Arabella inhaled sharply when he drew her fully against him. His body was warm, hard, strong.
“You said you only meant to touch me,” she said breathlessly.
“Holding is part of touching. Don’t you like the feel of our bodies pressing together?”
There was an insidious delight in being held against his hard, sheltering body. She could feel the rush of her own blood, could feel the tremors shivering through her. “No, I don’t, Marcus.”
“Liar,” he murmured softly.
To her surprise and disappointment, he released her. Yet he didn’t step back. He merely raised his hand to her bodice and feathered the tips of her breasts with the backs of his fingers, making Arabella gasp at the sparks that shot through her. “If you don’t like it, then why have your nipples grown so hard?”
It was true, Arabella realized. Her nipples had instantly hardened, betraying her arousal, while her breasts felt heavy and swollen.
And Marcus was doing his best to increase her desire, his knuckles slowly gliding over the silk-covered peaks. Then boldly he cupped one ripe swell, making her knees go weak. Fire radiated from the hand that held her throbbing breast, bloomed between her thighs, shocking her. Fanny had described such powerful feminine feelings as this, but Arabella had never expected to experience them for herself.
She closed her eyes against the pleasure. It was maddening the way Marcus drew out each brazen caress, yet she didn’t want him to stop. His touch was so tender, so wicked…so right. The sensations left her shaking inside, kindling a heavy ache deep in her lower body…
It was some time before she realized his demonstration had ceased.
“Do you understand now?” Marcus asked, his voice husky and low.
Dazed, Arabella opened her eyes. Oh, she understood perfectly. Marcus had intended to show her the power of a man’s touch-of his touch-and he had thoroughly succeeded. She was aching with nameless longing…aching for him.
“I want to return to the house now,” she said unevenly, her voice deplorably weak.
At her nonanswer, he gave a satisfied smile. “Of course. I think your lesson is sufficient for now. You’ll dream of me tonight, of me touching you like this…”
He raised his hand to her throat again, and another frisson of fiery sensation sparked from his fingers to her skin.
Arabella drew back sharply and gave Marcus a dismissive look. But as she slipped past him and turned toward the house on shaky legs, she was very much afraid his prediction about her dreams would come true.
Chapter Six
I promise I will take care, Fanny, even
if his kisses are as seductive as you warned me.
– Arabella to Fanny
Arabella did dream of Marcus…all night long. But she awoke determined to regain the offensive in their rivalry. As soon as she had washed and dressed, she joined Marcus in the small dining parlor.
He looked surprised to see her as he rose politely from the table.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked as he settled Arabella in her chair and returned to his seat beside her.
“I am fulfilling part of my daily quota. I realized that if I must share your company, it would be best to do so in broad daylight.”
Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “You realize that won’t deter me.”
“Yes, but somehow I feel safer.”
He surveyed her gown of blue muslin. “Had I known you intended to join me for breakfast, I would have dressed more formally.”
He wore no cravat or waistcoat again this morning, Arabella saw, and his shirt was open to his breastbone. She had the most scandalous urge to touch that broad male chest, to feel the muscled flesh she glimpsed beneath the fine cambric.
Instead, Arabella cleared her throat. “Are you occupied this afternoon?”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I suppose that depends on what you have in mind.”