Courting an Angel

by Grasso, Patricia;

  “What are ye playin’?” Rob called, crossing the lawns toward them.

  “Bliss is cheating at dodge the ball,” Blythe told her.

  “I am not cheating,” Bliss insisted.

  “Two three-year-olds hardly equal one six-year-old,” Rob said, arching an ebony brow at her cousin. “Perhaps I should join Blythe’s team.”

  “That would be grossly unfair,” Bliss complained.

  “’Tis precisely the point, my connivin’ cousin,” Rob said with a smile. “Now ye know how —”

  “Never mind,” Bliss interrupted, her gaze fixed on something behind Rob. “You’re very welcome to join Blythe’s team. I’ll even the sides by taking the marquess.”

  Rob whirled around and saw him strolling across the lawns toward them. Quickly, she hid her left hand within the folds of her cloak and then watched his approach.

  Gordon Campbell looked like a magnificent god sprung to life. While Englishmen huddled within their cloaks, the Marquess of Inverary kept chill at bay with only a black leather jerkin over his shirt and breeches. Dressed completely in black, Gordon Campbell was as darkly handsome as Old Clootie was rumored to be, and more attractive than original sin.

  With arrogant grace, Gordon sauntered toward them. He carried an enormous satchel of golf clubs slung over his right shoulder.

  Rob heard a noise behind her and glanced over her shoulder. With great exaggeration, the five Devereux girls yawned and stretched as if the hour were midnight.

  “Stay where ye are,” Rob ordered them, hiding a smile at their performance. Then she rounded on the marquess and said, “My lord, we’ve somethin’ important to discuss.”

  “What’s that?” Gordon asked, leaning his bag against the oak tree beside her.

  “Yer lack of integrity.”

  Gordon stared at her in apparent confusion. “Whatever d’ye mean?” he asked.

  “Bribery, my lord.” Rob gestured at her cousins. “Yer usin’ these innocent bairns for yer own advantage.”

  At that, Gordon fixed his gaze on the eight-year-old.

  “Cousin Rob made us an offer we had to refuse,” Bliss blurted out. “She tried to bribe us too, but the price was too low.”

  Rob felt the heated blush rising on her cheeks when Gordon raised his eyebrows at her and said, “As I told ye yesterday, yer habits scream ‘Highlander.’”

  He looked at the girls again and said, “I’ve brought ye gifts from Londontown and left them for ye in the great hall.”

  With squeals of excitement, the five Devereux girls dashed across the lawns toward the mansion. As they vanished from sight, Gordon cast Rob his devastatingly boyish smile.

  “’Twas well done of ye, my lord,” Rob remarked, ignoring the melting sensation in the pit other stomach. “Is there a second act?”

  Gordon took a step toward her.

  “I wasna bein’ sullen,” she said hastily, stepping back a pace.

  “Aye, but sarcasm doesna become ye either,” he said, reaching for his bag of golf clubs.

  Gordon produced a black leather glove with no fingers and pulled it onto his left hand. Next came several leather-covered balls, a wooden tee, and an ash driving club.

  Turning his back on her, Gordon walked several paces away, stuck the tee into the lawn, and set the ball on top of it. He winked at her over his shoulder and then gave his full attention to the ball.

  As soon as he showed her his back, Rob dropped her gaze to his magnificently masculine physique. With his broad shoulders, tapered waist, and well-muscled legs, Gordon Campbell was the perfect specimen of manhood.

  Too bad he’d been born a Highlander, Rob thought.

  Gordon hit the ball with so much power that it sailed high into the air and flew toward the Duke of Ludlow’s estate. Then it disappeared. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he asked, “Would ye care to try?”

  “I dinna know how,” Rob refused.

  “I’ll teach ye,” he replied, offering her the black leather glove.

  Eager as a young girl, Rob doffed her cloak and stepped forward. She pulled the glove on and looked at her left hand. The glove hid Old Clootie’s mark. Too bad she couldn’t wear it whenever people were about.

  “What do I do now?” she asked.

  Gordon set another ball on top of the tee. Handing her the golf club, he said, “Face the ball, angel.”

  Rob showed him her back. She sensed him close behind her. Too close for comfort. Unexpectedly, his arms encircled her body.

