A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

For all the saints!

He felt the truth of it as soon as the words left his lips.

“I adore her,” he continued. Now he had started he couldn’t stop. “I would lay down my life for her, sail the stormy seas, venture to lands unknown, just for the opportunity to gaze at her face, to hold her hand. So don’t dare presume to know what I think or feel.”

Selina gulped. The veil of arrogance fell, leaving naught but a quivering wreck in its wake. Tears filled her eyes.

“I married Terence for you,” she blurted, shaking visibly. “So you would be free to pursue a new life. And now you’re happy, and my husband is a philanderer, a gambler, a liar and a cheat who would see his father dead to get hold of his inheritance.”

Two men stumbled through the saloon door, laughing and joking. One caught sight of Lockhart and Selina huddled in the corner and gave a knowing wink.

Bloody hell!

He’d not have the gossips spread rumours of infidelity. The story of two brothers fighting over the same woman always proved popular.

“Then it’s time I spoke to Terence and dragged the truth from his lying lips.” Lockhart straightened. He’d wrap his hands around his brother’s throat and squeeze out a confession.

“Wait.” Selina grabbed and tugged at Lockhart’s arm. “He’s not worth the time or the trouble. Oh, Hudson, can’t we begin again? Can’t we go back to that night on the docks?” Selina touched his chest, clawed at his shirt, gripped his cravat. “Can’t you make love to me like you used to?”

Hell’s teeth, the woman knew how to make a scene.

Lockhart captured her hand as her other hand snaked up to tangle in his hair.

“You loved me once,” she whispered. “You can learn to love me again.”

“Selina,” he began. He was about to tell her that he’d never loved her, that marrying her would have ruined both their lives. He was about to tell her to get her damn hands off him when the saloon door opened and closed again.

The feminine gasp reached his ears before the gentleman’s discreet cough.

Still clutching Selina’s hand, Lockhart glanced over his shoulder to find Claudia and Valentine staring back. Water welled in Claudia’s eyes, eyes that spoke of disappointment, heartbreak and pain.

Valentine arched a brow. “Terence left the theatre a few moments ago.” His tone carried more than a hint of disapproval. “Your wife feared something had happened to you.”

Lockhart released Selina’s hand as if it burned his skin. One could not deny how it all looked. But he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Hell, he wasn’t even married and yet guilt crept through his veins like deadly poison. Excuses formed in his mind, hung on his lips, all tainted and toxic, all dripping with deceit.

“Didn’t I say she’d grown suspicious?” Selina said, offering a smug grin. As he suspected, this woman would use any means necessary to advance her position.

Goddamn!

He considered yelling in protest, dropping to his knees and begging for Claudia’s forgiveness. No doubt people were staring.

“Claudia,” he managed to say.

She held her hand up to silence him. For a second she looked ready to turn on her heels and race from the room, back to Falaura Glen. But something changed as she stepped into the light, stepped into a new role as easily as she donned a new dress.

Claudia prowled towards him, her gaze dark, predatory. She glared at Selina and whispered in a calm yet sinister voice, “Remove your hand from my husband else I shall do it for you.”

Selina grinned, the arrogant smirk fading when Claudia took another step closer.

“We share a history,” Selina said, drawing her hand around Lockhart’s neck and letting her fingers trail down his chest, “a rich, vivid history. One developed long before he met you.”

Claudia offered a mocking snort. “And we share a future, though I am not the sort of woman who grovels and begs for a man’s attention. But let us solve this problem by putting my husband’s loyalty to the test.”

Lockhart wasn’t sure what Claudia would do. A simple explanation would solve the problem and yet how would he convince her it was him speaking and not the damn actor?

His wife moved closer. “It’s time to choose, Hudson.” She came up on her tiptoes and kissed him open-mouthed on the lips. Her tongue slipped into his mouth to tease a reaction, succeeded in setting his body aflame. Regardless of the fact they were in company, he wrapped his arm around her waist and drank as if he were dying.

But he wasn’t kissing the kind, loving soul who brought him supper in the cottage. He wasn’t kissing the temptress who stripped naked to prove a point before sinking into the bathtub. He was kissing an actress, a highly skilled performer who had learned how to use lust against him.