The Lover

The pleasure lingered long after the last shudders died away; the embers of passion still smoldered.

When she stirred beneath him, he shifted his body gingerly and lifted his head.

“My heart,” he whispered, his eyes indescribably tender and pleasure-hazed.

Sabrina buried her face against his shoulder, too torn with rioting emotions to reply. He had reached inside of her and touched the essence of her being. Passion had bred more passion, and culminated in their deepest bonding.

Niall felt the same sweet bond as an incredible contentment filled him. Rolling onto his back, he pulled Sabrina into his arms and drew the cover over their nakedness. He wondered if they had made a life that night. He devoutly hoped so. His lips moved sensually over her hair as she nestled against him, cherished in his embrace.

It was long, long moments later before Sabrina gave a replete sigh and rubbed her cheek tenderly against his shoulder. “I still cannot comprehend how you ever came to fall in love with me.”

Niall’s languid expression turned thoughtful as he gazed up at the canopy overhead. “I suppose at first you were a challenge. You were the only lass I’d ever met who dared match wits with me. And no woman breathing had ever denied me. There you were, declaring you wanted nothing to do with me or my lascivious ways. The more you resisted, the more it whetted my desire. You are utterly magnificent when you’re raging with fury, did you know that?”

Sabrina gave an arch laugh. “Most gentlemen regard defiance or a sharp tongue as unappealing qualities in a lass.”

“Yet I find myself enamored of it. I have no desire for you to govern your saucy tongue. Subduing it is only that much more delightful.”

“Still, a mouse is no proper match for a hedonist.”

Reaching for her hand, Niall entwined their fingers. “You are no mouse, sweeting. That prim demeanor you exhibit to the world hides a vibrant, magnificent woman who can reduce me to a panting schoolboy. One who can match me in passion and rival a Highland warrior in courage.” His voice dropped to a husky resonance. “You’re absolutely perfect for me, Sabrina. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman…a mistress to warm my bed and excite me…a virago to keep my wits sharp…a loyal lady of compassion and wisdom to help me lead our clans…”

“Niall…I am not—”

Rolling over her, he pinned Sabrina beneath him. “Hush, sweeting, cannot you see I am intent on baring my soul? I didn’t believe in love, Sabrina, but you taught me the meaning of it. You forged in me a passion that blazed all others to ashes. And your courage shamed me. I realized if you could make such sacrifices for your clan, I could do no less. I love you, Sabrina. If you believe nothing else in this life, believe that.”

“I do believe you, but—”

“No…no buts. No more doubts. All I want to see in those lovely dark eyes, my sweet enchantress, is wildness and lust and love…Say you love me, Sabrina.”

She gazed deeply into the laughing, devilish eyes that were so dear t

o her. Her own eyes brimming with bold honesty, brilliant with joy, she nodded. “I love you, Niall.”

“I shall not let you renege, wife, do you ken me? On the morrow, I expect you to shout it from the rooftops.”

“Do you, indeed?”

“Aye. For once you’ll do as your lord husband commands.”

That disarming smile she loved so well hovered around his lips, yet he was giving her a deliberate challenge, Sabrina knew—and it roused her blood. Her eyes flashed defiantly. “You are willfully trying to provoke me again.”

He smiled. “Aye, that I am.” Affection pierced his passion-rich voice. “I like you spitting fire. I like you any way you are.”

His heart twisting into knots of desire, he pressed his hard body against her, warm flesh to warm flesh. Gazing down at her exquisite, flushed face, he knew he would never tire of watching the many faces of her passion.

“I love you,” he said, suddenly fierce.

With a taunting smile of her own, Sabrina reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “Professions of love come cheaply, my lord. ’Tis actions that prove sincerity. I think you should show me again what you feel for me.”

Niall laughed and tightened his hold. His heart had been well and truly conquered. Sabrina had taught him what he had never known in the arms of the most dazzling courtesans and captivating noblewomen of Europe. Love.

Their marriage would doubtless always be a turbulent dance of clashing wills and tender reconciliations. She would defy him, infuriate him, challenge him to open his reckless heart, yet they would remain irrevocably bound—fighting, sharing, loving, rapt with this rare, fierce splendor they’d found.

“As you wish, mouse.”

His eyes smiling into hers with the rapture of love, he bent his head to prove his sincerity.

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