The Lover

“I’ll have no one question the validity of this union. On the morrow you will be my wife in every respect.”

Sabrina felt her heart falter. She would be required to bed Niall after all. She’d thought—hoped—he might forgo the duty, given the circumstances. She was certain he had no true desire for the task. And the prospect of having Niall McLaren initiate her into the act of lovemaking daunted her. She could never measure up to his other lovers.

“Very well,” Sabrina replied, summoning remarkable aplomb. “But after tonight, you have full license to take up with your paramours, if you so wish.”

“I am all gratitude for your consideration,” Niall said wryly.

The graceful evasion told Sabrina little, and she couldn’t help stubbornly pressing the matter. She glanced pointedly at the Widow Graham to make certain he could not misunderstand her. “I would, however, appreciate a warning as to which ladies are your discarded love interests, so I might attempt to avoid embarrassment in future.”

“Are you certain she is discarded?”

Sabrina caught her breath at the sudden shaft of pain that shot through her.

Seeing the hurt in her eyes before she lowered her gaze, Niall voiced a mental oath. He had baited her for a response, out of pique or in an effort to test her indifference, he wasn’t sure. But his mouse with tiger’s claws did not deserve to have his former mistresses flaunted in her face. She had wanted this marriage as little as he did.

He bent closer. “Come, let us cry pax, sweeting. This is no time to be quarreling.”

She felt the heat of his body, the strength of the arm that he draped so casually over her shoulders. Such nearness alarmed her, as did his attempt to charm her. “I don’t wish to cry pax.”

“You would rather fight? If so, we may do so in private. Indeed, love,” he murmured as if they were alone in a bedchamber, or alone in a bed, “it might prove enjoyable.”

Sabrina stiffened. “I am not your love.”

A semi-grin, more devastating than its whole counterpart, sauntered across his mouth. “’Tis a figure of speech, merely that.”

She was not proof against such sensual charisma. It made her ache with longing.

Sabrina closed her eyes, damning herself for the wanting. Her desire for him dismayed her. It was imperative that she build up her resistance to that sinfully easy charm. She didn’t want to fall for this man, only to have him betray her.

And yet…she was but human. She wanted desperately to know what it was like to be held in Niall’s arms.

Marshaling her defenses, Sabrina gazed up at him defiantly. “If you expect me to fall at your feet like all your other adoring admirers, you are much mistaken.”

Niall laughed with an easy sensuality, as if he knew very well she would succumb to him eventually. “If you continue imbibing, you will fall at my feet out of sheer inebriation.” He took the glass from her hand. “Come, madam. I believe it is time to take our leave, before you’re entirely foxed.”

“I am not foxed! I have never been foxed in my life.”

“Perhaps that is part of the trouble, mouse. It might help you to shed some of your inhibitions were you to become soused now and then. For now, however, you will accompany me home like an obedient wife.”

Despite his light tone, Sabrina felt herself bristle. “I was not born to take your orders, sir. I am accustomed to being my own mistress.”

“So I ken. But I have no intention of arguing. If you refuse to accompany me, I shall simply toss you over my shoulder and carry you off. As you are now the Countess of Strathearn, I presume you would prefer a more dignified exit.”

“You wouldn’t…” She bit off the word “dare.”

His smile dawned slow and bright, as if he were anticipating the challenge.

Sabrina clenched her teeth, determined not to be provoked. The wretch had a talent for drawing intense reactions from her. A single word from him managed to touch off the fighting spirit in her. But she would not give him the satisfaction.

She shivered, however, when Niall bent and pressed his lips against the sensitive flesh just behind her left ear. “The bedding will be a pleasant experience, I assure you,” he whispered, the words like velvet on her skin. “I promise you a night you will long remember.”

Chapter

Eight

Quite unwillingly, Sabrina took leave of her kin in the most public manner possible. The afternoon was well advanced when the guests gathered to bid the bridal couple farewell. When Niall very deliberately drew her into his arms, Sabrina gasped to find herself crushed against unyielding male strength. Before she could protest, his lips boldly captured hers for a lusty, rousing kiss.

She might have struggled if not for the way Niall’s devastating expertise turned her knees to jelly.