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.”
Arabella bit her lip, telling herself that she shouldn’t worry. She couldn’t resist his lovemaking, obviously, but now that she was forewarned, she could guard her heart more ardently. She had only to imagine Marcus with his beautiful ex-mistress to bolster her resolve. She wouldn’t be so foolish as to fall in love with him if she kept reminding herself of the danger.
“Very well, a truce,” she murmured. Reaching up, she slipped her arms around his neck. “So what shall we do with the rest of the night?”
A slow, very male smile curved his mouth. “I suggest we work on your education. Your friend Fanny obviously didn’t tell you all there is to know about passion. You know little about my body, for instance.”
Taking her hand, he guided it to his loins, letting her touch him…his firm, flat abdomen, the long, thick shaft of his manhood, the heavy, swollen sacs beneath. When hesitantly Arabella began to explore his masculine attributes on her own, she discovered his skin was hot and sleek and oh, so arousing.
Her fingers curled around his heated length, squeezing gently. It was burning hot against her palm, hard as steel, throbbing beneath her touch. And when Marcus closed his eyes in obvious enjoyment, his response made her feel powerful and shivery and womanly all at once.
Intoxicated by the sensation, she bent down to kiss him. No, Arabella thought, feeling a searing rush of delight flare through her. Her friend Fanny hadn’t told her even a fraction of everything she wanted to know about passion with Marcus.
Chapter Twelve
Are you certain you don’t wish to consider the earl’s offer? There are worse things than a marriage of convenience to a wealthy, handsome nobleman.
– Fanny to Arabella
Not surprisingly, Arabella rose late the next morning, weary from her lack of sleep but filled with a warm glow from Marcus’s enchanting lovemaking. As he’d predicted, her body felt a bit tender, but she couldn’t regret spending the entire night with him and experiencing all the incredible delights he’d promised her.
Marcus had shown her pleasure so deep, so blissful, that her senses might never recover.
When finally Arabella finished bathing and dressing and went downstairs expecting to find him at breakfast, she discovered from Simpkin that she had just missed his lordship.
Ignoring her sharp little stab of disappointment, she read the note Marcus had left her, which said he had unexpected business in London but that he would return this evening in time for dinner.
In truth, Arabella realized, she was glad she wouldn’t have to face him just now. After the wanton passion they’d shared all through the night, she needed time to regain a semblance of composure.
She felt sluggish and bleary-eyed all morning long-until Simpkin announced that Lady Eleanor Pierce was calling. Wondering at the purpose of the visit, Arabella received Marcus’s sister in the morning parlor and was flattered by the warmth of her greeting.
“How delightful to see you again, Miss Loring,” Lady Eleanor said with an appearance of genuine sincerity.
Arabella smiled at her caller, who was garbed in a pale blue carriage dress and bonnet that set off her raven curls and rosy complexion to perfection. “I regret you drove all this distance for nothing, Lady Eleanor. Your brother has gone to London for the day.”
“Oh, but it is you I came to see. I would very much like to become better acquainted with you. I admire you prodigiously-a lady courageous enough to manage her own academy.” Accepting the seat Arabella offered, Lady Eleanor sent her a shrewd look. “And any woman who can resist my brother is someone I want to know. I also,” she added before Arabella could think how to respond, “wish to apologize for my aunt’s officious meddling in your affairs.”
Torn between amusement and caution, Arabella took a wing chair opposite her guest. “I suppose I should not have stated my opinions so fiercely.”
“You were gravely provoked. I do hope you will forgive Aunt Beatrix. She means well and she has been like a mother to me, drumming proper conduct into my head. But she had no right to rebuke you for not disavowing your friend. Your anger was wholly justified.”
Arabella smiled ruefully. “Perhaps…but normally I wouldn’t dream of making a public scene. It was very bad of me to dampen the evening for you and your friends.”
“But you didn’t dampen it for me. I was thoroughly intrigued.” Eleanor gave a charming laugh. “I confess I should like to hear more about Fanny Irwin. She is said to be an Incomparable among Cyprians.”
“Your brother would not be happy if I shared tales of a notorious highflyer with you,” Arabella pointed out.
Eleanor’s throaty laughter was engaging. “True. But Marcus doesn’t dictate to me, nor does he try to keep me smothered in swaddling clothes the way our aunt does. In truth, he is the best of guardians.”