The Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  When finally she managed to pull free with a jerk, she drew back her hand and delivered a resounding slap.

  Oliver stared at her, rubbing the offended cheek. His gaze held astonishment and admiration.

  Sabrina was surprised to find herself trembling. “I will forget this incident ever occurred, Oliver. Now I strongly suggest you return to your wife, while I return to my husband.”

  Oliver’s mouth curled scornfully. “Your husband is otherwise engaged at present. Only moments ago I spied him with his English mistress, making an assignation to meet. Why else would I suppose I could find you alone?”

  “His mistress?” Sabrina asked, her voice fainter than she would have liked.

  “Yes, Lady Chivington.”

  She shook her head, unwilling to credit his claim. After all Niall’s protestations of love, he would not openly pursue another woman…Would he? Perhaps she simply did not wish to believe.

  Whatever the troubled state of her marriage, though, she realized how fortunate she was to have escaped a union with her former suitor.

  “I pity my poor cousin,” Sabrina said, her disdain for Oliver apparent in her expression. “She does not deserve you. Now I bid you good evening.”

  Escaping the library, she paused in the corridor to smooth her disheveled skirts and to allow her flushed cheeks to cool. Shortly she found herself in the ballroom, searching the crowd for her husband.

  After a moment she spied Niall’s tall figure across the floor, near the French doors, which had been left open against the heat of the myriad candles and press of perfumed bodies. Beside him stood Lady Chivington, smiling like a cream-filled cat.

  Sabrina felt her heart wrench.

  When Niall bent to whisper something in the lady’s ear, eliciting a gay laugh, Sabrina’s hands curled into fists. She watched in dismay as Lady Chivington turned and slipped through the doors to the garden terrace.

  Niall did not immediately follow, but seemed to be searching the crowd. It would not be the first time he had made an assignation to meet his paramour in a garden, however. If so, he would doubtless wish to avoid being seen by the lady’s husband, or by his own wife.

  Fury, sharp and piercing, assaulted Sabrina. Never had she felt such a vicious urge to do violence, to Niall most of all, but to the English witch as well. She would have raked the lady’s beautiful face with her nails if she could have managed two minutes alone with her.

  She was not alone, however, Sabrina realized regretfully; she was in a crowded ballroom, with several hundred onlookers who would be highly titillated were she to cause such a scene. Whatever action she took would best be effected in private.

  Clenching her jaw, Sabrina made her way through the crowd toward the terrace doors. The last time she’d discovered her philandering husband in a compromising position, she had fled in wounded mortification.

  But she had no intention of abandoning the battlefield now. This time she would fight for Niall, to prevent him from pursuing his favorite sport in some other woman’s arms.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  He was conversing with a footman when Sabrina reached him. When the servant nodded and moved away, Niall turned to her, his eyes lighting with quick warmth.

  The smile Sabrina sent him was brilliantly lethal as she stepped close enough to slip her fingers beneath his elegant frock coat. He had not worn a rapier to the ball, but had belted a dirk at his waist as usual.

  When she drew the blade from its sheath and stepped back, his eyebrows shot up quizzically.

  “Pray excuse me,” she murmured, the sweetness of her tone belied by her sparking eyes. “I have need of this for a moment.”

  Spinning on her heel, she marched through the open doors and out onto the terrace.

  She was trembling with rage when she came to a halt. Allowing her gaze to adjust to the dim light, Sabrina spied the English noblewoman near the balustrade overlooking the garden.

  “Lady Chivington.”

  Arabella turned, her expression one of eager anticipation. “Ni—”

  Her welcoming smile fractured when she recognized Sabrina. Then her eyes grew huge as she saw the gleaming blade in Sabrina’s grasp. “W-What…do you here?”

  “I came to offer you a warning, my lady. Niall McLaren is my husband. I strongly suggest that you keep away from him.”

  The lady eyed the dirk with alarm. “Are you mad?”

  “Perhaps,” Sabrina replied tightly. “I doubt you would wish to put it to the test.”

