To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars 1)

“Set it on the table, if you please,” Marcus instructed.

“I can bring more if ye wish.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m certain my wife is willing to share.”

“Of course,” Arabella agreed pleasantly.

Entering the room, the proprietress set the tray down next to his saddlebags, then turned to go. “If ye’ll put yer boots outside the door, yer lordship, I’ll have ’em cleaned and polished by morning.”

Marcus shot an impatient glance down at his ruined boots. “I doubt anything can save this pair. But I would ask that you have breakfast ready by dawn. We want to make an early start in the morning.”

“Aye, m’lord.” With a curtsy, the innkeeper’s wife withdrew and shut the door behind her, finally leaving Marcus alone with Arabella.

“I am waiting for an explanation, sweeting,” he said in a dangerous voice.

“Explanation?” she repeated, puzzled.

“Lady Freemantle told me about the elopement and your plan to try and stop it. What I want to know is why you didn’t wait for my return.”

Her eyes widened at his angry tone. “I had no choice, Marcus. The situation was too urgent. Onslow could very well seduce Sybil. Even if he marries her, it cannot possibly be a sound marriage.”

“That is no excuse for you to risk your own safety.”

Arabella stared at him. “I cannot believe you are angry at me! I am worried my pupil will be ruined by a rake, Marcus. She is my responsibility.”

He strode over to her. “And you are my responsibility.” Capturing her chin with his fingers, Marcus compelled her to look at him. “As long as I am your guardian, I’m obliged to see to your safety. And guardian or not, I’m not about to let any harm come to you. If you are in trouble, I expect to help.”

Her chin rose stubbornly. “I am perfectly capable of handling Sybil’s rescue.”

“That is debatable, but I don’t intend to let you fight this battle on your own.”

“I am not on my own! I brought an army of servants with me for protection.”

“So you plan to get into a physical brawl with Onslow?”

“If I must in order to force him to relinquish Sybil.”

“That seems foolish when there are better ways to convince him.”

Arabella’s lips pressed together tightly as they stood nose to nose, glaring at each other. But then her expression suddenly softened. “You are right, of course. I don’t wish to use brute force. To be truthful, I am relieved you are here. I was not looking forward to dealing with Onslow by myself.”

“I should hope not.”

A frown creased her brow. “I have to stop him, Marcus. Even if Sybil comes through unscathed, an elopement will destroy our school’s reputation.”

The distress in her tone was obvious, and some of his wrath dissipated a measure. “You still should have called on me.”

“Perhaps so.” Her mouth curved. “Truly, I will be grateful for your help.” When he didn’t reply, her gaze traveled downward, over his sodden greatcoat. “You rode on horseback through that dreadful storm?”

“Unfortunately yes, since a carriage would have been too slow when you already had a two-hour head start.”

“I am sorry you had to suffer such a miserable experience.”

Marcus gave her a quelling look. “If you are trying to soothe my ire, it won’t work.”

“No?” Arabella gazed up at him, a half smile playing on her lips. “Perhaps if you were warmer, your temper would be cooler. You should remove your wet coat and drink some hot wine. You must be totally chilled.”

Finding no rational reason to argue-even though perversely wanting to-Marcus shed his soaked greatcoat and hung it on a wall peg to dry while Arabella moved over to the table and poured some hot mulled wine into a mug. She brought it to him, then returned to the hearth to warm herself before the fire.