The Lover (21 page)

“Don’t be afraid, sweet mouse. I predict that by the morrow you will be sighing sweetly with delight and imploring me not to leave you.”

She went rigid with indignity. “Has anyone ever mentioned what an insufferable, arrogant braggart you are?”

“I am merely being truthful.” A grin that could only be called exquisitely decadent curved his beautiful mouth. “Seduction has been my avocation since adolescence. And I pride myself in a certain competence.”

He was enjoying himself, the beast. Sabrina clenched her fingers, fighting the urge to march across the chamber and box his ears. “A consummation should be a solemn occasion. You view it as a mere exercise in lechery.”

“I see no reason it cannot be both solemn and pleasurable. Be assured, I shall fully arouse you first so that you might enjoy it as well as I.”

“You’ll arouse nothing in me save my temper!”

Niall gazed at her measuringly. Her eyes were dark with wariness, but the spirit that flashed there suggested his deliberate provocation was having an effect. She was nervous at the coming union, he knew, but sparring with her brought forth the defiant vixen, which was the only lass he wanted in his bed. One who was unafraid and eager to match him in passion.

When he glimpsed her tongue as it flickered over dewy lips, his voice softened. “You’ve never feared me before, tiger. Don’t begin now.”

“I…I am not afraid. I simply have no desire to submit to a rutting beast.”

His smile was pained. “You wound me grievously. I am hardly a beast. I am your husband.” Niall hesitated, his eyes searching. “Did it not occur to you that this situation might be new to me as well? Despite your much exaggerated account of my debauchery, I have never before deflowered a maiden.”

“Then how do you know if you can manage it?”

He wanted to laugh, and yet…The question was not as absurd as he might have thought. For all his nonchalance, he had never known such innocence, and the prospect disquieted him. He wanted her first experience with lovemaking to be pleasurable and memorable. “I shall give you nothing you don’t ask for voluntarily.”

The words were rich in promise, his voice a husky caress. He turned away then, to permit her to weigh his reassurances.

Taking his time, he drew the velvet drapes across the windows, shutting out the late afternoon sunlight, enveloping them in soft darkness. Then leisurely, he lit a dozen candles in a candelabra, at once transforming the chamber to an intimate haven for lovers, suffused with a quiet golden glow.

His gaze found Sabrina, where she stood riveted to the floor. Slowly he moved toward her, till he was a scant few inches away. Reaching up, he framed her face with his palms, disarming her with his tenderness.

“I want very much for your first time to be good for you…special and fulfilling. I shall be gentle and considerate, I swear it. I will do nothing you are not fully prepared for. Will you trust me, sweetheart?”

His voice was soft and warm, his eyes compelling. Sabrina felt her fear melting.

She nodded slowly.

“Tell me,” he urged.

“I…will trust you.”

The intimate smile he gave her made her feel as if the sun had burst from behind the clouds.

“Your hair…I like it this way.”

The arrangement fell to one side in thick curls. Catching the ends, Niall rubbed it between his fingertips, as if savoring the feel. “Such rich color…texture. But I would like it better flowing free.”

When Sabrina reached up to remove the pins, he gently stilled her hands. “No, allow me the pleasure.”

Her heart beat unevenly as his fingers searched and found his targets. Loosening the heavy mass, he let it fall down her back. Smoothing a stray wisp back from her face, he gently tangled his fingers in the rich fullness.

“You are bonny with your hair down,” he murmured as he bent to brush her mouth with his.

It was a butterfly kiss that seemed to draw her soul from her body. Sabrina stood dazed when Niall drew back and smiled.

“With your permission, I shall play lady’s maid.”

To her startlement then, he sank down to kneel at her feet. One by one he slipped off her shoes, caressing each ankle almost reverently. To maintain her balance, Sabrina had to grasp his shoulder with one hand, but she froze when he reached beneath her petticoats to find the garter that held up her stocking.

Her breath caught as he brushed her bare calf. A frisson of fiery sensation sparked from his fingertips to her skin, yet he seemed too intent on his task to notice. She endured the delicate torment in silence, biting her lip until at last it was over and she stood barefoot.

Then he rose. “And now your gown, sweeting.”

Sabrina’s breath seemed to stop once more.

She tried to pretend indifference as he took her hand and drew her farther into the room, toward the warmth of the fire, but it took every ounce of fortitude she possessed to stand there quietly and submit to his skillful ministrations.

He first removed the stomacher, then the heavy skirt, and carefully draped them both over a chair. The embroidered petticoat-underskirt came next, and finally the beautiful bodice.

He seemed so casual about the whole process, Sabrina thought despondently. As if he had undressed countless ladies before her. It was only when he saw the bandage on her arm that he showed any emotion. His eyes darkened.

“I would that I could have spared you this,” he murmured as he bent to press a light kiss on her arm, just above the bandage.

She flinched a little, but not in pain. Rather it was the sensual sensations streaking through her like fire at his tender gesture.

She went rigid when, with a forefinger, he touched the neckline of her shift. A vibrant shiver ran though her as he brushed the rising swell of her breast, feeling the ridge the tight bodice had made in her flesh.

“’Tis criminal, how the whalebone has marked your lovely skin. Let me soothe it.”

Bending, he pressed a succession of fleeting kisses on the side of her throat…her white shoulder…the swell of her breast…He left her hot and shivering when he drew back.

“You don’t need this, do you, love?” The warm resonance of his voice bathed her with sensation.

Catching the hem of her shift, he drew the garment over her head and let it drop to the floor.

Entirely nude, Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut, fighting a flash of panic. She felt small and vulnerable, unprepossessing in the face of his masculine beauty.

“You have a lovely body.”

Her gaze flickered up to meet his, disbelieving. The unexpected dark intensity in his eyes filled her with a strange excitement.

