Marcus sipped the wine while observing her. Her damp hair, which spilled around her shoulders and curled in drying wisps around her face, glowed bronze in the crackling blaze.
His gaze traveled downward to Arabella’s bare feet, which peeped out from beneath the quilt she held around her shoulders. Wondering if she was naked beneath it made him instantly hard, despite the fact that his body felt half frozen from the frigid weather.
Disciplining his lust, Marcus carried the mug over to her. “Here, drink. You look as cold as I feel.”
Arabella took it and sipped while gazing up at him. “Marcus, I would have gladly asked for your help had you been home.”
In the face of such an apology, he knew it would be churlish to continue berating her. After all, she was only trying to protect her reckless pupil as well as her academy. Everything Arabella and her sisters had worked so hard for during the past three years was in jeopardy.
And in truth, he couldn’t deny his admiration for her. He was worried for her safety and vexed as hell that she would endanger herself by flying to the rescue of her wayward student, but he had to admire Arabella’s mettle, putting herself at risk to protect the young girls in her charge.
Not that he would admit it to her just now, Marcus decided. Arabella was too independent as it was.
She was still watching his face, as if gauging the depth of his anger. Finally she said in a soft, imploring tone, “I don’t want to fight, Marcus. Do you?”
“No,” he replied gruffly, his temper still inflamed after chasing after her for hours.
“Perhaps we should call another truce.”
Marcus gave her a long look. “What did you have in mind?”
Casting a glance at the single bed, Arabella swallowed. “As you said, we’re both chilled to the bone. We can warm each other.”
It was a clear invitation to make love to her. The prospect had the effect of pacifying his foul mood to a degree. It was the first time Arabella had made the advances in their relationship.
“Very well, a truce,” Marcus said more calmly.
Draining the last of the wine, he set the mug aside and began to strip off his clothing, starting with his coat and waistcoat and boots. Tossing aside his cravat, he took off his shirt and breeches and drawers and hung the garments up to dry.
Completely naked now, he blew out the flame of the candle sitting on the table, leaving the bedchamber lit only by the warm glow from the fire.
&n
bsp; As he crossed to Arabella, she let the quilt fall from her shoulders. Marcus halted in his tracks, his breath caught in his throat. Firelight betrayed her beauty through the filmy cambric of her chemise, while her hair spilled down in a glorious, rippling mane of flame.
When he moved to stand before her, she gave a soft laugh.
“What is so amusing?” he asked.
“This. Our pretense of being husband and wife.” She reached up to touch his lips with her fingertips. “Isn’t this what you have wanted all along, Marcus? To be able to call me your wife?”
It was exactly what he wanted. As he stared down at her, his anger and frustration eased away, to be replaced by desire and fierce tenderness. He was still a little stunned by the realization that he loved Arabella. But he knew now that it wasn’t a passing fancy or a reckless obsession.
This feeling was deeper, more profound. Arabella was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his days. He felt a burning need for her deep inside him. A heat and hunger that craved to be sated…
Holding her gaze, Marcus stepped even closer. He intended to brand her with his possession. To make her accept that she belonged to him. To make her feel the same primal need he felt.
With that silent vow, he reached for Arabella, divesting her of her chemise and drawing her naked into his arms. For a long moment he simply held her against him, the chill of their bodies mingling, the heat of their gazes melding.
He could win her body, he had little doubt; it was her heart he wanted now.
His own heart beginning to pound, Marcus lowered his mouth to kiss her gently, a sweet mating of skin, of breath, that gave little sign of the savage desire that raged through him. Yet as his lips met hers, a new emotion assailed him.
He had never experienced this particular novelty before, making love to the woman he loved. And it was a remarkable feeling.
Keeping their mouths fused, Marcus drew her to the bed and fell back upon the sheets, pulling her with him.
Arabella willingly sank into his embrace, her body fitting itself to his magnificent form as if she were made for him. Aching with need, she returned Marcus’s kiss measure for measure, her fingers clutching in his hair as she blindly sought the rapture he promised.