“Go to it, lad. Give the wench a taste ’o yer blade!” a drunken Highlander called out.
“Dip into her honey pot!”
“Give her a wee bairn to do the McLarens proud!”
It was a long moment before Niall released her. Flushed and breathless and trembling with outrage, Sabrina lifted her head regally, but gave her husband a glare that promised a full accounting later.
With the crowd roaring approval, Niall lifted his bride upon his horse and swung up behind her.
“And just what was that spectacle in honor of?” Sabrina demanded the moment they were out of sight. She could still feel the warm imprint of his mouth on hers, the strength of his hard body at her back, though she told herself the fierce beating of her heart was due solely to anger and alarm.
Behind her, Niall smiled. The tartness of her tone held a telltale quiver that suggested she was more affected by his sudden display of passion than she pretended.
“Everyone present will remark my devotion to you,” he replied calmly. “If our enemies see that I have claimed you as my own, they will think twice before attacking Clan Duncan again. That was the prime purpose of our holy union, was it not?”
“I see nothing holy about it. I consented for expediencies’ sake, nothing more. And there was no reason for you to drag me away from the celebration.”
“Ah, but there was. The consummation, remember?”
“It could have waited.”
“Perhaps, but your grandfather was eager for us to get on with it so there would be no doubt we are wed. In fact, he advised me to beget an heir directly.”
Sabrina stiffened abruptly at his levity, but when she tried to draw away, Niall’s arm circled her waist and hauled her back into position.
He gave a soft chuckle. “Settle down, mouse. You are as prickly as a hedgehog.”
“I cannot be both animals!” she snapped.
Aye, she could, he thought ruefully. She was a lass to test the mettle of a saint, and he certainly was no saint. But he was certain he would easily conquer this infuriating, challenging wench—as soon as he could get her in his bed.
By mutual consent, they both fell silent for the remainder of the journey. A brisk Highland breeze bore the perfume of sweet-scented gorse, but Sabrina scarcely noticed. Her trepidation increased moment by moment as the false courage of the whisky ebbed. She felt like a prize of war, a helpless prisoner being carried off to her conqueror’s ancient castle.
As they approached the imposing stone edifice, she felt her heart begin to pound. Only a few clansmen had been left to guard against attack, so the castle seemed nearly deserted when they rode into the courtyard. Niall dismounted without a word and reached up for her.
Reluctantly Sabrina placed her hands on the hard width of his shoulders and felt the smooth muscles contract beneath her fingers. Her palms tingled with warmth as he grasped her waist and swung her to the ground.
To her further dismay, Niall deliberately took her hand and pulled her along behind him. The house was silent, their footsteps echoing on the stone flags. They met no one as they climbed the stairs, but Sabrina’s pulse beat faster when she realized his intent.
She held back when he led her directly to his bedchamber, but he drew her gently, relentlessly inside.
“My lord…it is still broad daylight,” Sabrina protested uneasily as he shut the door softly behind them.
“My name is Niall, sweeting. And it is late afternoon, an excellent time for a tryst.” He shed his plaid and tossed it carelessly in a chair.
Nervously Sabrina glanced around her. His bedchamber seemed appropriate for the man—beautiful and decadent. A giant four-poster bed curtained with burgundy hangings dominated the room, while a thick woven carpet embellished the floor. The covers of the huge bed had been turned down invitingly, and a fire glowed in the grate, taking the chill from the air. Even so, she shivered.
“Don’t be afraid, sweet mouse. I predict that by the morrow you will be sighing sweetly with delight and imploring me not to leave you.”
She went rigid with indignity. “Has anyone ever mentioned what an insufferable, arrogant braggart you are?”
“I am merely being truthful.” A grin that could only be called exquisitely decadent curved his beautiful mouth. “Seduction has been my avocation since adolescence. And I pride myself in a certain competence.”
He was enjoying himself, the beast. Sabrina clenched her fingers, fighting the urge to march across the chamber and box his ears. “A consummation should be a solemn occasion. You view it as a mere exercise in lechery.”
“I see no reason it cannot be both solemn and pleasurable. Be assured, I shall fully arouse you first so that you might enjoy it as well as I.”
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