  “What are ye doin’?” The prospect of being held within his embrace sent her into a minor panic.

  “Dinna fret, lass. I’m helpin’ ye through it.”

  His words did nothing to calm her. Standing so close their bodies touched, Rob felt his strength and his heat through her gown. His breath tickled the side of her neck, and his clean masculine scent reminded her of mountain heather, making her senses reel pleasurably.

  “Spread yer legs for me,” he whispered into her ear.

  Blissfully innocent, Rob did as he told her and then asked, “How’s that? Wide enough for ye?”

  “Simply perfect, angel. Yer an apt pupil,” he said, laughter lurking in his voice. “Gently but firmly, grip my shaft. Without takin’ yer eyes off the ball, ye’ll swing in an arc and then follow through until the club is over yer left shoulder.”

  Rob felt the long length of his body pressed against her backside. His hands, covering hers on the golf club, moved with her as she began to swing.

  Wham! The ball sailed through the air. With a loud plop, it landed in the Thames River.

  “Ye owe me five shillin’s for the loss of the ball, angel.”

  Rob whirled around and told his chest, “If ye can afford five gold pieces a day to purchase my cousins’ loyalty, ye can certainly afford to lose a few shillin’s for a golf ball.”

  “Look up, angel,” he said in a husky whisper.

  Rob wet her lips with her tongue and, ever so slowly, raised her gaze to his face. His piercing gray eyes seemed to soften on her with an emotion she failed to recognize.

  “I’ve also brought ye a gift from Londontown.” Gordon reached into his pocket and produced a heavy gold band set with an enormous emerald. Lifting her left hand, he slipped the ring onto her third finger and said, “The stone reminded me of yer beautiful eyes. I’ve had the inside engraved with our words, ‘Ye and No Other.’”

  Surprised by his gesture, Rob stared in silence at the ring. No man except her father and her brothers had ever given her a gift. When she finally raised her gaze to his again, Rob saw only his handsome face as he inched closer to capture her lips with his own.

  Yuch-yuch-yuch, Rob thought. But she made no move to pull away.

  Rob closed her eyes at the very last moment. Their lips met. His mouth felt warm and gently insistent on hers.

  “Yer so sweet,” he murmured, his breath mingling with hers.

  The intoxicating feel of his lips on hers and the husky sound of his voice conspired against Rob. Surrendering to his kiss, she sagged against his hard unyielding body. His strong arms encircled her and kept her imprisoned within his embrace.

  With nerves tingling in a wild riot, Rob reveled in these new and exciting feelings. And then it was over as unexpectedly as it had begun.

  “Thank ye for the gift of yer kiss, angel.”

  Rob opened her eyes when he spoke and stared at him in a dreamy daze. And then relief that she’d finally experienced her first real kiss surged through her.

  “Aunt Keely was correct,” Rob blurted out. “Kissin’ does come naturally.”

  Gordon smiled. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he drew her against the side of his body, and they started across the lawns toward the mansion.

  “What did ye buy the girls?” Rob asked, trying to mask the pounding of her heart with the sound other voice.

  “Marchpane and dolls,” Gordon answered, casting her a sidelong glance. “Are ye back to checkin’ yer titties?”

  “If
ye must know, I’m checkin’ my ruby,” Rob told him. “Aunt Keely says this special ruby will darken redder than pigeon’s blood if danger approaches me.” She gave him an unconsciously flirtatious smile. “And I’m positive that yer a danger to my peace of mind.”

  “Thank ye for the high praise,” Gordon replied as they walked into the foyer.

  Rob paused at the great hall’s entrance and asked when he looked at her, “When we kissed, my lord, do ye remember what I did with my hands?”

  “No, why d’ye ask?”

  “Never mind,” she said, her complexion scarlet. “I’ll pay better attention next time.”

  Gordon gave her a wolfish, thoroughly satisfied grin.

  “If there is a next time,” Rob amended, wiping the smile off his face.

  When she started to brush past him, he reached out and gently grasped her forearm. “I’ve also brought ye a doll from London.”

  “I told ye yesterday —” she began.

