Courting an Angel Page 9

  Gordon chuckled huskily and said, “I never realized how entertainin’ wee lasses could be. I hope we produce enough to fill Inverary Castle with them.” He stood then and touched her shoulder, adding, “For now, let’s walk aboot the garden.”

  With a resigned sigh, Rob nodded and rose from her chair. She couldn’t very well change her mind once she’d agreed to accompany him. As she crossed the great hall with the marquess, Rob spared a glance over her shoulder. Her five cousins sat at the high table and smiled at her as if they were privy to a secret joke at her expense. When she paused in the hall’s entrance and cast them a long measuring look, all five of them yawned loudly and stretched with exaggerated weariness.

  Rob wasn’t fooled for a moment and intended to visit their bedchamber as soon as she returned from her walk. She needed their help in keeping the marquess at bay. If need be, she’d pay her cousins to follow the marquess and her about.

  Stepping into the garden, Rob sighed deeply as she gazed at the night’s dark beauty. Accompanied by hundreds of glittering stars, a crescent moon hung overhead in the perfect setting of a black velvet sky. Evening mist covered the Thames River like a lover and swirled up its earthen banks onto the shore. Wood smoke from the Strand’s great houses scented the crisp air and mingled with the fragrances in the earl’s winter-landscaped garden.

  Gordon and Rob strolled across the lawns toward the river. Because the night shrouded her shame, Rob didn’t bother to hide her birthmarked hand in her pocket.

  “What has brought that smile to yer lips?” Gordon asked.

  Rob glanced sidelong at him. “The English call this weather winter,” she answered.

  “Aye, ’tis yet warm for us sturdy Highlanders,” Gordon replied. “Look up, lass. Do ye see how lovely the moon and the stars appear in the sky? They are na as pretty as ye are.”

  “How strange that an admitted womanizer would compare me with the fickle moon,” Rob said, gazing up at the sky.

  “’Tis a marvelous time of the year,” Gordon remarked, ignoring her jibe. “The season signifies youth in old age and old age in youth.”

  “Life in death and death in life,” Rob added in a soft voice.

  “Aye, lass, the endin’ and the beginnin’ of the year’s cycle,” Gordon said. “Soon the ‘secret of the unhewn stone’ will be upon us.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Great Blank Day in the ancient calendar. The twenty-third day of December when anythin’ can happen and usually does. Ye can always expect the unexpected on that special day.”

  “Are ye a pagan too?” she asked.

  “I’m a reader,” he answered. “And what d’ye mean by too?”

  “I meant, in addition to bein’ a Highland barbarian,” Rob lied. She knew her aunt believed in the Old Ways but had no idea if others did. Was the marquess hiding a dangerous secret?

  Gordon gifted her with his devastatingly boyish grin. “Ye’ve a quick wit, lass.”

  “And ye like that in a woman?”

  “No, ’tis an irritatin’ trait for a female to possess,” he teased, “but all of us have a cross to bear in this life. I’ll accustom myself to yer insultin’ tongue.”

  “Verra funny, my lord,” Rob said, lifting her upturned nose into the air. She wished she could think of something insulting to hurl at him; but her quick wit failed her, and her mind remained embarrassingly blank.

  As they walked closer to the Thames, the delicately fine veil of mist grew into a thick shroud. The ground fog swirled around their ankles and crept up their legs.

  “I canna see my feet,” Rob said. “If we go much farther, we’ll disappear in this.”

  Without warning, Gordon reached out and pulled her close against the side of his body. “I canna think of anyone with whom I’d rather disappear,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Thank ye, my lord,” Rob teased him, “but I’d wager the family fortune that ye say those verra same words to all the ladies.”

  Gordon ignored that loaded comment. Instead he asked, “So what’ve ye been doin’ with yerself?”

  “For ten years?” she quipped. “Well, I grew up and moved to England.”

  “Ye visited England,” he corrected her. “Tell me aboot the doll, angel.”

  “Why would ye care to hear that story?”

  “I’d like to know what crime I’m accused of.”

  “Ye are na accused, my lord. Yer guilty,” Rob told him, the teasing playfulness gone from her voice. “That day ye visited Dunridge Castle —”

  “Ye mean the day we married?” Gordon interrupted.

