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

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.