The Lover (42 page)

She pulled away, unable to bear his tender touch. He would not make her feel guilty for abandoning her clan. She had more than fulfilled any obligations toward them.

Sabrina scarcely knew what she ate at supper; the herring-broth soup tasted much like the second course of spit-roasted pigeons and stuffed breast of veal, which tasted like the dessert of pear tarts wrapped in marzipan. She was torn between the need to weep and the need to satisfy the rise of desire she felt just looking at Niall.

The congenial conversation ebbed and flowed around her, but she took no part in it. Instead, she sat stiffly across the table from him, wishing fervently that he would go. It would prove impossible to shield her wounded heart if she couldn’t even avoid his company.

It startled her when, at the close of supper, Charles stood.

“I shall take my port in my study, my dear, and leave the two of you to settle your differences in private.”

“Papa Charles—” Sabrina murmured, but he shook his head and withdrew before she could finish her plea.

In the resulting silence, she kept her gaze trained on her wineglass, refusing to look at her husband. The tension drew out unbearably, until she was at last moved to speak. “I desire you to go.”

“I know, sweeting,” Niall returned gently, “but I wish to stay. Charles has invited me to remain the night.”

She was certain she would find him grinning smugly, but when she raised her gaze, the tenderness in his eyes startled her.

“How did you coerce him to agree?”

“The truth? I humbled myself and threw myself on his mercy. I told him I do not deserve a lass as remarkable as you, but that I would do my best to prove myself worthy of you.”

“In fact, you used that golden charm of yours to deceive him.”

Niall held her gaze intently. “It was no deception. I told him I was in love with my wife.”

Her lips parting, Sabrina stared at him in frustration. “He could not possibly believe you.”

Niall smiled. “That has always been your trouble, mouse. You gravely underestimate yourself. Just as you underestimate me if you expect me to give you up without a fight.” He leaned back in his chair. “Besides, how would it look, with both of us in town yet not living together as man and wife? I would be accused of abandoning my bride.”

“It will only be expected of you,” she replied. “Society will assume you are up to your usual pursuits, seducing anything in skirts.”

“Society would be wrong. My days of seduction are over forever.” He saw her doubt and all mirth vanished from his expression. “Sabrina…I know I’ve done nothing whatever to deserve your trust, but I mean to change that.”

She looked away, unable to put much faith in his vow of faithfulness. Perhaps for now he intended to cleave only unto her, but her lusty husband would doubtlessly yield to temptation sooner or later. And she couldn’t bear to see it.

“I ask you to let us begin anew, Sabrina. I ask for the chance to earn your trust.”

Her throat suddenly aching, she shook her head. She would never desire any man but Niall. Never love any man but him. But she could not act as if his betrayal had never happened. Someday she might possibly be able to trust his avowals, but for now the pain in her heart was like an open wound.

Sabrina stood abruptly. “I intend to retire for the evening. Since you refuse to leave, perhaps you would care to join my stepfather in his study.”

She started to turn away, but Niall’s quiet voice prevented her. “Of course, there is the matter of marital rights.”

“What…do you mean?”

“You are my wife, Sabrina, bound to me before man and God.” He toyed with his wineglass, his finger moving slowly along the rim, reminding her vividly of the sensual power of his touch. How many countless times had Niall stroked her delicately like that, arousing her with the lightest of caresses? “I could seize you from this house now, and no law would gainsay me.”

“M-My stepfather would stop you.”

“Would he?” Niall smiled, his head bent, his jeweled eyes hidden by a fall of thick dark lashes. Softly, he said, “I give you fair warning, mouse. This is a battle I intend to win.”

His brilliant gaze lifted and locked with hers.

She stood transfixed, paralyzed by the bold intent in his eyes, by the seductive promise in his magical voice. Even when Niall rose with easy grace, she remained helplessly immobile—until he moved around the table to her side.

Sabrina stepped back in alarm, but Niall caught her hand and raised her fingers to his lips, pressing with exquisite sensuality. Desire spread with downy softness through her body at his erotic touch. It was all she could do to utter a breathless plea: “Do not…”

“As you wish,” he said in that dark velvet voice that never failed to arouse her and set all her nerve endings trembling.

He released her hand, which incredibly filled her with disappointment. Her vanity felt slightly bruised that he had abandoned his pursuit so easily—an undeniably absurd response. She most certainly didn’t wish him to pursue her.

She took the opportunity, nonetheless, to flee to her bedchamber.

Her heart pounding erratically, Sabrina carefully locked the door behind her and spent the next quarter hour glancing over her shoulder as she made her toilet and drew on her nightshift.

In bed, she attempted to read, but her restless mind refused to concentrate. Her thoughts kept wandering to the Highland devil on the floor below. When finally she blew out the candle, she lay there in the darkness, staring at the canopy overhead, tense and unsettled.

It was perhaps an hour later when she heard a key turn in the lock. Wide awake, Sabrina sat up abruptly. The door swung open, letting in a golden flood of light from an oil lamp.

At her gasp, Niall stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind him.

“How did you…?”

“Your stepfather gave me a key,” he answered congenially.

“Get out!” Sabrina exclaimed.

Ignoring her demand, Niall let his interested gaze roam around the chamber, coming to rest on the narrow bed with its blue damask curtains. “So this is where you sleep.”

“Are you simpleminded? Or merely thick-witted? You are not welcome here!”

“I am only claiming my rights as your husband.”

Sabrina took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm. “I tell you, sir,” she enunciated as though he could not understand the King’s English, “I will not share my bed with you.”

