The Lover Read Free Page A

developed an understanding after her death: they would marry only after an appropriate period of mourning. But then Oliver had caught one glimpse of her cousin Frances and tumbled head over heels. When he pleaded with Sabrina to release him from his pledge, she had agreed. What else could she do? And indeed, her pride had suffered most. If her heart had also shriveled a little, if his defection had killed something elusive inside her, well she didn’t delude herself that she was the only female who had ever been jilted.
    “My mother was ill for some months before passing away,” Sabrina answered defensively, “so I had little time for suitors. I have not yet wholly put off mourning.”
    To her dismay, his gaze raked over her, coolly appraising. Sabrina tensed. Tall and angular, she lacked the soft prettiness that characterized the other women in her family. Her mother had been a celebrated beauty, as was her Aunt Helen and her cousin Frances.
    Moreover, she was not in her best looks this evening, Sabrina knew. She wore face paint, which washed any color from her complexion and rendered her features pasty and indistinct. And the hairstyle she’d adopted at her aunt’s insistence covered her most attractive attribute, her rich brown hair. It was dressed and powdered and artfully arranged in intricate puffs and rolls, yet she felt awkward and pretentious in it.
    “Duncan…” he mused, not taking his eyes from her. “I call numerous Duncans friend. Would I know your kin?”
    “No doubt you are acquainted with my grandfather, laird of Clan Duncan. I understand you hail from the same region of the Highlands.”
    “Your grandfather is Angus Duncan?” One black eyebrow rose. “Aye, I know him well. We are near neighbors, in fact. Angus once saved my father’s life in a feud with the Buchanans, a debt I am not likely to forget. But I do not recall him ever speaking of a granddaughter.”
    “Oh, Grandfather Duncan would doubtless prefer to disregard my existence. I was not the right gender, you see. A granddaughter was useless to him, since I could not carry on the clan name. And he never really approved of my mother, either.”
    “Ah, yes…I recall your father married against Angus’s wishes during a visit to Edinburgh.”
    “For which he was never wholly forgiven. Papa was expected to marry a Highlander to uphold our clan honor. A lowland Scotswoman was not good enough.”
    “Ranald died in his prime, did he not?”
    “Yes, a tragic mishap—a fall from his horse.”
    A grim frown claimed Niall’s features. “’Twas no mere mishap. It transpired during a raid by the bloody Buchanans, if memory serves.”
    “So I understand. I have little recollection of him, or the Highlands, though I’ve heard tales. I left when I was quite young. After Papa’s death, my mother returned with me to her family here in Edinburgh, and remarried some years later. My stepfather is a merchant who trades successfully in wool and fine cloth.”
    “You must return to the Highlands someday, mistress,” he commented in a tone of polite boredom.
    “I doubt that will be possible,” she replied, a bit vexed by his apparent dismissal of her. “My stepfather has need of me. He holds little faith in clerks, and with his failing eyesight, he relies on me to check his accounts each evening.”
    “Brains in a woman. How fascinating.”
    His languid tone held a hint of teasing and made her stiffen.
    “I have found it just as unusual to discover brains in a man,” Sabrina retorted.
    His half smile was indulgent. “Reviewing accounts is a rather odd occupation for a lass, you must admit.”
    “Perhaps,” she said a little too sharply. “But I have a head for figures—and I’ll not apologize for it.”
    “Apparently you also have a temper that is easily provoked,” Niall said, sounding amused.
    That wasn’t quite the case, Sabrina reflected. Normally she was remarkably even-tempered. Yet tonight she was feeling defiant, reckless,