  Behind her she heard Niall’s incredulous chuckle.

  Sabrina spun around, her features fierce as she brandished the dirk. “I’ll not share you with her. Do you ken me?”

  He raised a hand to his brow, but his shoulders were shaking. “Thank God…” he murmured. “I feared you would never relent…” He shook his head, unable to contain his relief, a relief so profound he knew it as joy.

  “I am entirely serious, sir!” she exclaimed, furious at his apparent amusement. “I’ll not abide your affairs any longer, with this lady or anyone else.”

  Niall took a deep breath. “I am all gratitude, my bonny Highland warrior, but an affair with this lady was the last thing I intended.”

  “You arranged an assignation with her—”

  “No, sweeting,” he replied, all seriousness, all laughter. “For once you greatly mistake the matter.”

  Just then a stalwart, ruddy-cheeked gentleman garbed in a scarlet military coat stepped out onto the terrace.

  “My dear, what—” Colonel Lord Chivington faltered when he saw the McLaren and his lady. “Beg pardon, milord, I understood my wife was here.”

  “She is,” Niall interjected smoothly. “She has been anxiously awaiting you.”

  “Richard!” Arabella said breathlessly. “How glad I am that you are come.” She edged around Sabrina carefully, keeping her gaze trained on the dirk. “I am feeling faint, and I beg that you will take me home.”

  When she reached the colonel, she clung weakly to his arm. He looked a bit puzzled but replied easily, “As you wish, my dear. Your servant, milord, milady.”

  With a bow to Niall and Sabrina, he escorted his wife within the ballroom, leaving them alone.

  Sabrina’s fingers clutched the hilt of the dirk as she faced her husband.

  “You never fail to amaze me, mouse,” he said softly. “I am honored that you chose to do battle for me.”

  She felt her cheeks flushing as she comprehended her error. “You never made an assignation with her?”

  “No. In truth, I only thought to elude her pursuit. The lady suffers from boredom and neglect, so I arranged for her to enjoy a liaison with her husband.”

  “I thought…”

  “I know what you thought, my love. And in the past I’ve given you little reason to presume otherwise. But that is all in my past, sweeting. I’ve told you so countless times, though you choose not to believe me.”

  Sabrina stared at him. Niall took the dirk from her slack fingers and returned it to his belt. Then grasping her hand, he drew her to the far side of the terrace, away from the glow of candlelight and music that spilled through the open French doors.

  His expression suddenly grave and intent in the shadows, Niall looked at her searchingly. “Sabrina…I cannot endure this misery any longer. It’s draining me of my soul.” Holding her gaze captive, he said quietly, “You are my heart, Sabrina, and will always be so. I’ll want you till I die.”

  Her breath lodged in her throat. Never before had Niall looked at her with such raw emotion in his eyes, so desperate and haunted.

  “I want you, Sabrina. I want you as my lover, the mother of my children, the mistress of my clan. I want to grow old with you. I want to spend the rest of our lives convincing you how remarkable you are.”

  “How can you be sure?” she whispered.

  His gaze softened. “’Tis simple. I’m in love. And I think you love me, too. Do you, Sabrina?” His voice had gone beyond strained and sa
t on the cutting edge of pain as he waited in an agony of uncertainty.

  She could not continue the pretense any longer. “Yes…I love you. How could I not?” she said simply.

  The release of his breath was shaky and powerful; the emotion that went through him left him weak. Niall grasped her arms in a grip that was painful, his gaze riveted on her face, his eyes gleaming with uncertainty and hope and a thousand fervent prayers.

  “Say it again,” he demanded hoarsely. “The truth, Sabrina.”

  “I love you.”

  Drawing her to him, Niall wrapped his arms around her, holding on with a kind of tight, quiet desperation, his heart beating painfully. It seemed as though he had wanted her all his life. Sabrina roused and angered and entranced and tempted him as no other woman in his life ever had. And he wanted desperately for her to believe it.

  He drew back, needing to see her face. “Can you ever forgive me for the pain I caused you?”

