The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress

by Anna Campbell

  "That’s all I ask."

  Anticipation filled Brock, made his blood fizz like champagne. "So we have a rendezvous tomorrow at the Blue Wagon?"

  Determination hardened her features. "We do."

  "Then it’s time we parted." He stood and held out his hand. "I promised to keep you from scandal. We’ve been lucky that nobody has come in to discover us."

  "I doubt Lord Derwent’s guests are interested in the library," she said drily.

  Her humor drew a huff of appreciative laughter from Brock. He was sure she was right. The house party had passed in drinking and gossip and sex – with Canley-Smythe and his prim betrothed distinctly out of place in the louche atmosphere. "Lucky for me I wandered in for a moment’s quiet reflection, then."

  A moment alone, so he could plot his seduction of Cecil Canley-Smythe’s future wife, more like. It turned out no plotting had been necessary. Tonight, it was clear that the devil was on his side.

  "Lucky for me." She took his hand and rose, then her upward movement continued.

  Only as her arms slid around his neck and she stretched to fit her lips to his did he realize what she intended. He, the great seducer, caught out by a beautiful woman’s boldness. The press of her body made him as hard as a wooden spar.

  But her lips were soft and eager and tasted of an innocence that belied her widowhood. Her awkward fervor made his head spin. Dear Lord above, she even kept her mouth closed like a young girl kissed for the first time.

  All night, Selina had held him suspended almost painfully between tenderness and desire. Why should her kiss be any different?

  It was slow to dawn on him that this woman who had been married for nine years and borne a child had no idea how to kiss a man. Tonight he’d heard enough to learn to despise Roderick Martin. Now he wished the bugger was alive so that he could murder him. The bastard had had the supreme good fortune to marry Selina, yet from what Brock could see, he hadn’t put an ounce of effort into cherishing her.

  So the hands that curled around her waist were gentle, not urgent with possession. Brock used his lips to temper her untutored enthusiasm. When he flicked his tongue along the seam of her lips, she released a soft sound of astonishment. He repeated the action more slowly and sucked her lower lip into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. She tasted glorious and another of those confused little hums of pleasure sent arousal thundering through him.

  When he pulled back, she gave a gratifying growl of disappointment. He trailed kisses down the side of her face. "Open for me, Selina."

  She went rigid in his hold. "Open?"

  He pressed his lips to hers and this time nipped at that luscious lower lip. When she parted to allow him entry, he felt like he’d won a mighty victory. With leisurely enjoyment, he swept his tongue into the warm, wet heat of her mouth.

  Selina shuddered on a confused murmur. This symphony of incoherent moans and sighs was damnably stirring. He wanted to hear her when he thrust deep inside her, when he brought her to climax.

  Not tonight. But soon.

  He remained aware of their danger, even as she lost herself in the kiss. He drew her down onto the settle which at least offered some concealment.

  With a muffled mutter, she pressed closer. Brock licked her lips and dared another foray into her mouth. This time, her tongue fluttered against his. That tentative welcome rushed through him like wildfire. He drew back, hoping she’d take his lead. Praise the angels, she did. As her tongue slid into his mouth, he sucked on it and she gave another hum, a longer, voluptuous note of surrender.

  He’d never found innocence appealing. Too much risk of misunderstandings. His lovers were women who knew what they wanted. But teaching this widow how to kiss set his heart clenching with more tenderness. A tenderness that proved an incongruous companion to his craving to conquer and possess.

  So while the kiss melted into passion, sweetness lingered. Brock had kissed more women than he cared to remember, yet he’d never experienced a kiss like this one.

  By heaven, he’d remember this kiss. The day he died, he’d think back to Selina Martin’s tongue in his mouth and her graceful body trembling between his hands.

  Because now she caught onto the basics, she proved an infernally adept student. He hauled her across his lap to give him better access to her mouth. Plastered to him as she was, she must know the effect she had on him. His heart crashed against his ribs over and over, and his cock swelled with hungry demand as her kiss turned voracious.

