Nicole Jordan - To Pleasure a Lady

“Arabella…” he murmured, not wanting to obey.

Her spine suddenly stiffening, she glowered back at him, her eyes sparking with renewed fire. When still he didn’t release her, she deliberately drew back her fist and cuffed him on the jaw.

The unexpected blow snapped Marcus’s head back and sent stinging pain vibrating through his jaw, making him swear a low oath. His body’s reaction was even more primal: He felt the savage urge to kiss her again, to conquer her and prove his mastery.

Arabella, however, took advantage of his momentary hesitation to break free of his embrace. When she attempted to scramble down, he forced himself to let her go this time, grasping her arm solely to help her descend from his horse.

Landing awkwardly, she whirled to face him, as if not wishing to give him any further advantage. Marcus remained in the saddle, scrutinizing her in rueful disbelief.

Once more she had totally taken him by surprise, yet it was his own unexpected response that had startled him more. He’d tried to convince himself that his fierce attraction to Arabella was an aberration. For the past four days, he’d attempted to put her out of his mind entirely. Perversely, he hadn’t been able to forget her for a moment.

Instead, all he could think about was meeting her again, to see if she was as full of life and fire as he remembered.

He had his answer now. Arabella stood there defiantly, her cheeks flushed, her lips wet and softly passion-bruised, her fists clenched as if she were girded for battle.

Every inch the beautiful spitfire who had invaded his dreams the past four nights.

He hadn’t intended to take her in his arms just now. He certainly hadn’t meant to kiss her. But he’d been seduced by the tempting fire of her. The blazing indulgence had left him hot and painfully hard. His body shuddered with the primitive urge to lay her down in the soft spring grass and take her right there in the meadow, to bury his throbbing cock deep inside her delectable flesh, to vanquish her with pleasure.

Worse, their physical clash had only heightened the mental challenge between them. As he sat staring down at her, Marcus was struck by two thoughts at once: He wanted Arabella Loring, more than he’d wanted any woman in his life. And he couldn’t have her.

He wasn’t enough of a rake to debauch his own ward, a young gentlewoman under his protection. The only honorable way to have her in his bed would be marriage-

The reflection made Marcus inhale a sharp breath.

Marriage.

No, his conscious mind automatically rebelled. He had no intention of marrying anytime soon, certainly not merely to produce an obligatory heir.

But if you want her, a more insistent voice argued, you will have to put your relationship on a more equal footing than guardian and ward.

Marcus shook his head, scarcely believing what he was contemplating. He was acutely aware that his desire was overriding all his common sense.

Or was it?

If he looked at the situation logically, marrying Arabella was not so irrational. He had wanted to see to her welfare by finding her a proper husband, and he was a better candidate than most. And she was qualified by birth and breeding to be his countess, despite her family’s recent history of scandal.

By marrying her, he could also fulfill his duty to carry on his illustrious line. And he could honorably satisfy his fierce desire to have her in his bed.

The only important argument, however, was how he felt about chaining himself to her for life in an irrevocable union.

And the answer? The undeniable truth was, Arabella Loring was the only woman he’d ever met whom he might actually enjoy having as his wife. And he greatly doubted he would ever find anyone better to fit his needs.

Marcus let out his breath as he came to a decision. Perhaps he’d gone daft, but he intended to propose to his eldest ward.

Still regarding her in bemusement, he offered her a crooked smile as he gingerly rubbed his jaw. “Gentleman Jackson would have admired your right hook, Miss Loring,” he remarked, referring to England’s greatest boxing champion.

Arabella’s mouth pursed with vexation. “How did you expect me to react when you accosted me that way? I was merely defending myself.”

At her retort, Marcus nodded in sympathy. “Which you did admirably. And no doubt I deserved worse for allowing myself to get carried away like that. I sincerely beg your pardon.”

When she didn’t reply to his apology, he dismounted slowly, keeping his eye on her.

Looking around for her own mount, Arabella seemed dismayed to see her horse grazing half a meadow away. She retreated a step, clearly preferring to remain a safe distance from him.

That made Marcus halt. He didn’t want to scare her off…not that he believed for one minute that she would scare easily.

“I am not accustomed to women running from me,” Marcus commented laconically.

“I am certain you aren’t,” she said, her tone dry.

“Yet you and your sisters appear to be making a habit of it. I’m informed that Roslyn and Lilian have been missing for several days now, ever since you received my missive expressing my intention to call today.”

Stiffening, Arabella lifted her chin. “I knew it! Your servants have been spying on us!”

It was indeed true, Marcus reflected. Over the past few days, he’d installed his own staff at Danvers Hall to supplement the two elderly retainers, chambermaid, and man-of-all-work, who tried valiantly but futilely to keep up the large estate. Servants loyal to him, who were willing to make regular reports on his wards. Arabella, he’d been told, had kept out of their way as much as possible, while her sisters were nowhere to be found.

“I wanted to begin setting the Hall to rights,” Marcus replied truthfully. “But pray don’t change the subject, Miss Loring. I don’t doubt that you arranged your sisters’ disappearance in an effort to thwart me.”

Arabella returned an innocent smile. “They developed a curious case of spots.”

“Did they now?” Marcus said.

“Yes. A rash that was obviously a reaction to your intended visit. I worried that it was catching, so I sent them away in order to spare your health.”

Marcus laughed. “Come now, Arabella. Can’t we agree to sheathe our swords for a time? I don’t want a battle with you.”

Her determined expression softened a measure. “I don’t want a battle with you either, my lord, but you refuse to understand that we won’t be married off by a dictatorial guardian.”

“I don’t intend to marry you off to anyone, I promise. In fact, I mean to marry you myself.”

He could tell by the hiss of her breath that he had shocked her almost as much as he had shocked himself. It was incredible, Marcus thought, that he would actually consider the astonishing step of abandoning his precious bachelorhood and marrying his eldest ward.

But his decision felt…right somehow.

Now, though, he had to make Arabella see the logic of his proposal and convince her that accepting was in her own best interests.

“You mean to m-marry me?” she repeated, clearly not trusting her hearing.

“Yes, marry you,” Marcus said genially, becoming more accustomed to the prospect the more he considered it. “I know I’ve taken you by surprise, my sweet, but I would like to tender you an honorable offer of marriage.”

The new earl is possibly mad as well as vexing!

– Arabella to Fanny

Her speechlessness lasted a dozen heartbeats. “Have you gone mad?” Arabella said finally, her tone wary.

Wry amusement flickered in his eyes. “I assure you I am quite sane,” his lordship replied. “I am simply paying my addresses to you.”