The Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  “I will not warn you again, madam. Keep away from the Buchanans,” Niall commanded tersely, before lapsing into silence once more.

  They spoke not a word for the remainder of the short journey. When they reached Creagturic, Sabrina went directly upstairs to their bedchamber.

  Niall did not join her—not then, nor anytime during the long night. For the first time since their marriage, Sabrina found herself forsaken. She lay alone in the vast bed, missing her husband’s warmth, his hardness, his magnetic presence. Finding sleep impossible, she tossed and turned and punched her pillow a dozen times, brooding in anger. To think he believed her capable of adultery…She would never behave so dishonorably.

  His double standard infuriated her as well. ’Twas not fair! She was constrained by her vows of fidelity to be faithful, while he suffered no such constraints.

  Far worse, she loved the wretched man!

  Damn him, damn him, triple damn him…If he wanted fidelity and loyalty from her, he should be willing to give it himself.

  Sabrina rose blurry-eyed the following morning—long after Niall had already left the house. She was too mortified to ask where her husband had spent the night, though she was certain the servants knew.

  When noon approached, she informed Mrs. Paterson that she meant to call on her grandfather. Then, drawing on a cloak and collecting her dog for protection, she had a horse saddled and defiantly rode out to meet Owen Buchanan’s son.

  It was a dangerous course, Sabrina knew. Yet she refused to allow Niall to dictate her every action, refused to lie down like a doormat while he heartlessly trod over her. And in truth, more than defiance drove her. She had hopes of ultimately getting to the bottom of the mystery regarding the cattle raids.

  Keith Buchanan was right. Something smelled rotten. The Buchanans believed that she had started the conflict, that she’d duped them by pretending to arrange a truce. Owen’s fury at her on her wedding day had been entirely genuine, Sabrina remembered. He’d accused her of tricking him into leaving his herds unguarded. Of course she had not. Indeed, she’d blamed them for the betrayal. But what if they were no more guilty than she was? If the Buchanans had not struck the first blow, it was understandable they would feel wronged after Niall’s midnight raid and his wounding of two Buchanan kinsmen.

  Sabrina clenched her teeth in frustration. Clearly she couldn’t discuss the situation with Niall. He was too blinded by hatred to ever see the Buchanans as anything but thieves and murderers. But if there truly were a chance to promote peace, she couldn’t miss it because she was too timid to stand up to her infuriating, domineering husband. Most certainly if his best interests would be served.

  Niall was absurdly misguided to accuse her of seeking to put horns on him. Keith Buchanan had shown no amorous intentions toward her. Indeed, just the opposite; he seemed more inclined to wrap his fingers around her throat and throttle her. There would be no impropriety in their meeting in broad daylight. And such a gray, damp day was scarcely conducive to romance. A heavy mist hung low over the rugged hills, obscuring the highest peaks.

  Her thoughts occupied, Sabrina scarcely noticed her surroundings, yet as she and Rab passed verdant forests and valleys, the majesty eventually worked to soothe her temper. When she came to a rushing burn, she followed its path to a lush, pine- and bracken-covered glen. In the distance, the tranquil waters of a loch gleamed silver, its banks heavily treed.

  The shrill cry of a curlew pierced the quiet as she drew her mount to a halt. Near the shore stood a typical crofter’s cottage, whitewashed stone with thatched roof. From the chimney, lazy wisps of smoke swirled upward toward the rain-laden skies, tingeing the air with the scent of peat fire. Beyond the croft, a saddled horse grazed peacefully.

  The raven-haired man leaning negligently against the trunk of a rowan tree had his back to her, but he turned when he heard the soft thud of her horse’s hooves.

  Keith stared at her a moment, one hand on the hilt of his sword, as she came to a halt before him. “Welcome, milady.”

  Sabrina managed a smile. “Do you mean to run me through, sir?” she asked lightly.

  The corners of his mouth turned up in a reluctant grin. “’Twould be a mistake to attempt it, if what I hear about ye is true. Ye would acquit yerself well enough to threaten my manhood. Nay, ’tis yer animal I seek to defend myself against.” With his head he gestured at the giant dog, who was standing at attention, ready to attack if need be.

