Then Henry Talbot’s image would form in her mind’s eye. Guilt over neglecting his memory made her squirm mentally.
Rob awakened late on the fifth morning. Gazing out the window at the day, she spied her uncle’s barge docked at the quay. The sight of that barge lifted the heaviness from her heart like the midday sun evaporating the morning mists from the Thames. Unexpectedly, she became fully aware of how glad she was that Gordon had returned home.
’Tis nothin’, Rob told herself. Of course, she was happy that he’d finally returned. Hadn’t he kept her entertained while Henry was busy at court? Soon Henry would complete his duties to the queen, and Gordon would leave for Scotland. Only then would she be able to secure permanent happiness here in England.
Though she told herself repeatedly that she cared nothing for Gordon, Rob took special pains with her toilet that morning. She dressed in one of her favorite outfits, an emerald silk gown and matching satin slippers. Should she don one of the pairs of gloves he’d given her? No, that would be too obvious, and he might begin to believe that she cared for him.
Rob hurried downstairs and, expecting to see Gordon, slowed to a casual stroll when she walked into the hall. Lady Keely, surrounded by her five oldest daughters, sat in a chair in front of the hearth. No one else was in attendance except for Mrs. Ashemole who lifted a sleeping baby Hope from her mother’s arms and carried her out of the hall.
“Good morning,” the countess called, watching her cross the hall. “Or should I say ‘good afternoon’?”
“Good day to all of ye,” Rob returned the greeting.
“Good afternoon, Cousin Rob,” the five little girls chorused.
“I saw a barge docked at the quay,” Rob remarked, trying — but failing — to hide the excitement in her voice. “Do we have company?”
“Lord Campbell returned from Hampton Court this morning,” Lady Keely told her. “He went directly to bed. The poor man said he hadn’t slept for more than five hours in as many days.”
“I see.” A surging wave of jealousy crashed through Rob, and in its wake the heaviness returned to weigh her heart down. Her husband had been carousing at the Tudor court with beauties who bore no evil deformity.
“Want to play with us in the garden?” Bliss asked her.
Rob shook her head. “Later perhaps.”
“No shouting,” Lady Keely warned as her daughters started to leave. “We don’t want to awaken the marquess.”
Rob sat in the chair beside her aunt’s, folded her hands in her lap, and waited for Gordon to awaken. He never appeared, and that afternoon stretched out longer than the preceding four days put together.
When suppertime arrived, Rob kept her gaze riveted on the hall’s entrance. Four days and one exceedingly long afternoon of waiting had taken its toll on her nerves. With her hands hidden on her lap, she furiously ran her thumb back and forth across her devil’s flower. Surely, Gordon would join them for supper. The man required food, didn’t he?
When the earl’s majordomo appeared, Lady Keely instructed him, “Please serve the marquess a supper tray upstairs.”
“Dinna bother, Jennin’s. I’ll take it,” Rob said, leaping out of her chair. Hurrying across the hall, she never saw the smiles that passed between her uncle and her aunt.
With tray in hand, Rob stood outside Gordon’s bedchamber door. She balanced the tray on her left forearm and reached out with her right hand, but then hesitated.
Should I knock? she asked herself.
No answered an inner voice.
Summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, Rob opened the door and stepped inside the chamber. She closed the door behind her lest she flee.
Melancholy dusk cast the chamber in semidarkness. Only one night candle burned on a nearby table.
Rob focused her gaze on the bed. Its brocaded curtains had been left open, and though unable to see his features, she discerned the form of a sleeping man and started forward slowly. She set the tray on the bedside table, turned to stare at her husband, and nearly swooned at the seductive picture he presented.
Bare-chested, Gordon lay on his back with the coverlet pulled up to his waist. In sleep his face appeared boyishly vulnerable, yet he exuded an aura of power.
Unhurriedly, Rob studied his handsome features. His jaw was strongly chiseled and his lips sensuously formed, inviting sweet surrender to his kiss. She slid her gaze lower, saw the strength in his well-muscled chest with its mat of brown hair, and struggled against the sudden urge to touch him and feel his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips.
