The Lover

“It certainly appeared that way. He looked about to kiss you.”

“You cannot believe I would have permitted such a thing.”

“What I believe is not the issue, I fear.”

Sabrina glanced over her shoulder, wishing she could divine what was going forth on the terrace.

It would have surprised her to know Niall was battling feelings of fury and betrayal—just as it surprised him. He wasn’t at all prepared for the jealous wrath he’d felt upon seeing Sabrina in the arms of another man…especially this man. That she would tarry here with the blood kin of Owen Buchanan, her head bent close, whispering as she made an assignation to meet with him on the morrow, filled Niall with a rage befitting his savage Highland ancestors.

It required a herculean effort to keep his voice level as he addressed Keith Buchanan. “You will not make your rendezvous tomorrow with my wife, I think.”

Buchanan clenched a defiant fist, his reply taunting. “Will I not, now?”

Niall smiled chillingly. “Not if you care to see another dawn.”

For a long moment the two men stared at each other.

“By god, mon,” Keith said finally, his tone scornful, “I never took ye for a fool. But that plucky lass doesna deserve ye.”

He stalked passed Niall then, bristling with ire.

It was a short while later before Niall joined his wife in the drawing room. His blue eyes glittered like ice as he resumed his seat beside her. Sabrina breathed a sigh of relief when the interminable performance at last ended.

The air was brittle with tension, however, as Niall escorted her to their waiting carriage. When they were underway, he sat smoldering in silence for several moments.

In the dim interior, she couldn’t clearly make out his features, but his voice, when he finally spoke, held an edge of steel. “I warn you, mouse, I will not tolerate being gifted with a pair of horns.”

“Horns?”

“I will not countenance being cuckolded.”

Her jaw dropped. Sabrina sta

red at him blankly, wishing she could see him in the darkness. Had it been any other man, she might have thought him jealous!

“I cannot imagine what put that absurd notion in your head,” she finally said.

“Mayhap because I found my wife embracing the son of my greatest foe.”

“I was not embracing him! We were holding a private conversation, merely that.”

“Well, in future I forbid you to speak to him, privately or otherwise.”

Sabrina stiffened, her anger roused to be treated like a disobedient child. “Simply because you hold such vast expertise in cuckolding indifferent husbands is no justification to accuse me of immorality. I am no adulteress.”

“Not yet, perhaps.”

His reply struck her like a blow, driving her breath away. How could he possibly believe her guilty of infidelity? She had never done anything to warrant such a vile accusation.

When she remained silent, Niall caught her elbow, drawing her close…so close she could see his features. His mouth hovered just above hers, its beautiful lines stark and sensual, as if etched from stone. “I will brook no impropriety in my bride, do you ken me?”

“Yes, I ken you,” she retorted, her voice shaking. “It is clear that your standards of conduct make no pretense of evenhandedness. It is perfectly acceptable for you to behave like a randy stallion, while I must remain altogether virtuous.”

“Exactly.”

She wrenched her arm away. “You need not fear, my lord. I have every intention of honoring my marriage vows—even though I’m certain you cannot make the same pledge. I doubt there is a female in the district you have not seduced.”

“It is different for a man.”