Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage

He had never had any serious intention of making love to Arabella, only to exact a little revenge for her dismissal of his offer eighteen months ago. That revenge had neatly rebounded on him when she had responded to his kisses and caresses with a passion that had just been waiting, it seemed, to respond to a lover’s touch.

His specific touch?

Somehow Darius doubted that very much. Since their first meeting Arabella had made her contemptuous opinion of him more than obvious.

‘Marriage is not something I either seek or want,’ he drawled now. ‘Nevertheless, I am aware of the obligation I have to make such an offer. An offer that you, having already assured me that I am a man no decent woman would ever align herself with, need only refuse to bring an end to it.’

Arabella felt a shiver down the length of her spine as she heard the steely edge to Darius’s tone as he repeated her earlier insult to him. An insult he had obviously taken exception to….

Enough to have deliberately made love to her a short time ago? No doubt. But it did not alter the fact that she had responded to him in such a wild and abandoned way.

Darius’s arrogant certainty that Arabella would refuse his offer rankled in the same way as Hawk’s cold assertion that she would refuse it had done earlier. ‘Well? ‘ she demanded haughtily.

Those deep blue eyes narrowed. ‘Well, what?’

Arabella gave him a pert smile. ‘I am waiting for you to make such an offer.’

Blond brows rose mockingly. ‘I believe I just did.’

‘No, you did not.’ Arabella shook her head. ‘You have explained that it is an offer you feel socially pressured into making. You have also said that I will refuse such an offer. You have yet to actually make me that offer.’

Darius gave an impatient grimace. ‘You want your pound of flesh? Is that it?’

Her eyes flashed in temper. ‘I merely want my offer!’

‘Very well.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Lady Arabella, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife? ‘ He made no effort to hide the sarcasm behind his proposal, or the cynical twist to his mouth.

It fired Arabella’s temper anew. Darius Wynter was one of the most arrogant men she had ever met. He was just so absolutely sure of himself. Of Arabella’s refusal to even consider his proposal. Of his ability to escape any lasting repercussions concerning their lovemaking—leaving her to bear the brunt of them with regard to her immediate family.

All her life, it seemed, Arabella had been surrounded by arrogantly forceful men. Her father, Alexander. Her three older brothers. To tie herself to a husband who possessed that same arrogance would surely be the height of folly.

Or perhaps it would be the height of good sense?

Arabella had enjoyed her two Seasons, but only once during that time had she even come close to finding a man who held her interest beyond their initial meeting. And that man had been Darius Wynter himself.

His Grace was absolutely nothing like the young men who had flattered and flirted with her these past two Seasons, all proclaiming undying love for her until Arabella had become sickened by their attentions.

Darius, making no effort to hide his arrogance or his cynicism, had neither flattered nor flirted with her. Much to her regret …

Arabella’s pulse fluttered anew just looking at him: that golden hair, those dark and unfathomable blue eyes, his arrogant slash of a nose above sculptured lips and jaw. And his perfectly tailored clothes covered what she had discovered such a short time ago was a surprisingly hard and muscled body.

No, Arabella was positive she would never find herself bored in the company of Darius Wynter …

‘You are taking a deuced long time to refuse me!’ he eventually growled in his impatience with her silence.

Arabella couldn’t help giving a taunting, confident smile. ‘I am still considering your offer, sir.’

He scowled darkly. ‘What is there to consider?’

Arabella could no longer stand looking at the desk which had been the scene of her disgrace, instead strolling over to stand in front of the window to look out across the moonlit garden. ‘Well, for one thing, by accepting your offer I would become a duchess.’

‘The despised Darius Wynter’s duchess, do not forget,’ he reminded her harshly.

She gave a haughty inclination of her head as she turned to face him. ‘There is that to consider, of course.’

His mouth twisted. ‘And have you also forgotten that I was so “conveniently” rid of one wife but one short year ago?’

Arabella had forgotten!

‘You must also be aware that none of the ton has a good word to say about me,’ Darius said, pressing his advantage.

Arabella frowned slightly. ‘My brother Lucian speaks very highly of you.. ‘

Darius’s mouth tightened. ‘We are friends. Of a sort.’

She nodded. ‘And I know that his wife, Grace, has taken several people to task for daring to criticise you within her hearing.’

His mouth quirked. ‘We are related, after all.’

‘Only tenuously.’ Arabella dismissed the connection of him being Grace’s half-uncle by marriage, or some such nonsense. ‘My new sister-in-law, Juliet, was also most insistent that you be a guest at her wedding today.’

Darius’s expression softened slightly as he thought of the gracious and beautiful Juliet Boyd, now Lady Juliet St Claire. ‘Only because it was jealousy of my own friendship with the lady that was instrumental in bringing your brother up to scratch.’

Arabella’s eyes widened. ‘You had a—a romantic interest in Juliet?’ ‘Not in the least.’ Darius gave a firm shake of his head. ‘Sebastian thought I had a romantic interest in her,’ he corrected. ‘She and I were both aware at all times that that was not at all the case.’

‘Why not?’

He raised surprised blond brows. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Why were you not attracted to Juliet?’

‘I simply was not.’ He snapped his impatience with the subject. ‘Contrary to popular belief, I do not set out to seduce every beautiful woman I meet.’

Arabella frowned once more. ‘I had not realised you were present at the Bancrofts’ house party when Sebastian and Juliet met this past summer.’

Darius gave her an irritated glare. ‘I see no reason why you should have been informed.’

Arabella’s cheeks burned at the obvious derision in his tone. ‘Were you there when the French spy was apprehended?’

It took great effort on Darius’s part to keep his outward appearance coolly neutral. ‘What French spy? ‘

Arabella shook her head. ‘I have no idea. Sebastian and Juliet deny any knowledge of it. But rumour has it that the man was masquerading as someone’s servant before the arrest?’

Rumour, as usual, was wrong. Darius knew with certainty that the French spy in question had been a woman.

‘The incident must have happened after I had left,’ he said. ‘Now, could we get back to our own conversation? Our allotted five minutes was over long ago, and at any moment Hawk is likely to join us and demand to know our decision.’ Darius would use any means at his disposal—even reminding her of his marriage offer—to deter Arabella from showing any further interest in that French spy!

‘My decision,’ Arabella corrected haughtily. ‘After all, I am the one who will decide whether or not we are to be betrothed,’ she explained at Darius’s questioning glance.