The Lover

“Are you so eager to leave my bed, then?”

Sabrina lowered her gaze. She wanted to pretend indifference to his magnetic charm, but couldn’t manage it. “It is not uncommon for a husband and wife to sleep apart, especially in a marriage of convenience. Indeed, you made it clear you desired us to go our separate ways after the…bedding.”

Niall grinned. “You must needs grow accustomed to the carnal side of marriage. After a time you may go your own way, if you so wish.”

Sabrina felt her heart sink. She would never manage to maintain a safe distance from Niall if they were to continue in such intimate proximity.

Reluctantly Sabrina accompanied him abovestairs to the master bedchamber. The bed-hangings had been opened and the covers turned down invitingly, she saw, while a fire burned in the grate.

“Do you require assistance undressing, pet?”

Sabrina gave a start, realizing she was staring at the bed. “No. I can manage.”

But she tarried as Niall stripped off his clothing and folded it away in the clothespress. When she saw him settle in the bed nude, she was surprised enough to ask, “You do not sleep in a nightshirt?”

He grinned a heart-stopping grin. “What need have I of a nightshirt if I have a willing lass to keep me warm?”

Sabrina felt her mouth go dry at his implication that she would keep him warm.

Niall gave a husky chuckle at her expression. “Cease your dawdling, pet, and come to bed. I sh

an’t bite you.” He smiled wickedly. “At least not tonight. You are not yet experienced enough for that.”

He reclined leisurely against the pillows, his hands behind his head, while Sabrina found the courage to undress. It unnerved her to have him watch her—which was perhaps absurd, considering the knowledge of her body he had gained the previous night. It unnerved her more that he objected when she reached for her nightsmock.

“No, sweeting. We need no garments between us. I want you naked in my bed.”

She hesitated, flushing at his frankness.

Niall understood her shyness, but he refused to indulge it. It wouldn’t suit his purpose, for he meant to free Sabrina of her inhibitions. “Pray, contrive to relax, love. You are far too tense.”

“I am not accustomed to being on public display,” she snapped, “or parading in the altogether for your enjoyment.”

“Your inexperience can be easily remedied. Indeed”—he regarded her thoughtfully—“you are sorely in need of instruction.”

“Instruction?”

“Aye. I propose to teach you the art of passion, Sabrina.”

When she remained mute, he added, “I fancy you would make an apt pupil. You have the right instincts. It remains only to uncover the hidden fire in you.”

Sabrina eyed him warily, wondering what new game he was playing. “Why? To what purpose?”

Niall shrugged. “Perhaps because I would gain a proficient bed partner?” His smile softened. “It might prove diverting to discover the kind of woman you can be. I think you could make a magnificent lover, cherie.”

Sabrina stared at him in disbelief.

Niall returned her gaze blandly. “You could benefit from lessons in the art of dalliance, as well. You are clever enough to match wits with any man, but it would serve you better to take the sting from your banter…But there is no need for haste. We can start your instruction on the morrow. For now, it is time for you to come to bed.”

Too distracted to protest, Sabrina blew out the candles and joined Niall in bed, then lay there nervously as he drew up the covers and wrapped her in his arms.

“Go to sleep, sweeting,” Niall murmured, pressing her head against his shoulder and closing his eyes.

In only moments, his soft even breathing told her he had fallen asleep.

Staring at the canopy overhead, Sabrina felt an inexplicable wave of disappointment. Niall had made no attempt to make love to her. He hadn’t rejected her precisely, but absurdly she felt spurned.

She lay there, absorbing his heat, longing for his hand to ride the aching fullness of her breasts, for his body to cover hers and satisfy the sweet tingling between her thighs.