To Pleasure a Lady (Courtship Wars)

“A love match,” he said softly. “I want a real marriage with you…because I love you.”

Arabella sucked in a startled breath. Her stomach suddenly coiled in knots at his unbelievable announcement. “You don’t love me, Marcus,” she finally found the wits to respond.

Amusement gleamed in his eyes at her skepticism. “Ah, but I do. Love is a new experience for me, you see, so it took me a while to understand what was happening to my heart. But I haven’t been the same man since you challenged me in my parlor with my own rapier.”

When she remained mute, Marcus continued. “I knew you fascinated me, that you constantly plagued my thoughts. But until the first time I kissed you, I never realized why. It’s because you make me feel alive, Arabella. A precious commodity for a man of my jaded experience.”

“You…” The word came out so hoarsely that Arabella swallowed and cleared her throat. “You only consider me interesting because I speak my mind to you. Because I don’t toady to you like every other female of your acquaintance.”

“That is part of your attraction, true, but the far more profound effect is how you make me feel.”

Her heart racing in consternation, she took another step backward. “You don’t love me. You are only saying that to win our wager.”

A crooked smile forming on his lips, Marcus shook his head. “Sorry, angel, but you cannot tell me what I feel. I love you rather deeply, in fact. And our wager has nothing whatsoever to do with it.”

Arabella felt herself pale. She didn’t believe Marcus truly loved her. She couldn’t let herself. She had been down this painful path before, a suitor professing his love for her. She clasped her fingers together protectively, and realized her palms had turned clammy.

“My betrothed claimed he loved me,” she finally murmured, “and I was foolish enough to believe him. I won’t be so gullible again, Marcus.”

She saw his lips press together in vexation. “How many times must I say it? I am not your betrothed.”

When she winced at his sharp tone, he inhaled a slow breath. “I understand why you find it hard to trust my declaration, Arabella, but I promise you, this is no subterfuge to gain your capitulation. I love you. I want to marry you and to have children with you. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, making you happy.”

Arabella stared back at Marcus. “Whatever you feel for me is only temporary, I’m certain. You will get over it soon enough-”

“No, I won’t get over it. What I feel is real, and I have no doubts that it will last. It is love, Arabella.” He paused, studying her intently. “From the terrified look on your face, you don’t yet return my sentiment. But that is no matter. Someday you will come to love me in return.”

“No,” she whispered. Yet her response wasn’t a denial of her future feelings; it was a stark realization of her present ones. She already did love Marcus. Dear heaven, what had she done?

Her heart suddenly pounded in her chest; she couldn’t breathe. “No,” Arabella repeated in a rasp. How could she have been so foolish as to fall in love again?

There was true fear in her voice now, which made Marcus go still for a long moment before he crossed the room to her. Arabella could feel herself trembling as he stood gazing down at her.

“What must I do to convince you?” he said finally, quietly.

She shut her eyes, her chest filled with panic. She had vowed to keep her heart safe from Marcus, but she had failed miserably. Like an utter fool, she had made the exact same mistake as four years ago. And the end result would likely be the same.

How had she refused to recognize her feelings for Marcus until now, when it was too late to protect herself? For days she’d clung to the conviction that their relationship was purely physical, that she could resist feeling anything deeper for him. But all the portents had been there. She just hadn’t wanted to face them. With every kiss, with every caress, she had fallen deeper under Marcus’s spell. She loved him. Heaven help her.

Now she could only hope to try and conquer her traitorous feelings before she suffered even more agonizing hurt than before.

Struggling for calm, Arabella steeled her shoulders and forced herself to wipe all expression from her face. She refused to repeat history, trusting in a man’s love, loving him in return, only to have her feelings betrayed, her faith shattered. “I repeat, Marcus, I appreciate everything you have done, but when the wager is over tomorrow, I will have won. I will not accept your marriage proposal.”

Frustration claimed his features as he took a step closer, but she spoke again before he could. “Please believe me. I have no desire to marry you.”

He shook his head slowly. “I think you are deceiving yourself, Arabella. You feel every bit of the same fire I feel. We have a remarkable passion together-”

She deliberately interrupted. “What if we do? Passion is not a good basis for marriage. And even if it were, it is entirely beside the point. The question now is, do you intend to honor our wager?”

His jaw tightened. “Certainly I do. I am a man of my word.” Marcus gestured toward the desk behind him, at the letter he’d been composing. “I’ve already written my solicitors with instructions to draw up a contract for your emancipation from my guardianship. You and your sisters will have your freedom regardless of whether you marry me. I don’t want your decision to be contingent upon anything but your feelings for me.”

“Then I will look forward to hearing from your solicitors.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, but when the tense silence drew out, Arabella found the voice to say calmly, “You may as well leave tomorrow, Marcus. There is no reason for you to stay here any longer.”

“It appears not.” The deep blaze in his eyes told her that he was suddenly very angry. His words were clipped when he said, “Don’t worry, sweeting. I’ll return to London tonight.”

Arabella regarded him silently, not crediting that Marcus had capitulated so easily. And of course, he hadn’t.