To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

“It should prove an interesting contest,” Marcus said amiably, crossing his arms over his chest.

His languid smile finally succeeded in igniting her temper. “You cannot force us to accept your settlements!”

“No, I suppose not. But once the size of your dowries becomes known, you will have suitors throwing themselves at your feet and hounding my door to offer for you.”

Her gloved fists clenched as she advanced toward him, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You won’t succeed in selling us, your lordship! It is outrageous that grown women are treated as mere property, no better than livestock. We are not broodmares to be hawked to the highest bidder!”

Judging by her impassioned speech, he had struck a nerve. There was fire in her eyes-a fire that filled him with admiration and attraction.

“It seems true after all,” he murmured, totally intrigued by the way Arabella was glaring daggers at him.

“What is true?”

“That eyes can actually give off sparks. Yours are bright as fireworks.”

It was that provocative remark that drove her temper over the edge. The growling sound she made deep in her throat was that of a taunted lioness-a low, dangerous rumble. “I have tried my utmost to remain patient,” she began. Marching past him to the table, Arabella swept up his rapier and returned to face him, bringing the tip directly against his chest.

“I was determined to use reason to convince you, and if that failed, I hoped to prevail on your better nature. Evidently you don’t have one!”

Utterly fascinated now, Marcus raised his hands slowly in surrender. “I make it a point never to argue with an armed female.”

“Good! Then you will promise me that you will abandon this ridiculous notion of marrying us off.”

“I fear I can’t make any such promise under duress, sweeting.”

“You can and you will!”

“No.” Despite his fascination, he was not about to be threatened into doing anyone’s bidding. But then his gaze fixed on Arabella’s face…the smooth ivory texture of her skin, her ripe mouth… He was struck with the fiercest urge to kiss her, which was astonishing, since he was not ordinarily a rash man. “Go ahead, do your worst, love.”

Clenching her teeth, radiating frustration, she raised the point of the foil to the vulnerable hollow of his throat, but there she stopped.

It was a stand-off, one Marcus was not prepared to endure much longer. When she continued to hesitate, his fingers closed around her gloved ones and slowly, inexorably pushed the tip away from his throat.

Although the immediate danger was over, he kept possession of her hand, shackling her wrist as he stepped closer. His gaze droppe

d again to the tempting line of her lips.

Her beautiful face was turned up to his, and when she nervously moistened her lips, he fought the fierce desire to capture them with his own.

Despite the warning voice shouting in his head, Marcus found himself drawing Arabella even nearer, pulling her against him, until their bodies brushed. The feeling that sparked between them when he felt the sweet press of her breasts was hot enough to singe him.

Her eyes flared then with a different emotion, while his senses avidly relayed the excitement of touching her.

She felt warm and intensely vital. Intensely alive. Her feminine softness raised every primal male instinct he possessed.

It was all he could do to keep control of himself. “The next time you threaten a man, Miss Loring,” he advised in a voice that was suddenly husky, “make certain you are prepared to carry it through.”

With another small cry of frustration, she snatched her hand from his grasp and stepped back. “I will take note next time, your lordship.”

Marcus was startled by how badly he wanted there to be a next time. He watched as Arabella tossed down the rapier, where it clattered on the floor.

“You should be glad I am too much of a lady to run you through,” she declared. With that she spun on her heel and stalked to the door. But then she paused to shoot a darkling glance over her shoulder. “If you want a battle, Lord Danvers, I promise I will give you one.”

Chapter Two

I have finally met the earl and he is even more vexing than I anticipated.

– Arabella Loring to Fanny Irwin