The Lover

“You were…merely performing your duty.”

“Surely you do not believe a man embraces a woman like I did you out of simple duty?”

“Yes…”

“Indeed,” he said almost to himself, “a great deal to learn.”

Sabrina forced herself to reply lightly. “You cannot persuade me that last night was not a disappointment to you. Doubtless you prefer ladies of experience.”

Niall gave her an odd look. “Don’t underestimate yourself, lass. Such spirit as yours is entrancing. It will be a fortunate man who can unleash all the fire you’ve hidden from the world.” He smiled softly. “And I intend to be that man.”

He reached up and flicked the high neckline of her gown, making Sabrina tense. “Surely this is too constricting, sweeting. And unflattering. It doesn’t do you justice.”

She made a face. “You have a most annoying habit of criticizing my taste in attire.”

“Because I am not fond of the stiff Presbyterian frocks you wear. The style is all wrong for you—and you don it like protective armor. A gown should flatter the wearer. The neckline should show the lovely swell of your breasts…Like this…”

Gently he tugged on the bodice, drawing down the fabric to the neckline of the tight stomacher. Sabrina’s breath caught in her throat.

“And if you were truly daring…you would rouge your nipples and let them peek over the edge, beckoning your lover…like so…”

Her breath fled entirely. When he brushed her skin, her nipples instantly grew taut, while her heart began to thud. Yet she made no move to stop him as he exposed the pale swells of her bosom pushed up by stays of whalebone, freeing her flesh of the confining fabric.

His eyes darkened, his glance making no effort to disguise his purpose, a blatant appraisal of her charms.

Instinctively her arms rose to cover her breasts, but Niall drew them away. “No, lass…there’s no need for shyness between us. Not after the intimacies we’ve already shared. You are my wife now, Sabrina. You have yet to lose your inhibitions, but one day soon, you will take great pleasure in showing me every single secret of your lovely body…”

Ruthlessly his eyes devoured her, scrutinizing the high, jutting breasts, the rose-hued nipples, still swollen and hotly sensitized from his attentions the previous night. “You are a far greater temptation than you know, pet.”

Sabrina felt her heart hammering. There was something warm and exciting and yes, flattering, in the way he was looking at her. But then she dared not trust so renowned a rake. Niall’s gaze was full of male appreciation whenever he looked at any woman. It was his stock in trade, a talent he had deliberately cultivated—letting his sapphire eyes shimmer with desire while hiding every other emotion brilliantly.

“Aye, I much prefer this charming dishabille,” he murmured, his voice husky. Determinedly, he drew a lock of her hair forward, to fall gracefully over her shoulder. “I like your silken hair flowing free like this. I like the way it teases every sweet curve of your breast…”

Her nipples quivered beneath his gaze, the peaks distended and hard. Then, with one finger, he touched the tip of her breast, brushing her flesh that was achingly tight and tender, knowing full well the sensuality of it.

Sabrina gasped, even before the long fingers curved, cupping and teasing the furled bud with expert skill.

“My bonny mouse…” he whispered.

“I…am not bonny….”

Their eyes met, haunted brown to hungry blue.

Niall shook his head at the uncertainty he saw in her features. It was criminal, how little value Sabrina placed on her own feminine attractions. She was convinced that she possessed no beauty, that he could not want her. She had no notion how lovely she could be. She was intriguing with the light of laughter dancing in her dark eyes. She was enchanting in her fury. Her spirited defiance lent a radiance to her skin and a fire to her eyes that was as fascinating as it was alluring. And when passion brightened her face, she was almost incandescent….

Niall smiled faintly to himself. He intended to prove her wrong, to make this lass believe he found her desirable, to understand how very much he wanted her…With the right amount of masculine persuasion he could convince her.

“You are bonny,” he whispered as his hands began their practiced arousal. “You are one of the most intriguing women I’ve ever met. Lovely and vibrant…”

The shimmering-silk words washed over her and made Sabrina’s heart ache. He was a scoundrel set on seduction, and she would be powerless to stop him.

“Can you feel how perfectly you fill my hands?”

She gazed down at his bronzed fingers cupping her pale flesh. He had beautiful hands with long strong fingers, aristocratic yet seasoned by battle. He cupped and weighed the soft globes, brushing his thumbs across the aureoles.

“Your slender body is exquisite, Sabrina, made for giving pleasure.”

She closed her eyes, feeling a feverish heat throb between her thighs. He was winning. She could feel the reckless hunger rising, slow and insidious.