Curse her.
He’d been captured by her spirit, her strength, the incredible softness of her, her sweet excitement when she was in the throes of passion. He had taught her about pleasure—and inexplicably experienced a soul-deep pleasure in return. Even her defiance and sharp tongue aroused him.
She was his match in every way.
She made a splendid chieftain’s bride. Though he had fought her every effort, she had forced him to look beyond his blind hatred to bring peace to the Highlands. She would doubtless make an admirable mother of his bairns. She would give him strong sons and passionate daughters….
Niall shut his eyes at the startling thought, yet his mind persisted in seeing Sabrina cradling a child at her breast, a tender smile on her lips. His child. The vision had a powerful charm to it.
A bairn of his loins would bind Sabrina to him in a way that merely uniting their clans never could. It required a vast leap of imagination, however, to picture them enjoying such domestic happiness together.
Emotion came in an uncomfortable flood as Niall remembered Sabrina’s wounded look at their bitter leavetaking, when he’d refused to deny the meaninglessness of his dalliance with Eve Graham.
Were I a woman you desired, you would not be so eager to seek feminine companionship elsewhere.
Niall drained his glass, trying to dismiss the memory, but the sight of Sabrina’s pale face couldn’t be banished. There had been a harsh vulnerability in her eyes, a torment that he had put there.
Standing to refill his glass, he cursed himself for his folly. Admittedly, when he’d realized how obsessed he was becoming with his rebellious wife, he had panicked and tried to drive her out of his mind, his heart. He’d been a fool, though, to think he could forget Sabrina in some other woman’s arms.
He infinitely regretted his idiocy now. It had been nothing short of criminal, and not solely because he had nearly broken his marriage vows. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d destroyed something fragile and precious: Sabrina’s trust.
&
nbsp; And then he’d pretended not to care.
His callous insistence that he had every right to commit adultery had been cruel. His only excuse was that he’d felt inexplicably wounded himself. Sabrina had declared her intention of leaving him, and he’d wanted to strike back at her. He had intentionally hurt her—brave, proud Sabrina.
A sharp longing knotted Niall’s insides. He didn’t want to hurt her in any way. He wanted to hold her, make love to her, cherish her…He wanted more than a carnal union with her. He wanted to know her thoughts, what she felt. He wanted her honor and trust. He wanted her respect and loyalty.
He wanted fidelity from her.
And yet he’d done little to earn any of those things. She thought him a worthless libertine, a wicked adulterer. In truth, he’d given her scant reason to believe him otherwise. More damning, he’d given her no reason to want him for her husband.
A scowl darkened Niall’s brow as he stared down at the liquor in his glass. He would not, could not, allow himself to believe he’d lost Sabrina. She belonged to him. And he had never failed to win a woman when he put his mind to it.
Determinedly he raised his glass to his lips and tilted his head back.
It was hours later when Eve found him there in the drawing room, brooding in the dark. When she lit a lamp, Niall grimaced and tried to focus his unsteady gaze.
“I had hoped,” she said doubtfully, “you might be desirous of company, since Lady McLaren is away. But I never expected to find you in such a state. You are not ill, are you?”
“Aye,” Niall admitted truthfully, his words slightly slurred. “A fever for a wench.”
Eve knelt at his feet, placing one delicate hand on his chest. “I can cure your affliction, you know. I can make you forget her.”
Niall shook his head. He couldn’t forget. Didn’t wish to forget.
Eve raised a delicate eyebrow as she studied him. “I cannot credit it,” she said slowly. “You’re enamored of your own wife. You, the greatest lover in Europe, ensnared.”
He laughed harshly. “A supreme irony, is it not?”
She lifted her hand to his mouth, her fingertips tracing its shape. “Perhaps you only need a taste of the pleasure we once shared. Come, darling, let me ease your pain.”
Niall drew his head back. Whatever desire he had once felt for Eve Graham paled in comparison to what he now felt for Sabrina. “It wouldn’t be enough.”
“No?”
“No. You aren’t Sabrina,” he said simply.