  Gordon placed one finger across her mouth and ordered, “Say ‘thank ye,’ angel, and then shut yer temptin’ lips.”

  Rob smiled in spite of herself. “Thank ye, my lord.” She made a gesture as though she were buttoning her lips together.

  “Yer so sweet,” Gordon said, leaning close to plant a chaste kiss on her lips. “I believe I’ll keep ye around forever.”

  Chapter 5

  December the twenty-third . . . the Great Blank Day with the secret of the unhewn stone . . . expect the unexpected.

  Rob shivered as she recalled Gordon’s words. Anything could happen today, and she knew for a fact that she didn’t possess enough inner strength to survive more of the unexpected.

  Since that day three weeks earlier when the Marquess of Inverary had barged into her life, Rob had felt her emotional fortitude slipping away slowly but surely. She’d passed the better part of each day with him and, thus far, had managed to keep him and his oh-so-inviting lips at bay; but she lacked the necessary strength to guard her heart from him indefinitely.

  In spite of his arrogance, Gordon Campbell attracted her like no other man ever had. Rob knew that as surely as she knew that she had to marry Henry Talbot and remain in England forever.

  And yet, the past three weeks had been pleasantly exciting. No court would ever find the Marquess of Inverary guilty of inciting boredom. Rob never felt so wonderfully alive than when she was in his presence.

  Gordon and she rode in the morning and golfed in the garden during the afternoon. Each evening they sat in front of the hearth in the great hall and played a spirited game of chess while her five cousins watched.

  Immediately following their chess game, which he always won, Gordon would disappear into her uncle’s study to discuss business ventures. He insisted their clan’s interests needed diversifying.

  Rob felt certain her uncle was trying to maneuver her into the untenable position of being unable to refuse the marquess when the first day of spring arrived. His forming alliances with the man she planned to reject was risky business.

  On the other hand, perhaps Uncle Richard believed that James Stuart was destined to succeed Queen Elizabeth. If the Scots king sat on the throne of England, then those Englishmen who enjoyed high-ranking Scots friends would secure their positions at the new court. How like Uncle Richard to solve problems before they arose.

  Rob shivered in spite of the fire that blazed in the hearth, grabbed her black cashmere shawl, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she crossed the chamber to gaze out the window.

  The weather, springlike until a few days ago, had taken a turn for the worse. A raw, bone-chilling rain fell steadily; and the angry, east wind beat against the windows, making them rattle. Its lonely howl reminded her of the Highlands and made her homesick. Though she never wanted to live there again, Rob missed her parents and her brothers.

  And how would she entertain Gordon Campbell on such a miserable day? Rob wondered, giving herself a mental shake. She’d probably pass the next ten hours fending off his kisses. How could she survive a whole day of that tender torture?

  She wasn’t immune to his charm, and her firm resolve was weakening. Shielding her heart against his amorous advances was becoming more difficult with each passing day, even more draining than ignoring the taunts of the MacArthur clan’s children.

  The Great Blank Day . . . expect the unexpected.

  Rob sighed, squared her shoulders, and started for the door. She might as well venture downstairs and meet whatever was destined to happen that day.

  When she heard the knocking, Rob stopped short and stared at the door as if it had suddenly become a living entity. Apparently, the “unexpected” had wearied of waiting and had decided to come looking for her.

  “My lady?” The voice on the other side of the door belonged to Jennings, the earl’s majordomo. “My lady, are you there?”

  Rob opened the door. “Yes, Mr. Jennin’s?”

  “A guest awaits you in the great hall,” he announced.

  That surprised Rob. “Is Lord Campbell aboot?”

  Jennings shook his head. “The marquess rode out this morning and hasn’t returned yet.”

  “He went ridin’ in this weather?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Thank ye, Mr. Jennin’s.” Rob walked past him and hurried down the corridor to the stairs.

  Reaching the foyer, Rob hid her stained left hand in the pocket of her gown. A smile of pure joy lit her face when she stepped inside the great hall.

  “Henry!” she cried.

  In her excitement, Rob pulled her hand from her pocket and rushed across the hall. She leaped into Henry Talbot’s open arms and hugged him as if she’d never let him go. Her gallant knight had returned to rescue her from a life in the hostile Highlands.