  Rob didn’t like the way he described that day, but she refused to argue about his choice of words. “Ye promised to send me a new dolly once ye’d returned to Inverary Castle, but ye never did.”

  “I was fifteen at the time and couldna see beyond my immediate desires.” Gordon paused before continuing and gently forced her to face him. “Will ye forgive me, lass?”

  “I forgave ye long ago.” Rob pulled out of his grasp and again started walking toward the river.

  “Then why are ye angry with me?” Gordon asked, falling in beside her.

  “I never said I was angry,” she answered, looking straight ahead. “The fact is that I love Henry Talbot and wish to remain in England.”

  Her professed love for another man irritated Gordon. “We’ll become acquainted without speakin’ aboot others,” he said in a stern voice.

  “Yer welcome to speak of any woman ye like,” Rob replied, casting him a sidelong glance. “’Twill never bother me.”

  “Are ye tryin’ to aggravate me?” Gordon asked, his disbelief apparent in his voice.

  Rob cast him a winsome smile and feigned innocence when she said, “I dinna care enough aboot ye to — Dinna get too close to the water.”

  Gordon kept walking but halted at the embankment. He couldn’t see the Thames because of the fog, but he sensed its nearness and heard the water lapping against the land.

  “Did ye hear me?” Rob cried in a panic. “Back away from that water!”

  Gordon turned around and closed the distance between them. Even in the darkness, he saw that apprehension had etched itself across her features.

  “What’s the problem, angel?”

  “I — I dinna like the water.”

  “Ye canna be afraid of it. Did ye never learn to swim?” Gordon asked. “I’d find that a difficult notion to believe, since Loch Awe touches the backside of Dunridge Castle.”

  Rob refused to meet his gaze. His mention of Loch Awe brought a flood of unwanted memories rushing back to her. In her mind’s eye Rob saw the ghastly white face of the crofter’s daughter. She saw her own father frantically pounding the swallowed water from the girl’s body. And then she heard those familiar taunts again. Loch Awe monster . . . Changelin’-witch.

  “What’s wrong, angel?” Gordon asked, his strong hands on her upper arms yanking her back to the present.

  “I — I was thinkin’ of a friend who almost drowned once,” Rob answered. “Since that day, an uneasiness comes upon me whenever I get too close to the water. ’Twas the fog shroudin’ the river’s edge that made me nervous.”

  “Then we shall sit on that bench beneath those trees and let the mist tickle our ankles,” Gordon suggested.

  Rob forced herself to smile and nodded agreement. “So, my lord, tell me aboot yerself,” she said as they crossed the lawns to the stone bench. “What’ve ye been doin’ for the past ten years?”

  “On the advice of my father, I’ve been makin’ my way at court for the good of the clan,” Gordon answered, casually placing his arm around her shoulder when they sat down.

  Nervous with his masculine nearness, Rob sat rigidly. She dropped her gaze to the hand resting so nonchalantly on her shoulder and then glanced sidelong at him. The marquess seemed perfectly relaxed as if he was unaware that his hand was touching her. His apparent innocence put her at ease, and she sighed.

  “I’ve become great friends
with the king, who especially enjoys huntin’ and golfin’ with me,” Gordon was saying. “The court holds other pleasures as well, such as dancin’ and gamin’. Do ye golf, angel?”

  “I never tried my hand at that,” Rob answered, turning her head to look at him.

  “I’ll teach ye then,” Gordon said, and the hand resting on her shoulder began a slow caress.

  “Dinna go to any trouble for me,” Rob replied, so neatly caught by the intensity in his gray gaze that she never noticed his hand caressing her shoulder.

  “Why, angel, ’tis no trouble at all,” Gordon assured her in a husky whisper as his lips slowly descended to hers.

  Mesmerized by the seductively intense expression on his face, Rob was unable to resist as his mouth came closer and closer to claim hers. She’d never kissed a man before. What was expected of her? Surely, a man of the world like the marquess would laugh at her inexperience.

  That humiliating thought spurred Rob into action. At the very last moment before their lips touched, she turned her head away.