When her interested gaze reached the boundary line of body and coverlet, Rob wondered if he wore anything at all. Could that flimsy coverlet be the only barrier between his nakedness and her? That tantalizing thought frightened and excited her.
As if he sensed another’s presence, Gordon opened his eyes and asked in a sleep-husky voice, “What are ye doin’ there, Livy?”
“Who’s Livy?” Rob demanded. Her voice sounded overly loud in the chamber’s hushed atmosphere.
Gordon focused on her and yawned. “Ah, angel. Good mornin’ to ye.”
“’Tis evenin’,” Rob snapped. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked an ebony brow at him to indicate her irritation. “Did ye travel to England to attend court or to court me?”
“I see that ye missed me,” he remarked.
“Missed ye?” she echoed, incredulous. “Dinna flatter yerself, my lord. Yer the wart on my existence.”
“I’m growin’ on ye, then?” Gordon asked with a wry smile.
“Yer verra funny, my lord.”
“Sit beside me,” he invited her, patting the bed. “I promise I’ll give ye the attention ye deserve.”
Rob bristled at his conceited arrogance. “No, thank ye,” she replied, lifting her chin a notch. “There’s a tray here for ye if ye’ve the energy to eat after carousin’ at court for long days and even longer nights.” She marched back across the chamber to the door but leveled one final parting shot at him, “And I hope ye didna catch anythin’ fatal from galavantin’ aboot.”
Rob slammed the door behind her and started down the corridor to her own chamber, but the sound of Gordon’s laughter dogged her every step. She passed a sleepless night wondering about the woman named Livy.
Rob awakened later than usual the next day. The heaviness in her heart kept her weighted to the bed until early afternoon.
The last day of December was Hogmanay Eve in the Highlands. Homesickness for her parents and her brothers coiled itself around her heart. At Dunridge Castle, her ancestral home, that festive night would be celebrated with guising as animals, burning smoking sticks to ward off evil sprites, and eating special cakes. The doors would be thrown open at midnight, and everyone would rattle utensils to scare off the last vestiges of the old year, paving the way for all that was new.
Rob emerged from her chamber just before supper. Entering the great hall, she hesitated for a fraction of a moment. Gordon stood with her uncle and her aunt near the hearth and smiled warmly at her when he caught her gaze. Out of habit, Rob hid her stained hand within the folds of her gown and joined them.
“Good evening, my dear,” Lady Keely greeted her.
Rob smiled at her aunt and then her uncle. Finally, unable to delay the moment, she turned her gaze on the marquess.
“What’s the news from Hampton Court?” Rob asked, assuming a casual attitude, determined to show her husband that the woman named Livy meant nothing to her.
“The usual court doin’s,” Gordon said with a shrug. He gifted her with his devastating smile as if he knew what game she was playing.
“How fares Dubh?” she asked. “And Isabelle?”
“I do believe yer brother and yer friend share a fondness for each other,” he answered. “They pass all of their spare hours together . . . By the way, Mungo will be ready to leave for Scotland by the first day of spring.”
“Mungo?” Rob echoed. “Is he yer other travelin’ compa
nion?”
Instead of answering her question, Gordon smiled and said, “Look up, angel.”
Rob looked up. Her aunt was waving a sprig of mistletoe over her head.
Before she could utter a word of protest, Gordon captured her within the circle of his embrace and claimed her lips. Caught off guard and reeling from his appealing scent of mountain heather, Rob succumbed to the enticingly sensuous feeling of his mouth on hers and returned his kiss in kind.
As if from a great distance, Rob heard her cousins’ disgusted exclamations, “Yuch-yuch-yuch.” And then Gordon ended the kiss as quickly and as unexpectedly as he’d begun it.
“Rob loves Gordon,” six-year-old Aurora chanted in a sing-song voice. “Rob loves Gordon.”
“Hush,” Rob said, rounding on her cousins. She could feel the heated blush staining her cheeks.
“Well, you must love him,” Blythe began.
“Because you never even tried to kick his balls,” Bliss finished baldly.
Gordon threw back his head and shouted with laughter. Earl Richard nodded with proud approval of his daughters, and Lady Keely smiled at her husband’s gesture.
