“Well, yes,” she admitted with only a faint blush of guilt. “And to spoil the prospect of any intimacy between us.”
“Since starvation is not conducive to courtship.”
“Precisely. But I warned you I would not make it easy for you to woo me. Are you vexed?” she asked sweetly.
Her smile held such satisfaction, Marcus had to grin in return. “Vexed? Not in the least.” Exasperated, perhaps. And most certainly fascinated by the beautiful spitfire and her efforts to evade his courtship. But perhaps he could turn her machinations to his advantage…
He suddenly rose and held out his hand to her. “Come with me, Arabella.”
That wicked smile instantly made her extremely wary. “Come where?”
“You’ll see.”
When he grasped her hand and drew her to her feet, she had no choice but to accompany him. They swept past a bewildered Simpkin and down the corridor, heading for the back stairs.
“Where are you taking me?” Arabella demanded uneasily.
“To the kitchens to find something more palatable to eat.”
“There really is no need-”
“Indeed there is. I insist. You must still be hungry, and I know I am.”
Arabella tried to pull back. “I think I would rather starve.”
Marcus gave a low laugh. “But I would not. Come along, darling. You don’t want to put me to the trouble of carrying you.”
Suspecting that he would make good on his threat if she continued resisting, Arabella gave up gracefully.
When they reached the large kitchens, they found Mrs. Simpkin seated at the long wooden table where the servants took their meals, while the maid scrubbed pots and pans at the sink. The housekeeper rose abruptly, looking startled to see them. “My lord! Is something amiss?”
“I would say so, Mrs. Simpkin. The dishes you served tonight failed to satisfy our appetites.”
“I can prepare another dinner, my lord-”
“That won’t be necessary. You will excuse us, please.”
The housekeeper suddenly looked worried. “What do you intend, Lord Danvers? If you mean to punish Miss Arabella-”
“I am merely going to feed her. Now, pray give us some privacy. Don’t be alarmed, I won’t harm your mistress.”
After a hesitant glance at Arabella, the housekeeper reluctantly left the room, followed by the wide-eyed scullery maid.
Marcus led Arabella to the table and pressed her down onto the bench. “Sit here while I raid the larder.”
She obeyed unwillingly. The warmth of the room, combined with the delicious aromas of herbs and cooking, was somehow pleasant, yet she couldn’t relax as she watched Marcus search the vast room. It was incongruous to see a tall, lithe aristocrat garbed in formal evening clothes foraging in these domestic surroundings, but it was utterly unsettling to imagine what he had in store for her. He was obviously retaliating in response to her tactics.
He inspected several pantries and then the cellar, gathering items for a feast and returning to deposit his prizes on the table before her. Then he went around the kitchen, putting out all the lamps, leaving only the glow of the hearth fire to provide light.
“What the devil are you doing?” Arabella asked, her voice suddenly uneven.
“I told you, I intend to feed you.”
“In the dark?”
He smiled at her protest. “Not total darkness. I want to be able to see your pleasure as you savor each bite.”
His answer unnerved her, as did his next provocative comment when he settled on the bench beside her.
“This is much more intimate than the dining room, wouldn’t you agree?”
This setting was indeed far more intimate than before. Clearly her plan had backfired.
“Marcus, this is hardly proper…” she began breathlessly.
His midnight blue eyes gleamed at her. “Hush, sweeting, and take your punishment like a good sport.”
She had no choice but to comply, Arabella realized, swallowing the sudden dryness in her throat. She was keenly aware of Marcus’s potent masculinity as he leaned nearer, for she could feel his powerful thigh press against hers through her gown. The arousing contact sent heat coiling low in her belly and between her thighs, made her nipples tighten brazenly to hardened peaks.
What was worse, Marcus knew his effect on her, the fiend.
The pressure deliberately increased as he reached into a bowl and drew out a plump strawberry, the first of the season. Next he removed the cloth from another bowl and dipped the ripe fruit in clotted cream, then held the morsel to her lips.
He planned to serve her with his fingers, Arabella received.
She tried unsuccessfully to take the berry from him. “I can feed myself.”
“But it would not be nearly as enjoyable for either of us. Open your lovely mouth, Arabella, or I will have to kiss it open.” She chose the lesser of two evils, bending forward to bite off the fruit from the leafy stem. The tart-sweet burst of flavor in her mouth was delicious, reminding her that strawberries and cream was her favorite dessert. Yet she couldn’t enjoy the flavor, not with Marcus observing her so intently. His lips lifted in a slow, sultry smile as he watched her chew.
He fed her two more berries, until finally Arabella pushed his hand away. “Honestly, I am no longer hungry.”
“I am. Hungry for you.”
Her heart gave a fierce leap at his low murmur.
“I can imagine how delectable you would taste, love.”
Their gazes locked, and Arabella’s breath caught in her lungs. She had never felt this aching physical awareness before. Something tangible had kindled between them, and she couldn’t look away. She was experienced enough now to recognize the bright spark of desire that flared in Marcus’s blue eyes.
A shiver stole through her, even before he raised his finger to draw it along the wet line of her lips. “From now on, every time I watch you eat will be a taste of temptation.”
Her breath faltered entirely. Then his fingertips moved lower to touch the pulse quickening at the base of her throat. The tension thrumming between them was nearly unbearable.
Desperate to break it, Arabella surged to her feet. “I must go,” she exclaimed, yet she was prevented from fleeing for the door when Marcus caught her hand.
Laughter laced his voice as he protested, “But, darling, you have scarcely eaten a bite.”
“I have had more than enough, my lord!”
She snatched her hand from his grasp and escaped to the sound of his soft laughter. Her heart was still thudding moments later when she reached her bedchamber, her body still shivering with heat.
Arabella shut the door firmly behind her, then leaned weakly back against the panel. She was in serious trouble if she could not even withstand her first dinner with Marcus.
She had meant to foil his plan to woo her, but she had done a wretched job of it. Indeed, thus far she had come out the loser in every encounter with him.
Arabella shook her head stubbornly. Perhaps she had lost their initial battles, but she wouldn’t lose the war.
Chapter Five
Do take care, dearest Arabella. Lord Danvers is reputed to be impossibly seductive.
– Fanny Irwin to Arabella
The odd sound of sawing woke Arabella the next morning. Prying her eyes open, she glanced at her bedchamber window. The curious noise was coming from outdoors, along with several male voices.
Puzzled, she rose to peer out the curtains and blinked in the bright sunlight. From her bedchamber, she could see the rear of the manor-the gardens and the terraced lawns beyond, which led down to the river. The grounds below were swarming with an army of gardeners, all pruning and clipping and raking years of overgrowth away.
Thoughtfully, Arabella turned from the window to wash and dress. She had risen later than usual since she’d slept poorly. In truth, she had tossed and turned much of the night, images of a certain sensual nobleman inhabiting her restless dreams.