determined that Ian would glimpse no weakness in
her.
She raised a brow, haughty and defiant. "What? Now you expect my thanks? I
think not!"
His eyes seared her. "Tell me true, Sabrina. Do you truly wish to stay here
with your father?" His gaze slid to the bruise that darkened her cheekbone.
She took his meaning immediately. "I need no one to protect me," she flung at
him. "Of a certainty I do not need you!"
"You may not need me. But you will have me… and have me you will"—the
twisting of his lips scarcely resembled a smile—"perchance this very night."
Her heart quaked. A feeling of sick dread clutched at her insides. "What do
you mean?" she whispered.
His gaze scraped over her, lingering for long, uninterrupted seconds on the
mounds of her breasts. Sabrina colored hotly, for it was as if he stripped her
naked.
His words fell like blows on her cheeks. "Only this, Sabrina. Make no
mistake," he said tightly. "You are mine now, as surely as you will be mine
tomorrow. There is none to stop me should I decide that you will be mine here
and now."
She gave an impotent cry of rage. "Why? Why do you insist on this
marriage?"
"I've told you. I will not dishonor my father's wish to see our clans
united."
"But you—you've never liked me!"
The feel of her body against his unleashed a flurry of emotions. His gaze
roved over her upturned features. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion. Her
lips were the color of ripe summer berries, moist and full. Ian felt the
unmistakable surge of desire in his loins.
"I begin to think I liked you too well," he growled. He released her, then
gave a curt gesture. "Undress," he ordered.
Sabrina gaped. "You cannot mean to—to…" Faith, but she could not even say
it.
Ian had no such qualms. "To bed you?"
Her jaw opened and closed. A nod was all she could manage. She was scarcely
able to tear her eyes from his face.
He was silent a moment, watching her with a critical detachment. "And if I
do? Would you object?"
"Aye!" she cried.
“Why?”
Her mind was spinning. She said the first thing that sprang into her head.
"Because we—we are not yet wed!"
He appeared to consider. "True. But what does a single night matter?" His
bland calm was somehow more frightening than anything else.
She had no answer and so she said nothing. He folded his arms across his
chest, nodding at her gown. A dark brow arched high. "You've yet to do as I ask,
Sabrina. I suggest you be quick about it, lest I do it for you."
Sabrina blanched. Looking at him now, she could well believe it. Never had
she seen a man so grim with purpose. He was right. There was no escaping him. No
escaping her fate…
Her hands were shaking as she brought them to the laces of her gown. It
galled her to remove her clothing before him. Twice now—saints above, twice
now!—he would see her naked. But yet again, he gave her no choice.
Nor did he turn his back as he had that time at the pond. Instead he
tormented her with the ceaseless touch of his eyes as he waited for her to obey.
Taking in a deep breath, she slid her gown from her shoulders; it pooled around
her ankles. Her movements jerky, she reached for the hem of her chemise and
tugged it over her head.
Now there was naught to shield her from the restless prowl of those steely
gray eyes. Sabrina flushed crimson as his gaze swept her from head to toe. She
could detect no approval on his face, nor did she wish any! Indeed, at that
moment, she prayed he found her repulsive beyond measure.
But then he smiled, a slow-growing smile that sent panic surging through her
anew. She whirled and dove to the bed, yanking the coverlet up to her chin.
Only then did her tardy mind realize what she'd done. She had sought refuge
in the very place she wished to avoid—the bed!
Swallowing hard, she raised her head. Her jaw dropped when she saw he was
ambling toward the door.
Her fists locked beneath her chin. "Wh-where are you going?"
At the
her.
She raised a brow, haughty and defiant. "What? Now you expect my thanks? I
think not!"
His eyes seared her. "Tell me true, Sabrina. Do you truly wish to stay here
with your father?" His gaze slid to the bruise that darkened her cheekbone.
She took his meaning immediately. "I need no one to protect me," she flung at
him. "Of a certainty I do not need you!"
"You may not need me. But you will have me… and have me you will"—the
twisting of his lips scarcely resembled a smile—"perchance this very night."
Her heart quaked. A feeling of sick dread clutched at her insides. "What do
you mean?" she whispered.
His gaze scraped over her, lingering for long, uninterrupted seconds on the
mounds of her breasts. Sabrina colored hotly, for it was as if he stripped her
naked.
His words fell like blows on her cheeks. "Only this, Sabrina. Make no
mistake," he said tightly. "You are mine now, as surely as you will be mine
tomorrow. There is none to stop me should I decide that you will be mine here
and now."
She gave an impotent cry of rage. "Why? Why do you insist on this
marriage?"
"I've told you. I will not dishonor my father's wish to see our clans
united."
"But you—you've never liked me!"
The feel of her body against his unleashed a flurry of emotions. His gaze
roved over her upturned features. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion. Her
lips were the color of ripe summer berries, moist and full. Ian felt the
unmistakable surge of desire in his loins.
"I begin to think I liked you too well," he growled. He released her, then
gave a curt gesture. "Undress," he ordered.
Sabrina gaped. "You cannot mean to—to…" Faith, but she could not even say
it.
Ian had no such qualms. "To bed you?"
Her jaw opened and closed. A nod was all she could manage. She was scarcely
able to tear her eyes from his face.
He was silent a moment, watching her with a critical detachment. "And if I
do? Would you object?"
"Aye!" she cried.
“Why?”
Her mind was spinning. She said the first thing that sprang into her head.
"Because we—we are not yet wed!"
He appeared to consider. "True. But what does a single night matter?" His
bland calm was somehow more frightening than anything else.
She had no answer and so she said nothing. He folded his arms across his
chest, nodding at her gown. A dark brow arched high. "You've yet to do as I ask,
Sabrina. I suggest you be quick about it, lest I do it for you."
Sabrina blanched. Looking at him now, she could well believe it. Never had
she seen a man so grim with purpose. He was right. There was no escaping him. No
escaping her fate…
Her hands were shaking as she brought them to the laces of her gown. It
galled her to remove her clothing before him. Twice now—saints above, twice
now!—he would see her naked. But yet again, he gave her no choice.
Nor did he turn his back as he had that time at the pond. Instead he
tormented her with the ceaseless touch of his eyes as he waited for her to obey.
Taking in a deep breath, she slid her gown from her shoulders; it pooled around
her ankles. Her movements jerky, she reached for the hem of her chemise and
tugged it over her head.
Now there was naught to shield her from the restless prowl of those steely
gray eyes. Sabrina flushed crimson as his gaze swept her from head to toe. She
could detect no approval on his face, nor did she wish any! Indeed, at that
moment, she prayed he found her repulsive beyond measure.
But then he smiled, a slow-growing smile that sent panic surging through her
anew. She whirled and dove to the bed, yanking the coverlet up to her chin.
Only then did her tardy mind realize what she'd done. She had sought refuge
in the very place she wished to avoid—the bed!
Swallowing hard, she raised her head. Her jaw dropped when she saw he was
ambling toward the door.
Her fists locked beneath her chin. "Wh-where are you going?"
At the
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