While he’d called a host of women his darling, Brock had an inkling that when he called Selina his darling, he meant it.
His desire for her was compelling, but he was familiar with desire. Woefully so, the judgmental world would say. But something in this quiet room swept him, the infamous libertine, out from shore
and into uncharted waters. For one fraught moment, he wondered if Selina Martin was more dangerous to him than he could imagine and perhaps he’d be wise to stay away from her.
But as he stared into her delicate face, wisdom was a word that held no power.
"There’s an inn on the London road called the Blue Wagon. I’ll leave before breakfast and wait for you there. Come as soon as you can. I resent every moment that we’re apart."
Selina continued to look troubled. Her light brown brows, several shades darker than that thick honey-colored hair, drew together. "I’ll send my maid on to London. We’re packing up the house, so I can make some excuse for wanting a bit of peace and quiet in the country. She’s been with me since I was a girl. Even if she suspects my motives for staying in Essex, she won’t betray me. I’ll arrange for my carriage to return after our time is over."
Damn it all, Brock didn’t want to think about that. Not now when he had a week of unequaled pleasure stretching before him. "Something is worrying you. Tell me."
That was new, too. As a rule, Brock preferred his lovers to keep their thoughts to themselves. The awful truth was that in most cases, his paramours were far too eager to unburden their hearts into his ears.
Selina had always been mysterious. Her reticence was among the many aspects of her personality that he found attractive. Now he burned to discover all her secrets.
Patience, laddie. You’ve got a week ahead.
She looked surprised at his demand. "It’s just…"
"Yes?"
She freed her hand and made a helpless gesture. "It all seems so random. By chance, Cecil and I came in here to discuss our arrangements for tomorrow. By chance, you overheard us. If some other lady had ventured into the library, would you have made the same offer to her?"
Brock couldn’t help it. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her swift and hard. "No. On my honor, no. I knew you were mine the moment I saw you. I’d already planned to pursue you to London. This encounter just presented me with an opportunity I intended to create anyway."
Once she stopped looking dazzled, she looked relieved. "I don’t want you to take my consent cheaply. I said yes too fast, I know, but we don’t have time for games."
That extraordinary tenderness cramped his heart again. "I’m aware of the privilege you grant me."
"You’re so good at words." Her gaze roamed across his face. "Words are easy."
He struggled not to squirm under her perceptive inspection. Because she was right. Words were easy, and he’d used them so often to persuade a reluctant lady of his sincerity, when he intended nothing past a quick fuck.
"If I say I mean it this time, you’ll only suggest that’s what I always say."
Wry humor curved her lips. "And is it?"
"Aye." He lifted her hand and brushed a kiss across the knuckles before he let her go. "You’ll just have to trust me."
She had that dazed look in her eyes that appeared whenever he touched her. He loved that this attraction between them made dissimulation impossible.
"It’s mad, but despite how short a time I’ve known you, despite…"
"My reputation," he said grimly, because he was too aware of what people said about him. He was even more aware that most of it was justified.
The strange thing was that only as he looked into Selina’s deep brown eyes did he feel any shame for his riotous ways, the lies he’d told, the hearts he’d broken. Because he found himself caught in the liar’s dilemma. He told the truth, yet nobody with half a brain would believe him.
Selina didn’t flinch from what he was. He came to realize that she was the bravest woman he’d ever met. When he’d first seen her, he recognized straightaway that she didn’t love that lumbering yokel Cecil Canley-Smythe. Brock was in no position to criticize her for marrying for money. But before tonight, he’d imagined he pursued a woman slightly less principled than she turned out to be.
Now he realized the sacrifice she made for her boy. She was under no illusions about Cecil, but she was willing to pay any price in return for her son’s security. Brock’s mother had been vain and flighty and selfish. Selina’s stalwart maternal love left him in awe.
"Yes, there’s your reputation. But that’s part of your appeal."
Startled, he let out a bark of laughter and stretched one arm along the top of the settle behind her. "The devil you say."
"You’re perfect, Lord Bruard."