Courting an Angel (26 page)

Gordon cast his father a sidelong glance and asked in a rueful voice, “In that case, do ye know of an ugly, old woman named Livy whom we could hire as housekeeper for our Edinburgh home?”

“Ye neglected to warn her about Lavinia Kerr?” Duke Magnus replied, surprising his son.

“Ye know aboot her too?”

“The Duke of Argyll knows almost everythin’ that happens in Scotland,” he said with a smile. “What I dinna know, my MacArthur kinsman whispers in my ear; and what he doesna know, yer late mother’s Gordon relatives tell me.”

* * *

When she left the duke’s study, Rob followed Gabby up the wheel stairs to the castle’s third story and then down a long corridor to the east wing where the family’s private apartments were located. She stepped into a spartanly furnished chamber and scanned it quickly. Against one wall stood a four-poster, curtained bed and a small table. Another wall had a door which, Rob assumed, led to the dressing room and closet.

Rob smiled with delight when her gaze turned in the direction of the hearth. Beckoning her, steam rose from the tub that had been set there.

Without regard to modesty, Rob began stripping as she walked toward the tub and left in her wake a trail of soiled, discarded clothing. She intended to submerge herself in that water for a fortnight.

“Ye’ll probably redecorate this chamber,” Gabby said, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as she washed her new mistress’s hair. “Ye’ll want it to look more like a lady’s apartment. What d’ye think?”

Before Rob could reply, Gabby ungently dunked her head beneath the water to rinse her hair. Rob surfaced, coughing and gasping for air, and would have scolded her, but the other girl started talking again.

“Gordy will probably give ye the grand tour of Inverary in the mornin’,” Gabby said. “Ye’ll meet my Dewey then.”

“Dewey?” Rob echoed.

“Gawd, what a hunk of man my Dewey is,” Gabby gushed. “He’s my husband, ye know. Dewey is sooo verra handsome and burly and the fiercest of the laird’s warriors.” The girl paused for breath and then admitted, “He does have one tiny flaw, though.”

“What’s that?” Rob asked, thoroughly entertained by her chatter.

“Well, puir Dewey’s candle is lit but usually there’s nobody home, if ye ken my meanin’,” Gabby told her. “When the good Lord was passin’ out brains, my puir Dewey was outside pissin’ in the wind.”

Rob burst out laughing, but stifled it when the door swung open.

“Well, I’m glad to see yer becomin’ acquainted with each other,” Biddy called, marching into the chamber. She carried a tray with a bowl of stew and a chunk of brown bread, and slung across one arm were a clean night shift and a bed robe.

“Gabby, serve this to yer mistress while she soaks in the tub,” Biddy ordered, passing her the tray. She set the night clothes across the chair that had been pushed aside to make room for the tub, and then turned to Rob.

“I’d stay and visit with ye too, but I ken yer tired and supper is waitin’ to be served,” Biddy said. “I canna tell ye how happy I am that Inverary has a lady again. Too many years have passed since I’ve heard the angelic sounds of a gurglin’ baby.”

The older woman smiled at her. Then she hurried across the chamber and disappeared out the door.

Rob swallowed uncomfortably. Though she did hope to become a mother some day, she wasn’t about to sacrifice her own happiness so that the marquess could sleep easy at night because he’d produced an heir for Inverary.

In the act of reaching for the bowl of stew that Gabby offered, Rob froze with her hands in midair. The other girl was staring at her birthmarked hand.

Great Bruce’s ghost, Rob thought. The girl’s chatter had put her so much at ease that she’d forgotten to hide her shame.

“Ye needna act as my tirin’ woman,” Rob said in a voice that cracked with disappointment. “I — I release ye from my service.”

Gabby snapped her gaze from the devil’s flower to her mistress’s face. “And why would ye do that?” she asked indignantly.

Her words surprised Rob. “Do ye want to serve me?”

