I want you, he’d told her. How many other women had he said those exact words to? In this very bed? In truth, she was not so special, though he had made her feel so. He had taken great care to make her initiation into love a tender awakening, but it was no more than he would have done for any other woman.
Sabrina bit her lip, trying to still the sudden stab of jealousy that curled through her. Faith, it was better that she face the truth squarely now, better that she allow herself no illusions. She had to crush the fantasy that she held any special place in her husband’s heart or bed.
Passion was a sport to Niall, a game at which she was a hopeless novice. It had been imprudent to confess to him how profoundly his lovemaking had affected her. She should have tried to pretend indifference at least.
Feeling suddenly awkward, Sabrina started to ease from his embrace, but Niall merely tightened his hold.
“Where do you go, madam wife?” he murmured lazily.
“I thought you…we…were finished.”
“We are, for the moment. But savoring the aftermath of passion can be enjoyable.” He turned his head to gaze at her intently. “There is no point in fleeing me now, tiger. The deed is done.”
A hesitant smile curved Sabrina’s lips before her natural reserve reasserted itself, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
That shy, heartrending flicker of a smile affected Niall strangely. As the chamber grew hushed, he lay there holding her, attempting to understand the myriad emotions his new bride had evoked in him.
It was some long moments later when he realized from her soft, even breathing that Sabrina had succumbed to nerves and exhaustion and had fallen into a deep slumber.
Sleep was not forthcoming for Niall, however. He could not shake the unsettling feeling that he had passed a point from which there was no return.
It was not merely because he was irrevocably wed now. With the consummation he had fulfilled his duty regarding their marriage, and considered himself free to go his own way.
It was Sabrina herself who troubled him.
It should have been a simple exercise for him to conquer her with pleasure. He was a master at seduction, and no woman had ever resisted him for long. In truth, the bedding had gone well. He had demanded and received her surrender, just as he’d intended. He’d made Sabrina trust him enough to lower her prickly defenses.
Disturbingly, though, he hadn’t expected her passionate response, or his own. He had meant to satisfy a fleeting desire for her, but carnal craving had spiraled into something more profound. When she’d given herself to him so bravely tonight, he’d felt the same primitive, overpowering urge as when she’d defended him in battle. Protective and possessive. Needy and yearning. He had wanted her, desired her, more than was rational.
Perhaps it was her very inexperience which had engendered his response. Remarkably, Sabrina’s combination of innocence and shy eagerness had made the act of lovemaking seem fresh and new to a man of his jaded passions.
He might also attribute his powerful reaction to frustrated desire; he’d refrained from indulging his needs for some time now, and he was not accustomed to abstinence.
Her defiance was a powerful aphrodisiac, as well. She was a challenge to his masculinity. A tiger in mouse’s clothing.
Niall found himself biting back a smile as he stared at the velvet canopy overhead. Sabrina was not like the shallow, self-serving beauties who usually pursued him. Her naivete might amuse him, yet at the same time her spirit and courage had won his respect.
Oddly, he liked his new bride. He liked her innocence. He liked her soft and mellow and trusting. He liked her defiance and her tart tongue. He liked her beneath him, arching with ecstasy and sobbing his name.
She was not the cold, unresponsive woman he’d feared. She possessed a hidden fire that was tantalizing. In the throes of passion he’d glimpsed a bewitching enchantress.
No, perhaps being wed to Sabrina would not be the hardship he’d envisioned. He might be furious at Angus for forcing his hand, but his fury did not extend to his bride.
Indeed, Niall reflected, Sabrina might be getting the worst of the bargain. Perhaps he was the hedonist she’d termed him. He would admit to excesses in matters carnal. He was a man to whom women had always come too easily and too often. From the time he’d been breeched, the female sex had practically been at his feet. And he had responded in kind, intent on losing himself in the pleasures of the flesh, regardless of who his lovers might be, seeking nothing deeper than carnal gratification. Both he and his partners had accepted that.
He formed attachments based purely on sensual pleasure. With Eve Graham, for example. His former mistress had lasted longer than most. Their expert couplings had left him breathless, spent…and hollow.
Unlike with Sabrina tonight. Lovemaking with her was somehow different…exciting and new. He was profoundly touched by her abandon and ingenuous appreciation.
The novelty would undoubtedly wear off with time, Niall suspected—but for the moment it might be satisfying to discover what sort of bride fate had given him. To see if he could remake her into the woman he wished her to be, a desirable woman who was, if not a match for him, then at least a skillful bed partner.
Absently picking up some silken strands of Sabrina’s hair, Niall let them slowly shift through his fingers.
He was wed to her now, and he would make the best of it. He would explore the hid
den, sensual side of her nature to their mutual enjoyment. He would pleasure her and teach her to pleasure him in return.
It would be a challenge, no doubt, but he intended to bring out the tigress in his mouse of a bride.