The Lover

“Even so, we must get you home—before the Buchanans return with reinforcements.”

Sabrina shivered. She did want to go home. She’d seen for herself the reality of a raid, the blood and savagery, and she wanted no more part of it. She wasn’t trained to be a warrior.

Seeing her tremble, Niall brushed a loose tendril from her cheek. He couldn’t explain the startling emotions he was feeling toward her just now. He wanted to shake her for frightening him so—at the same time he wanted to crush her to him and comfort her till he banished her fear and his own.

Perhaps, though, his fierce urge to protect and shelter her from harm was only natural. Her wounding had resurfaced all the old fury he’d felt at his father’s murder, bringing out his most ferocious instincts. Or perhaps he merely needed to assuage his own guilt in some measure. Sabrina had doubtlessly saved his life, when she could easily have been killed. He’d watched in terror as she ran fearlessly to his side, hurtling herself at an armed brute twice her size.

More than guilt, though, more than the need to comfort and protect, he was aware of a fierce thundering in his blood, a primal reaction of male to female.

Yet now was not the time to dwell on his primitive impulses. For all her valor, Sabrina was unaccustomed to physical danger; shock had set in now, and she was shaking.

“I’ll carry her home,” he said to Liam and Geordie. “You’ll see to the cattle?”

“Aye, that we will.”

Niall gathered Sabrina in his arms and stood. He’d been wanting a reason to hold her, yet he was unprepared for the sudden shaft of desire that knifed through him at the feel of her softness. He felt his lower body harden painfully, a wild response that was irrational and totally inappropriate.

On the other hand, perhaps that too was natural. His heart was still pumping from the recent sword fight, and although the battle was over, his violence leashed, the blood was still surging thick and hot through his veins.

His lack of control vexed him, however, so that when Sabrina protested that she could walk, he reacted more harshly than he intended.

“Be still,” Niall commanded. “You’re in no condition even to stand. For once you’ll do as you’re told.”

Inwardly Sabrina bristled at the unfairness of his rebuke, but she hadn’t the strength to argue.

As if she weighed no more than a thistle, he lifted her in his arms and set her on his horse, then mounted behind her, settling her back against him. Her bottom nestled snugly between the hard muscles of his spread thighs, and he wrapped his plaid around her, sharing its warmth.

“Hush, now. You need rest.”

Sabrina shut her eyes against the ache in her head. She felt so warm and secure in Niall’s embrace, so safe and cherished…She felt herself being lulled by the sway of the horse…

The next thing she knew, Niall was lifting her into his arms, carrying her across the courtyard at Banesk. In the darkness he made his way swiftly toward the manor house.

Once inside, Sabrina roused herself from her daze. “Please…don’t awaken Grandfather. His heart cannot bear the excitement.”

“Hush, sweeting. You show concern for everyone but yourself. Where do you sleep?”

Sabrina caught her breath at the question, which only made her head pound harder. “What does it matter?”

“I’m taking you to bed.” She discerned his faint grin in the moonlight that slanted through the high window. “I don’t intend to ravish you, if that’s your fear. I draw the line at taking advantage of wounded damsels. Your arm needs dressing.”

He mounted the back stairs swiftly and quietly.

“This isn’t at all proper,” Sabrina protested lamely. “You should call for one of the household women.”

“There’s no need. I can see to it well enough. Which chamber?”

“The last on the right…but you cannot…you shouldn’t be in my bedchamber. You’ll cause a scandal.”

“If I do, it will scarcely matter. You’ll be my wife soon enough to still any gossiping tongues.”

Her brows gathering in a frown, Sabrina shook her aching head to chase away the fog. Clearly she had misheard.

She knew she should object in stronger terms to his brazen intimacy and make him set her down, yet she didn’t want Niall to release her. She wanted the strength of his arms around her, needed their promise of warmth and safety and comfort. Against all common sense, she hungered for his touch and the shameful pleasure he aroused in her.

It was folly, she knew. It was dangerous to let herself yearn for things she couldn’t possibly have. Foolish to succumb to the treacherous heat of desire. Laughable to think this man would ever want her.

Silently cursing herself for her weakness, Sabrina closed her eyes with a weary sigh.