“Would I be standin’ here if I didna’?” Gabby countered with no regard for the gentle respect a tiring woman should accord her lady. “’Twould seem my Dewey isna the only one hereaboots whose candle’s lit with nobody home.”

Rob cared not a whit that she’d just been insulted. She held her left hand out for the other girl’s inspection and asked, “My birthmark doesna bother ye?”

“No.” Gabby stared her straight in the eye and asked, “Does it bother ye?”

Rob knew the other girl was lyin’ but loved her for it. She smiled at her, but when she answered only a deaf person would not have heard the bitterness in her voice. “Aye, Gabby. At times it gives me pain.”

“Well, let me know when that happens,” Gabby replied, deliberately misunderstanding. “I’ll tell my Granny Biddy to mix ye a poultice.”

“Thank ye.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ who ye are.”

Gabby chuckled and shook her head, saying, “And who else could I be?”

Rob stood then and wrapped herself in a thick towel. She stepped out of the tub and let the other girl towel dry her hair. Then Rob donned the night shift that Biddy had brought her and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Fetch the comb from my satchel,” Rob ordered. “Then take yerself downstairs to supper.”

“Dinna ye want me to comb yer hair?” Gabby asked. “’Tis one of my duties.”

“True, but I’m goin’ to sleep as soon as it’s completely dry.”

“Well, whatever blows yer gown up,” the girl said, picking her mistress’s discarded clothing off the floor as she headed for the door. “What should I do with these?”

“Burn them.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Gabby, Rob rose from the edge of the bed and pulled a chair across the chamber to the window. She sat down, began combing the tangles out other hair, and stared out the window at the Highland twilight.

Shadowy dusk, the night’s herald, excited Rob more than any other time of the day. She loved the night’s dark, mysterious beauty because it shrouded all manner of flaws.

A few minutes later the bedchamber door opened noiselessly, and Gordon stepped inside the room. He looked toward the empty bed first and then slid his gaze to the chair where his wife sat, oblivious to his presence. In spite of their differences, Gordon decided that his bride was an angel. No, she wasn’t the timid girl he’d married ten years earlier, but somehow she was even more irresistibly wonderful than he’d expected or deserved.

Sauntering across the chamber, Gordon walked around her chair until he faced her. When he nonchalantly leaned against the windowsill, she looked up in surprise at him.

“I didna hear ye come in,” she said.

“I’ve brought ye a cup of Biddy’s Old Man’s milk,” he said with a smile, offering her the mug.

“Thank ye, my lord.” Rob sipped the zested milk and then announced, “Why, ’tis every bit as delicious as Moireach’s. By the way, where’s Smooches?”

“The pup’s enjoyin’ supper with Biddy and friends,” Gordon told her. “I’ll fetch him later.”

Without another word, Gordon pushed away from the windowsill and started across the chamber. Looking over her shoulder, Rob saw him sit on the edge of the bed and pull his boots off. Unceremoniously, he dropped them on the floor.

A swell of panic surged through her. Great Bruce’s ghost, was he undressing here in her bedchamber?

When he tossed his shirt on the floor, Rob leaped to her feet and hurried across the chamber. “What are ye doin’?” she cried.

“I’ve a mind to wear clean clothes,” Gordon said, then stood and reached for the top of his breeches.

Rob began running a finger furiously back and forth across her birthmark. “Why dinna ye do that in yer own chamber?”

Gordon snapped his head up in surprise and told her, “This is my chamber.”

“Yer chamber?” she echoed. “Inverary’s so big. Why do we need to share the chamber?”

“We’re married. Remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Rob cried, “but ye promised ye wouldna force me.”

Gordon stared at her for a long moment, then said, “Sit down, angel. I need to explain a few thin’s to ye.” When she did as he asked, he continued, “I meant what I said aboot not forcin’ ye, angel. However, we must keep that our secret. My father wouldna understand our sleepin’ in separate beds, and soon enough the whole clan would be gossipin’ aboot us. ’Twould mean a terrible loss of respect for me.”

