Courting an Angel (44 page)

That did it. One by one, the three men nodded their compliance. Gordon led the way into the privy chamber, and the Earl of Huntly followed behind.

“Huntly, what d’ye do here?” King James asked.

“With yer permission, Sire, I’d like to stay,” the earl replied, bowing to the king. “’Tisna every day I get the chance to see my illustrious Campbell brother-in-law grovelin’.”

The king smiled. “Be my guest, then.”

In unison, the three old war horses went down on bended knee. “I’m verra sorry for disturbin’ the realm’s peaceful solemnity,” Duke Magnus spoke first.

“So am I,” Iain said.

“Me too,” Percy added.

“Are ye prepared to apologize publicly?” the king asked.

All three nodded. Only Gordon saw the reluctance in their gazes.

King James smiled with satisfaction. “Rise, then. Yer forgiven.”

Duke Magnus and Percy MacArthur stood, but Iain MacArthur remained kneeling. When the king arched a questioning brow at him, Iain said, “I want to discuss the matter of my oldest son bein’ named an outlaw.”

“He abducted that English chit,” the king reminded him.

“’Tis untrue, Yer Majesty. Dubh rescued her from a forced marriage,” Iain argued. “Besides, I recently received information that my son has taken the honorable action of marryin’ the lady.”

“Well, that could put a different spin on the situation,” James replied without committing himself.

“What better method of preparin’ to rule two countries than to have the nobility intermarry,” Gordon piped up, and nodded almost imperceptibly when his father-in-law sent him a grateful look.

“Why, ’tis an excellent idea,” King James agreed. “I’ll discuss yer son’s marriage with Elizabeth’s emissary, and perhaps she’ll withdraw her official protest. Ye may leave me now.”

The four older men bowed to the king and backed their ways out of the chamber. Gordon started after them, but the king called, “Gordy, dinna forget aboot our golf game tomorrow.”

“Sire, I’m countin’ the hours,” Gordon said, flashing the young monarch a grin. “I hope I’ve enough luck to win my gold back.”

“’Tis expertise that makes a man a winner,” James told him.

Gordon inclined his head and escaped out the door. Outside in the corridor, he gave his father and in-laws a disgusted look and, without a word to them, marched down the corridor.

Intending to fetch his wife from the abbey, Gordon retraced his steps outside and started to cross the lawns that separated the palace from the abbey. He stopped when he heard someone call his name and turned around. The Earl of Bothwell, Mungo MacKinnon, and Lavinia Kerr were advancing on him.

“Gordy, we’ve met yer bride,” Lavinia said by way of a greeting. “When I saw ye this mornin’, ye never mentioned that she’s with child.”

God’s balls, Gordon thought, turning a frigid gaze upon her. This was all he needed to make his day complete. First the king had called for his kin’s imprisonment, and now Lavinia Kerr had introduced herself to his wife. God only knew what words had passed between them.

Gordon flicked an accusing glance at Mungo, who smiled unrepentantly and shrugged.

“How did yer audience with Jamie go?” Bothwell asked.

“It ended reasonably well,” Gordon answered. “If ye’ll excuse me, my wife is waitin’ inside the abbey.”

“She isna there,” Bothwell told him.

Gordon arched a brow at him.

“Lady Rob wished to retire to her chamber,” Bothwell said. “I escorted her back to the palace.”

“Thank ye, my lord.” Without another word, Gordon retraced his steps to the palace. Reaching his chamber, he paused outside the door for a long moment and wondered in what mood he’d find his wife. Meeting Lavinia Kerr could not have been pleasant. For the first time in his life, Gordon regretted the liaisons he’d had with court jades like Lavinia. Well, he couldn’t change the past so he would be forced to deal with the present as it was.

Gordon stepped inside the chamber. With her back turned toward the door, Rob sat in a chair pulled close to the window and appeared to be doing her needlework.

That she knew he’d returned was apparent in the almost imperceptible stiffening of her delicate shoulders.

Gordon smiled to himself. Ready for battle, was she? His wife was never more adorable than when angered.

Noiselessly, Gordon walked across the chamber. He lifted the curtain of her hair, lightly kissed the nape of her neck, and said in a husky voice, “I’m partial to this ebony mane of yers.”

