The Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  Her smile fading, she forced herself to turn away.

  Moments later, Sabrina wanted to refuse his gift when he presented her with a rose.

  “For the loveliest lass of my acquaintance,” Niall murmured in a lilting tone that was pure seduction.

  Breathless, Sabrina drew back. “Enough of your blethering. As mistress of my stepfather’s household, I have duties to attend to. Unlike some persons, pleasure is not my consummate goal in life.”

  He ignored her pointed look and bent to whisper in her ear. “’Tis a pity. If there’s anything you were made for, ’tis pleasure. Your lovely body was made for arousing a man.”

  Sabrina felt herself tremble at being subjected to the full force of Niall’s golden charm. The effect was devastating and oh, so successful. His sublime sensuality was potent enough to weaken her knees.

  “I’ll thank you to remember your promise,” she returned unevenly.

  Undaunted, Niall leaned closer and pressed a featherlight kiss on her lips. “I promised I wouldn’t try to bed you, not to abandon my suit.”

  Stunned, wanting, Sabrina could only stare helplessly at him.

  A cackle of laughter penetrated her dazed senses, and she glanced around to find an old crone watching them with avid delight. With a flush of embarrassment, Sabrina spun on her heel and fled, leaving Niall to follow if he would.

  To her surprise and unwilling dismay, when she concluded her purchases, Niall deposited her safely at her stepfather’s doorstep and declined an invitation to enter. He made no appearance that afternoon, nor did he come to supper that evening.

  That night Sabrina tossed and turned alone in her bed, cursing him for making her life such a misery.

  Niall, however, spent a solitary night in a nearby inn, more concerned than he cared to admit by his wife’s spirited defiance. Women had always come so easily for him, it was rare for one to withstand a concerted assault. But if he’d thought overcoming Sabrina’s resistance would be a simple matter, he swiftly relinquished his delusions.

  He called at the Cameron residence the next morning, with renewed resolve to lay siege to her woman’s stubborn heart. When he requested Lady McLaren and was shown into the study, he discovered Sabrina pouring over ledgers. Regrettably she was not alone; her stepfather was present.

  Charles greeted him cheerfully, but Sabrina’s demeanor was coolly indifferent. Niall regarded it as a challenge.

  Before he could kiss her hand, however, she drew it back safely.

  “I cannot imagine what brings you here,” she murmured archly.

  “’Twas I who invited Laird McLaren this morn,” Charles explained. “I asked him to escort you to the shops. The lad has convinced me your wardrobe is lacking.”

  “Lacking?” Sabrina repeated. “But he has already spent a fortune on new gowns for me.”

  “Gowns appropriate for the country,” Niall interjected. “The city is another matter. The Highlands have much to recommend them, but I fear fashion is not one. And you require proper accoutrements as well.”

  Sabrina eyed him warily, not nearly so unaffected by Niall’s arrival as she pretended. His raven hair was pulled back carelessly into a queue and tied with a black ribbon, while his well-tailored frock coat was fashioned of plain black broadcloth. Yet even modestly attired, Niall managed to eclipse every other gentleman of her acquaintance. His physical presence engulfed her senses, and the breathtaking smile he offered her made her pulse race.

  “Regretfully, I am occupied at the moment. The account books suffered sorely in my absence—”

  “I wish you to indulge me in this, lass,” Charles said solemnly. “The accounts will wait.”

  Sabrina reluctantly admitted defeat. Her stepfather asked so little of her. If he desired her to walk over hot coals, she would do so. Another public shopping expedition in Niall’s company could not be so difficult…But it irked her that her stepfather seemed to be in league with her devious, infuriating husband.

  Niall was obviously in a jovial mood; she could see his eyes were full of laughter.

  “If you don’t care to visit the shops,” he murmured with a bland tone of benevolence, “we could always return to my rooms at the Bull and Bear Inn and spend the morning exploring mutual delights.”

  At his suggestive remark, the uncertainty in her expression was replaced by exasperation. “There is nothing I would enjoy less.”

