The Lover

She was further dismayed when a widowed neighbor of her grandfather came to call. When the lady swept into the morning room, Sabrina could not repress a momentary twinge of envy. Mistress Eve Graham possessed a lush figure and a pair of cool, calculating hazel eyes, which she used to assess Sabrina minutely.

The raven-haired beauty seemed surprised at what she found. But then she appeared to catch herself and affected the introductions with a musical laugh. She refused all offer of refreshment, but settled herself on the settee beside her hostess.

“How dreadful, my dear,” she said, surveying Sabrina’s new arm bandage. “I heard of your terrible wounding.”

“It is hardly more than a scratch,” Sabrina demurred politely.

“Even so, the entire countryside is talking of your bravery.”

“But it really was nothing.”

“You are too modest. Why, Niall declared he might have been killed, if not for your quick action.”

Sabrina felt a sharp pang in the vicinity of her heart. Something in the way Mistress Graham had said his name hinted at a deeper relationship than mere friendship.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last,” Eve said warmly. “You cannot know how I’ve longed for another lady with which to share confidences. You must tell me all about yourself…”

They spoke for a time, with Mistress Graham asking probing questions about Sabrina’s family and home in Edinburgh, while relating something of her own past.

“I remember Edinburgh with great fondness,” the widow said, sighing. “The soirees, the balls, the assemblies…My dear husband accompanied me there frequently, so that I might have a moment’s respite from the dullness of the Highlands. Here we have only country dances and primitive customs harking back to feudal times. It is fortunate for us you have come. The clans are in great need of the civilizing influence of women. I’ve long believed there would be far less feuding among us if our lairds had proper wives to advise them…Which leads me to the real purpose of my visit.”

Eve hesitated, eyeing Sabrina speculatively. “I came to offer my help with the wedding arrangements, Mistress Duncan. With all due modesty, I am quite proficient at managing fetes.”

Sabrina was hard-pressed to think of a polite answer. “In truth, the issue of my marriage to the McLaren is not quite settled as yet.”

“How odd. Niall asked me to assist with the wedding feast and so forth.”

“Did he, indeed?” she asked tartly.

Eve seemed not to notice her sharpness. “I confess, it surprises me that he would choose you as his bride…But perhaps I can see the appeal to a man of his stamp. He called you ‘a tiger in mous

e’s clothing,’ I believe were his words.”

Sabrina felt her own surprise at the admiration in the widow’s tone. A beautiful woman undoubtedly familiar with male adulation, Eve Graham would hardly consider “tiger” a flattering appellation. But she apparently believed Niall thought so.

“Niall is making a great presumption,” Sabrina answered. “I have not agreed to wed him. Indeed, I withdrew from the betrothal only a few days past.”

One delicate raven eyebrow rose. “Surely you jest. Sabrina—may I call you by your given name? Sabrina, how can you think to spurn him?”

“I know it is shocking of me, Mistress Graham,” she murmured wryly.

“Do call me Eve. I must say this is unforeseen.” The lady’s mouth turned up in amusement. “How many women do you suppose have ever refused him?”

Unexpectedly Sabrina found herself liking the amiable widow. “Very few, I imagine,” she admitted candidly, an answering smile in her voice.

“You must possess great fortitude. No woman can resist him. Niall McLaren can charm anything in skirts.”

“If he had indeed attempted to charm me, I daresay I would have succumbed, but from the first he made it quite clear he wanted no part of me or my grandfather’s plans. The bald truth is, he has no more desire to enter into an arranged marriage than I do. And I have no wish to endure a profligate for a husband.”

“He is an irresponsible rogue, doubtless, but oh so charming. And with such exceptional skill…”

The remark was probing rather than boastful, but Sabrina flushed at the intimacy it implied. “His skill impresses me but little. I am more concerned with his character.”

“Well…I suspect it will be difficult for you to withdraw now that Niall is set on moving forward. The clans are expecting a union.”

“I know,” Sabrina said rather bleakly. “And I shall not forsake them. My kinsmen must have a laird. I…only wish it were someone other than Niall.”

“Such misgivings before marriage are not unusual, darling. But I daresay it will not be so bad, being wed to Niall. Having such a magnificent lover should be some consolation.”