night allowed no glimpse of his
eyes, yet she knew, with all that she was, that his fury rivaled that of thunder
rolling across the earth. Sabrina did not want to admit that, deep within her
being, some part of her feared his rage.
When she made no move toward him, he lost patience. Two steps brought him
before her. Sabrina gasped as she found herself seized and lifted bodily. There
was a brief sensation of weightlessness. The next thing she knew, she was atop
his steed. Before she could move, before she could even think, Ian swung up
behind her. One iron-thewed arm slid hard about her waist, imprisoning her
against the vast expanse of his chest.
She was not prepared for the feel of him, so hard and so warm—so undeniably
masculine. A jolt of mingled shock and panic tore through her. She strained away
from him, seeking only to distance herself from him—from the disturbing
sensation that rushed at her from all sides.
His arm tightened. His voice, low and vibrating, rushed past her ear. "Do not
try me, lest I lose patience. I warn you, I'll tolerate no more of your
tricks."
As he bent his head, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. His hold was like his
expression, utterly unyielding.
A bleak despair settled round her heart. It seemed impossible that he had
tracked her down, in the night, in the coming storm. Yet he had, and now she
railed inwardly that Providence chose to deal her such a cruel blow.
He whirled his horse around. Then with a touch of spurs they were off toward
Dunlevy. They maintained a frigid silence all the way back to the keep. Despite
his warning, Sabrina held herself stiffly away from him. Her muscles ached from
doing so by the time they reached the stable.
A cold drizzle had begun to fall. Ian leaped to the ground first, then held
out his hands to aid her. Her features mutinous, Sabrina longed to slap them
away. His eyes chilled, the promise of retribution swift indeed if she dared to
deny him, but she cared not that he knew of her reluctance. Gritting her teeth,
she placed her fingertips lightly on his shoulders as he swung her to the
ground.
He released her at the very instant she turned away, as if neither could bear
to touch the other. But to her vexation, his fingers wound around her arm as
they started toward the hall.
Sabrina whirled on him furiously. "I know the way!" she snapped.
His half-smile was maddening. "And so do I, my dear." He proceeded forward,
his stride so rapid she nearly had to run in order to keep pace with him.
The wind howled eerily as they wound their way up the stairs; a pummeling
rain lashed the walls. Sabrina's pride was sorely chafed by the time they
reached her chamber. Did he truly think her so meek and biddable that she would
bow low before him without question? Well, he would soon discover she was not so
tractable!
She wrenched herself free the instant she was inside her chamber. Somehow she
was not surprised when he closed the door and deliberately turned back to her.
His expression proclaimed his satisfaction.
"So now I am delivered safely back to Dunlevy." Her voice rang out clear as a
bell on a sunny summer morn. She damned him with her eyes, even as she damned
him with her tongue. "But do you truly think it ends here? Do you truly think it
ends now?"
An easy smile rimmed his lips. "Aye," he stated simply, "for on the morrow
you will be my bride."
“We are not yet wed, she reminded him through lips that barely moved. "You
cannot have what I do not want to give."
"Can't I?" He moved with a lithe quickness that nearly made her cry out. In
one swift move, strong arms imprisoned her, snatching her close—closer yet!—so
very close she could see the individual flecks of dark gray in his eyes.
Sabrina was stunned to find his smile wiped clean. "You should be glad it was
me and not your father who found you."
She shivered. She'd rather be beaten than locked away as he'd done when she
was a child. But she was
eyes, yet she knew, with all that she was, that his fury rivaled that of thunder
rolling across the earth. Sabrina did not want to admit that, deep within her
being, some part of her feared his rage.
When she made no move toward him, he lost patience. Two steps brought him
before her. Sabrina gasped as she found herself seized and lifted bodily. There
was a brief sensation of weightlessness. The next thing she knew, she was atop
his steed. Before she could move, before she could even think, Ian swung up
behind her. One iron-thewed arm slid hard about her waist, imprisoning her
against the vast expanse of his chest.
She was not prepared for the feel of him, so hard and so warm—so undeniably
masculine. A jolt of mingled shock and panic tore through her. She strained away
from him, seeking only to distance herself from him—from the disturbing
sensation that rushed at her from all sides.
His arm tightened. His voice, low and vibrating, rushed past her ear. "Do not
try me, lest I lose patience. I warn you, I'll tolerate no more of your
tricks."
As he bent his head, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. His hold was like his
expression, utterly unyielding.
A bleak despair settled round her heart. It seemed impossible that he had
tracked her down, in the night, in the coming storm. Yet he had, and now she
railed inwardly that Providence chose to deal her such a cruel blow.
He whirled his horse around. Then with a touch of spurs they were off toward
Dunlevy. They maintained a frigid silence all the way back to the keep. Despite
his warning, Sabrina held herself stiffly away from him. Her muscles ached from
doing so by the time they reached the stable.
A cold drizzle had begun to fall. Ian leaped to the ground first, then held
out his hands to aid her. Her features mutinous, Sabrina longed to slap them
away. His eyes chilled, the promise of retribution swift indeed if she dared to
deny him, but she cared not that he knew of her reluctance. Gritting her teeth,
she placed her fingertips lightly on his shoulders as he swung her to the
ground.
He released her at the very instant she turned away, as if neither could bear
to touch the other. But to her vexation, his fingers wound around her arm as
they started toward the hall.
Sabrina whirled on him furiously. "I know the way!" she snapped.
His half-smile was maddening. "And so do I, my dear." He proceeded forward,
his stride so rapid she nearly had to run in order to keep pace with him.
The wind howled eerily as they wound their way up the stairs; a pummeling
rain lashed the walls. Sabrina's pride was sorely chafed by the time they
reached her chamber. Did he truly think her so meek and biddable that she would
bow low before him without question? Well, he would soon discover she was not so
tractable!
She wrenched herself free the instant she was inside her chamber. Somehow she
was not surprised when he closed the door and deliberately turned back to her.
His expression proclaimed his satisfaction.
"So now I am delivered safely back to Dunlevy." Her voice rang out clear as a
bell on a sunny summer morn. She damned him with her eyes, even as she damned
him with her tongue. "But do you truly think it ends here? Do you truly think it
ends now?"
An easy smile rimmed his lips. "Aye," he stated simply, "for on the morrow
you will be my bride."
“We are not yet wed, she reminded him through lips that barely moved. "You
cannot have what I do not want to give."
"Can't I?" He moved with a lithe quickness that nearly made her cry out. In
one swift move, strong arms imprisoned her, snatching her close—closer yet!—so
very close she could see the individual flecks of dark gray in his eyes.
Sabrina was stunned to find his smile wiped clean. "You should be glad it was
me and not your father who found you."
She shivered. She'd rather be beaten than locked away as he'd done when she
was a child. But she was
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