  Niall clucked his tongue. “I gather you mean to act the shrew this morning. ’Tis a pity you’ve refused me admittance to your bedchamber. You are far more agreeable when you’ve been bedded.”

  Her jaw dropped in outrage at his audacity. “I would be more agreeable still if I needn’t set eyes on you.”

  The laughter in his eyes spilled over to his mouth as he took her arm. “Sheath your claws, tiger. ’Tis merely a shopping expedition, nothing more. I shan’t seduce you unless you are willing.”

  Sabrina did not trust his assurances one whit. Niall was wooing her, the way he’d never done before their marriage, but she didn’t care for it in the least. Although he seemed to be making a concerted effort to please her, he was plotting her downfall, playing a game of cat-and-mouse where she was the prey.

  She knew how to play his game of seduction, though. She’d been taught by an expert, after all.

  Sabrina eyed Niall thoughtfully as he strolled beside her. Since resistance did not appear to be working, she would try using what feminine weapons she had at her disposal—flirtation and charm and teasing banter—to make Niall fawn over her. She would give him a taste of his own medicine. And in the end she would demand nothing less than his complete surrender.

  They toured the finer shops of Edinburgh, milliners, modistes, furriers, jewelers…It did not take long for Sabrina to realize she was the object of great curiosity among the females they encountered. Ladies and serving maids alike obviously envied her being escorted by such a handsome rogue as the McLaren. The compelling Highlander possessed an indescribable appeal that lured and dazzled.

  Sabrina was not immune, in truth. A secret part of her was thrilled to be wanted so fiercely by this magnificent man.

  What truly gratified her, though, was discovering that she had her own admirers. Any number of gentlemen they met cast appreciative glances her way, and the feminine side of her could not help but be pleased. More satisfying still was Niall’s frown each time she managed a flirtatious smile at a stranger.

  To her dismay, Niall purchased countless items for her, lace fripperies, ribbons, fans, gloves…a cloak of rich bronzed brocade trimmed with marten.

  “To complement your sparkling eyes,” he suggested provocatively in a voice she could not trust.

  Sabrina forced herself to thank him for his generosity. She even held her tongue when he fingered a bolt of emerald satin. But when he ordered it made up into a ball gown studded with crystal beads, she forgot her plan and protested his extravagance.

  “This is too much, Niall! Such largess is not only unnecessary but decadent. Your silver would be better spent on your clan.”

  “That is one of the things I admire about you, mouse; your frugality. But I have the wherewithal to gown my lady in finery. And the Duke of Kintail is holding a ball a sennight hence.”

  “I shan’t attend. Purchase the gown, if you will, but I mean to remain at home with my stepfather.”

  He flashed that teasing, wayward smile that always constricted her throat. “I shall take great delight in persuading you to change your mind.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sabrina made herself smile sweetly in return. “And I,” she murmured under her breath, “shall take great delight in making you plead.”

  It was when they entered a millinery shop in search of bonnets that she had to hold her tongue for a different reason. There they encountered a noblewoman and her two lively daughters who positively gushed over the McLaren laird, but evidently mistook Sabrina for his latest inamorata. The ladies’ frost turned to shock when Niall presented Sabrina as his wife
.

  “As you see,” Niall said with a male grin when they were alone once more, “you should be honored to have captured me. Matchmaking mamas have been throwing their daughters at my head for years, yet I have never succumbed until I met you.”

  She sent him an arch look. “I am not yet convinced you have truly succumbed.”

  “Use your wits, sweeting. Would I make a laughingstock of myself pursuing my wife in so public a manner if I meant to continue my licentious career as a libertine?”

  “I hardly consider escorting me shopping as making a laughingstock of yourself.”

  “You mean to make me grovel, is that it?”

  She gave Niall a considering glance. “That might prove amusing, I admit.”

  “I will, if that will convince you. I will prostrate myself at your feet.”

  Smiling serenely, Sabrina gathered her skirts, raised the hem a few inches, and proffered her slippered foot.

  Niall laughed out loud, his devilish eyes full of mischief and affection. “Ah, what a treasure you are, mouse! How I cherish you.”

