The Lover (9 page)

He was not totally naked, she realized with relief. A tartan plaid lay strategically draped across his narrow hips. Below the cloth stretched long, powerful bare legs built of well-honed muscle and dusted with hair. Sinewed and hard, he gave an unmistakable impression of raw strength.

The shock of it, the absolute beauty of him, was a jolt to her senses.

“Did no one ever tell you it is impolite to stare, mistress?”

Sabrina’s cheeks heated with bright color, and it was all she could do to stand her ground instead of turning tail. Niall McLaren’s near nakedness was distinctly unnerving—and the libertine knew it full well, to judge by the dancing light in his blue eyes.

“How may I be of service, mistress?” he queried, his gaze amused and knowing.

“I came to…pay you a visit,” she replied unevenly, trying to marshal her scattered wits.

“So I see.”

“Did you not receive my message asking you to call?”

“I regret I was engaged and was unable to spare the time.”

“So I see,” Sabrina echoed tartly, glancing pointedly at his disheveled state.

Niall shrugged his bare shoulders as he casually tugged up the plaid to cover his worst bruising. “You do have the most annoying habit of showing up when you are least wanted, mistress.”

She met his bold gaze impatiently. “I had no intention of interrupting your pleasures. But I hoped you might spare five minutes of your precious time.”

“I can manage five minutes,” Niall observed with a wicked slant to his lips. “I am entirely at your service, mistress. You command my undivided attention.”

Oh, but he was bold, Sabrina thought with grudging admiration. The villain was laughing at her. She could see the devilment in his eyes.

He appeared even more treacherously handsome than she recalled. His raven hair tumbled around his face, accenting the ruggedly sculpted planes and angles and the dazzling blue eyes framed by thick black lashes. Her woman’s heart beat faster just looking at him. She found herself staring at that beautifully shaped, sensually curved mouth and the burning smile that twisted into a mocking curve.

She almost turned and walked away. But she had vowed to face this situation head-on. She refused to continue suffering the state of uncertainty she’d endured for the past three days. She wanted matters settled between them. “I wonder if you would deign to consider putting on some clothing.”

“Why? Do you dislike the sight of a naked man?”

Sabrina opened her mouth to reply and then snapped it shut. That was not a question a lady answered.

“Or perhaps you are merely faint of heart,” the rogue had the audacity to add.

“I am
not
faint-hearted—”

“Then why do you remain standing in the doorway?”

A scarlet blush rose high and bright in her cheeks. Stiffly Sabrina stepped into the room, but she was careful to leave the door ajar.

She froze suddenly when, with a languid movement of his body, Niall stretched his powerful arms overhead, making the muscles in his bare chest and torso ripple and flex.

He grimaced slightly, then laughed at her apprehensive expression, showing white flashing teeth. “Welcome to my den of iniquity, Mistress Duncan.”

The infuriating gleam made her scowl—but at least it helped her regain some of her composure. “I don’t particularly find this a subject for levity, my lord!”

“That is quite apparent.”

“I suppose it
is
in keeping with your dissipated reputation, receiving a lady in a complete state of undress.”

“Ah…now resumes your continued assault on my character.”

“In the unelevated circles in which I was raised, taking advantage of serving maids
is
considered indicative of a lack of character.”

Niall shook his head in feigned hurt. “Why are you always so swift to accuse me of taking advantage of the gentler sex?”

“Perhaps because in every instance we’ve met, you’ve been engaged in luring females to their ruin.”

“I am loath to correct a lady, but the females I lure are
never
unwilling.”

“I doubt that would prove an impediment for you, in any case,” Sabrina remarked archly.

“I fancy it wouldn’t,” he agreed with a tantalizing spice in his voice.

“No.” Her tone was grudging. “You are obviously graced with an unreasonable measure of persuasiveness.”

“To say nothing of my charm and wit.”

Sabrina shut her eyes for a moment in a silent appeal to heaven. He was the most incredibly arrogant man she had ever met. She devoutly wished she could take him down a peg. “I hardly consider it a virtue to have broken scores of female hearts!”

“Ah, lass, never would I purposely wound the fairer sex.”

“Not purposely. I suppose you cannot help it, considering what you are.”

“And what is that?”

“A…a womanizer. A…”

“Hedonist,” he supplied lazily. “Ah, yes, I well recall your opinion of me.”

“Do you deny it?”

He cocked his head, considering her. “No, indeed. My infamous repute is well deserved. I am a man of great lusts.”

She didn’t need him to tell her that he was sexually promiscuous. Doubtless he had bedded more women than she even
knew
. She wondered if he ever slept alone. “That is supremely evident!” Her gaze swept his nearly nude body with a hint of disdain. “Most polite society would consider it the height of depravity to be carrying on so in the middle of the day.”

Niall’s amusement faded while his expression turned cool. “Firstly, it is not midday. It is scarcely ten of the clock, a perfectly appropriate time to be ‘carrying on so,’ as you so delicately put it. Secondly, I believe this is my domain, where I may conduct myself as I please. And thirdly, Mistress Duncan…” His gaze bored into her. “What right do you have to censure me?”

Sabrina drew herself up. “I claim none. Indeed, it is nothing to me if you choose to while away your time in idle pursuits. But there is more to life than chasing skirts.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, is there?”

“Duty and honor, for instance. Family. Sacrifice.”

His blue eyes turned hard and challenging. “I have been willing to sacrifice for duty and clan loyalty. I assumed the lairdship of my clan, for which I held neither expectation nor avocation. And,” Niall added in a velvet-honed voice of steel, “I have agreed to consider your proposal of marriage.”

Sabrina raised her eyebrows. “
My
proposal?”

