The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress - Anna Campbell Page 0,3

toward the door. "This is none of your business, sir."

Unfortunately, it was also an accurate assessment of her future. Selina was no fool, and she didn’t deceive herself about how life with Cecil would turn out. But what choice did she have?

With a leisurely grace that made her foolish heart skip around inside her tight chest, Bruard sat up. She thought she’d committed her whole self to marrying Cecil, but now it turned out that her heart hadn’t signed up to the arrangement. Her heart cried out that she was still young and at last she had the chance to flirt with an attractive man. It insisted that if she ran away now, she was a filthy coward.

"That’s true." Again no shame. "But I’m telling you this out of pure altruism. Stand up for yourself now, or he’ll crush every ounce of spirit out of you."

"Pure altruism?" She gave a snort of amusement that would have shocked Cecil. "It seems the world is completely wrong about you, Lord Bruard."

The half-smile reappeared, accentuating the creases around Bruard’s deep-set eyes. The breath jammed in her lungs. Lord above, no wonder the ladies went insane for him. His appeal was extraordinary. He should have warning signs posted all over him.

Because he was right about her avoiding him, this was closer than she’d ever ventured to the wicked Lord Bruard. This was certainly the longest she’d spent talking to him.

And danger bristled in the air.

So remaining in this room made no sense. Yet remain Selina did.

He fixed a disturbingly assessing gaze on her. "No, my lovely little ghost, the world isn’t wrong about me."

The power of his attraction made her stomach cramp with nerves, as she remembered all those depraved fantasies that had worn Lord Bruard’s intense dark face. Did he know she’d thought of him in the privacy of the night? She had a sick feeling that he must.

"G-ghost?" she stammered.

He shrugged. How could such a prosaic movement make her heart somersault? Except his shoulders were broad and hard, and she ached to run her hands along them and down those strong arms, displayed to advantage in the best of London tailoring.

He wore black. But then didn’t the devil always come in black?

"That’s how I think of you. With your neat little gray frocks, and the way you watch every word you say, and never miss anything that goes on around you."

This time, genuine fear spurred her unsteady pulse. She hadn’t thought she’d be of the slightest interest to such a libertine. It turned out she was wrong. It seemed that just as she’d watched him, he’d watched her.

She gulped for air to clear a swimming head and raised an unsteady hand to her bosom, before she realized how revealing the movement was. "You shouldn’t think of me at all."

His gaze grew more focused, and she faltered back a step. She should flee, pride or no pride, but it was as if her feet were tacked to the parquetry floor.

"Nor should you think of me, when you’re marrying that ponderous oaf in a fortnight, and you’re obviously a woman who guards her chastity the way a miser guards his gold."

Heat blazed in her cheeks, and she avoided his eyes. How could he make her virtue sound like the worst of sins? "I don’t think of you. I…"

Oh, what was the use? All of a sudden, coyness seemed too shabby to countenance. As he uncoiled and rose to his feet, Selina made a helpless gesture. "I don’t want to think of you," she mumbled.

His soft purr reeked of satisfaction. Selina raised her gaze to his face, expecting smugness, but he stared at her as if he tracked every beat of her heart. Heaven help her, he probably did.

A man this experienced with women must register her terrified fascination. The fact that she’d tried so hard to keep out of his way told its own story to someone who paid close attention. To her astonished dismay, Bruard had paid close attention.

He was tall and all whipcord strength. She wasn’t a small woman, but he towered over her. "That is no doubt true. But sometimes it’s impossible to obey common sense, isn’t it?"

"How would you know?" she asked with a trace of heat. She started to resent feeling like a butterfly caught on a collector’s pin.

"Brava." To her surprise, this time he smiled properly. "I knew there was more to you than, ‘Yes, Cecil.’"

Reminder of her duty forced a guilty gasp from her. "I shouldn’t be