The Lover
His tone, edged lightly with irony, stung her. She would not be the one condescending, of course. Sabrina quivered with the daunting knowledge that he was far out of her realm.
“I thank you, my lord, for your kind offer,” she replied slowly, in a tone of voice appropriate for dealing with the dullest of human minds, “but I must decline.”
“I shan’t accept no for an answer.”
“You cannot make me agree!”
The smile he bent on her stole her breath and raised her ire at the same time. He was too bold, too cocksure. “Would you care to put my powers of persuasion to the test?”
When she remained helplessly silent, a knowing gleam lit Niall’s beautiful eyes. “I do believe I have stumbled on a valuable discovery in dealing with you, tiger. In future, when I want to bend you to my will, I shall simply seduce you into compliance.”
A feeling of panic rose up in Sabrina. “But I don’t wish to marry you, I tell you!”
“That is quite beside the matter. Now…regarding that nightshift. Do you require help undressing?”
“No! I do not! And most certainly not by a vaunted libertine.”
“Careful, my pet. You are in supreme danger of being kissed.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His eyebrow rose. “You do have the most annoying habit of challenging me.”
With a casual determination, he bent closer, making Sabrina’s heart leap in alarm. She tried to pull back, but there was nowhere to run. Niall leaned over her, his mouth capturing hers as he pressed her back among the pillows.
His tongue probed the locked line of her mouth, then slipped inside, hot and hard. Sabrina’s pulse lurched madly. She could feel the lithe power of his chest as he weighed her down with his embrace, could feel the tender passion of his intoxicating lips overwhelming her…
He kissed her for what seemed like hours, coaxing, exploring, subduing…He was deliberately, skillfully arousing her, seducing her till she was dizzy, melting. Her skin burned where it was crushed to his hardness, while all her senses screamed with need.
She moaned beneath the sensual onslaught. His kiss was raw torment, yet when his lips eventually withdrew from hers, she felt empty and aching.
He was cruel to taunt her so, Sabrina reflected bitterly as he drew back. The hot light in his eyes might have been flattering had she thought it directed at her, but she harbored no illusions that he desired her. She was a female body, an available receptacle for his lust, that was all. He was merely using his legendary skills to persuade her to do his bidding.
Niall cleared his throat, forcing himself to relinquish his hold, as well as thoughts of any further indulgence tonight—an indulgence he was beginning to crave.
His own gaze enigmatic, he surveyed Sabrina’s lovely face, flushed with anger and passion. It was all he could do to summon a shred of gentlemanly resolve. Sabrina was wounded, and the last thing she needed at the moment was his amorous attentions. “You need rest, sweeting. I shall take my leave now.”
“Finally, at last,” she returned too breathlessly.
He stood. “Perhaps you should tuck yourself into bed. Can you manage it on your own? I don’t trust myself to do it.”
“I don’t trust you at all. And my answer is still no!”
Niall gave her a sweeping bow before turning to the door. “We shall see, tiger.” The glance he cast over his shoulder was bright with self-assurance and amusement. “I fancy taming you is going to be a delight.”
Chapter
Seven
She was delusional. She had been dreaming, Sabrina prayed when she woke late the following morning. Niall McLaren had not invaded her bedchamber last night and summarily announced the resumption of their betrothal.
But while her head no longer ached so fiercely, her bandaged arm still throbbed wickedly, confirming the violence of the previous eve. Her pain was no dream. And she very much feared she was in her right mind.
The maidservant who attended Sabrina that morning bubbled over with cheer and good wishes. It seemed that while she slept, Niall had informed their clans of their definite intentions to wed. The ceremony would be held three days hence, precisely as planned, since the wedding invitations had never been recalled.
More frustrating, Sabrina endured a dismaying visit from Angus, who unwisely rose from his sickbed to convey his irrepressible delight. His joy made Sabrina’s spirits sink further. With the ruthlessness of a warring chieftain, Niall had taken matters out of her hands. Short of fleeing back to Edinburgh and forswearing all obligation to her clan, she would be compelled to go through with the marriage.
In truth, it was the right decision, Sabrina knew. It was simply that Niall’s supreme arrogance galled her.