  She was warm, fragrant, and desperate. He usually didn’t find desperation to his liking either. But Selina’s wholehearted desire was the most exciting thing he’d ever known.

  Too exciting. If she kept kissing him, he’d push her down onto the cushioned seat and have her. To hell with discretion. And while the wicked, selfish side of his nature would like nothing better, he’d promised to look after her.

  Selina roused his rusty honor from its long sleep. He lifted his head, ignoring her murmur of disappointment, and stared down at her in wonder and regret. Because he’d like nothing better than to rip away that ugly dress and squeeze her breasts and cup her delectable rump and part her legs and slide deep inside her.

  Soon…

  When he held her in his arms like this, soon wasn’t soon enough.

  "We must stop," he said gruffly.

  Her eyes were heavy with desire. "Yes," she said with no conviction whatsoever.

  Despite his agony of frustration, a grunt of reluctant amusement escaped him. "We shouldn’t have started."

  Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were full and red from his kisses. "I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you."

  As ever, her honesty carved a great rift in his heart. "Tomorrow, you can kiss me all you like."

  "It seems a cursed long way off."

  A pox on it, it did. It took an almighty amount of willpower to shift her off his knees and lift his hands away from her. A reminder of how close he verged to consigning any thought of scandal to perdition.

  "Dream of me." He stood up and stepped back, although he had a grim foreboding that he could retreat as far as Cathay without it making a scrap of difference to his captivity.

  "I do," she whispered, staring up at him with unabashed hunger.

  He closed his eyes and told himself he couldn’t tumble Selina Martin in Lord Derwent’s library. Tonight she’d told him so much. She’d revealed even more in what she hadn’t said. One selfish sod had already shared her bed, and Brock feared she went to another in a fortnight. Now she deserved a man who took time and care to coax every ounce of sensuality from that slender body.

  "Selina…" he said on a groan.

  "I know."

  He opened his eyes to catch such longing on her face that he couldn’t help surging forward.

  This time, she raised a trembling hand to stop him coming closer. She stood. "Don’t touch me again, or I won’t go. We’re not safe here."

  With yearning eyes, he watched her leave. He told himself he couldn’t rush after her and catch her and carry her upstairs to his room. On her way out, she didn’t look back, he guessed because she teetered as close to forsaking all caution as he did.

  "We’ll be safe tomorrow," he said after her.

  But Brock knew he lied. Because the passion that flared between him and Selina Martin was the kind that shook kingdoms. When desire burned so hot, nowhere was safe.

  Chapter 3

  "But, madam, I can’t leave you here on your own. What if your friend doesn’t come for you?"

  Nor far off crying with frustration, Selina stared at her maid Kitty and, God forgive her, cursed the girl’s loyalty and affection. They were in a private parlor at the Blue Wagon, which was a bustling coaching inn about an hour away from the Derwent estate.

  Everything this morning had gone so smoothly. It even worked to Selina’s advantage that she wasn’t selling her carriage and horses until just before Christmas. If she’d traveled in one of Cecil’s vehicles, she’d have
had much more trouble sneaking away.

  Everything had gone so smoothly. Until now.

  Last night, it had seemed a simple matter to say that she’d send Kitty on to London, while she remained behind to await Lord Bruard. In practice, Kitty was horrified to think of abandoning Selina alone at a public inn.

  "I’m sure she’ll come, Kitty," she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

  "I don’t mind waiting."

  "But John Coachman is eager to get back to London."

  "He can sit tight, too. You’re too kind to your servants. We’re meant to wait on your convenience, not you wait on ours."

  "My friend lives nearby," she said with barely concealed desperation. "She won’t be far away."

  A mulish expression settled on the girl’s pretty, freckled face. "Even more reason for me to wait then, Miss Selina."

  She hadn’t been Miss Selina since she was seventeen and a new bride, but Kitty had worked for her parents and at times of stress slipped back into her old ways.