  She nodded, an ache of love for him swelling within her. “Yes…but…”

  “But what?”

  “I cannot continue as we have, Niall. I need honesty between us. I need an end to the games.” She gazed at him uncertainly. “I am not a mouse or a tiger or a femme fatale. I am simply a woman. I cannot continue to play this false role you’ve devised for me. I can’t abide this constant struggle to keep your attention.”

  “Aye, no more games. We’ve wasted far too much time battling each other, and ourselves.”

  Sabrina searched his face. “I only need to know that I can trust you, that you will be true to me.”

  He returned her gaze intently, the fire in his heart reflected in his eyes. “I vow with every breath I take, with every beat of my heart, there will be no other lovers between us. I cannot change my wicked past, Sabrina. I can only promise you the future. I pledge you my oath, I am yours and yours alone.”

  Fraught as she had been with doubts, his declaration was a healing balm to her heart. Willingly, she moved into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “Does this mean,” Niall murmured into her hair some quiet moments later, “that you will return with me to the Highlands as my beloved bride?”

  “Yes. If you truly wish it.”

  He made a sound of disbelief. “Sabrina…” he said warningly.

  Tightening his embrace, he found her mouth and kissed her with fierce passion and matchless tenderness. Sabrina moaned deep in her throat, a cry of helpless surrender and need.

  “Niall,” she whispered when at last he raised his head, “I want you…”

  He shuddered, resting his forehead on hers. “I made a vow, you’ll recall.”

  She nodded, remembering his pledge not to return to her bed until she invited him. “Please…will you make love to me?”

  When he drew back, his smile was tender, magical, impossible to resist. “I am your willing servant, my sweet.”

  Grasping her hand, he led Sabrina across the terrace and into the ballroom, startling the nearby guests. Purposefully he pulled her after him, forging a path through the dancers and curious onlookers.

  “Niall…” Sabrina murmured breathlessly as he headed for the stairs, “you will cause a scandal with such haste.”

  “Does it matter, mouse?”

  “Well…no…I suppose not.”

  When he reached the front entrance, he called for their carriage and her cloak.

  “Where are you taking me?” Sabrina asked.

  “To your stepfather’s home, where we may be private.”

  After a few moments of waiting, Niall handed her inside the carriage and directed the coachman to return to Cameron House. Joining her inside then, he immediately gathered Sabrina in his arms.

  “This is scandalous,” she murmured in the darkness. “Everyone will know what we are about.”

  She felt Niall smile against her hair. “’Tis no more than is expected of the darling of Edinburgh. The world admires a bold lover. And with so alluring a lass as my companion, I’ll be the envy of every male in the company.”

  No, she was the one to be envied, Sabrina thought. She shook her head. She still found it hard to believe that such a splendid man could be in love with her. What had she done to deserve her good fortune? Against all odds she had discovered a passion as savage as the wild Highland hills.

  As if he could read her heart, Niall tightened his embrace. “Sweet, priceless, Sabrina…How could you doubt what I feel for you? My pursuit of you this past week has been nothing short of remarkable.” He laughed in genuine amusement. “The entire multitude of Edinburgh is aware of my devotion. You were the only one blind to it.”

  Suddenly shy, she buried her face in his shoulder. “How could I trust your methods? For all I knew, you were set on making me a byword so that I would capitulate to avoid a scandal.”

  “The scandal will die down once we return to the Highlands.”

  Sabrina found herself smiling wryly. “Until the next incident. You attract notoriety naturally.” She sighed. “Just as you attract women. I expect I will have to accustom myself to dealing with all your former love interests.”

  “You have nothing to fear from them, sweeting.”

  “There will always be countless beauties pursuing you.”

  “Since I want only your lovely self, it makes no matter. I mean to save all my carnal attentions for you and only you. In truth, I intend to spend the rest of our lives persuading you that you’re the only woman I want. The only one I will ever love. ’Tis you who command my heart. We were born for each other, Sabrina.”

