The Lover

“I think it does,” Niall replied a bit grimly. She felt his fingers tenderly brushing her hair back from her damp brow. “I am rather fond of living, and I might not have survived but for your intervention.”

“Anyone would have done the same.”

“Any Highlander might, but a Lowland lass…As Geordie said, you’re a brave lass. And there’s little a Highlander admires more than bravery. You’ve made your clan proud.”

Sabrina shook her head. She had wanted to make her clan proud of her, but s

he wasn’t a saint. “I was terrified.”

Niall placed a finger under her chin. “As well you should be. Which reminds me…I’ve a score to settle with you, mistress.” His penetrating gaze pinned her. “What the de’il were you doing out in the hills at night, putting yourself in such danger?”

“I only thought to watch the raid,” Sabrina said meekly. “I accompanied Geordie—”

“By God, I’ll have his ears.”

“He wasn’t to blame. Grandfather gave me permission to go…and I would never have interfered had the need not been dire.”

Niall scowled. “I particularly told you to remain at home.”

“No, you did not. You merely refused to take me with you.”

“For good reason. As you witnessed, lifting cattle is dangerous business. It was reckless and foolhardy, accompanying a raid.”

“Perhaps so, but”—her chin lifted—“I don’t recall having to answer to you, sir.”

Niall swore beneath his breath. His fingers tightened on her chin in warning.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t take advantage of wounded damsels,” Sabrina hastily reminded him.

He seemed to recollect himself. Releasing her, he returned his attention to her arm. “The bleeding seems to have stopped. Let us see if we can make you more comfortable.”

She clenched her teeth as he wrapped a fresh bandage around her arm. His hands were long-fingered, strong, elegant, his touch gentle enough to almost take her mind off the pain.

“Now,” Niall said softly when he was through. “We should remove your gown so you can attempt to sleep. Where is your nightshift?”

Sabrina exhaled sharply. “My…nightshift?”

“I presume that is what you sleep in?”

“Yes…but I have no intention of showing it to you.”

“A certain display of modesty is pleasing in a lass, but less so in a wife. When we are wed, I shall attempt to break you of the habit.”

Sabrina abruptly felt the remainder of her breath rush from her lungs. Her eyes flew wide as she stared at Niall. “I fear I misheard you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What did you not understand?”

“You said…‘When we are wed.’”

“So I did.”

“You cannot be serious.”

His eyes held hers, brilliant as sapphires. “Loath as I am to correct a lady, I am not given to jesting on matters of such import. You may consider us betrothed.”

She stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

“Pray contain your delight,” Niall said wryly. When she still remained mute, his black brow rose another degree. “I suppose your lack of mental acumen can be attributed to the blow to your head.”