Only Rob remained unamused. Was it true? she wondered. Was she beginning to care for Gordon Campbell? If that was true, she would be doomed to eternal misery. Never could she live with him in the Highlands. But if she loved him, how could she live in England without him?
I care naught for the Marquess of Inverary, Rob told herself. Gordon Campbell was simply a not-so-pleasant diversion until Henry returned from court.
When supper ended, Gordon turned to her and asked, “Would ye care to pass the hours until midnight with a game of chess?”
“Why dinna ye play with Livy?” Rob replied, lifting her upturned nose into the air in a gesture of dismissal.
“Och, angel,” Gordon whispered, leaning close to her ear. “Livy doesna care much for games.”
Rob turned her whole body away from him.
“Livy happens to be the housekeeper at Campbell Mansion in Edinburgh,” he lied. “She changed my nappies when I was a bairn.”
Rob closed her eyes against the burning humiliation she felt. Her imagination had run wild, and now she must pay for it.
“I’m verra sorry for my behavior,” she apologized with a sheepish smile. “I would like to play chess with ye.”
For long hours the two of them sat across the chessboard like adversaries on a battlefield. When the three youngest Devereux girls succumbed to sleep, Blythe and Bliss joined them for several games of the ladies against the gent. The ladies surprised Gordon by winning every game until the last one when he caught them cheating.
A moment before midnight, everyone grabbed their designated utensils and ran to the front door. Laughing and shouting, they banged their pots and pans together to scare off the old year and welcome the new.
“Are you going to give her the gift now?” Blythe asked Gordon as they returned to the hall.
“Aye, lass. I am.”
“I’ll fetch it,” Bliss offered.
“I’ll fetch it,” Earl Richard informed his daughter.
“Ye must sit down,” Gordon said, escorting Rob to one of the chairs in front of the hearth. “Get those hands off yer lap, and close yer eyes.”
Rob did as she was told. All was silent in the hall. Then she heard her uncle’s footsteps as he returned. At Gordon’s command, Rob opened her eyes and cried in pleased surprise, “Great Bruce’s ghost, ’tis what I’ve always wanted.”
Against his chest, Gordon cuddled a tiny ball of squirming fur. With a smile, he set the pup in her lap.
The English toy spaniel had a well-rounded head, a turned-up nose, and an aristocratic expression. Its fur was pearly white with well distributed chestnut-red patches.
“Oh, she’s so sweet,” Rob cooed, gathering the pup against her breast like a baby.
“’Tis a boy,” Blythe told her.
Rob lifted her gaze to Gordon and caught the tender emotion mirrored in his. “Thank ye, my lord,” she said. “’Tis the best Hogmanay gift I’ve ever received.”
The pup chose that moment to lick her neck, and Rob giggled at the tickling sensation.
“He likes you,” Bliss said. “He’s giving you smooches.”
“’Tis what I’ll call him then.” Rob gazed into the pup’s dark eyes and told him, “Yer name is Smooches. Ye ken what I’m sayin’?”
Smooches barked the shrill yelp of a puppy. Everyone laughed.
Gordon leaned close and planted a chaste lass on her cheek, whispering, “Happy New Year, angel.”
“I’m sorry I’ve no gift for ye,” Rob said, a sudden frown marring her expression.
Gordon traced one long finger down the side of her cheek. “Yer smile will be gift enough,” he told her.
Rob gifted him with an angelic smile, and a look of unguarded emotion passed between them.
Cradling the pup in her arms like a baby, Rob took Smooches to bed with her that night. She gently stroked the top of his rounded head and gazed into his dark doleful eyes.
Patting Smooches relaxed her. His silky fur reminded her of the satin blanket she’d carried around as a child; his miniature size conspired with the woebegone expression in his dark eyes and brought her maternal instincts to the surface.
“What a wonderful gift ye are,” she cooed to the pup.
Rob’s thoughts traveled the short distance down the corridor to the man who’d given her Smooches. Contrary to her first impression of him, the Marquess of Inverary had a kind streak in him. Handsome and wealthy and powerful and kind, Gordon Campbell would make an excellent husband for any woman. Except her. Too bad he hadn’t been born English. They could have lived as man and wife in England, but not in Scotland. Never in the Highlands.