  “’Twas ill done of ye, angel,” Gordon chided her softly, his face so close the warmth of his breath tickled her flushed cheek.

  “I’ve only really known ye since yesterday,” Rob said in an aching whisper, turning a pleading expression on him. “Please give me time.”

  “I willna force ye, lass.” Gordon cupped her chin in one hand and gazed into her eyes. “Whenever yer ready, so will I be.”

  “Thank ye,” Rob said with a relieved smile. “Ye are na such a barbarian after all.”

  “Thank ye, I think.” He stood then and offered her his arm. “Shall we return to the house, angel? Ye need yer beauty sleep, and I’ve business to discuss with yer uncle.”

  “What business?” Rob asked with a mildly curious smile.

  “Ye wouldna understand,” Gordon answered as they walked into the foyer.

  Rob lost her smile. She looked him straight in the eye and said, “Try me.”

  “I plan to do just that some other night,” Gordon said, teasing her, one long finger playfully touching the tip of her upturned nose. At that, he turned on his heel and crossed the foyer toward her uncle’s study.

  Irritated at being so rudely dismissed, Rob glared at his retreating back for a long moment and then whirled away. She’d set the arrogant marquess straight in the morning. Right now she intended to enlist her cousins’ aid in keeping him at bay.

  As Rob reached the chamber that Blythe and Bliss shared, the door swung open unexpectedly, and Mrs. Ashemole brushed past her. The obviously disgruntled nanny was mumbling beneath her breath about paganish manners and discarded nightcaps.

  Rob stared after the woman and wondered what her problem was, then walked into the bedchamber. Closing the door behind her, she heard Bliss saying, “Ashemole is an arsehole.”

  “Tsk. Tsk. Such unkind vulgarity from an earl’s daughter,” Rob scolded. She sat on the edge of the bed and noted the two nightcaps lying on the floor, apparently the reason for the nanny’s aggravation.

  “I need yer help,” Rob told her cousins. “I want ye to pester the marquess and me every possible moment.”

  “I’m sorry,” Blythe apologized, flicking a glance at her younger sister. “We cannot do that.”

  “I’ll pay ye.”

  “How much?” Bliss asked.

  “A shillin’ every day for both of ye.”

  Blythe and Bliss looked at each other and burst out laughing. Then Bliss gave her the surprising news, “The marquess is paying us more to stay away.”

  “That sneaky Highland bastard,” Rob swore.

  “Tsk. Tsk. Such unkind vulgarity from an earl’s daughter,” Bliss said with the sweetest of smiles.

  “Aye, sister,” Blythe agreed. “’Tis shameful the way she speaks in front of innocent children.”

  Rob narrowed her gaze on them. “How much is he payin’ ye?” she asked.

  “A gold piece each for the five of us,” Blythe answered.

  Great Bruce’s ghost, Rob thought. There was no way she could match that price, never mind beat it. Her budget didn’t allow for bribery.

  “Might I appeal to yer sense of family loyalty?” Rob asked, pasting a persuasive smile onto her face.

  “Appeal all you want,” Bliss told her, “but we shan’t change our minds. Business is business, you know.”

  “We’re sorry. Cousin Rob,” Blythe tried to soften their refusal. “You aren’t angry with us?”

  Rob looked from one expectant expression to the other and then shook her head. “I could never be upset with my favorite cousins. I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”

  After leaving the girls’ bedchamber, Rob retired to her own in order to ponder her dilemma. She couldn’t very well blame her cousins for taking advantage of this opportunity. After all, they were their father’s daughters. No, indeed, Rob reserved all other anger for that reiver from Argyll, Gordon Campbell. How dare a sophisticated man of the world use innocent children for his own advantage. How deplorably immoral. First thing in the morning, she intended to set him straight about his lack of integrity. If she didn’t lose her nerve.

  She lost her nerve.

  In an effort to avoid the marquess, Rob had lingered within the safety other chamber all morning long. Now the sun shone high in a heavenly blue sky. Appearing more like a harbinger of spring than winter, the day called out, enticing her to venture outside.

  I willna allow him to keep me prisoner in my own uncle’s house, Rob decided as she watched her five cousins romping in the garden below her bedchamber window.