  It was when they entered a jeweler’s shop that Sabrina encountered a gentleman of her acquaintance. He was engaged in examining a pearl brooch at the counter.

  Sabrina’s heart turned over. “Oliver!” she exclaimed breathlessly before she could prevent herself.

  Turning, he froze an instant before his expression brightened. “Sabrina, my dear…what do you here?” His eyes narrowed admiringly as he peered at her through his quizzing glass. “Is this truly you? You appear…different, somehow.”

  She understood his surprise. Her full-skirted gown of yellow sprigged muslin attractively flattered her tall figure, while her pale complexion held a heightened color that had naught to do with cosmetics. She did not need her mirror to tell her that her looks had improved since Oliver had last seen her—and not merely due to her stylish gown. Under Niall’s tutelage she had bloomed like a flower beneath a nurturing sun.

  Oliver, on the other hand, appeared much as she recalled, except perhaps for his more ornate attire. Yet with his powdered wig, voluminous satin frock coat, and fashionable red heels, her former suitor seemed overly effeminate compared to the powerful, sinewed, totally male Highlander she had wed. She could not imagine Oliver wielding the rapier at his waist the way Niall did a broadsword, or leading a midnight cattle raid, or riding furiously to her rescue to avenge her supposed abduction by an enemy clan.

  “What do you here?” Oliver repeated curiously.

  “She is enjoying the company of her husband,” a sardonic voice drawled at her shoulder.

  Sabrina gave a start. She had forgotten Niall was so near.

  “Will you make me known to your friend, my love?” he queried in a silken tone.

  “This is Mr. Oliver Irvine,” she managed to reply. “Husband to my cousin Frances.”

  She could see the speculation in Niall’s blue eyes and immediately regretted ever telling him about her failed courtship. “Mr. Irvine, may I present Niall McLaren, Lord Strathearn. My…husband.”

  “Ah, yes. I admit I was surprised to hear you had wed so suddenly.” Oliver bowed stiffly. “Your servant, milord.”

  “What is the surprise?” Niall asked in a dangerous tone Sabrina mistrusted. “I was smitten the moment I laid eyes on so lovely a lass, and I could not wait to make her mine.”

  She winced at that falsehood. “Is my cousin not with you, Mr. Irvine?” she asked to change the subject.

  The faintest flush suffused Oliver’s painted cheeks. “I fear Frances is indisposed at the moment. She is…er…enceinte.”

  “Oh…how…delightful,” Sabrina murmured, even as a pang of envy pierced her at the news her cousin was to bear a child. It was a bittersweet reflection to consider what might have been. Had Oliver not fallen in love with her cousin, she might be the lady in an interesting condition. “You must be pleased.”

  “Er…quite,” Oliver replied, looking strangely ill at ease. “Ah…forgive me. I have just recalled an errand I neglected.” He returned the brooch to the jeweler. “By your leave, my lady…my lord.” Oliver bowed over Sabrina’s hand and touched his hat to Niall, then made a swift exit from the shop.

  Sabrina glanced up to find Niall observing her closely.

  “A jealous lover, pet?”

  She considered returning a coy riposte, but couldn’t bring herself to make light of such a subject. “I have no lovers, jealous or otherwise.”

  “You are mistaken. You have me. I am discovering what a possessive bore I can be.” Niall’s gaze slanted to the door. “He is a fool to have jilted you.”

  Discomfited, she could not fashion a reply.

  “I confess, I find it difficult to see the fellow’s appeal—or comprehend how you could have fancied yourself in love with him.”

  Sabrina bit her lip in vexation, yet, disloyally, she agreed. She couldn’t help but wonder what she’d ever seen in Oliver. Niall had cured her of her girlish infatuation for her former suitor; that love had been a pale imitation of her present feelings for her husband. “Oliver makes no claim to expertise in carnal affairs. His amorous talents certainly do not match yours.”

  “I am gratified, but I was speaking of deeper emotions of the heart.”

  “Surely you do not profess to be an expert on such matters?” Sabrina asked archly.