Rob tried to picture his smiling face as he’d appeared that evening in the great hall. All she managed to conjure in her mind was the image of him lying all but naked in his bed as she’d seen him the previous evening. Rob tried but failed to banish that seductive scene from her thoughts and finally, with a sigh of surrender, savored the remembered sight.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
A tiny tongue licking her face awakened Rob the next morning. Opening her eyes a crack, she peered into the pup’s dark eyes. Rob reached up with one hand to caress him as a drowsy smile touched her lips.
“Good mornin’, Smooches,” she said in a sleep-husky voice.
The sound of giggling girls awakened Rob fully. Blythe and Bliss sat on the edge of the bed, and beside them stood her aunt.
Rob yawned and stretched, then sat up and leaned back against the headboard. “Happy New Year, Aunt Keely,” she said. “Happy New Year, cousins.”
“Happy New Year, Cousin Rob,” chimed Blythe and Bliss.
“Happy New Year, dearest. We’ve brought you a breakfast tray,” Lady Keely said. “You know, I do believe Smooches is small enough to be trained for a box of sand. I’ll have one brought up later.”
“I never considered that,” Rob said. “I hope he hasna messed the floor.”
Blythe and Bliss giggled.
“Smooches accompanied me when I greeted the dawn this morning,” Lady Keely told her. “Afterwards, Jennings served him breakfast.”
“Thank ye. Aunt Keely. I’m supposin’ I’ll need to awaken earlier from now on.”
“’Twill be unnecessary if you train him to a box.”
“We’ll help you train Smooches,” Blythe offered.
“Can we take him out to play with us?” Bliss asked.
“Of course,” Rob answered. “I’ll meet ye outside later.”
Blythe lifted Smooches into her arms. Followed by Bliss, she headed for the door.
“You have a visitor waiting in the study,” Lady Keely said, drawing Rob’s attention.
“’Tis Uncle Henry,” Blythe called over her shoulder.
“And he’s brought you a gift,” Bliss added, then disappeared out of the door after her sister.
Ro
b looked at her aunt and opened her mouth to speak, but the countess was faster.
“Lord Campbell had already left for his morning ride,” Lady Keely told her.
“But how could ye have known what I was thinkin’?” Rob asked, surprised.
The countess cast her an ambiguous smile. “Being druid means knowing.” At that, she quit the chamber.
Ignoring the breakfast tray, Rob leaped from the bed and dashed across the chamber. She would have taken special pains with her morning toilet, but the threat of Gordon returning while Henry and she were together spurred her into action.
Rob splashed water on her face to clear the sleep from her expression and dressed hurriedly in the emerald-green gown she’d worn the previous evening. Then she grabbed her brush and swept her ebony hair away from her face, letting the dark mane cascade down her back to her waist. When she emerged from her chamber in record time, Rob appeared delightfully disheveled as if she’d just come from a lover’s tryst instead of her virgin’s bed.
Wearing that endearingly easy smile of his. Henry Talbot stepped forward when she walked into the study. Rob hid Old Clootie’s mark within the folds of her gown and started toward him. They met in the center of the chamber.
“Happy New Year, darling,” Henry greeted her, bowing low over her right hand.
“Happy New Year, my lord.” Rob gave him one of her warmest smiles. “I’ve missed ye.”
“I missed you more,” he said.
“With all of those acclaimed beauties at court?” she countered. “I canna credit that.”
“I swear ’tis truth,” Henry vowed. “Those alleged beauties wither when compared to your lovely face and sweet disposition.”
“Thank ye for the pretty compliment,” Rob said, casting him an unconsciously flirtatious smile. “Have ye chanced to meet my brother Dubh at court?”
“Aye, and he’s a man I’d be proud to call my brother-in-law.”
“How fares Belle?”
“Isabelle is well but concerned for you,” Henry told her. “Your brother and she spend a good deal of time together. That is, when she’s not serving her stepmother or stepsisters.”
Courting an Angel Page 13