To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

“Are you certain, Arabella?” Lily asked earnestly.

Arabella smiled reassuringly. “There is no reason for you to worry, truly.”

“But that dreamy look in your eyes…You had that same look the last time you were in love.”

“It is merely sleeplessness,” she insisted. Her dreamy-eyed look had nothing to do with being in love with Marcus. It was merely that she was so new to carnal relations. Every touch, every caress, was a novel experience; every sensation he made her feel was burned into her memory.

But her heart was safe enough now that she had renewed her resolve to keep it well-guarded.

“I think perhaps it is time we came home,” Roslyn said slowly.

Arabella’s instinctive response was to object. She didn’t want her sisters at Danvers Hall just yet. Not when she still had four more nights with Marcus.

“You need us to help defend you against him,” Lily added with conviction. “Tess can spare us, since we have nearly finished sewing all the garments for her war widows and orphans.”

Managing a smile, Arabella shook her head. “Truly, there is no need for you to come home. I am capable of fighting my own battles. And the wager is almost over. Only four more days until I will have won.”

“And what happens then?” Roslyn asked.

“Why, then we will be free of Lord Danvers and his guardianship, and we can resume our normal lives,” Arabella said brightly, determined to disregard the dubious looks her sisters were giving her.

She was indeed perfectly capable of handling her relationship with Marcus on her own, Arabella repeated to herself two hours later when she dressed for dinner. She had every intention of treating him with cool, rational dispassion.

The difficulty was that the moment she saw him, she forgot every bit of her resolve. When he joined her in the drawing room just in time for dinner to be announced, there was nothing cool or rational about her body’s response to him. Her heart leapt and her pulse soared, while her skin instantly turned hot at the intimate look he was giving her.

His blue gaze was sensual and very male. That, combined with the low, husky sound of his voice when he merely apologized for his tardiness, stroked Arabella’s nerve endings with pleasure and turned her limbs to jelly.

It took all her willpower to greet Marcus in kind and allow him to escort her in to dinner. When she placed her hand on his arm, she actually felt it tremble. They were lovers now, and all her senses were trumpeting the fact.

His behavior was all that was proper, however, no doubt for the benefit of the servants. It was only when the soup had been served and the footmen had withdrawn that Marcus allowed the conversation to become more intimate.

“Simpkin said my sister called on you this afternoon. What did she want?”

“She wished for us to become better acquainted,” Arabella answered.

“I confess that worries me.”

Arabella gave Marcus a curious glance. “Why would that worry you?”

“If I know Eleanor, she did something outrageous such as request an introduction to your courtesan friend.”

Arabella smiled as she picked up her wineglass. “Not quite, but I imagine she would have accepted had I offered. Instead, she made me an offer. Your sister kindly invited me to London to visit her.”

Marcus gave her a penetrating look. “I trust you don’t intend to introduce my sister into Fanny Irwin’s circles.”

“Of course not. I have a perfectly good understanding of propriety, Marcus. I merely refuse to be ordered to abandon my own friendship with her, by your aunt or anyone else.”

Marcus’s mouth quirked. “As long as you don’t solicit any more of Fanny’s advice about lovemaking. Anything you want to know, I will teach you. We can continue your education when you come to my rooms tonight.”

Arabella arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t you presuming a great deal, expecting me to share your bed tonight?”

“No. I still have to prove that you don’t want any other lovers after we are wed.”

She didn’t need proof. After Marcus, she was certain she would never want anyone else. But she had no desire to prolong their futile argument. “The question is immaterial because we won’t be marrying.”

His blue gaze narrowed on her. “If you think I will allow you to stray from our marriage bed, sweeting, you are gravely mistaken.”

Arabella narrowed her own gaze. “I thought we declared a truce last night.”