  “Oh, forgive me…” Sabrina called to her dog and told him to be easy.

  Keith’s guard relaxed. “I thank ye for coming, milady.”

  “There is no need to thank me. I would like to solve this mystery as much as you would.”

  “I gather the McLaren denies dealing in treachery.”

  “I did not ask him about it. Niall…was rather angry last night. He doesn’t know I’ve come—”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth when she heard the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats behind her.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Sabrina drew a sharp breath when she recognized the black horse emerging from beyond the crofter’s hut, moving toward her at an easy canter. While the horseman possessed raven hair like Keith Buchanan’s, the powerful shoulders were draped in a McLaren plaid.

  Keith’s hand immediately went to his sword again, while Sabrina’s fingers tightened on her reins. Evidently Niall had trusted her so little that he had to follow her.

  Slowing to a walk, he urged his mount forward, till he was abreast of her. With a whimper of welcome, Rab fawned at his feet, but Niall appeared not to notice. His jaw was clenched savagely, while his eyes burned a fury like blue fire as he stared down at Keith Buchanan. “You have a death wish, I see. You should have heeded my warning.”

  “And what warning was that?” Keith returned, his scornful tone taunting.

  “I told you to keep away from my wife. Clearly I shall have to teach you a lesson in prudence.”

  “Ye may try,” he spat, drawing his sword from its scabbard.

  “No!” Sabrina cried as Niall swung down from his horse. “Stop it! Please!”

  When neither man paid her any mind, she drove her mount forward, positioning herself between them. “Please…this is absurd. There is no justification for bloodshed.”

  “Sabrina, move away!” Niall demanded.

  “Aye, milady,” Keith agreed. “This isna yer battle.”

  “Of course it is!” She gazed down at Keith imploringly, knowing he would be easier to reason with than her husband. “Mr. Buchanan, please…this meeting was obviously a mistake. I should never have come. Please will you not go?”

  His narrowed gaze shifted from Niall to her.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “It would be better if you left.”

  “I dinna like to leave ye alone with him.”

  “I’ll be all right. Please…just go.”

  His jaw clenching, Keith went to his horse. Sheathing his sword, he swung himself up into the saddle and rode stiffly away, only once glancing back.

  When he was gone, the resultant silence was deafening. It was so quiet Sabrina could hear the gentle lap of water on the shore of the loch.

  Niall glanced darkly up at her. “A pity your craven admirer lacks the courage to stay and fight.”

  “It isn’t craven to refuse to argue with a madman,” Sabrina replied through gritted teeth. “What do you mean, following me here like a wretched spy?”

  Niall sheathed his blade. “I thought to interrupt a lover’s tryst.”

  “A lover’s tryst!”

  His blue eyes hardened. “I warned you to keep away from our foes. Apparently you cannot be trusted.”

  Sabrina’s temper rose again precipitously. It was the outside of enough that he should accuse her of infidelity without the slightest justification. “Apparently your frequent sojourns in the stews of debauchery have rendered you incapable of objective judgment. Well, you can take your base suspicions and…and swallow them!”

  Sh
e drew back on the reins, intending to turn her horse and ride away, but Niall moved sharply to her side and reached up for her. Pulling Sabrina from her horse, he set her on her feet none too gently. “Listen hard, lass. I’ll not have my commands thwarted.”

  “You do not rule me, sirrah!”

  “I do indeed rule you, madam, as your husband and chief! ’Tis high time you accepted that.”

  “Go to the devil!”

  He swore an expletive, his brogue deepening as he retorted, “You’ll no’ take one of our enemies as lover, do you ken me?”

  Sabrina clenched her teeth. “Perfectly, my lord! Should I decide to take a lover, I shall be certain to choose one from among our allies.”

  His irises grew black as he stared down at her, dark emotion streaking through them like lightning in a stormy sky. Sabrina had never seen him so angry. It was recklessness itself to defy him when he was in such a mood, and yet her own mood matched his for explosiveness.

