She wanted to whimper in disappointment when at length he ended the kiss, but thankfully, he didn’t leave her entirely. Instead, his lips traveled upward, feathering across her cheek to her temple.
“You have the most erotic mouth I have ever tasted,” he murmured.
“So do you,” Arabella replied honestly.
His soft laugh was a warm burst of breath against her skin. The intoxicating sensation sent a shiver of pleasure rippling down her spine, but when he touched his lips to her ear, drawing the lobe into his mouth, she gave a helpless moan.
“I want to taste your breasts,” Marcus added.
His whispered words, so provocative and tantalizing, made her breasts tingle shamefully.
She should pull away, Arabella told herself when she felt his hands moving at her back, working loose the hooks of her gown, but all she could do was stand there quivering, her heart pounding. She watched, spellbound as he drew down her bodice to reveal the rounded swells of her breasts above her chemise and corset. Then he tugged down the edge of her chemise to expose the rose-hued crests.
His eyes flashed at the sight.
“Marcus…”
“Hush, you’ll like this.”
His husky murmur silenced her. Another tremor shook Arabella when she realized he meant to kiss her bare breasts, but she did nothing to stop him.
His gaze burned her as he bent lower, and then so did his breath as it fanned against her tender skin. At the delicate flicker of his tongue against her sensitive flesh, Arabella inhaled a sharp gasp. But when he grazed the tip of her nipple with his tongue, her breath fled altogether.
His teasing, velvet-rough tongue stroked her for a long moment, making her shudder with pleasure. Then with expert skill he drew the soft, swollen bud into his mouth, suckling the aching aureole. A whimper escaped her lips, while her hands rose to tangle in his raven hair. The brazen heat that coiled inside her was almost too intense to bear; it spiraled downward to the pulsing core of her body, weakening her further.
Eventually, though, Marcus shifted his arousing ministrations to her other breast, sucking more powerfully and sending another shaft of fire down to her loins. Stunned, Arabella arched toward him while the muscles of her inner thighs tightened almost painfully.
It was Marcus who drew back this time, however, leaving her hot and wanting.
Pressing his forehead against hers, he held himself rigid, as if straining for willpower. “I had best stop while I still can.”
“What…if I don’t want you to stop?”
He gave a ragged laugh. “God, don’t tempt me.” Finally he drew a measured breath and stepped back. “Go to bed, Arabella…Alone. Before I forget that I’m a gentleman and decide to join you.”
She swallowed in an effort to control her jagged breathing, yet it was impossible to recover her dazed senses so abruptly.
As she straightened her disheveled bodice, Marcus opened the door and checked the corridor. “The coast is clear.”
His hands moving to her shoulders, he pressed another light, all-too-fleeting kiss on her lips before turning her and sending her from the room.
Still half dazed, Arabella hurried down the hall and slipped into her bedchamber next door.
Her breath was still ragged as she shut herself inside, her nipples jewel-hard, her limbs hopelessly weak. It was a long while before her erratic heartbeat slowed, and even longer before she gathered her scattered senses enough to begin preparing for bed.
Arabella removed the pins from her hair and brushed out the red-gold tresses, then took off her gown, her task made easier because the hooks had been unfastened earlier by Marcus’s dexterous hands. When she entered her dressing room, she caught sight of her flushed face in the cheval glass. She looked like a perfect wanton.
Chiding herself not so much for her brazen conduct as her too-easy surrender, she hung her gown in the wardrobe. When she opened the door to the clothespress where she kept her nightclothes and undergarments, however, she froze as the scent of roses greeted her.
Arabella bit back a helpless laugh. Marcus had scattered red rose petals all over her lingerie.
There was no use protesting his wicked intimacy, she knew, for he would claim to be justified in using any means necessary to court her. And she had to admit his methods were effective. Knowing he had been here in her dressing room, touching her undergarments-her chemises, her corsets, her stockings, her nightshifts-brought a flood of sinful images to her mind, including a powerfully potent one…of Marcus divesting her of those same garments as easily as he had exposed her upper body a brief while ago.
Her skin flushed with heat as she remembered how he’d drawn down her bodice and kissed her bare breasts, how his wonderful mouth had lovingly teased and fondled her nipples. He’d demonstrated more than just the power of taste tonight; he’d shown her what he would be like as her lover.
At the burning memory, Arabella raised one of the rose petals to her lips, inhaling the sweet fragrance. His devastating kisses just now were his latest lesson in the spark and fire between a man and a woman, and admittedly, the experience had stunned her. He’d not only aroused feminine yearnings she had forcibly buried when her betrothed had deserted her four years ago; Marcus had ignited a desire-no, a hunger-in her that she’d never even known existed.
A hunger she couldn’t help wanting to explore.
And as she stood there quivering, she heard an insistent little voice whispering in her mind: What would happen if you gave in to him?
Wisely quelling the question, Arabella blew out a shaky breath as she began gathering up errant rose petals. The seductive devil was even more dangerous than she had feared. It unnerved her, the lengths Marcus was willing to go to to win their wager, even though she couldn’t help but secretly admire his tenacity. He was a man who controlled his own fate, who refused to let anything stand in his way, including her. He was determined to wear down her resistance-and he was starting to succeed, blast him.
In her own defense, Arabella reminded herself, any female in her right mind would be thrilled by his romantic wooing, and she was no different. She might have disavowed any prospects of love and matrimony, but she was only human.
The trouble was, the temptation to succumb to his beguiling seduction was growing more irresistible by the moment.
Chapter Seven
I understand now what you meant about passion- and why a woman might throw caution to the wind for a taste of it.
– Arabella to Fanny
To Arabella’s dismay, she succumbed the very next day. She couldn’t blame Marcus entirely, however. Her own feminine weakness was as much at fault as his male perseverance.
Admittedly, she was glad to accompany him on an alfresco luncheon in the countryside, for even though she found pleasure in redecorating the house, the outing was a treat that gave her a respite from the demands of the tradesmen as well as her duties at the academy.
She also had to admit that she enjoyed being with Marcus, particularly since he put himself out to be charming as he expertly drove his curricle along the country lanes.
For their picnic spot, he chose a glade beside the river that was open to the sky but protected from prying eyes by chestnut and sycamore trees. After helping Arabella down from his curricle, he spread a blanket on the grass and gallantly led her to it.
When she had settled there, Marcus sat beside her and opened the straw basket to reveal a small feast of roasted chicken and bread and several kinds of fruit. He served her plate, then his, and poured them each a generous glass of wine. As she ate, Arabella sat with her legs tucked under her, her blue muslin skirts arranged demurely around her. Marcus stretched out on his side, his head propped on one elbow.