“Marcus, leave my bedchamber at once!”
“I intend to. And you are coming with me.”
She tried to elude him, scurrying to the other side of the bed, but he reached her in three determined strides. Bending, Marcus caught one arm behind her knees, the other at her back, and swung her up in his embrace, ignoring her shocked gasp of outrage.
Disregarding her fiercely whispered demands to put her down, he carried Arabella along the dim corridor, past the main staircase.
“Where are you taking me?” she exclaimed when she realized he was heading toward the far wing, which traditionally belonged to the earls of Danvers.
“To my rooms. I’m wooing you, just as we agreed.”
“I never agreed to this!”
“Spare your breath, love. I intend to show you what our marriage bed will be like.”
Her heart thudding wildly at his declaration, Arabella renewed her efforts to break free, but she couldn’t make Marcus release his tight hold.
Moments later, he entered his bedchamber with her, kicked the door shut behind him with his bare foot, and strode over to the massive bed, where he unceremoniously dropped her.
With a sputter of indignation, Arabella came up swinging, intent on boxing his ears.
Before her hand could strike, though, he caught her and dragged her hard against him. The abrupt contact startled her, making her body go rigid.
Arabella drew a sharp breath as she stared up at Marcus. His midnight blue eyes had sparked and darkened with something far different than anger as he held her closely, her breasts pressed against his broad chest, her thighs nestled against his muscular ones.
When he next spoke, his voice suddenly lowered to a husky murmur. “I plan to prove to you that you don’t want any lovers but me, Arabella.”
She tried to pull back, but Marcus wouldn’t let her go. “I do not want you for a lover,” she declared in a shaky voice.
“Yes, you do.”
“Of all the unmitigated arrogance-”
His mouth came down on hers then, capturing, seizing, his tongue probing deep to duel with hers.
His stunning kiss, however, lasted only a moment before he broke it off.
“You want me, Arabella. You can’t deny it.”
She did want him, she admitted as Marcus held her even closer. She wanted him desperately. Her breath fled as the fiercest longing swept through her…heat and desire and need.
Marcus felt the same longing, she knew, for he had gone completely still. Time suddenly seemed to halt, the very air vibrating with a blazing tension that had nothing to do with their battle of wills. His eyes seemed to burn as they stared down into hers.
Her gaze trapped by his, Arabella stood unmoving.
His expression softening, Marcus reached up to brush her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “I mean to satisfy you, Arabella. To pleasure you. To show you delights you’ve never dreamed of.”
Passion throbbed between them; her pulse thudded in her ears.
Abandoning any pretense of resistance then, Arabella raised her face to his. “Stop talking and kiss me,” she said hoarsely.
That was all it took. Bending, Marcus seized her mouth again, savagely ravishing, and Arabella responded just as fervently. They kissed violently as days of pent-up frustration exploded between them.
In some dim corner of her mind, she felt him guiding her backward toward the high bed. Without breaking the kiss, Marcus urged her down but at the last moment turned and fell back so that she sprawled over him, her hair forming a red-gold curtain around them.
Their mouths remaining locked, he ravaged hers with pleasure. Arabella returned his ardor with a
ll her might, her breath coming in panting gasps. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, couldn’t deny the desire and hunger surging through her veins, through every nerve and sinew in her body. She felt frantic, an urgent clamoring need that wouldn’t be satisfied by only his mouth. She wanted much, much more from him.