Courting an Angel (32 page)

Gordon halted his horse when they reached a clearing in the woodland. He looked at Rob, who was staring at the lodge and the stable.

“Does one of yer Campbells live here?” she asked.

“We live here,” Gordon mumbled without looking at her.

Rob snapped her head around. “I dinna ken yer meanin’.”

Gordon dismounted and then lifted her out of the saddle. He forced himself to smile pleasantly at her confused expression. “This is our destination, angel,” he said. “We are na travelin’ to Dunridge.”

“Ye lied to me?” Rob’s voice rose in anger.

Gordon took her by the hand, led her to a nearby tree stump, and gently forced her to sit down on it. Then he knelt on one bended knee in front of her.

“Ye havena been happy at Inverary, but I dinna ken why,” Gordon said. “Ye and I havena had an ordinary marriage. Since last December, we havena enjoyed one moment alone in which we could become acquainted. What I’d like to do is pass the better part of the summer with ye up here. That is, if yer agreeable. Forgive me for lyin’ to ye, sweetheart, but I couldna think of another way to get ye up here. If ye really dinna want to stay, I’ll take ye along to Dunridge Castle to visit yer mother.”

Rob dropped her gaze and stared at her hands folded in her lap. Her husband was correct; they were no more than intimate strangers. She refused to tell him why she’d become unhappy at Inverary, though. Her pain was a private matter, and her fear of rejection was a thing he could never understand. She was lonely. Only Gabby and Biddy had befriended her. And yet, Rob knew she cared for the handsome man kneeling in front of her. Perhaps if she passed the summer with him at the lodge, she could grab a few weeks of happiness for herself.

“What d’ye say, angel?” Gordon asked, his voice softly coaxing. “Will ye give us a chance?”

Rob lifted her gaze to his and smiled. One summer of happiness would bring her contentment for the remainder of her days.

“I’ll stay,” she said, “but ye’ll need to do penance for yer lyin’ ways. I’ll expect sunshine and flowers and the gift of yer smile each and every day.”

“For how many years?”

“I’ll let ye know when I’ve decided.”

Gordon flashed her his devastating grin. He kissed the back of her right hand and then pressed his lips to the devil’s flower staining her left hand. His tender gesture brought back the memory of when she’d been his eight-year-old bride. Gallant and gentle and good, Gordon Campbell was the charming Prince of Argyll. Too bad he’d been forced to wed a tarnished princess.

Looking very much like Gavin, Gordon gestured toward the lodge and announced, “Damsel, yer castle awaits ye.”

Rob accepted his offered hand. In courtly manner, they walked toward the lodge. Gordon opened the door, but before she could step inside, he surprised her by scooping her into his arms and carrying her across the threshold. Once inside, he planted a kiss on her cheek and gently set her down on her feet.

Rob quickly scanned her surroundings. The hunting lodge was one enormous room. A large unmade bed, the most commanding presence in the room, stood along the wall on her right. It seemed out of place, as though it had been brought here especially for their stay. Linens and a fur throw had been slung across its mattress. A privacy screen sat to the right of the bed in a corner that connected the bed wall to the wall facing her where the hearth was located. Pots and pans hung on the wall to the left of the hearth. A sturdy-looking oak table, two chairs, and two stools stood along the wall on the left side of the chamber. Shelves on the wall beside the table contained an ample supply of crockery.

“’Tis more luxurious than my father’s lodge,” Rob remarked, her gaze fixed on the bed as she lifted Smooches out of his satchel and set him down on the floor.

“I didna want ye to suffer bein’ out in the woods,” Gordon told her.

Rob smiled at him. “‘Twas verra thoughtful of ye, Gordy.”

“Give me a minute to bring the supplies inside,” he said, turning away. “Then I’ll help ye put the bed in order.”

As soon as he stepped outside, Rob shook the linens out and started to make the bed. Did her husband think she was incapable of performing menial tasks? If so, he’d passed too many years with the pampered ladies at court and had a surprise coming his way. Yes, she was the MacArthur laird’s daughter, but a lonely young girl made friends with whomever she could, including a kindly housekeeper who’d taught her to do the minor tasks that keep a man’s home running smoothly and comfortably.

The door opened. Laden like a pack horse, Gordon walked in and set the satchels and baskets down in the center of the chamber. Then he hurried across the room to help her make the bed.

Rob fluffed the second pillow in place, and Gordon spread the fur coverlet across the blanket. Standing on opposite sides of the bed, they touched each other with their gazes. Mesmerized by the tender expression in his eyes, Rob felt a melting sensation in the pit of her stomach and knew, without a doubt, that this was where her husband would make her his wife in fact as well as name.

