The Lover

Sabrina stiffened. How could he behave as if nothing was wrong between them? “Papa Charles, might I have a word with you in private?”

“Can it not wait till after our meal, my dear? I trow I am famished.”

When he met her gaze, the gray eyes in his gaunt face were kind but resolute. He meant for her to welcome her husband, and she would not sway him.

She bit back an oath, accepting defeat for the moment. In any event, this was his home. She had no right to turn away his invited guest. “Very well. Supper is nearly ready.”

Just then Rab came bounding down the stairs from her rooms. Whining joyously, he rubbed his great body against Niall’s legs with enough force to fell a less powerful man.

“Traitor,” Sabrina muttered under her breath.

Niall looked up from stroking the dog, the brilliance of his smile taking her breath away. “What can I say? Animals find me appealing.”

Her heart turned over at that wickedly beguiling smile, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing herself at Niall the way her misguided dog had done.

Charles turned to lead the way to the dining room then, but when Sabrina would have followed, Niall caught her arm, staying her a moment.

“I am not leaving Edinburgh without you, mouse,” he said in a quiet undervoice. “If you will not accompany me home, I shall have to remain here—even though my clan needs me, and yours needs you.”

She pulled away, unable to bear his tender touch. He would not make her feel guilty for abandoning her clan. She had more than fulfilled any obligations toward them.

Sabrina scarcely knew what she ate at supper; the herring-broth soup tasted much like the second course of spit-roasted pigeons and stuffed breast of veal, which tasted like the dessert of pear tarts wrapped in marzipan. She was torn between the need to weep and the need to satisfy the rise of desire she felt just looking at Niall.

The congenial conversation ebbed and flowed around her, but she took no part in it. Instead, she sat stiffly across the table from him, wishing fervently that he would go. It would prove impossible to shield her wounded heart if she couldn’t even avoid his company.

It startled her when, at the close of supper, Charles stood.

“I shall take my port in my study, my dear, and leave the two of you to settle your differences in private.”

“Papa Charles—” Sabrina murmured, but he shook his head and withdrew before she could finish her plea.

In the resulting silence, she kept her gaze trained on her wineglass, refusing to look at her husband. The tension drew out unbearably, until she was at last moved to speak. “I desire you to go.”

“I know, sweeting,” Niall returned gently, “but I wish to stay. Charles has invited me to remain the night.”

She was certain she would find him grinning smugly, but when she raised her gaze, the tenderness in his eyes startled her.

“How did you coerce him to agree?”

“The truth? I humbled myself and threw myself on his mercy. I told him I do not deserve a lass as remarkable as you, but that I would do my best to prove myself worthy of you.”

“In fact, you used that golden charm of yours to deceive him.”

Niall held her gaze intently. “It was no deception. I told him I was in love with my wife.”

Her lips parting, Sabrina stared at him in frustration. “He could not possibly believe you.”

Niall smiled. “That has always been your trouble, mouse. You gravely underestimate yourself. Just as you underestimate me if you expect me to give you up without a fight.” He leaned back in his chair. “Besides, how would it look, with both of us in town yet not living together as man and wife? I would be accused of abandoning my bride.”

“It will only be expected of you,” she replied. “Society will assume you are up to your usual pursuits, seducing anything in skirts.”

“Society would be wrong. My days of seduction are over forever.” He saw her doubt and all mirth vanished from his expression. “Sabrina…I know I’ve done nothing whatever to deserve your trust, but I mean to change that.”

She looked away, unable to put much faith in his vow of faithfulness. Perhaps for now he intended to cleave only unto her, but her lusty husband would doubtlessly yield to temptation sooner or later. And she couldn’t bear to see it.

“I ask you to let us begin anew, Sabrina. I ask for the chance to earn your trust.”

Her throat suddenly aching, she shook her head. She would never desire any man but Niall. Never love any man but him. But she could not act as if his betrayal had never happened. Someday she might possibly be able to trust his avowals, but for now the pain in her heart was like an open wound.