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

Selina laughed, knowing she should feel guilty or self-conscious, instead of giddy and elated. After all, she’d just been thoroughly debauched by a man to whom she wasn’t married.

In the middle of the day. In a carriage.

The angels must weep for her. But while heaven might abhor her fall, she was a mere mortal and she’d never felt so happy.

"Well, at least help me with my bonnet."

With amusement narrowing his eyes, Brock was so handsome that her heart performed somersaults. "Why didn’t you say so?"

Chapter 5

The short December day drew to a close when Brock’s carriage pulled up outside a neat two-story house in gray stone in the middle of a salt marsh. Selina stared with dazed eyes across the flat, rather desolate landscape. She assumed the continuous thunder in the distance was the sea.

Brock leaned across to unlatch the door. "I promised you privacy for our week."

"I see you’ve delivered."

He stepped out and extended his hand. She stumbled on the step as the freezing salt-tinged air struck her like a blow. After all they’d done in the carriage, long-unused muscles protested when she moved. Her grip on his hand tightened, as she feared her knees mightn’t keep her upright.

"Hold tight." He swung her up into his arms.

She’d felt dizzy leaving the carriage. She felt even dizzier now. Brock’s delicious scent enveloped her, along with a radiant heat. It w

as bitterly cold. She wasn’t surprised to feel a few soft flakes of snow brush her nose.

The door to the house opened, and a middle-aged man and woman bustled down the steps toward them.

"My lord, welcome, welcome." The man had a thick Scottish accent, much more noticeable than Brock’s attractive lilt. "And to the lady also."

Selina stiffened in Brock’s arms. Cringing with embarrassment, she buried her face in his shoulder. She hadn’t expected the house to be staffed. Although common sense said it must be. She supposed the coachman must know why she and his master sought out this isolated place, but the idea of a host of people witnessing her fall from grace made her flinch.

"Jock and Mary, how good to see you after all this time. Let me get Mrs. Martin inside out of the cold."

Selina muffled a protest at the use of her real name. "It’s all right," Brock murmured, as he strode up the shallow flight of steps leading to the open door. He paused at the top to turn back to the coachman. "Thank you, Erskine. I’ll wager you’re looking forward to a warm fire and a good meal, too."

"Aye, my lord. It’s going to be a braw cold night." The coachman sounded as Scottish as Jock and Mary. "The horses made good time."

"Aye, they’ve earned their oats. Well done, laddie."

"Come away in, my lord," Mary said with a wide smile. Jock was busy lifting the bags from the back of the coach. "I’ve got fires going in the bedroom and the drawing room, and a good hot dinner on the way for ye. With all that traveling, ye both must be tired and half-starved. We got your letter, and all is as ye asked."

"Excellent. I knew I could rely on you, Mary."

Her cheeks on fire, Selina barely dared to glance up as they entered the modest hall. Behind them, she heard the coach trundle away. She assumed there were stables and other outbuildings behind the house.

"I can walk," she muttered into Brock’s coat, as it became clear he intended to carry her all the way upstairs.

His hold firming, he started to mount the steps. "I like to carry you."

She liked it, too, although the act held a disturbingly bridal air. It was as if the earl brought a new and cherished wife to the house, instead of a woman he used for his pleasure over the space of a week.

"I’ll bring up the hot water, my lord," Mary said from below. Jock carried the bags inside and placed them on the black and white tiled floor, before he closed the door behind him.

"Thank you," Brock said without stopping.

Having made her token bid for independence, Selina subsided into his arms. She wasn’t going to object to any chance to be close to him.

Brock swept her into a large room decorated in a masculine style, all dark wood paneling and massive oak furniture. Large windows looked out over a darkening world, although light gleamed on a distant line of silver that Selina realized must be the sea. With a gentleness that touched her heart, he set her on her feet in front of the blazing fire. The warmth was welcome after the cold outside.