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

"No, merely human." He pulled away far enough to stare down into her face. His expression mirrored the tenderness she heard in his voice. "I’m glad you’re happy. There hasn’t been enough happiness in your life."

When he smiled at her as if she was the dearest treasure in the world, Selina’s heart melted into a dollop of honey. Heavens, no wonder he cut such a swathe through the ranks of the ladies. He was utterly irresistible.

Selina stopped herself there. She didn’t want to think about his other lovers. The ones preceding her – or the ones to come.

She spoke with sudden fierceness. "Let’s go, Brock. Let’s not waste a second of the time we have. I want to feel your touch. I want you to take me. I don’t want to wonder any longer. I want to know. And I want you to show me."

The anticipation that blazed in his eyes made her toes curl in her fur-lined half boots. "In that case, we’ll be on our way. I think there will be snow tonight. I want us tucked up safe inside before the weather changes."

Feeling reckless and brave as she never had before, she caught his hand and turned toward the door. Ruin might lie ahead, but never did a woman rush toward her ravishment with such an eager heart. "You’ll keep me warm."

"Aye, I will at that, lassie." She’d already noticed that when his feelings were engaged, traces of a beguiling Scottish brogue emerged. "But not so fast. We have some unfinished business first."

Puzzled, she turned back. "Unfinished business?"

"Aye."

Laughter lit his eyes. Laughter and desire. Another rush of excitement sizzled through her.

He tugged her back into his arms. "This."

Brock kissed her with a heated determination that made her quake. She responded with all the fervent passion burning inside her.

When he lifted his head, he looked as shaken as she felt. "My God, Selina, I have an almighty hunger for you. I hope you know what you’re inviting."

She gave a throaty laugh. "I don’t. That’s what makes this week such an adventure."

After another brief kiss, he drew her toward the door. "Heaven is waiting for us, my darling. Let’s go and find it."

Chapter 4

"Did you mean what you said at the inn?" Brock leaned back against the red leather seat of his luxurious coach, as it rolled through the flat Essex countryside. Outside, it was cold but clear, although senses honed during his Scottish childhood told him there would be snow before tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning when he’d wake up in his hunting box with a new and bewitching mistress in his arms.

Selina turned from looking out the window at the beautiful, if bleak landscape.

The light shone stark gray on her delicate features. It still astonished him that even with her unassuming manner, people missed how lovely she was. Of course, she dressed like a damned Quaker. If only he could keep her for more than a week. He’d show her off as she deserved to be shown off, in rich colors and extravagant fabrics. Dressed to draw attention, she’d set the world on its ear.

Steady, laddie. There’s no point wishing for more than she’s giving you. That way lies nothing but frustration and misery.

Nonetheless it seemed like a bloody waste that this sensual creature meant to consign herself to a blundering jackanapes like Cecil Canley-Smythe.

"What did I say?" she asked.

"That we shouldn’t waste a minute."

Her answer was unhesitating. "Yes."

A slow, pleased smile stretched his lips. "We have a couple of hours before we reach the hunting box."

Her velvety brown eyes rounded, and her gloved hands clenched in her olive green skirts. Olive green! When she was born for peacock blue and crimson and emerald. The first time he saw her in her Quakerish gray gown, he’d thought of a queen disguised as a beggar maid. "You want to…begin now?"

He shrugged, although any appearance of ease was manufactured. "Not if you find the idea distasteful."

She gave a huff of self-deprecating laughter. "You must know I don’t."

"I hope. But you seem so eager to sit over there on your own, I can’t be sure."