  “You suffer from the most colossal case of presumption I have ever witnessed! You are not the only man in existence. If I wish to take a lover, I will! If I wish a dozen lovers, I will do so! Do you ken me?”

  It was an idle threat, but she was too incensed for circumspection. She met his fierce gaze measure for measure.

  His eyes hard with fury, he closed his fingers painfully on her arms.

  “Don’t you dare think to raise a hand to me!” she warned.

  His jaw set rigidly, Niall visibly gritted his teeth. “I have never touched a lass in anger before, but I vow in this instance I could make an exception.”

  “’Tis no more than I would expect from a dissolute libertine!”

  “Do you ken how to swim?” he demanded suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Can you swim?”

  “No! Why—”

  She was abruptly silenced as Niall bent and scooped her up in his arms. Sabrina gasped and clutched his neck as he carried her to the edge of the loch.

  Rab growled once, but a sharp command from Niall made him cease. With a whine of confusion, the huge animal dropped to his belly, resting his head on his paws. It infuriated Sabrina to realize she could not even look to her dog for protection.

  To her startlement, though, Niall waded directly into the water.

  “Mayhap this will cool your lusts!” he declared, before letting her drop with a splash.

  The loch was only waist-deep there, but Sabrina gasped as the icy water closed over her head. She flailed in panic for an instant, then came up choking and coughing and sputtering with fury.

  “You—w-wretched—b-beast! You—loutish—j-jackanapes!” Half blinded by chilling streams of water, she struggled to her feet, cursing Niall with words she wasn’t even aware she knew. On the rocky shore, Rab leapt wildly, punctuating her tirade with excited barks.

  “Take care, lass,” Niall warned, turning to retreat to dry land. “You’ll make me think a dousing wasn’t discipline enough.”

  “Damn your eyes…!”

  He had thrown her in the loch, and now he had the gall to taunt her! His arrogance made her blood boil.

  Shoving her wet hair from her eyes, Sabrina stalked after him—or rather, she tried to stalk after him. Regrettably she had great difficulty following him with her sodden cloak and skirts weighing her down. “Come back here, you cowardly brute!”

  Niall turned abruptly, one black eyebrow slashing upward in mockery. “Brute?”

  “Aye, brute!” She reached the shore just then, but stumbled over the hem of her cloak. In frustration, Sabrina tore off the water-logged garment and threw it to the ground.

  To her dismay, she realized her muslin scarf had come free, while her breasts had slipped from the confining imprisonment of her boned bodice. All that covered her bosom was a thin, wet chemise.

  Niall’s gaze skimmed her pale curves, locking on her exposed breasts, where the water-taunted nipples strained darkly against the dampened cloth. A mocking smile curved his lips. “You’ll not appease me with feminine lures, sweet. Though I admit the notion is tempting. You make an appealing sight, your face flushed with temper, your eyes flashing fire…”

  A wild tirade of verbal abuse danced behind Sabrina’s clenched teeth. She had always prided herself on her self-control, but now she marveled at the strength of the rage that shook her as she sloshed toward him.

  He stood his ground, his hands on his narrow hips. “’Tis such a fascinating change, from prim lady to spitting tiger—albeit a soggy one—”

  She hit him. Drawing back her arm wildly, Sabrina swung with all her might. Her fist struck the hard slab of his chest before Niall caught her wrist in a fierce grip.

  Danger jumped and pulsed around him like lightning, his blue eyes brilliant with fire.

  “Vixen,” he breathed as he pulled her brutally against his body. “Apparently a lesson in wifely obedience is in order.”

  “Obedience!” Sabrina fairly hissed the word. “I shall never obey you…you arrogant knave!”

  “We shall see about that, wife!”

  His hand tangled in her hair in a fist of hard control as Niall brought his mouth fiercely down to cover hers.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  He was all angry fire and hard, dominating male. He kissed her savagely, ravishing her with his tongue.

  Sabrina strained against him, struggling to no avail. When Niall at last raised his head, she was panting from exertion.

  “Damn you…release me before I…I box your ears!”

  “’Tis unwise to threaten a man when you’re in his power,” he warned, his voice as tight as his imprisoning arms.