“Is that not why you sought an audience with me this morn?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Wedding you was not
my
idea, I assure you!”

“Nor was it mine.” Niall favored her with a wintry smile. “’Tis solely your grandfather’s wish.”

“But I…” She frowned in confusion. “Angus spoke as if the decision was settled. He told me that you concurred.”

“I concur that Angus needs the connection between our clans, that is all.”

Dropping her gaze, Sabrina stared down at the floor, her heart squeezing with a strange pain. Niall McLaren didn’t wish to marry her. She should have known.

“I have no desire to be forced upon any man,” Sabrina replied stiffly. “Certainly not
you
. I was only willing to consider marriage to you for the good of my kinsmen. For some reason, my grandfather believes that you offer the best chance to ensure our clan’s survival.”

“I know what Angus believes. But if I might indulge in some plain speaking?”

“Let us be frank, by all means,” she agreed acerbically.

“You would do far better to find yourself another husband.”

Sabrina glanced up at him, her half smile scornful. “And just why is that?”

“Because you and I are ill-suited.”

That
she could agree with wholeheartedly; it was no more than she had concluded herself.

When she did not dispute him, Niall’s tone softened a degree. “You don’t wish to marry a philanderer, Mistress Duncan, I assure you. I would make you a deplorable husband. I cherish the lasses too much to give up my freedom and settle down with a wife. I wouldn’t be faithful to any woman. It isn’t in me.”

No, Sabrina thought somberly. She couldn’t expect such a man to be faithful to her. He was a man of passion without promises. He wouldn’t want her love, or any other tender feelings. But then she didn’t want his love, either. She only wanted him to protect her clan.

“You need not fear on that score. I’d not deprive you of your pleasures. Ours would be a marriage of convenience, nothing more. However, I…” She took a deep breath, uncomfortable discussing such private issues in so intimate a manner. “I…would like children eventually. And I should think you would as well. A man in your position needs heirs.”

Niall was a long time in answering. “I expect I could comply in that regard.”

“I have little doubt,” she observed, her tone wry. “I imagine Scotland and France are littered with your by-blows.”

“Then you imagine wrongly. I have two children to my knowledge, and both are well provided for.”

“Then that should prove no problem, should it?”

“I think perhaps you underestimate the difficulties you will face as my bride. We Highlanders are a rough and tumble lot, and our existence a hard one, particularly in winter. I warn you, you should have no expectations of a life of luxury.”

Sabrina stiffened at his implication. He made her sound so frail and useless. “I expect nothing of the sort. I may have lived in Edinburgh for much of my life, but I am unaccustomed to a life of ease. I should think the dowry I bring would compensate you for any inconvenience, in any case. However”—she started to turn away—“if you refuse the marriage, then there is no further point in discussion.”

“Did I say I refuse?” A muscle worked in Niall’s jaw as resentment flared in him. He could not honorably reject the betrothal, not with the debt his father owed her grandfather. He could not, would not, shirk his obligations. On the other hand…he would not object if Mistress Duncan chose to call off the betrothal herself.

He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I am prepared to be convinced.”

She hesitated. “Convinced? What…do you mean?”

“Perhaps I wish to be courted.”

“You wish me to
court
you?” His audacity knew no bounds! “If you expect me to flirt and banter idiotically and fawn over you merely for your amusement,” she snapped, “your wits have gone begging.”

“Please yourself, mouse. ’Tis you who needs a husband.”

His words slashed at her pride. “
I
do not need a husband! My clan needs a laird—there is a world of difference. I desire a union between us even less than you do, I assure you.”

“Then call off the betrothal.”

“Call it off?” Her brow furrowed as she stared at him. A long moment later, Sabrina shook her head. “I have no intention of abandoning my clan and disappointing my grandfather. My kinsmen have pledged to follow you, and I’ll not gainsay their choice. As disagreeable as I would find marriage to you, I am prepared to make the best of it. If you are so set against it, sir,
you
may have the honor of withdrawing.”

She saw Niall’s jaw harden briefly. But then he smiled—slowly, wickedly, and not at all pleasantly. “As I said, I can be convinced to accept your suit. But you will have to persuade me.”

He
was
taunting her, she realized with renewed fury.

“Am I to understand,” she enunciated, her ire ringing in the tartness of her voice, “that I must extol my worth, like a prize heifer at a cattle fair? I must
audition
for the position of your bride?”

“I am suggesting that there are certain virtues I require in a wife and the mistress of my clan.”

And
she
didn’t possess them, Sabrina was certain he was saying. She could assess her attributes well enough. Physically she was no match for a man whose lovemaking prowess with the most beautiful women of Europe was legend, whose exploits in the glittering ballrooms and bedrooms of the aristocracy were unrivaled.

“I make no claim to beauty—or fashion, either, for that matter.”

Niall shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Beauty is not so vital an attribute in a lass.”

She eyed him doubtfully, not crediting that a man of his notorious tastes would settle for plainness. “Then what is?”

His gaze made an unhurried journey from the tips of her toes to the slight swell of her breasts, hidden by her drab traveling cloak. “Suitability, for one. How can we be certain we are compatible unless we put it to the test?”

“What do you mean? Put
what
to the test?”

“You are inexperienced in matters carnal. You’ve never lain with a man.”

His blunt words sparked a flush of embarrassment within her. “How…can you be so certain?”

“That you’re a virgin?”

Again her cheeks flamed. “Y-Yes.”

“Any number of telltale signs. The innocence I tasted in your kiss some months ago. Your shock when I stroked your breast. The pulse that flutters at your throat just now. The blush that stains your cheeks…To an experienced connoisseur like myself, you are a mere babe.”