The Lover

When he reached for her, she was too dazed to resist.

His eyes darkening to a midnight shade, he framed her face in the gentle vise of his palms. “You are my wife, Sabrina. My only love. You belong to me. But I know I must convince you.”

My love. She shivered. The golden-throated words seemed so natural somehow, and they warmed her as little else ever had.

To her utter dismay then, Niall bent and kissed her, a soft, mind-numbing, devastating kiss that reached inside her and tore at her heart.

When Sabrina made a despairing sound of protest, he drew back, exhaling a shuddering breath. “I swore I would not take unfair advantage of you…Very well, sweeting. You win. You may have your bed back. I shall stay out of it till you issue me a personal invitation to return.” He straightened his shoulders, as if girding his resolve. “If you wish me to make love to you, you must ask.”

“You will have a long wait.”

“Then it shall be a bleak season for me, alas.” He gave a sigh. “If you won’t have me, then I shall have no one. You see, I intend to take a vow of celibacy.”

“A vow of what?”

Teasingly, Niall touched a gentle finger to her mouth, which was gaping open. “Never say I’ve rendered you speechless, mouse. Celibacy. Have you not heard of the term?”

“Certainly I have. But I doubt you have more than a passing acquaintance with it.”

“Fortuitously, no. But I can suffer great hardships if I must. I’m a Highlander, after all.”

Her bewilderment turned to suspicion. “I cannot credit you would give up so easily.”

“Oh, I am not giving up. I’ll not abandon the war, merely alter tactics.”

He rose and turned toward the door. “Sweet dreams, my own. Mine will be unquestionably desolate. I have sworn off all carnal pursuits until you can return my love.”

She had not seen the last of him, Sabrina knew. Niall was not a man to concede failure. And he had recruited allies.

Dismayingly, her stepfather earnestly championed his cause.

“I ken the lad’s sincere,” Charles said to her at breakfast that morning. “Can you not bring yourself to return home with him where you belong?”

“I don’t belong with Niall.”

“I’m not so certain. I’ve watched you, lass. You’ve changed since you wedded him. For the better. There’s a light in your eyes that was missing before…a flush on your cheeks. You come alive when he’s near. And now that you’ve had a taste of adventure, I’ll warrant you’ll find your existence here much too tame.”

That much was true. She missed the enchantment of the Highlands, the raw beauty, the stunning vibrancy. She missed the sense of newness and adventure she’d awakened to each day as Niall’s wife and mistress of Clan McLaren. She didn’t miss the pain.

Sabrina looked down at her plate. “I never expected to find a grand passion. I only desired a quiet union, based on mutual affection and respect. A husband who could care for me…children. Niall has no desire for those things.”

“He claims to love you.”

She nodded unwillingly, torn by conflicting emotions of hope and doubt. She wanted desperately to believe Niall meant his professions of love.

“Do you love him, lass?”

She couldn’t deny it, not without lying. She did love Niall, deeply and irrevocably. She hadn’t realized how much sheer joy he added to her previously humdrum existence. When he was away, she felt empty, abandoned, bereft of his spirit. When he was near, she wanted to burrow into his embrace and become part of him, the rest of the world be damned.

What had made her think she could walk out of his life?

“Well,” Charles said solemnly as he rose from the table, “one thing is clear. He seems determined to have you. And I, for one, would not care to stand in his way.”

Her stepfather quit the room, leaving Sabrina alone with her troubled thoughts. Her stepfather was right. Niall was a dangerous, ruthless rogue determined to pursue her. He knew how to bend a woman to his every whim, and he intended to give no quarter.

But she would prove herself a match for him.

Sabrina’s chin rose stubbornly. She refused to surrender so fecklessly. Niall thought he had only to waltz back into her life and she would fall at his feet. But he was taking a great deal for granted. She was no longer the passive mouse he had wed.