I do not tell lies, Your Grace!’
Darius quirked a derisive brow over lazily mocking blue eyes. ‘Prove it.’
Arabella’s eyes opened wide at the challenge. ‘I beg your pardon …?’
They might have been the only two people in the room as Darius regarded her from between narrowed lids. The air between them was charged with expectation as he noted the loss of colour to her cheeks, and the shocked uncertainty that now shone in those previously rebellious brown eyes. ‘I am merely inviting you to prove your claim, Arabella,’ he repeated softly.
‘I—But—How am I to do that, Your Grace?’
His mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘Surely there is only one way in which a woman might prove her … experience in the matter of physical intimacy?’
AUTHOR NOTE
I feel quite sad to have come to the end of The Notorious St Claires quartet.
Hopefully, it will not be the last you hear of the St Claire family. I have no doubt there will be many more family members who’ll have their own story to tell, while at the same time you will get brief and tantalising glimpses into the continuing lives of Hawk, Lucian, Sebastian and Arabella. In fact, I couldn’t resist setting a story at Christmas, where the family makes a further appearance. Look for my short story CHRISTMAS AT MULBERRY HALL, coming later in 2011.
Thank you for sharing this experience with me, and until next time I wish you happy reading!
About the Author
CAROLE MORTIMER was born in England, the youngest of three children. She began writing in 1978, and has now written over one hundred and fifty books for Harlequin Mills & Boon. Carole has six sons: Matthew, Joshua, Timothy, Michael, David and Peter. She says, ‘I’m happily married to Peter senior; we’re best friends as well as lovers, which is probably the best recipe for a successful relationship. We live in a lovely part of England.’
Previous novels by the same author:
In Mills & Boon® Historical Romance
THE DUKE’S CINDERELLA BRIDE*
THE RAKE’S INDECENT PROPOSAL*
THE ROGUE’S DISGRACED LADY*
*Part of The Notorious St Claires mini-series
You’ve read about The Notorious St Claires in Regency times.
Now read about the new generation in Mills & Boon® Modern™ Romance
The Scandalous St Claires
Three arrogant aristocrats— ready to be tamed!
Don’t miss Jordan St Claire in Jordan St Claire: Dark and Dangerous January 2011
Lucian St Claire The Relucant Duke in February and Gideon St Claire Taming the Last St Claire in March!
LADY ARABELLA’S SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE
Carole Mortimer
For my readers,
for helping to make writing
The Notorious St Claires such a wonderful and rewarding experience for me.
Chapter One
‘How I have come to hate weddings!’ Lady Arabella St Claire muttered inelegantly as her partner in the waltz—a dance still considered slightly risqué by the older members of the ton—swept her assuredly amongst the two hundred or so other wedding guests milling about the candlelit ballroom of St Claire House in London.
‘Could that be because in the past year you have been three times the sister of the groom rather than being the bride?’ drawled Darius Wynter, the Duke of Carlyne.
Arabella looked up sharply, intending to give him a set-down for the mockery she detected in his cynically bored tone. That was her intention, but instead Arabella found her attention caught and held by the hard and perfect male beauty of his face—a face Arabella had once described to one of her sisters-in-law as being that of an angel. Or a devil …
Six or seven inches taller than her own five feet and eight inches in stockinged feet, Darius Wynter had stylishly overlong golden hair, which gleamed in the candle-light, and his eyes were of dark cobalt-blue, edged by long lashes of that same gold. His nose was long and aristocratic, his cheekbones hard, and he possessed perfect sculptured lips above a square and determined jaw.
The stark black of his jacket over snowy-white linen emphasised rather than hid the width of his shoulders, his muscled chest and taut abdomen, and the lean elegance of his hips and thighs was defined by tailored black pantaloons.
Yes, Darius Wynter, Duke of Carlyne, was certainly elegance personified—and he was also the most com-pellingly handsome man Arabella had met since her coming out the previous year.
Until a few short months ago he had been Lord Darius Wynter, a man well known for his numerous exploits in the bedroom and at the gaming tables. A wild and reckless reputation that had only been added to when he’d married the heiress Sophie Belling a year ago, only to be suddenly widowed one short month later, when his bride was thrown from her horse while out hunting and killed.
As expected, the majority of the ton—marriage-minded mamas especially!—had forgiven Darius Wynter all his previous sins when he’d inherited the title of the Duke of Carlyne on the death of his elder brother seven months ago.
Arabella had been drawn to his decadent good-looks the first time she’d seen him at a ball some eighteen months ago. An attraction, despite the many social occasions at which they had both been present, that Darius Wynter had unfortunately never given any inclination of returning.
Her top lip curled now with haughty disdain. ‘I am sure you did not mean your remark to be so insulting, Your Grace.’
Darius gazed down into the beautiful face of Lady Arabella St Claire. With three brothers older than herself, one of them Hawk, Duke of Stourbridge, Darius knew that this young lady had been petted and spoilt for most if not all of her almost twenty years.
Nevertheless, her beauty was dazzling: a riot of honey-gold curls framed her heart-shaped face, her eyes were the colour of melted chocolate, and she had a tiny up-tilted nose, full and sensuously pouting lips, and a pointedly determined chin. The pale cream gown she wore revealed a spill of creamy breasts above a narrow waist and rounded hips, and her tiny feet were covered in cream satin slippers.
Yes, Lady Arabella St Claire was without doubt a very beautiful and highly desirable young lady. But as the young and so far unattached sister of the Duke of Stourbridge, wealthy in her own right following the death of her father eleven years ago, this haughtily condescending young lady had been hotly pursued by every eligible buck during the past two Seasons. Darius, whilst still only the lowly Lord Wynter, had even made an offer for her himself the previous year. An offer that had been summarily dismissed by this wilful baggage, he recalled grimly.