  Selina felt sick with frustration. All her life she’d done her best to be a good woman and live by the moral principles her parents had instilled in her. Now she had a mere week to go to the bad. Surely heaven would allow her such a small measure of selfish pleasure in a life that promised nothing but duty and decorum. Last night, she’d caught a glimpse of the glories awaiting her in Lord Bruard’s arms. She wanted more. The idea that those few, admittedly spectacular kisses, might end up being her ration of joy made her want to bawl her eyes out.

  "Kitty, you could take your own advice and obey me when I say I’m in no danger and I want you to leave me." She struggled to sound stern, as she never was with her maid. "This is a respectable inn."

  The girl shook her head, unimpressed with Selina’s attempt at authority. "It’s still a public house, and you’re a pretty woman without protection. Gentlemen will pester you."

  Oh, how Selina wished they would. Or one particular gentleman anyway. "I can look after myself."

  Kitty laughed at that. "Lord above, you’re as innocent as a lamb, madam. Despite having your lovely boy and being married to that blackguard Mr. Martin for coming up on ten years."

  "I’ve told you I won’t have you criticizing the late master."

  "All right, I won’t – but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve criticism. Having a kind lady like you at home and rushing around after all those hussies, I ask you."

  "That’s enough, Kitty," she said with such sharpness that the girl looked startled. Kitty was right about one thing. Selina was too soft on her servants. Cecil had admonished her about it often enough. "You will leave me here this very minute. I’m in no danger. I’m an adult. And I pay you to take my direction."

  To her dismay, the unusually harsh tone had Kitty bursting into tears. "Oh, Miss Selina, I’m sorry I’ve vexed you, but you can’t ask me to desert you. Not when you might run into trouble that you have no idea how to handle. It’s not fair."

  "Kitty…" Selina sighed with a mixture of irritation and fondness. She went up and placed her arms around the sobbing girl. "Don’t take on so."

  Then to make an already awkward situation worse, there was a quick knock on the door and Lord Bruard marched in with a purposeful stride that only made Selina feel guiltier than ever. "Selina, what the devil is keeping you? Oh…"

  Kitty wrenched free of Selina’s arms and stopped crying with a loud hiccup. "Your lordship!"

  Selina ran damp palms down the front of her faded olive green traveling dress and wondered how on earth she ever imagined she’d manage this intrigue. She’d always been terrible at lying. Whenever she infringed the rules as a girl, she was always caught.

  She might yearn to go to Lord Bruard’s bed. That didn’t suddenly turn her into a convincing deceiver.

  But this is all I’ll have. This is all I’ll ever have, a voice cried out inside her. It’s wrong. I know it’s wrong. But a week of sin in an otherwise blameless life can’t be too much to ask.

  Apparently it was.

  The tears she’d been fighting sprang to her eyes, but she was too conscious of Kitty’s curious stare to let them fall. Nothing could keep her voice from thickening with betraying emotion. "Lord Bruard, what a pleasant surprise to see you."

  Brock was quick off the mark. She had to give him that. He put on a more formal air and bowed. "Mrs. Martin, any sign of your friend yet? I’m more than happy to drive you to your destination, if you fear she’s been delayed."

  To her chagrin, Kitty was no fool either. With unconcealed shock, her sharp gaze shifted from Selina to Brock then back again.

  "Madam…" She’d gone as red as a beetroot. So had Selina.

  "Excellent, my lord. Thank you. I’ll take you up on that offer." Selina turned back to a dumbstruck Kitty. "So you see, no need to worry about me. Lord Bruard will drive me to my friend’s door. You and John can go back to London now."

  "He called you Selina," Kitty said in a flat tone.

  "I have no manners," Brock said. "Pardon me, Mrs. Martin."

  "Kitty, I’m going to spend next week with a school friend." Selina spoke slowly and with emphasis, in case the maid needed to repeat the details, should anyone inquire about her mistress’s whereabouts. "Then I’m returning to London, so I’m there when Gerald comes home from school. On Boxing Day, I’m marrying Mr. Canley-Smythe. As I told you, a quiet week with a congenial companion is just what I need before what promises to be a busy time."

  "I understand," Kitty said.