  She expected a blithe retort, but Niall’s mien was entirely sober as he searched her face. “You must regret losing your love.”

  “Oliver is not my love. We were once betrothed, that is all.”

  “Good,” he murmured with satisfaction. “I intend to make you forget he ever even existed.”

  You already have, she reflected silently.

  “If he was purchasing that bauble for his wife,” Niall mused, glancing at the jeweler, “I would be much surprised.”

  Her eyebrow rose at the implied accusation. “Simply because you are incapable of fidelity does not mean you must impugn others.”

  His gaze narrowed on her sharply. “I am not incapable of fidelity. I’ve simply never had good enough reason to exercise it before you.”

  “I imagine the first beauty who comes along will divert you.”

  “No.” Niall reached up to stroke her cheek. “How can I look at another lass when you’re my only love?”

  Realizing the jeweler was regarding them curiously then, he grasped Sabrina by the elbow and drew her into a darkened corner of the shop.

  His voice turned quiet, deep. “I love you, Sabrina. So much that I ache with it. I only wish I could make you understand how much…”

  He bent his head then and kissed her. With beguiling tenderness, his mouth settled on hers, soft flesh to soft flesh.

  Sabrina felt her heart pounding at his warmth, felt the heavy rise of his desire even through her layers of skirts and petticoats. Alarmed, she pressed her palms against his chest and made a soft sound of distress.

  Yet she wanted to cry out when he obeyed.

  He broke off his kiss but stood rigid, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath uneven. He seemed to be waging some internal battle with himself.

  His better instincts must have won, for he finally exhaled a soft gust of mirthless laughter. When he lifted his head, his smile was forced and held a hint of pain. “I suppose this is my punishment for past sins. For years I searched for a woman I could love, one with courage and honor, who could make me shake with fury or passion. Yet when I find her at last, she refuses me.”

  Releasing her unwillingly then, Niall turned away.

  Bereft, Sabrina watched as he returned to the counter, her fingers moving to her tingling mouth. How could he walk away and leave her like that, aching, empty, starving for his touch?

  How could she continue to resist him when resistance hurt her more than it did him?

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  It was a dance of seduction, one that neither of them seemed able to win.

  After a sennight, Niall’s deliber
ate and highly public campaign was taking a severe toll on Sabrina’s heart. It required every ounce of fortitude she possessed to continue withstanding his calculated, sensual assault.

  He was quick to take advantage of every opportunity to bedevil her. Though Niall kept his promise not to charm his way into her bed, he relied upon subtler methods to remind her of what she was missing…a tender glance, a beguiling caress, a devastating smile.

  She in turn employed all the feminine weapons at her disposal, personifying a female version of him. She charmed Niall just as he charmed her. She laughed and flirted just as intensely, making teasing promises and leading him on an elusive chase.

  It was only fitting punishment, Sabrina told herself. In the course of his licentious career, Niall had made countless women fall in love with him. Now, for the first time in his life, the legendary rogue was experiencing the same turmoil he’d engendered in all those unfortunate women: the despair of loving someone who professed not to love him in return. The pain of wondering if she would remain faithful.

  And yet, Sabrina knew, they could not go on like this much longer. They were at an impasse, an impasse she desperately wanted to end.

  The opportunity came at the Duke of Kintail’s ball, although in a manner she never expected.

  Sabrina had not truly wished to attend the event, but her stepfather swept aside her objections. All of Edinburgh society would be there, Charles claimed, and though he did not feel well enough to accompany her, he wanted his daughter to enjoy the admiration she so richly deserved.

  Niall insisted on helping her dress for the ball, against Sabrina’s will.

  “Dear heart,” he murmured, his sapphire eyes full of amusement and affection, “you may as well give in with good grace. You know in the end I will have my wicked way with you.”

  “That is precisely what concerns me,” she retorted wryly.

  He turned the simple art of dressing into an exercise in pleasure. Sabrina refused to allow him into her bedchamber until she was bathed and perfumed and safely garbed in a lounging robe, but when her persistent husband rapped on her door for the second time, she could delay no longer.