Sabrina screamed with pleasure, but his hot, hungry mouth smothered the keening sound as he possessed her with a savage tenderness, an endless raw pleasure so intense it seared. His shaking arms crushed her as he found his own hot, sweet insanity.

In the quiet afterward, she clung to him, gasping, her limp body collapsed against him. Niall sat unmoving, his head tilted back as a peaceful wave of exhaustion and pleasure flowed over him.

Sometime later he roused himself enough to ask hoarsely if she was all right.

Sabrina stirred unwillingly at the intrusive thought. Her face nuzzled against her lover’s throat, she nodded weakly. Niall had left her barely coherent, but he had not hurt her. Except for her heart. That vulnerable organ was more endangered than ever, she realized with aching awareness.

She hadn’t been mistaken about his terrible secret—the reason for his incredible power over members of her sex. He knew how to make a woman feel utterly desirable. Needed. Wanted. And after so many years of unfulfilled dreams to comfort her, her lonely heart craved such masculine assurance. Her inexperience made her helpless against him.

When she felt his lips brush her temple, Sabrina drew back, wanting to escape, but Niall would not permit it. With a gentle finger under her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze.

“You are an apt pupil, sweeting.”

The burning sensuality in his look sent a fresh tremor of desperation coursing through her. He could command her desire at will, while she meant nought to him but another conquest.

With effort she managed a semblance of a smile before turning her f

ace again into his shoulder.

You’ll break my heart, she thought despairingly. And there would be nothing in the world she could do to prevent it.

Chapter

Eleven

She wanted him, and nothing seemed strong enough to make her stop wanting. Niall had awakened in her an irresistible hunger, stripping away her defenses and exposing a brazen, primal need.

The remembrance of her own wantonness made Sabrina flush with dismay. She thought of herself naked in his arms, allowing him—no, begging him—to do things to her body that no lady would permit, and she wanted to hide.

And yet she was indebted to him as well. Niall made her feel beautiful, desired, fully a woman. When he looked at her with such erotic tenderness, she could almost believe he wanted her as much as she did him.

It was folly to delude herself so, Sabrina knew. She commanded his attention for the moment. She was a novelty to him, a diversion. He considered it a challenge to transform her into the kind of paramour he fancied. But there were scores of women waiting in the wings should he lose interest in his latest amusement.

She was forcibly reminded of that likelihood when Eve Graham called the day before the Beltane festivities to tell her about some of the superstitious customs Highlanders observed.

“You must wash your face in the morning dew to beautify the skin,” Eve explained, “and plant a hawthorn branch before the door of your sweetheart. And when evening falls…” Eve smiled. “The bonfires are lit to ensure fertility for the crops, but the surrounding darkness presents an opportunity for much ribaldry. I recall last May Day with great fondness. Couples paired off into the wood, and Niall and I—Ah, forgive me for my wayward tongue. You would not wish to hear of that.”

Never accomplished at hiding her emotions, Sabrina felt despair claim her features at this reminder of Niall’s former intimacy with the beautiful widow.

Eve immediately assumed an expression of sympathy. “I feared this would happen, Sabrina. That rogue of a husband has bewitched you. I warned you to keep your heart safe.” She sighed. “’Tis only to be expected, I suppose. Niall is a champion seducer of females. That handsome devil knows the key to a woman’s heart.”

“And what is that?” Sabrina asked, half in curiosity, half in envy at Eve’s wealth of experience.

“Why, fulfillment, my dear. He provides a woman with whatever she craves most. He treats a lady like a tavern wench, and a tavern wench like the finest lady. A lass who covets respectability will swoon for a man who will honor and worship her, while a gentlewoman thrills at the chance to behave scandalously.”

Fulfillment, Sabrina reflected. That was indeed what Niall offered. He can make an ordinary woman feel beautiful and desired.

“But I have no wish to play the wanton,” she murmured, her thoughts distracted.

“There are scores of women who would give a king’s ransom to take your place,” Eve returned frankly.

Sabrina stiffened. She had to remember that for all the widow’s generosity, Eve was still a foe when it came to her husband.

“Beware, my dear,” Eve suggested. “Niall never remains satisfied for long. Perhaps you should make an effort to attach him. If I were in your position, I would fight for him with every weapon at my command.”

“Attach him? How?”

“Well, certainly not by wearing your heart on your sleeve! You must never permit a man to know you’ve been captured.”

Tags: Nicole Jordan Historical
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