“I am not dirty—”
“No, of course not.” He began to wash her face to remove the ceruse that Eve Graham’s dresser had applied so liberally that morning. “But it is a crime to bury such flawless skin under layers of paint. It smothers the natural roses in your cheeks. You are lovelier without cosmetics.”
Shy and uncertain, she gazed up at him, and Niall found himself distracted from his task. Those haunting eyes of hers captivated him; the color of rich coffee, flecked with soft, sherry-colored lights.
He felt a shaft of desire that surprised him. He wanted to take her to bed right then, but he wanted more to reassure her.
“There is no need for shyness between us,” he murmured, his husky voice echoing through her like the memory of a caress.
Sabrina felt herself fighting the pull of his magnetism. The need to protect herself from this man was strong. She had vowed she would not succumb to his legendary charm, yet she had no weapons to aid her in halting his sweet seduction. She wanted him, the part of her that was woman, the part that was lonely and desperate for love. And her defenses were slipping, moment by moment.
To her relief, he finished wiping and drying her face, then tapped her lightly on the nose in a gesture more friendly than loverlike. “Take heart, lass. I am only intent on bedding you, not murdering you.”
She smiled faintly, as he’d meant her to do, which diminished the tension a small measure.
He stepped back then to undress. His eyes never leaving her, he drew off his jacket and then his fine linen shirt.
Sabrina caught her breath. It unnerved her, he was so very male, all corded muscles and bronzed skin. Like a lover’s seeking caress, the flickering candlelight found the blue-black glints scattered in the light fur of his chest.
“No, don’t look away,” he commanded when she would have averted her gaze. “Watch.”
His beautiful body drew her eyes once more. He had the finest pair of shoulders she’d ever seen, yet her nervousness grew as he removed the rest of his clothing, article by article. All too soon it was done and he turned to face her fully, standing with a relaxed nudity before her, the image of virile strength.
He was narrow of hip and powerful of leg, but she was faintly shocked to see his arousal, pulsing and erect, between his sinewed thighs.
His eyes met hers. Bold eyes, bright eyes. Eyes curiously measuring.
“So, sweeting…are you frightened by your new husband’s physique?”
She shivered. All that bronzed, hair-roughened masculinity spoke of savage pleasures. “I suppose…all those women could not have been deceived. It must not be too painful or frightening…or all your conquests would have protested long ere now.”
“Indeed. I am just a man, sweeting. I shan’t harm you.”
Just a man. Such a remarkable understatement.
“I own myself amazed at your modesty. I never would have expected it from you.”
He chuckled, a low sound rich in pleasure. “Termagant,” he replied, but the word was a soft caress, a satin promise.
An emotion something like despair curled around Sabrina’s heart as she felt herself succumbing to his spell. Niall needed no steel or pistol to force past her defenses, only the rapier-sharp edge of his erotic charm.
She moistened her lips, which she realized was a mistake.
His gaze lowered from hers to linger on the soft curves of her mouth. “It is time, sweeting.”
She could hear the sharp sound of her own breathing in the potent quiet of the beautiful room.
Their gazes locked, and something heated and intense passed between them.
He moved toward her slowly, his eyes warm with desire. Or was that merely the product of her wishful thinking? Her heart hammering, Sabrina stood waiting.
His hand lightly caressed the silk of her hair as it cascaded about her shoulders. For all his expertise, Niall found himself taking a deep breath. He had never attempted to seduce a woman who was without some measure of experience. Sabrina was innocent of the demands a man could make on a woman’s body, and he had to go slowly.
His hand cupped her throat…lingered…then glided downward, slipping beneath the swansdown to push the lapels aside, baring her beauty. She had exquisite breasts, small and round and high, tipped with rose nipples, hardened now into tight buds of desire. His fingertips made a slow, circular motion around one distended peak, making her gasp softly.
Desire flared through his senses at the helpless sound.
He wanted her. He wanted to savor the silk of her hair and warmth of her skin. He wanted to touch her and watch her moan, to wrap those long legs around his waist and plunge hot and deep inside her, to draw out the passionate woman she kept hidden. He wanted her beneath him as he took his pleasure and gave her exquisite pleasure in return.