Rob looked past him and watched the flames in the hearth. Her husband had saved her life at the lions’ pit and risked his own safety by rescuing her from the queen’s men. He’d also slain the monster living beneath her bed, which had given her hundreds of nights of peaceful sleep as a child. Humiliating him in front of his kin could hardly be considered the proper payment for all he’d done for her.

Rob sighed and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Verra well, my lord. We’ll share the bed, and I willna let on that we never —” She broke off, too embarrassed to say the words.

“Thank ye, angel.” Gordon leaned close and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. Then he turned away and headed for the dressing room, tossing his clothing on the floor.

Rob stared straight ahead toward the window, too nervous to look over her shoulder and peek at him. Sharing his bed along the road to Scotland was far different from this. They’d been tired and dirty and chaperoned by Dubh and Mungo. There’d been no chance of any real intimacy between them.

How could she share this bedchamber with him and not see him naked? How many nights would pass before they turned to each other in the dark and —

“Rob?”

She glanced over her shoulder.

Gordon stood at the door. “Dinna wait up for me, hinny. I’ve hours and hours of reportin’ to my father.” And then he was gone.

Rob rose slowly from the edge of the bed and began picking his discarded garments off the floor. In spite of their soiled condition, she folded them neatly and set them across the chair, then paused to stare out the window at the night.

Gordon Campbell was oh-so-tempting. When the time came, would she leave Inverary Castle with her virginity intact? That was doubtful, no matter what he promised.

On the other hand, Gabby’s lack of fright at the sight of her devil’s flower encouraged hope to swell within her breast. Could the Campbells be considerably more stout-hearted than the MacArthurs? If that was true, she’d have no reason to leave Inverary Castle because she’d find acceptance within its walls. The real test would come in the morning when her husband introduced her to his clansmen and retainers.

Rob held her left hand into the air and studied her devil’s flower. She slid her gaze from the detested stain to her wedding ring with the emerald that her husband had said matched the color of her eyes.

“Ye and No Other.”

If only those words were true.

* * *

Rob awakened late the following morning. Something cold and wet touched the tip of her nose, the tickling sensation making it twitch. She opened her eyes and saw Smooches. His face pressed against hers, and his dark eyes gazed at her dolefully.

“Good mornin’, Smooches,” Rob said, moving her arms to encircle the pup.

The sound of her voice brought an instant reaction from him. He wagged his tail and licked her face, which made her smile.

Setting the pup aside on the bed, Rob sat up and leaned back against the headboard. Where was her husband? She hadn’t awakened when he returned to their chamber the previous night, but his side of the bed appeared rumpled so she knew he’d slept beside her.

Rob threw the coverlet back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She yawned and then stretched like a sleek, half-grown she cat.

Should she dress and go below stairs? Rob wondered. Or should she wait for Gabby to attend her? Whatever happened today would color her relationship with her husband’s clan for a long, long time.

Rob wished she could speak with her mother. Without an older woman’s guidance, how was she to know what was expected of her? Insidious insecurity coiled itself around her heart; that familiar feeling of worthlessness surfaced like an old friend ready to renew their acquaintance.

The door swung open suddenly. With several garments slung across her arm, Gabby marched into the chamber like a smiling general.

“I’m glad yer awake,” the girl said, advancing on the bed. “’Tis verra late.”

“Good mornin’ to ye too,” Rob greeted her.

“Sorry.” Gabby placed a black woolen skirt and a white, scooped-neck linen blouse down on the bed. “Granny Biddy says ye’ll wear this, and she’ll help ye sort through the other gowns later. Should I help ye dress? ’Tis one of my duties, ye know.”

“I believe I can manage on my own this mornin’,” Rob said, refusing her offer. “Where’s my breakfast tray?”

“Well, my lady —”

“Call me Rob.”

“Lady Rob, yer husband said that breakin’ the fast in yer bedchamber is a Sassenach custom,” Gabby informed her. “He’s waitin’ for ye in the hall.”