundering made her wild. Moaning, she writhed against him, matching her movements to his with frenzied abandon.

It was hard and fast and thrilling…and utterly explosive. The inferno broke over them at the same moment, splintering shards of fiery sensation through them both. Arabella sobbed against his mouth while Marcus staggered at the powerful convulsions, his arms clenching around her. Reeling with desire, he drank in her helpless cries, rendering his own hoarse groans as he poured himself into her.

He was still gasping for breath when she sagged against him. He thrust into her savagely one last time, then went still except for the racking tremors that continued to buffet him.

They remained fused together for a long while, vibrating with aftershocks. Even when their bodies ceased their wild quaking, Marcus held Arabella tightly, savoring the feel of her.

Finally, though, he eased her to her feet, supporting her with his embrace when she leaned limply against him, too weak to stand on her own.

Marcus’s low curse was ragged in the hushed quiet of the night. “Damnation…no finesse again.”

The husky, exhausted laughter that tumbled from her lips touched him even more than her wild response had done, but he couldn’t excuse his own wildness. He pressed his lips against her hair in apology for his savagery. “Forgive me, Belle. I haven’t lost control like that since I was a callow youth, but I couldn’t wait.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she rasped against his shoulder. “I couldn’t wait, either.”

He could hear the laughter in her voice, the pleasure, the contentment, and another fierce stab of desire pierced him.

Then Arabella raised her head and looked up at him, her beautiful face glowing in the moonlight. His heart turned over at the sight.

“I had no idea it was possible to make love that way,” she whispered almost shyly.

He’d had no idea, either. He had never made love with such frenzy. The frantic urgency had left him gasping. He’d never felt such bliss with anyone but Arabella. The satisfaction of making love to her was shattering.