  Rob grabbed her cloak, hurried to the door, and then hesitated. The marquess would certainly be lurking about somewhere and waiting for her to make an appearance. Perhaps avoiding him would be easier if she located his whereabouts first.

  What would she do if he tried to kiss her again? She’d never actually kissed a man except for her father and brothers, and that certainly didn’t count. Oh, why had Dubh deserted her and gone to court? If only Henry would return.

  Opening the door a crack, Rob peered outside. No one was about. She stepped into the corridor and walked slowly, almost stealthily toward the stairs. Reaching the deserted foyer below, she scurried on tiptoes to the great hall’s entrance and peeked inside.

  “He’s gone,” said a voice behind her.

  “Great Bruce’s ghost,” Rob cried, startled, whirling around.

  Her aunt smiled. “Lord Campbell left this morning —”

  “He returned to Scotland?” Rob interrupted. For some unknown reason, that possibility failed to give her any emotional relief. Strangely enough, she felt letdown.

  “No, dearest. Lord Campbell rode into London to attend to a few errands.”

  “What errands?”

  “I don’t know,” Lady Keely answered with a shrug, “but he did say he would return after dinner.”

  “Well, why didna ye tell me?” Rob asked. “I’ve wasted a whole mornin’ of freedom hidin’ inside my chamber.”

  “I had no idea you were avoiding the marquess,” her aunt replied. “I thought you were sleeping late.”

  Rob reached out and touched her aunt’s arm. “What should I do if he tries to kiss me?” she asked, embarrassed but determined to prepare herself.

  The corners of the countess’s lips twitched as if she suffered the urge to laugh. “Say ‘yuch-yuch-yuch’?”

  “I’m verra serious aboot this, Aunt Keely.”

  “Do you wish to kiss Lord Campbell?” Lady Keely asked.

  “Of course not,” Rob answered. “But even if I did, I dinna know how.”

  “Press your lips against his,” the countess told her. “The rest comes naturally.”

  “But what aboot my hands?”

  “People use their lips to kiss, dearest, not their hands.”

  “I know that much,” Rob replied, becoming frustrated. “I meant, where do I put them?”

  Lady Keely cast her an ambiguous smile. “Trust me, dearest. All of your
body parts will know what to do when the marquess kisses you.”

  Still, Rob remained unconvinced. “One more thin’, Aunt Keely, and then I’ll let ye go,” she said, fingering the beggar bead necklace. “Are ye certain sure this ruby will warn me of approachin’ danger? It hasna darkened to the color of pigeon’s blood.”

  “Then you haven’t been in any danger,” the countess replied.

  “But I’ve repeatedly checked it whenever the marquess is aboot,” Rob told her. “The stone remains placid.”

  “Have you considered the possibility that the marquess presents no danger to you?” Lady Keely suggested.

  “He wants to ruin my life.”

  “No, dearest. He wants to change it.”

  “Livin’ with him in the Highlands will ruin my life,” Rob insisted.

  “We can live happily anywhere as long as we are happy with ourselves,” Lady Keely told her. “Now, run along. The girls have been waiting for you.”

  “Thank ye. Aunt Keely.” Taking the long route in order to digest her aunt’s advice, Rob went out the door into the front courtyard and then strolled around the mansion in the direction of the garden where her cousins were playing. She inhaled deeply of the clean, mild air. Unseasonably warm and sunny, the day only hinted at impending winter because of the stark, leaf-barren trees.

  How different this day would be in the mountains of Argyll, Rob thought. Even this early in the season, heavy snows blanket the land. Most December days dawned depressingly overcast and cold. Like an unwelcome guest, winter always arrived early and stayed late in those northern climes.

  Rob heard the unmistakable sound of arguing angels as she rounded the corner of the mansion and stepped into the garden. Only a budding brat named Bliss could cause dissension amongst angels.

  “You’re cheating,” Blythe accused her sister.

  “I am not,” Bliss defended herself.

  “You’ve chosen Aurora,” Blythe said, “leaving me Summer and Autumn.”

  “Both Summer and Autumn are three years old, which totals six, and that is exactly Aurora’s age,” Bliss argued. “You are the one with the advantage. All other things being equal, you’re two years older than I am.”