  She should have heeded his advice, but her blood was up now. When he lowered his mouth to kiss her again, she sank her teeth into his lower lip.

  Niall cursed savagely and jerked back. Yet Sabrina hadn’t won. She gave a startled cry as he bent and heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of oats.

  “Let…go…of me…you swine!” she exclaimed between breathless gasps.

  “Nay, lass, not till we have this settled!”

  Rab, to her further fury, remained neutral in their battle, barking playfully as with swift, sure strides, Niall carried Sabrina to the crofter’s hut.

  Shoving open the door with his booted foot, he stepped inside, then kicked it shut behind them.

  Inside, the dim interior was hazy with smoke. The peat fire burning in the hearth gave off a welcoming warmth to Sabrina’s wet, chilled body, but she scarcely needed the heat, so scalding was her anger. The instant Niall set her on her feet on the hard earthen floor, she swung at him.

  Capturing her wrists, Niall ignored her resistance and glanced around the small cottage. The blackened rafters were hung with herbs and weapons, while in one corner of the room stood a rope bed with a heather-stuffed mattress.

  “Fergus is away, I see. He’ll not mind if we make use of his bed.”

  Sabrina glared at him. “You must be daft if you think I’ll allow you to make love to me!”

  “Take off those sodden skirts, madam, or I shall do it for you.”

  “Devil take you, you’ll not lay a hand on me!”

  Niall clenched his jaw. Their argument had gone beyond anger or desire. He felt a wild need to mark Sabrina indelibly as his, to brand her with his scent, his touch, his taste, to drive the thought of any other man from her mind. She would never think of taking another lover when he was through.

  His eyes returned the fire of her gaze. “Do not think to deny me, wife.”

  His hard-looking mouth hovering over hers, he curled his fingers over the edge of her chemise, drawing down the fabric. When his palm covered her damp breast, her body responded with humiliating swiftness, the nipple tightening to a rigid, aching peak.

  “Do you truly think any other lover can please you as I can?”

  “Yes!” she retorted scathingly. “Any man would please me better!”

  She twisted in his grasp, struggling fiercely. When she brough
t her knee up between his thighs, Niall barely prevented the blow from doing him an injury. He laughed at the sheer pluck of the wench and tightened his hold.

  Lifting her up, he tossed Sabrina on her back on the heather tick. She scrambled to her knees, panting with such passionate fury that she would have scratched his face could she have reached it.

  She was unutterably wild and glorious, Niall thought as fire ripped through his groin: her dark eyes flashing, her cheeks tinged with angry roses, her luscious breasts heaving, begging to be caressed. The jutting nipples drew his admiring gaze.

  “You want me,” he observed. “I can see your aroused nipples, your flushed skin…”

  She hastened to cover her nakedness with her arm. “I don’t want you, you arrogant cur!”

  He laughed again insolently and took a step toward her.

  “Keep away from me! I don’t want you touching me.”

  “I’ll touch you and more, sweeting. I intend to make you beg for me.”

  “You will not!”

  It was a challenge he could not ignore. Niall tossed aside his plaid. “You really should refrain from saying things you don’t mean, pet. You’re a hot-blooded wench in need of a man.”

  “A man, yes! Not a ruthless barbarian.”

  “I can be gentle, as you well know.” He shed his leather waistcoat and then his shirt, revealing the wide swath of his broad, bronzed chest. Unfastening his trews to free his erection, he stood half nude before her, all harsh masculinity and bold magnificence. “I’ll lay wager that I’ll soon have you beneath me, panting and mindless with need.”

  His blazing arrogance fueled her fury. “You fiend, you can’t make me want you! You’ll get no response from me.”

  “We shall see.”

  Their eyes locked in a silent, fiery battle of wills. In the small cottage, tension vibrated between them, feral and primitive. He intended to demand her surrender, Sabrina knew.

  Helplessly, she licked her dry lips as he moved toward her. “I’ll…I’ll scream.”

  “Aye, you will…with passion when you sheathe me in your hot silk.”

  “I’ll scratch you, I’ll bite!”