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

Chapter 8

Selina’s troubled air lingered when she rose from the chair to prepare herself for sleep. She kept her shift on, Brock noticed. From where he sat on the rug near the fire, he watched her lie down in the bed where he’d recently enjoyed the most profound sexual experience of his life.

Why did this quiet woman take such a grip on his heart and senses that he longed to feast on her endlessly? Not just as his companion in pleasure. When he moved inside her, the sensation was unrivaled. But just now he’d discovered contentment in her company, knowing he found perfect understanding in her generous heart.

He wasn’t a fool. From the first moment he saw her, he’d recognized that his yen for the reticent Widow Martin went beyond idle attraction. But this overmastering need astonished him, especially now he’d had her. Shallow relationships had defined his life. It was convenient to keep the bonds light between him and his lovers. So when the links snapped, as was inevitable when his attention wandered, no great damage was done.

Of course, things didn’t always work as smoothly as he’d prefer, despite the conditions he set out before an affair. Many of his paramours wanted more than a few enjoyable tumbles followed by a polite goodbye.

But until now while he might regret that he’d broken hearts, his heart had remained unscathed. After one tumultuous, ecstatic day with Selina Martin, he could already see that this time, he wouldn’t walk away without a backward glance, his eyes focused on the next target.

Even more unprecedented was his need for her to see him as something beyond the eager and skillful lover. He never confided in his paramours. Tonight he’d told Selina more than he’d ever told anyone else. However painful it had been dragging up all that ancient grief, the result was more blessed peace.

Or at least he’d felt at peace until he started acting like a bloody idiot, admitting he was jealous of that undeserving bastard Cecil Canley-Smythe. Brock had suffered his lovers’ jealousy too often. Not a few of the scandals attached to his name concerned discarded mistresses making trouble. Shrieking scenes, public and private, a knife attack that had left him with a scar on his arm, two attempted suicides – although neither very convincing efforts, he was grateful to say.

Not to mention the husbands who hadn’t appreciated his attentions to their wives. He’d never killed a man in a duel, thank God – partly because he was always the guilty party – but he bore wounds from the field of honor. The devil must look after his own. Only that could account for Brock living long enough to make a fool of himself over Selina.

Now he felt new sympathy for his discarded mistresses and their jealous tantrums. Selina was his. The thought of her with another man burned his gut like hot acid.

If he felt like this now, God knew what state he’d be in when he took her back to the Blue Wagon. He’d be a candidate for Bedlam.

Trying to talk sense to himself and failing miserably, he wandered the room, snuffing the candles. Then he built up the fire to keep the room warm until morning. Winter in Essex could be bitter. The prospect of waking in a warm bed eased his disquiet. While the world froze outside, he’d have snuggly, sleepy Selina in his arms.

After shucking off his breeches, he slid naked into the bed. He pulled the blankets up and turned onto his side. "I’m sorry." His voice was soft. "We said we’d keep things light, and I’m spoiling that."

She remained on her back, studying him. Her gaze ate him up, as though he was a pot of hot custard and she had a tremendous appetite for pudding. Sensual interest, an incessant hum in his blood when he was with Selina, stirred to life.

"Our affair promises to be more…complicated than I imagined." A self-deprecating smile curved her soft lips. "I thought the union would be purely physical."

"I accused you of seeing me as a walking cock and nothing else."

He’d been bitter at the time. He wasn’t bitter now. Perhaps because it was clear that while he swam far out into strange oceans of emotion, so did she.

"I underestimated you," she went on in a husky voice. "You’re not at all the heartless rake I’d judged you to be. And I overestimated my ability to keep my feelings separate from what we do. As a temporary mistress, I’m a complete failure." Her eyes darkened with chagrin. "Yes, I am jealous of all those other women. But I don’t want to be."

His restless discontentment retreated, although everything she said only made their situation more difficult. "At least I’m not alone in feeling confused."

"No, you’re not alone."

He found it in himself to smile as he lay flat beside her. "Let’s sleep now."

"Yes." She rose on one elbow and bent to kiss him with a searching tenderness that scraped a rift across the rusty heart that had never been at risk before. Her rich hair tumbled down around his face, firelit with gold. He tangled his hands in that opulent fall and tugged her closer.

When she drew away, emotion constricted his throat. Words jammed unspoken behind his lips, words he had no right to say, words that would shatter this idyll. Words like "stay" and "love" and "forever."

"Thank you, Brock. This has been a day I’ll never forget as long as I live. I never knew such pleasure existed. I only know now because you showed me."

"Selina…" Her name forced its way past the lump blocking his throat.

As if she wanted to hear no more, she shook her head. "It’s late. Let’s see what tomorrow brings."

After all they’d done, she must be deuced tired. Exhaustion weighted his limbs, too. He slid his arms around her shoulders and brought her down until her head rested on his chest.

He never spent the night with a lover. Early in his career as a rake, he’d learned that sleeping beside a mistress gave her inflated ideas about where their intimacy might lead.

Selina had spent the day surprising him. Here was another surprise. He liked having her here at his side, with what remained of the night stretching ahead.

Her scent drifted over him and calmed the turmoil in his mind. The touch of her hand on his bare chest was tender, and he read trust in the way she settled beside him. He cuddled her close and despite everything, he felt that the world turned in the right direction. Selina was safe in his embrace and at this moment, she was completely his.