Courting an Angel (13 page)

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.”

“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.