Niall’s gaze surveyed her white night smock, sweeping over her dark, rich hair, which hung loose and unbound. “Do you ken how sweetly virginal you look?” His mouth softened in a smile. “Yet I know better. I’ve seen the fire you hide from the rest of the world.”

Depositing the lamp on the dressing table, Niall strode across the chamber and, despite her look of outraged alarm, settled beside Sabrina on the narrow bed. His eyes lingered on her nightshift, where her nipples strained darkly against the white linen. She felt them grow taut beneath his probing gaze.

When he leaned closer, Sabrina pushed futilely at his chest. “Don’t! You can indulge your lust elsewhere. Doubtless there are countless women who would swoon with ecstasy at the chance to welcome the renowned Niall McLaren into their beds.”

Niall contemplated his defiant bride calmly. He wanted no other woman. He only wanted the flashing-eyed lass who aroused such a fierce passion in him.

His hands moved lightly over her hair, rearranging it so that her tresses fell in deep, rich ripples over her shoulders.

“I want no other woman, Sabrina. I want a wife, not countless lovers. I want you.” Niall’s smile faded, leaving only the hungry look in his eyes. “I can’t remember ever wanting like this.”

It was true, he thought, gazing into the dark, liquid depths of her eyes. He had never felt this craving to possess, to protect, this all-consuming fire in his blood that he felt with Sabrina.

His voice lowered to a murmur. “I want your love, sweet mouse. I want to be the man you need, the one you carry deep inside of you, here.”

When he touched her breast tenderly, she felt as if he had reached into her heart, and she couldn’t stand it. She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t permit her escape.

His fingertips sculpted the high planes of her face…stroked the fullness of her hair. “You cannot deny the bond between us, love. I know you feel it…when I bury myself inside you, when I drive deep and take you with me to paradise. When you sheathe me in sweetness and welcome me home.” He bent to press his lips against hers, and every familiar gesture brought Sabrina fresh agonies of tenderness and need.

“I intend to convince you, Sabrina,” he whispered against her softness. “I mean to love you until dreams of me haunt your nights and torment your every waking hour. I will fire your blood as you do mine. I won’t relent until you wear my scent on your skin, my teeth marks on your silken thighs. Until my memory is branded on your heart and mind.”

You are already branded on my heart,
she thought helplessly. She closed her eyes, shaking with love and pain that mingled into a tangled knot.

“Don’t…” she whispered as he bent and trailed velvet kisses along her throat. When he paused at the fragile hollow, tonguing the delicate pulse point, she tried to twist away. “Damn you…must you always resort to seduction to gain your ends?”

Niall suddenly went still, his caresses halting.

He drew a deep, shaky breath.

“No, you are right.” He pulled back, his eyes bright and burning. “I won’t use seduction to win you.”

Sabrina stared at him in startlement.

She watched warily as he bent to pull off his boots, then stood to remove his coat.

“What…are you doing?” she asked uneasily.

“Undressing. Don’t be alarmed, sweeting. I shan’t force my attentions on you. I simply mean to ease my weariness in sleep.” His mouth curled in a wry smile. “I’ve had little enough of it the past few days, owing to you.”

He shed his clothing but for his linen undershirt and put out the lamp, then joined Sabrina beneath the covers in the narrow bed. When he tried to gather her into his arms, though, she went rigid with resistance.

“I only want to hold you,” he murmured in the darkness.

“No,” she said unevenly.

When she turned away, giving him her back, Niall made no move to stop her. He’d made that mistake before. He had tried to bind Sabrina to him sexually, to conquer her with passion, but he needed to do it with love.

He could feel her tension as she lay there, waiting for him to resume his sensual assault on her defenses, but he crushed the temptation. He wanted to make love to her, urgently, but an enchantment of the flesh would no longer suffice for him. He wanted more than her body. He wanted her heart, freely given.

Niall shut his eyes, bedeviled by unaccustomed sensations of helplessness and inadequacy. He’d proven countless times that he could seduce a woman’s body, but her heart? He might find it impossible.

He didn’t know how to love a lass. He could
make
love in countless ways, but this heartrending, breathtaking,
relentless
emotion was completely foreign to him.

One thing was certain, however. He was determined to woo and win her. As his wife, Sabrina belonged to him by law, but he vowed to make her his own, in love as well as in name.

He wanted, needed, her heart. And he was willing to settle for nothing less.

    Chapter    
Seventeen

He woke to an empty bed. In the chill of dawn, Niall reached out to draw Sabrina to him—and encountered only rumpled sheets.

In moments he had risen and dressed and was startling sleepy-eyed maids and footmen as he searched the house from bottom to top.

He found her in the attic, in a small cubbyhole that served as a maid’s quarters, curled up on a pallet, fast asleep. A wealth of tenderness engulfed him as he gazed down at Sabrina’s pale face. There were shadows beneath her eyes, shadows he suspected he had put there.

Just then she stirred awake and caught sight of him. With a groan, she buried her face in the pillow. “Sweet heaven, can I have no peace?”

Niall sank down to sit beside her on the plank floor, which only made her stiffen.

“Would you care to explain why I find you in the servants’ quarters, love?”

“You are clever enough to venture a guess. I am attempting to avoid you. I pray you, go
away
.”

He shook his head, unwilling to leave her like this. Smoothing her tresses from her neck, he massaged the satin skin of her nape. “Not until we reach an understanding.”

“Devil take you,” Sabrina muttered. “There is nothing more to be said.”

His voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “Do you truly want me out of your life, mouse?”

The sudden ache in her throat prevented her from replying. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her nape, gentle yet infinitely compelling.

“I’ve missed you, Sabrina. I’ve missed your fire, your courage, your passion, your clever tongue. Have you not missed me as well?”