Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage. Carole Mortimer

mine,’ he grated between clenched teeth.

      She eyed him knowingly. ‘Perhaps you should have considered that before making love to me earlier?’

      ‘Perhaps I should,’ Darius said tersely. He had never met a young lady more deserving of having her backside paddled than Lady Arabella St Claire did at this moment. In hindsight, that was probably what Darius should have administered earlier this evening in response to her challenge, rather than making love to her!

      She looked down her tiny nose at him. ‘I suggest, Your Grace, that in view of the lateness of the hour I consider your offer overnight and you call on me again tomorrow morning so that I might give you my answer.’

      His mouth thinned. ‘Whilst you are … considering my offer, might I also suggest you consider that any marriage between us would necessarily be of the fullest kind.’

      Arabella gave him a frowning glance, colour warming her cheeks as the mockery in his eyes and the twist to his hard mouth told her exactly what he meant by that comment.

      Was she seriously considering Darius’s marriage proposal? Or was she merely toying with him?

      Just as he had toyed with her earlier when he’d made love to her with such deliberation?

      For that alone Darius Wynter deserved to suffer at least the overnight torment of uncertainty as to whether or not Arabella would accept him.

      She could not deny that becoming a duchess—even the Duchess of the infamous Duke of Carlyne—would be a wonderful matrimonial feather in her bonnet. She was also sure that Darius Wynter was too complex a man ever to bore her. In their marriage bed or out of it.

      She gave a gracious inclination of her head. ‘That sounds perfectly reasonable in the circumstances.’

      His eyes narrowed to icy slits. ‘You understand that I would expect my duchess to be amenable to the idea of producing Carlyne heirs?’

      ‘That is the normal consequence of a full marriage, is it not?’

      In truth, Arabella could not imagine having a marriage without children in it. Having grown up with three older siblings, and with one young nephew already to love and adore, Arabella looked forward to one day having children of her own to pet and spoil and love.

      Darius Wynter’s children?

      If Arabella were honest with herself—and she usually was—then she would have to acknowledge that she had been completely aware of this man from the moment they’d met. It had been impossible not to notice him as he’d done the rounds of the salons and balls. Arabella also knew herself, along with several of the other young ladies out that year, to have become slightly infatuated with the dangerously handsome Lord Wynter.

      All of them had certainly heaved a sigh of disappointment when he’d announced his betrothal to the heiress Miss Sophie Belling later that year, before marrying her in a private ceremony in the north of England only weeks later.

      To now have him offer for Arabella, for whatever reason, filled her with edgy excitement more than anything else!

      Darius had no idea what Arabella was thinking as she stared at him so intently. He could only hope that she was working out how unsuitable this marriage would be for both of them.

      Aware that he would have to marry again one day, if only to provide the necessary heir, Darius also knew that now was not the right time for him to even be thinking of matrimony. Not when he had learnt earlier this evening that the French spy Arabella had just alluded to was once again at large.

      His mouth tightened. ‘Might I also suggest, Arabella, that you consider the fact that in marrying me you would be tying yourself to a man you do not love, and who does not love you.’

      Those brown eyes narrowed. ‘Is that not what dalliances outside of marriage are for?’

      A red tide of anger passed in front of Darius’s eyes at the thought of Arabella taking a lover outside of their marriage.

      Damn it, there was not going to be a marriage between them! Not if Darius could prevent it.

      ‘Your brothers have all married for love,’ he pointed out.

      Her expression softened. ‘So they have.’ Her mouth firmed. ‘They have obviously all been more fortunate than I.’

      ‘You are but nineteen, Arabella—’

      ‘Almost twenty,’ she reminded him swiftly. ‘Although I fail to see what my age has to do with any thing.’

      ‘It has to do with the fact that you may yet meet a man for whom you can feel love,’ Darius bit out.

      Her mouth quirked. ‘Take care, Your Grace, you are allowing your own reluctance to take me as your wife more than obvious!’

      Was he? If that were the case, then Darius was a better actor than he had ever given himself credit for being! In truth, he had only repeated his offer for Arabella at all because Hawk St Claire’s haughty disdain had infuriated him.

      But what man in his right mind, given the opportunity, would not want to take the beautiful and accomplished, the self-willed and haughty,the emotional and wildly passionate Arabella St Claire as his wife? To spend his days crossing verbal swords with her and his nights revelling in all the wild passion of which Darius now knew she was capable?

      No man, in his right mind or otherwise, would even consider passing up the opportunity of marrying such a woman as the magnificent Lady Arabella St Claire!

      Unless he was Darius Wynter. A man with whom it had already been proved it was dangerous for any woman to become involved. Especially now …

      ‘Probably because I am reluctant,’ he drawled scornfully.

      ‘What a pity.’ Arabella eyed him mockingly. ‘When I am seriously thinking of accepting your offer!’

      Darius’s jaw tightened. ‘Only because you are a contrary little baggage!’

      She gave a trill of laughter. ‘Do not expect that to change if I should decide to marry you.’

      He scowled his displeasure. ‘Arabella—’

      ‘I believe we have talked on this subject long enough for one evening, Your Grace.’ She affected a bored yawn as she crossed to the door. ‘As I have said, I will inform you as to my decision in the morning.’

      Darius could only stand and stare after Arabella in intense frustration as she left the room.

      Would she have the audacity to inform him on the morrow that she had decided to accept his marriage proposal?

      He realised with a heavy sigh that he was in for a long, sleepless night….

       Chapter Three

      ‘I really wish you would reconsider your decision.’ Jane, Duchess of Stourbridge, Arabella’s sister-in-law, paced agitatedly up and down the nursery as Arabella sat in a chair in the bay window, attempting to soothe the young and teething Alexander, Marquis of Mulberry, as he moved fretfully on her shoulder. ‘You may be assured that I have informed Hawk most strongly how wrong he is to allow you to align yourself to a man such as Darius Wynter!’

      Arabella had confirmed to Hawk her intention of accepting Darius’s offer as they had sat at the breakfast table together earlier this morning. An announcement her eldest brother had listened to in disapproving silence before proceeding to repeat all the reasons he considered the match unsuitable.

      She almost never argued with Hawk, and had not enjoyed arguing with him this morning, either. But neither would her pride—that arrogant St Claire pride—allow her to back down in the face of his icy disapproval.

      In truth, once she’d learnt of Darius’s offer, there had really been very little doubt as to her accepting it….

      ‘I assure you that Hawk