“To what were ye partial before?” Rob asked, her voice colder than a Highland blizzard. “Blondes, brunettes, and redheads?”

“I dinna ken, angel.” Gordon leaned against the wall beside the window and folded his arms across his chest. “Explain yerself.”

Rob raised her glittering emerald gaze and stared at him straight in the eye. “I met Ladies Elliott, Armstrong, and Kerr.”

It was worse than he’d expected. Experienced in court intrigue and strategy, Gordon knew that the best defense was a superior offense. He returned her stare unwaveringly and said, “And?”

“And I’d bet the family fortune that Campbell Mansion’s housekeeper isna called Livy.”

Gordon flashed her a wicked grin and winked at her. “Ye’d make yerself a fortune, angel. I’m guilty as charged.”

“Ye lied to me,” she cried.

“Give over, angel. I’ve passed the last hour kissin’ the king’s arse so that our fathers wouldna be tossed into the Tolbooth.”

Rob dropped her gaze to the knitting in her lap. Her thoughts were incredibly easy to read. Gordon knew by the way she worried her bottom lip with her teeth and the rosy stain upon her cheeks that, though angry, his wife felt guilty for failing to think of their fathers first. In that case, he could afford to be generous.

“Be at peace, angel,” Gordon said. “Our fathers are na in any danger. I’ve managed to set thin’s aright with Jamie.” He knelt down on one bended knee to be eye level with her and vowed, “All those jades ye met today are from my past. Yer my present and my future. Just like our weddin’ band says, ‘Ye and No Other.’”

“I saw ye kissin’ Lavinia Kerr this mornin’.”

“I wasna kissin’ Livy. She was kissin’ me,” Gordon insisted. He glanced over his shoulder at the window and said, “’Tis barely two of the clock and early enough for a visit to the High Street. I know a good tavern where we could sup.”

“Are ye tryin’ to purchase my forgiveness?” Rob asked, arching a perfectly shaped ebony brow at him. “I canna be bribed.”

Gordon shook his head and cast her his devastating smile. “I’m tryin’ to court an angel.”

That brought the hint of a smile to her lips, and Gordon knew the bluster had gone out of her. “Are ye knittin’ Smooches a new sweater?”

Rob shook her head and held her handiwork up for him to see. “’Tis a blanket for our son.”

“Well, Gavin will be disappointed if the bairn isna a girl,” he said. “Now, how aboot that ride up the High Street, lovey?”

A short time later, Gordon and Rob sat astride their horses and left the palace stable yard. Glancing sidelong at her husband, Rob was unable to hold onto even a smidgen of her anger. Gordon was a handsome and virile man and several years older than she. They’d married so young; she couldn’t have expected him to remain faithful while she grew into womanhood.

Gordon led Rob south on the Cannongate and pointed to its sites of interest. On the right was White Horse Close where Campbell Mansion with its enclosed courtyard and gardens was located. A little farther ahead stood the Cannongate Tolbooth where prisoners wasted away and beyond that John Knox’s house, Mercat Cross, and St. Giles Cathedral.

Edinburgh Castle, situated on Castle Rock, rose in the distance only a scant mile away. Nor’ Loch and the Esplanade lay in the foreground.

An enormous wooden structure built on the Esplanade caught Rob’s attention, and she wondered what it could possibly be. Halting her horse abruptly, Rob pointed toward the structure and asked, “What’s that?”

No answer.

Rob turned in her saddle to look at her husband. Gordon’s expression had become grim.

“Well?” she asked.

“’Tis the gallows where the executioner strangles and burns those convicted of witchcraft,” he answered.

Rob paled by several shades. She glanced down at her left hand, covered by her riding gloves, but never bothered to check her beggar bead necklace, since the star ruby had permanently darkened. Rob realized that danger, more sinister than being shunned as an outcast, surrounded her in Edinburgh.

Stopping in the Upper Bow, Gordon purchased several court gowns for Rob and instructed the dressmaker to deliver them to Holyrood Palace. At the goldsmith’s shop, Gordon gifted Rob with emerald earrings mounted in a traditional gold setting; and at the Lawnmarket, Rob easily persuaded Gordon to buy her yards and yards of various fabrics which could be fashioned into gowns for their baby.

“Are ye hungry?” Gordon asked as they left the Lawnmarket’s shops behind.

