Part 22 (1/2)

”I can manage alone. I have done so for years.”

Without another word, she hurried up the staircase and disappeared down the corridor. A moment later, Marcus heard her bedchamber door slam with enough force to startle the very proper butler into an expression of alarm.

Chapter Eleven.

How does a woman keep her heart safe?

-Arabella to f.a.n.n.y His own mood fierce, Marcus went directly to the study, where he poured himself a generous brandy in order to calm down.

He could understand Arabella's dismay at learning of his past relations.h.i.+p with his former mistress. After her bitter experience with her libertine father and adulterous mother, fidelity in marriage was a monumental issue for her. But he intended to remain faithful to her once they were wed, and the fact that she doubted his word rankled badly.

It was, however, her vow to take other lovers after they married that enraged him. The thought of Arabella with another lover made Marcus see red.

Gulping a long, burning swallow of brandy, he forced himself to contain his ire. Arabella was not the kind of woman to forswear her marriage vows, and he was far too possessive to ever allow her to. He would keep her so busy in his own bed that she would never even think about wanting another lover.

Meanwhile, though, his campaign to win her had suffered a serious setback. He would have to intensify his efforts, Marcus knew.

Even so, he could be more tolerant of Arabella's perspective. Her loathing of convenient marriages was based on fear. She was afraid of being hurt again, of being betrayed by a fickle suitor, of making herself too vulnerable to the pain and misery married couples could cause each other. He would have to show *

her that a union between them would be far, far different than her fatalistic expectations.

He wanted Arabella, had wanted her from the very first, and he would have her. As his countess, his wife, his lover.

Vowing not to be deterred, Marcus drained the last of his brandy and made his way upstairs to his bedchamber. The house was silent since the servants were long abed, but a wall sconce in the corridor had been left alight for his convenience, and so had a lamp in his room.

He shrugged out of his evening clothes, leaving them draped over a chair in his dressing room for his valet to care for in the morning. Not bothering to don a nights.h.i.+rt since the spring night was only pleasantly cool, Marcus returned to his bedchamber and strode over to the bed, only to come to an abrupt halt.

The covers had been turned down as expected, but a large pile of clothing lay on top, including the rose silk gown Arabella had worn to the theater this evening.

When he caught the sparkle of rubies and the gleam of pearls among the silks and sarcenets, a heavy frown descended on his brow. Arabella had returned all the gowns and jewelry he had bought her!

A folded sheet of vellum rested on the pile. Ripping it open, Marcus read the terse message inside: My Lord Danvers, you may give these to your paramour. I do not require them any longer.

Your eldest ward, Miss Loring Knotting his jaw, Marcus threw on a dressing gown, gathered up her gowns and jewels, flung open his door, and stalked down the corridor to the opposite wing of the manor, where Arabella's bedchamber was located.

He had been extremely patient until now. He had resolved to woo her with tenderness and pa.s.sion in order to win her surrender.

But since his strategy was obviously getting him nowhere, more drastic measures were called for.

When her bedchamber door flew open, Arabella was sitting at her dressing table, making a desultory effort to brush her hair.

She felt utterly wretched. As a girl, she'd hated witnessing her parents' fights, but she hated fighting with Marcus even more.

Arabella bit down on her quivering lower lip. Her turmoil just now was only more evidence that she'd allowed her emotions to become too involved with Marcus. She had lied earlier when she'd claimed she wasn't jealous of his beautiful mistress. She'd been eaten up with jealousy, proving she was in over her head. She couldn't let it continue- Marcus's startling entrance made her leap up from her dressing table and whirl to face him.

When she spied him standing there, looking dark and irate, holding her beautiful gowns, Arabella swallowed. She had known he wouldn't be happy that she'd returned her new wardrobe as a symbolic severing of their guardian-ward relations.h.i.+p, but she hadn't expected Marcus to barge into her bedchamber while she was preparing for bed.

As she eyed him warily, his gaze raked over her, taking in her long-sleeved nights.h.i.+ft, her unbound hair, her bare feet. Even though the white cambric covered her completely, Arabella still felt defenseless, so she hurriedly took refuge behind her dressing table chair, using it as a s.h.i.+eld.

”Marcus, what do you mean, invading my rooms this way?”

”You misplaced your wardrobe, sweeting.”

”No, I didn't. I intended to give everything back to you.”

”Well, I won't accept. These garments and jewels belong to you, and you are keeping them.” His eyes bored into hers, brightly blue, beautiful, as he strode forward and flung the pile on her bed.

Her hands moving to her hips, Arabella stared back defiantly at him-a defiance that turned to alarm when he advanced on her.

”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 ma.s.sive 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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-”