The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress by Anna Campbell

Author:Anna Campbell [Campbell, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anna Campbell
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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.

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