  To Selina’s mortification, she could see that the maid did indeed understand. And not the weak tale of wanting to visit some mythical school friend Kitty had never heard of. The girl could be in no doubt that the congenial companion was in fact one of London’s most notorious rakes.

  "A few days out of my usual routine will do me a world of good."

  As Kitty’s eyes rested on Selina, they were alight with compassion and far too much comprehension for comfort. She’d never confided in Kitty about her reasons for marrying Cecil. But it was clear now that her maid had long ago recognized what was at stake.

  "That they will. I’m sorry to make such a fuss. I’ll go back to London and if anyone asks where you are, I’ll say you’re visiting an old friend."

  Selina sought but didn’t find any trace of condemnation in the girl’s bright blue eyes. "I’ll be back next Wednesday."

  "As you wish, madam." The girl curtsied. "My lord."

  Once Kitty had left, Selina released a deep sigh of relief. "I’m sorry. I couldn’t get her to go. We can trust her not to tell anyone the truth."

  "I came so close to making a complete mess of everything." Brock crossed the room to take her into his arms. "I’m sorry, my darling."

  The "my darling" went a long way toward soothing her ragged nerves. She sagged against him, resting her head on his shoulder. The scents of leather and horses and lemon soap, and something spicy that was him, made her head swim. It was ridiculous, but she still felt like crying. "For a moment there, I feared that I wouldn’t get away. She’s very protective."

  "I’m glad someone is. You seem to have always been so hideously alone."

  "I’m not alone now," she murmured, rising to kiss the hard line of his jaw.

  His hold tightened. "No, you’re not alone now."

  Selina hadn’t been sure how she’d feel when she ran away to give herself to a lover. She’d spent most of the night fretting over whether she could do this wicked thing. She didn’t give a fig about surrendering her virtue to Brock. She’d been his from the moment she saw him. But she owed allegiance to two males, and what she did threatened them in ways she couldn’t justify.

  She wasn’t yet wed to Cecil. If she was, however urgent her desire, she wouldn’t sneak into another man’s bed. But nonetheless she’d made promises to Cecil, and her presence here with Brock broke every one of them.

  If anyone discovered her transgression and made it known, Gerald would be dragged into the ensuing scandal. Not to
mention that she’d lose any chance to offer him a secure future.

  She’d arrived at the Blue Wagon in a lather of nerves and self-recrimination, none of which made her any less determined to grab her one chance at happiness. Having to put Kitty off the scent had tested her to the limit. Then all her effort turned out to be in vain, anyway.

  Now she stood in Brock’s embrace and none of that mattered. What mattered was that at last she’d share her body with the man she wanted.

  "I must be terrifically wicked," she murmured, half to herself.

  "Not terrifically," he said with a hint of tender amusement. "Why so harsh?"

  She knew that while this was a once-in-a-lifetime event for her, he didn’t take their affair with anything like the same seriousness. But that was difficult to remember when he spoke as if he understood her better than anyone else in the world. "I’m about to become a fallen woman, and I’ve never been so happy. That makes me wicked."

  "No, merely human." He pulled away far enough to stare down into her face. His expression mirrored the tenderness she heard in his voice. "I’m glad you’re happy. There hasn’t been enough happiness in your life."

  When he smiled at her as if she was the dearest treasure in the world, Selina’s heart melted into a dollop of honey. Heavens, no wonder he cut such a swathe through the ranks of the ladies. He was utterly irresistible.

  Selina stopped herself there. She didn’t want to think about his other lovers. The ones preceding her – or the ones to come.

  She spoke with sudden fierceness. "Let’s go, Brock. Let’s not waste a second of the time we have. I want to feel your touch. I want you to take me. I don’t want to wonder any longer. I want to know. And I want you to show me."

  The anticipation that blazed in his eyes made her toes curl in her fur-lined half boots. "In that case, we’ll be on our way. I think there will be snow tonight. I want us tucked up safe inside before the weather changes."

  Feeling reckless and brave as she never had before, she caught his hand and turned toward the door. Ruin might lie ahead, but never did a woman rush toward her ravishment with such an eager heart. "You’ll keep me warm."