  He put a finger beneath her chin, searching her face in the shadows. “Thank God for your grandfather’s machinations,” he whispered before his lips found hers.

  “Oh, Niall…” she murmured—the last coherent words she spoke for a long while.

  By the time the carriage drew up before Cameron House and Niall handed her down, Sabrina was trembling with need and love and a hundred other powerful emotions. Using the lamp which had been left burning in the foyer for her, she led him upstairs to the bedchamber that had been hers since childhood.

  When Niall shut the door softly behind them, he gave her a smile no less dazzling than the sun.

  Her hands unsteady, Sabrina set down the lamp and moved to stand before him. She could feel her heartbeat quicken as she reached for the lapels of his satin coat. “You do not need this, do you?”

  Niall studied her quizzically. “I suppose it depends on what you plan.”

  “I mean to undress you.”

  “Then by all means, proceed.”

  She kept her touch light as, without a word, she began removing his clothing: first his coat and waistcoat, then his lace cravat. For a moment she stroked the fine linen of his shirt, feeling the hard outline of chest muscles beneath. Then that garment went as well.

  Niall aided her by removing his shoes and stockings. He paused with his hands on the waistband of his breeches, a soft light of anticipation in his sapphire eyes. Then he stepped out of his breeches and he was naked, his rippling, sinewed skin bronzed and luminous in the lamplight. His heavy arousal rose thick and full from his groin, iron-hard with lust, the sight so raw and virile it made Sabrina’s stomach quiver.

  Yet the desire between them was far more profound than physical intimacy. She drew a sharp breath as she stared at the powerful man before her, so beautifully, heartrendingly masculine. This man was her husband. Her lover. Her love.

  Tonight they were not conqueror and conquered, seducer and seduced. They were equals…husband and wife.

  She was certain Niall shared the same sentiment as he drew her into his arms and held her close.

  “I would that you could see inside my heart,” he whispered against her hair. “I feel joy just being with you. I feel pleasure at the sound of your voice. I feel desire, the like of which I’ve never known before you.” He drew back to gaze at her. “I need you, Sabrina. I’ve never needed like this before.”

  He looked at her with all th
e tight, helpless longing in his soul. She stared back at him, hearing the pounding pulse of her own heart. His vulnerability touched her.

  “Nor have I,” she whispered, “ever needed…this way.”

  His eyes flared with something powerful and helpless. He bent then and kissed her with a deep, greedy hunger, fiercely, possessively, knowing that she felt the consuming fire between them that defied all reason. When he raised his head, his heart leapt. He could see in her lustrous eyes a hunger and need that matched his own.

  His hands reached for the hooks at the back of her gown. Making short work of the fastenings, Niall eased away her bodice, freeing her breasts. The soft lamplight bathed the milky paleness of her skin, highlighting the twin peaks that stood proudly gleaming before him.

  He took a long breath to draw air into his tight, aching chest. “Lovely mouse…”

  His gaze arrested as he caught sight of the gash she’d received defending his life. The flesh had nearly healed but would forever leave a scar.

  Sabrina saw his beautiful mouth tighten. When mutely he bent and pressed his lips to the puckered skin, she felt her heart wrench.

  “Niall…”

  “Hush, sweeting.” He raised his hand to brush her mouth with a sensual finger. “Let me show you how deeply I feel for you. Let me love you, Sabrina.”

  “Yes…”

  Her lips ruby with desire, her eyes hazed with longing, she swayed against him.

  Impatiently Niall undressed her, destroying all his careful handiwork in moments, dropping the exquisite gown heedlessly upon the floor, scattering her jewels and undergarments upon the carpet.

  Then lifting her in his arms, he laid Sabrina on the velvet coverlet, among the pillows. His heart thrumming, he gazed down at the exquisite perfection of her lush rosy-tipped breasts, slender waist, gently rounded hips, long shapely legs…

  She trembled for him, waiting in an agony of anticipation for his touch, her nipples so erect they hurt, the hollow between her thighs throbbing for his possession.

  “Niall, please…”