“Famished.”

Gordon escorted Rob to Princes Street. Seated inside MacDonald’s Tavern, they stuffed themselves with boiled mussels and clams seasoned with herbs, scones dipped in honey, and fruit tarts dressed with nuts and spices.

“Tell me what happened durin’ yer interview with the king,” Rob said.

“Because of my expert arse-kissin’, our fathers got off lightly,” Gordon told her. “They apologized to Jamie and have agreed to apologize publicly at tomorrow’s service.”

“I canna believe my father agreed to do that,” Rob replied. “For years he’s been complainin’ aboot Jamie’s lack of interest in his mother’s plight.”

Gordon shrugged. “I didna say they liked, the idea, but it was either a public apology or the Tolbooth.”

“I dinna know if I like attendin’ the court,” Rob told him. “Danger swirls like a thick fog around every step a person takes.”

“Dinna worry that pretty head of yers,” Gordon said, covering her hand with his own. “We’ll soon be returnin’ to Inverary. After all, Jamie canna fault me for wantin’ my heir born in Argyll.”

That lightened Rob’s mood considerably. “Did the king mention my brother?”

“Yer father says that Dubh married Isabelle Debrett,” Gordon told her.

“Bothwell told me that Dubh and Isabelle are hidin’ in the Highlands,” Rob replied. “Isabelle’s my verra best friend and now she’s my sister-by-marriage. I only hope that the king doesna outlaw Dubh.”

“Give me a few days, and I’ll take care of that too,” Gordon assured her. “By the way, we’re suppin’ with the king tomorrow evenin’.”

“Great Bruce’s ghost, I’ve nothin’ to wear,” Rob cried in a horrified whisper.

Gordon chuckled. “Ye women are all alike. Whenever somethin’ special happens, ye’ll die if ye canna have a new gown and geegaws to match. We men dinna care aboot such thin’s. Why canna ye be more practical like us men?”

Rob batted her ebony eyelashes at him and cast him a flirtatious smile. “Would ye really want me to be more like ye?” she asked.

“Angel, yer perfect the way ye are,” he answered, leaning close to kiss her cheek.

At meal’s end, Gordon tossed several coins on the table. Then he stood and helped Rob rise from her chair.

“Are we bankrupt?” she asked.

“Well, I can tell ye that keepin’ a wife happy is more expensive than I ever realized,” he teased her.

“But worth every gold piece?”

“And then some.”

Gordon steered Rob through the crowded tavern. Just as they reached the entrance, the door swung open unexpectedly. Mungo MacKinnon and Lavinia Kerr stood there, blocking their path.

“Gordy, what a coincidence meetin’ ye here,” Mungo said by way of a greeting.

“Good evenin’, Gordy,” Lavinia said with a smile. “Lady Rob, we meet again.”

Gordon nodded to acknowledge them, but a smile split his face when Rob spoke up.

“’Twas a good evenin’, Livy.” The other woman’s name on her lips sounded like a foul oath.

“What lovely emeralds yer wearin’ on yer ears,” Lavinia said, ignoring the insult.

“I do love my husband’s newest gift,” Rob replied, reaching up to touch one of her emerald and gold earrings. “The emeralds match my weddin’ band. Gordy has superb taste in jewels.”

“Yes, I know.” Lavinia fingered the sapphire necklace that exactly matched her blue eyes.

Rob stiffened in surprised anger and stared coldly at the voluptuous redhead. She should have known she’d never win in a verbal fight with the gloating she-cat standing in front of her. Why, the bitch probably had years of experience in behaving obnoxiously.

“Mungo, I’m golfin’ with Himself after tomorrow’s service,” Gordon said, breaking the strained silence. “Yer welcome to join us.”

“Aye, I will.”

“We’ve just been shoppin’ in the Lawnmarket where I’ve purchased lace in every color available,” Lavinia said, casting Rob a feline smile. “Since those unusual gloves of yers are such a rage at the English court, I intend to have a pair that matches every gown I own.”

Rob realized in that instant that Lavinia knew she’d lied to Ladies Elliott and Armstrong. Damn Mungo MacKinnon’s blabbing mouth to hell. Now, the red-haired vixen would try to discover what lay hidden beneath the gloves. If Mungo MacKinnon hadn’t already blabbed about that too.