The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress (The Lairds Most Likely 7)

"Why, to show you what you’ve been missing."

His smile made him look a complete scoundrel. She shivered with nerves, and with the force of the attraction assailing her. When he seized her hand, the contact blasted her like fire.

She regarded him in consternation and tried to pull away. "It’s impossible. Even if I wanted to say yes, Gerald comes home from school in a week."

"Then give me a week. A week when you come to me as my willing lover. A week when you’re not Roderick Martin’s neglected wife or Cecil Canley-Smythe’s obedient helpmeet." His voice lowered into an enthralling murmur. "A week when you’re Selina, the woman I desire above all others."

Chapter 2

Brock watched that lovely face freeze in shock. He braced for her to pull away, for her to protest that she was a good woman and his improper proposal offended her. Even the most round-heeled wench liked to demur to dispel any impression that she was an easy conquest. And Selina Martin was no lightskirt. She was the kind of chaste, principled woman he usually ran a mile to avoid.

Since he’d first seen this demure widow, all calm control and subtle shades of old gold, he’d told himself over and over to forget his inconvenient fascination. It had done no good. She haunted him as no woman ever had. While she wasn’t his usual quarry, he refused to accept that she wasn’t for him.

As so often tonight, she surprised him. "You make it sound so tempting."

No coy denials. No vacillating between yes and no, when the answer was always yes. Brock had become bored with easy victories. Yet here it seemed Selina considered his proposition a mere moment and the answer wasn’t no, and still he could barely contain his excitement.

He smiled, hoping he didn’t look half-witted with delight. He stepped closer. "I thought you’d slap my face."

"I should." The uncertain curve of her lips hinted that she was unused to smiling and wasn’t sure if it was allowed.

She never smiled when she was with the lout she was engaged to. Whenever she mentioned her son, she smiled. If Brock got her to himself, he’d make sure she smiled all the time.

She firmed her grip on his hand. His heart gave a mighty thump. Dear God, she was holding his hand, and he was about to go up in flames. He hadn’t been in such a lather about a female since he was a lad. Not even then.

She went on in a low voice. "I’m not nearly so proper as I like to pretend I am."

Oh? Now that was intriguing. "So you’ll do this?"

"I should say no. It’s mad that I’m even considering it."

"This is our chance, Selina. Don’t pass it up because you’re afraid."

She gave a choked laugh and to his regret tugged her hand free. "I am afraid."

"And interested?"

"And interested." She studied him with a worried frown. "But how would we manage it? I have to marry Cecil after Christmas, and I can’t let any harm come to Gerald. If you know of a way we can do this safely, I’d like to hear it."

Brock gave a shout of laughter and threw himself back onto the settle. "You’re magnificent, Selina. More magnificent even than I thought, and I’ve spent the week wondering why nobody else has marked what an extraordinary treasure you are."

She frowned, deep brown eyes still troubled. His extravagant praise didn’t ease her concerns, he could see. "I still don’t understand why you would."

"Don’t you?"

When she sat beside him, he settled his gaze on her. He’d watched her all week, careful not to attract the other guests’ attention. It was a relief and a pleasure to stare at her and drink his full.

"No, I don’t. I truly am as dull as everyone believes. If we do this reckless thing, you’re going to end up being frightfully disappointed."

He laughed again on a gentler note, and cupped her cheek in one hand. She started under his touch but didn’t pull away. "I doubt it. You’re the most enchanting creature I’ve ever met. And the most elusive."

Her lips turned down. "That’s what I fear. The lure of the chase made you notice me. Now I’ve stopped running, you’ll decide I wasn’t worth hunting in the first place."

"You make me sound like a cat torturing a mouse," he protested.

When her eyes ate him up, possessive yearning twisted his gut. He knew Selina had no idea that whenever she looked at him, her gaze sharpened with carnal hunger. He’d caught this avid expression a few times, and every time he’d ached to seize her in his arms and tell the curious world to go to hell.

"There’s something a little cruel about you, Lord Bruard."