  Rob looked up in time to see his handsome face descending to hers. She quickly turned her face away, and his kiss landed on her cheek.

  “Am I to assume your annulment hasn’t been granted?” Henry asked, his voice tinged with amused irritation.

  “’Tis been delayed,” Rob lied, stepping back a pace and taking his hand in hers. “Ye must be terribly chilled, my lord. Come and warm yerself in front of the hearth. How long can ye stay?”

  Ignoring her question, Henry let himself be led to one of the chairs in front of the hearth. He grasped her wrist as he sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

  Rob giggled. “Henry, please. ’Tis unseemly.”

  “I’ve been gone for six weeks and still you refuse to kiss me,” he complained. “The least you can do is perch upon my lap.”

  Rob hastily moved her right hand to cover her left hand. She was almost as concerned with hiding the ring Gordon had given her as she was with masking her devil’s flower.

  For a long moment, Rob gazed at Henry’s handsome face. He was the same man she’d known and loved for more than a year but, somehow, not quite as irresistibly appealing as he’d been two months earlier. She knew without a doubt that he wanted her, but her aunt’s probing questions slammed into her consciousness.

  Did she want to remain in England because she loved Henry? Or did she love Henry because she wanted to remain in England?

  “Darling, tell me how much you missed me,” Henry said, drawing her attention from troubling thoughts.

  “Ye know I amna free to tell ye any such thin’,” Rob chided him gently, a flirtatious smile touching her lips.

  “God’s balls, lass,” drawled a familiar voice behind them. “Surely ye can tell the man how little ye missed him?”

  “Great Bruce’s ghost,” Rob exclaimed, leaping off Henry’s lap. She whirled around and saw a grim-faced Gordon Campbell advancing on them.

  Wearing a puzzled expression, Henry rose from the chair and turned around. “Who is this?” he asked.

  “Gordon Campbell, the Marquess of Inverary,” Rob said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “Gordon, this is Henry Talbot, the Marquess of Ludlow.”

  The two rivals stared at each other in hostile
silence. Watching them, Rob furiously ran a finger back and forth across the devil’s flower staining her hand.

  “Has Campbell ridden the long distance from Scotland to deliver the betrothal annulment in person?” Henry asked, flicking a glance at her.

  “Well, no,” she hedged, mentally squirming. “But all I need to do is behave agreeably until the first day of spring. Then he’ll give me the annulment if I wish.”

  Gordon caught Henry’s attention and then insolently perused Rob from the top of her head to the tips of her dainty feet, his heated gaze lingering on her more interesting curves. “Rob’s been ever so agreeable,” he said, his tone of voice implying more than companionship. “Why, ye canna imagine how verra agreeable she’s been.”

  “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” Henry said in a clipped voice.

  Gordon merely smiled at him.

  “Annul your betrothal,” Henry threatened, “or we’ll see you in court.”

  In a flash of movement, Gordon pulled his last resort from his boot. “Courts are for cowards,” he said. “Draw yer dagger, and we’ll settle this here and now.”

  “No!” Rob screamed as Henry pulled his own dagger from his belt.

  “Sheath your weapons,” ordered the voice of authority.

  Rob whirled toward the hall’s entrance. Much to her relief, Uncle Richard and Aunt Keely hurried across the chamber toward them.

  “Campbell is trying to steal my intended,” Henry complained, sheathing his dagger.

  “She belonged to me long before ye ever met her,” Gordon shot back, returning his blade to its hiding place. “The lass played ye for a fool, man. Ye’d be wise to forget aboot her.”

  Ready to argue, Rob began, “Now just one minute —”

  “Silence,” Earl Richard ordered.

  “Arguing is so futile an activity,” the countess added, casting both marquesses a reproving look.

  Lady Keely took Rob’s hand and led her to the chairs in front of the hearth. The three men followed and stood nearby. Earl Richard began to question Henry about what was happening at court.

  Feeling horribly awkward, Rob refused to meet either suitor’s gaze. She stared at her lap and rubbed a finger back and forth across her devil’s flower. The conversation about court life swirled around her; but, so immersed in her own misery, Rob was unable to focus on it.