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

"You didn’t expect to see the staff," he said, stepping back.

"No, although I should have realized you had people to look after the house. Was it wise to use my real name?"

"They’re my kinfolk. They offer their chieftain a loyalty beyond that of mere servants. They’ll go to the grave without a whisper of your visit."

Selina sighed. She’d felt so happy and daring and free in the carriage. Now she felt like a temporary mistress. Shabby and disposable. The intrusion of other people into her sensual idyll made her too aware of how the world would view her actions, if word ever got out. "I suppose they’re used to you turning up with various women."

He sent her an unreadable look. "I’ve never brought another woman here. Jock and Mary will treat you with every respect. They know that I use this house as a refuge. If I’ve invited a lover to share it, she must be a lady of more than usual significance."

She shouldn’t feel special when he said that. "More than usual significance" didn’t count as a declaration of eternal fealty. Even if she was looking for declarations of eternal fealty.

"I’m being silly," she said. "I’m not used to being a fallen woman."

"Stop saying that." His hand cut through the air and indicated his displeasure. "You give yourself to me for desire’s sake. I give myself to you for the same reason. The world’s shallow judgments have no power over what we do while we’re here."

The world’s shallow judgments would destroy her, should her surrender become public. She kept that unpalatable thought to herself. She’d committed to this path. It was too late for second thoughts, even if she wanted to have them. She had a mere week to enjoy Brock’s touch. Once she left this house, she’d have a lifetime to wallow in guilt and regret.

"Kiss me, Brock." She held out her hand, dismayed to see how it shook. "When you take me in your arms, it’s easy to feel brave."

Approval glowed in his smile. "That’s the spirit."

He drew her into the shelter of his body for a long kiss, redolent with sweetness rather than passion. Selina melted into helpless response. She loved it when he kissed her as if he’d die for lack of having her. But the strange truth was that when he kissed her like this, the effect on her susceptible heart was more powerful than when he kissed her as if he wanted to devour her.

His embrace made her feel so safe that she didn’t step away when Mary came in with two steaming ewers of hot water, followed by Jock with the bags.

Mary set one jug on the mahogany washstand in the corner and carried the other through to what Selina assumed was the dressing room next door.

"Shall I unpack for ye, my lord, madam?" Mary asked when she came back into the bedroom.

"Aye, please," Brock said, moving away from Selina. "By the way, I didn’t introduce you all downstairs. Mrs. Martin, these are my kinfolk Mary and Jock Drummond. They take very good care of this house while I’m away."

Mary curtsied. "Madam, we hope ye enjoy your stay. We’ll do our best to make this a happy visit."

"Thank you," Selina said. "It’s a beautiful place."

Jock bowed. "Aye, it’s nae bad. But it’s nae the Highlands." He was smiling as he carried Brock’s bag through to the dressing room.

Mary lifted Selina’s bag onto the bed and started to lay out its contents on the gold and blue brocade cover. "Have ye been to Scotland, madam?"

"No, I haven’t."

The servants’ informal air contrasted with Derwent Hall, where the staff were trained to speak only when spoken to. This ease made Selina feel more relaxed.

"Och, that’s a great pity. It’s a bonny country."

"I’m sure." She’d always wanted to travel, but while Roderick would go as far as Timbuctoo for a horse race or a boxing match, he’d never have contemplated taking his wife with him. Cecil made regular visits to his mills in the north. She supposed that after she married him, she’d accompany him on occasion.

Brock took her hand and drew her toward a wide window seat. Outside, the darkness deepened. This house was so isolated, no lights shone across the endless marshes spreading around them. "You’d love Bruard," he said softly.

Feeling more at home by the minute, she left her hand in his. Mary displayed no salacious curiosity about her master’s relations with his new mistress. "Tell me about your home."

"It’s a castle in the far north, a day’s ride from the sea. It was built at the height of the age of chivalry and has four strong towers. Bruard has never been taken in war, although plenty have tried. You could walk a day in any direction without leaving Drummond lands."

Images of knights and damsels and moated fortresses flooded her mind. "It sounds like something from a fairy story."

"The castle stands above a loch, and on a calm day, the reflection is perfect. Not that we have so many calm days in the Highlands, mind you. The high hills surround it in green, except in summer, when the braes turn purple with heather. A river runs through the glen, teeming with trout and salmon."

Selina watched Brock’s face as he spoke. She couldn’t mistake how much he loved his home. "It must be glorious."