“I…I’m rather plain.”

“You’re perfect.”

“I’m not like your other…like the Widow Graham. I expect you are disappointed.”

The comparison was inevitable, Niall supposed; Sabrina
was
different from Eve Graham. Yet he had stopped thinking of her as plain long ago. And disappointment was the last thing he felt just now as he studied her slender, long-legged body. He wanted her.

Sabrina was prim and shy and stubbornly defiant…. And yet she was magnificent in her own quiet way…with flawless satin skin the color of ivory; breasts high and firm, tipped with distended, rosy nipples; legs that were long, slim, curvaceous; and a fire in her eyes that called to him.

He had known many lovely women, but this lass’s appeal went beyond skin deep. There was a bold spirit within her, an unexplored passion that cried out for release. By him. He wanted very much to be the one to draw her from her imprisoning shell, to awaken her sexually.

“Every lass has her own special beauty, and yours is very appealing.” He reached up to cradle her cheek. “You are Sabrina…Sweet, fiery Sabrina…”

An ache rose unbidden in her throat as she gazed at him. What was the matter with her that his words should bring hot, hidden tears to the inside of her eyelids?

He turned away then, eliciting a swift surge of disappointment in her. But a moment later, she felt the brush of silk at her back as he slipped a garment around her shoulders. He had fetched a dressing robe from the wardrobe, Sabrina realized. How grateful she was to him for putting her at ease, and yet…she didn’t recognize this particular robe. Her clothing had been delivered that morning, but she owned nothing like this filmy crimson confection trimmed with swansdown.

Slipping it on, she fumbled with the hooks that fastened at the waist. She would have much preferred her white night smock, whose modest construction would completely cover her limbs and torso, toes to neck. This garment seemed too small, for the lapels would not close fully, displaying bare skin nearly to her waist and exposing far too much of her bosom to view. Worse, if she moved at all, her naked legs would show.

“Where did this come from? It’s not mine,” she said stiffly.

Niall looked up as he untied his cravat. “No. I had it made up specifically for you.”

“For…me? Then you mistook my measurements. It does not fit properly.”

“It fits precisely as I wished it to.”

She glanced at him in bewilderment. “But…it is so…brazen.”

“What if it is?” His smile was meltingly warm, lavishly sensual, his voice warm with intimacy. “In the privacy of our bedchamber, you may be as brazen as you like.”

To her surprise, he then went to the washstand and poured a measure of water into the basin. Sabrina watched curiously as he wet and soaped one corner of a cloth, then returned to her. She gave a start when he raised the dampened cloth to her face.

He hesitated, one eyebrow cocked. “You aren’t afraid of soap, are you?”

When she shook her head warily, he smiled. “Good. It is one of the rare failings of we Highlanders, I fear. We cherish too close an acquaintance with dirt.”

“I am not dirty—”

“No, of course not.” He began to wash her face to remove the ceruse that Eve Graham’s dresser had applied so liberally that morning. “But it is a crime to bury such flawless skin under layers of paint. It smothers the natural roses in your cheeks. You are lovelier without cosmetics.”

Shy and uncertain, she gazed up at him, and Niall found himself distracted from his task. Those haunting eyes of hers captivated him; the color of rich coffee, flecked with soft, sherry-colored lights.

He felt a shaft of desire that surprised him. He wanted to take her to bed right then, but he wanted more to reassure her.

“There is no need for shyness between us,” he murmured, his husky voice echoing through her like the memory of a caress.

Sabrina felt herself fighting the pull of his magnetism. The need to protect herself from this man was strong. She had vowed she would not succumb to his legendary charm, yet she had no weapons to aid her in halting his sweet seduction. She wanted him, the part of her that was woman, the part that was lonely and desperate for love. And her defenses were slipping, moment by moment.

To her relief, he finished wiping and drying her face, then tapped her lightly on the nose in a gesture more friendly than loverlike. “Take heart, lass. I am only intent on bedding you, not murdering you.”

She smiled faintly, as he’d meant her to do, which diminished the tension a small measure.

He stepped back then to undress. His eyes never leaving her, he drew off his jacket and then his fine linen shirt.

Sabrina caught her breath. It unnerved her, he was so very male, all corded muscles and bronzed skin. Like a lover’s seeking caress, the flickering candlelight found the blue-black glints scattered in the light fur of his chest.

“No, don’t look away,” he commanded when she would have averted her gaze. “Watch.”

His beautiful body drew her eyes once more. He had the finest pair of shoulders she’d ever seen, yet her nervousness grew as he removed the rest of his clothing, article by article. All too soon it was done and he turned to face her fully, standing with a relaxed nudity before her, the image of virile strength.

He was narrow of hip and powerful of leg, but she was faintly shocked to see his arousal, pulsing and erect, between his sinewed thighs.

His eyes met hers. Bold eyes, bright eyes. Eyes curiously measuring.

“So, sweeting…are you frightened by your new husband’s physique?”

She shivered. All that bronzed, hair-roughened masculinity spoke of savage pleasures. “I suppose…all those women could not have been deceived. It must not be too painful or frightening…or all your conquests would have protested long ere now.”

“Indeed. I am just a man, sweeting. I shan’t harm you.”

Just a man.
Such a remarkable understatement.

“I own myself amazed at your modesty. I never would have expected it from you.”

He chuckled, a low sound rich in pleasure. “Termagant,” he replied, but the word was a soft caress, a satin promise.

An emotion something like despair curled around Sabrina’s heart as she felt herself succumbing to his spell. Niall needed no steel or pistol to force past her defenses, only the rapier-sharp edge of his erotic charm.

She moistened her lips, which she realized was a mistake.

His gaze lowered from hers to linger on the soft curves of her mouth. “It is time, sweeting.”