The Lover

“You’ll have one, nevertheless.”

“I wish to leave without delay,” Sabrina said anxiously.

He nodded brusquely. “I shall find John.”

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“No, not John…. It would be too awkward. We are not exactly on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Colm will do, then.”

Niall turned on his heel and quit the hall, while Sabrina went upstairs to their bedchamber to fetch her cloak. She was arranging the hood over her hair when Niall entered.

“Colm is prepared to ride at once, along with four of my men. He’s gone to ready the horses.”

“Thank you,” she murmured in a low voice.

“How long do you expect to be away?” The question was casual, but Sabrina thought she heard an edge to his tone.

“I am not certain.” She took a deep breath and met his gaze in the cheval glass. “I have been thinking…”

“A dangerous exercise,” Niall remarked with a trace of his former teasing charm.

“I thought,” Sabrina repeated, refusing to let him divert her, “that I might remain in Edinburgh for a time. Perhaps it would be better if…if we lived apart.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, but couldn’t read his reaction; his features remained shuttered, enigmatic. Doggedly she plunged ahead. It would be a relief to escape the bitterness and anger that had marked their tense relationship the past weeks. They had only hurt each other, and would continue to do so if she stayed.

“I cannot imagine that you would object if I didn’t return at once. It is not as if we have a true marriage. We were both deceived into agreeing to this ‘damnable union,’ as you termed it.”

Niall’s jaw hardened. “Perhaps, but we are wed now, and there’s no escaping it.”

She winced at the grimness of his tone, unsure whether to be relieved or dismayed that he had accepted the finality of their union. “Even so, we need not endure each other any longer.”

When he remained silent, regarding her stonily, Sabrina’s chin lifted. “My leaving should prove a relief to you. You cannot claim that you want me as your wife. I am merely an encumbrance to you.”

“You gravely underestimate yourself, mouse.”

“Do I?” Her glance was less challenging than despairing. “Were I a woman you desired, you would not be so eager to seek feminine companionship elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“I saw you in the orchard with the Widow Graham. Don’t think to deny it.”

He stared at her a long moment while a dull flush crept over his cheekbones. “I regret you saw that.”

Sabrina looked away, cursing her rash tongue. She had not intended to confront Niall with his transgression, yet his response wounded her anew. She had wanted—desperately hoped—for Niall to deny his liaison with Eve Graham meant anything to him, but he had not. The shimmer of guilt she’d seen in his eyes was little consolation.

“No doubt my sensibilities are too tender,” she forced herself to say dispassionately.

“I think you are making too much of what you saw.”

“Am I?” Her angry gaze fixed on him again. “How tiresome of me to want my husband to remain faithful to his marriage vows.”

His brows snapped together. “What of you and Keith Buchanan? How different is that from my dalliance with Eve?”

“I never made love to him! I never even thought of kissing him!”

When Niall merely glowered darkly at her, Sabrina swallowed miserably, her throat achingly tight. “I should not be dismayed. I know very well what a libertine you are.”