“I’ll light the fire,” Gordon said in a husky voice, breaking the spell his piercing gray gaze had woven around her. “Biddy packed us a pot of stew. Could ye warm it while I feed the horses and bed them down for the night?”

“Fetch us a couple of buckets of water,” she ordered.

Gordon grinned at her. “Damsel, yer merest wish is my command.”

Rob watched her husband start the fire in the hearth and then return to their pile of supplies in the middle of the floor. When he pulled a covered pot from one of the baskets and retraced his steps toward the hearth, she stopped him.

“Gordy?”

He turned around. “Aye?”

Rob stepped up to him and lifted the pot out of his hands, saying, “I’ll do that. Take care of the horses.”

A doubtful expression appeared on his face. “Are ye certain?”

“I amna crippled,” she assured him.

Gordon smiled. “The kitchen is yers, angel.”

Rob set the pot of stew on the hook over the hearth and stirred it with a ladle. She headed across the room to the crockery shelves. Lifting two bowls, she used the bottom edge of her skirt to wipe the dust from them and then searched the food basket for the hunk of brown bread that Biddy always served with stew. She set that down on the table between their bowls.

Rob raced back to the hearth and stirred the stew again. She didn’t want the first meal she’d ever cooked for her husband to stick to the bottom of the pot. When he returned, she was already hanging their clothing on the wooden pegs on either side of the door.

“It smells delicious,” Gordon said, returning with a bucket of water in each of his hands. He set them down near the hearth and helped her unpack their belongings.

Deeming the stew sufficiently warmed, Rob filled their bowls and announced, “My lord, I give ye Campbell soup.”

Surprising her, Gordon reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. “Have I told ye today how lovely ye are?” he asked.

Rob blushed and smiled at his compliment, but a low whining ruined the intimate moment. Both looked down and saw Smooches sitting beside the table.

“Stay where ye are,” Gordon said when she started to rise. He filled a bowl with stew and set it on the floor beside the table for Smooches.

“Since we’re here to become acquainted without pryin’ eyes watchin’ us,” Gordon said, “tell me about yerself, angel.”

“I’ve led a verra unexcitin’ life,” Rob replied, uncertain of what he wanted to know.

“How did ye come by yer name?” Gordon asked. “I ken yer father named ye in honor of Robert the Bruce, but ‘tis puzzlin’ why he didna name one of yer brothers after the man.”

“Well, it happened like this,” Rob said with a smile. “My parents decided they would take turns naming their children. When my oldest brother was born, my father named him John Andrew after my grandfather, but we call him Dubh because he’s dark. My mother named their second son Ross, but when the third arrived, she insisted on calling him James after the king. My mother became pregnant again, and for nine months, my father reminded her that this time he’d name the babe. Unfortunately for my da, I was a girl, but he named me Rob Bruce anyway. I think ’twas revenge on my mother for takin’ two turns in a row.”

Gordon was chuckling by the time she finished her tale. “I dinna recall such goin’s-on between my parents,” he said. “My mother died when I was ten years. She was the youngest daughter of the Gordon chieftain, and ’tis the reason my parents called me Gordon. My oldest uncle, George Gordon, is now the Gordon chieftain. The ‘Cock of the North,’ as they say.”

“Is that why the sayin’ goes, ‘the Gordons only talk to the Campbells, and the Campbells only talk to God’?” Rob teased him.

“We Campbells talk to the MacArthurs,” Gordon said with a smile. “Tell me, lass. What did ye think of me that first day when we wed in yer father’s hall?”

“Why would ye want to know that?”

Gordon shrugged. “Curiosity.”

“As I recall, I thought ye were handsome and brave and gallant,” Rob admitted. “I also thought ye were verra old. Elderly, in fact.”

Gordon burst out laughing. “I thought ye were the sweetest angel I’d ever seen.”

Rob blushed and dropped her gaze to her bowl of stew.

“The others will be arrivin’ in the valley tomorrow,” Gordon said, changing the subject. “As a boy, I always loved attendin’ the summer shielin’ . . . Dinna move. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Gordon left the lodge, and Rob wondered what he was doing. Ten minutes later, she heard him calling her name. With Smooches accompanying her, she stepped outside the lodge.

Smiling, Gordon stood there and offered her a wild-flower bouquet of pale pink lady’s smock, purple lady’s slipper orchids, and white trilliums.

“Will ye accept starlight for tonight instead of the sunshine ye ordered?” he asked.

Rob looked up at the sky. Surrounded by thousands of glittering stars, a crescent moon hung overhead in a bed of black velvet.

“Aye, my lord,” she answered, accepting his bouquet of wildflowers.

Standing beside her, Gordon drew her against his body. In silence, they watched Smooches scampering around, sniffing here and there.

“I’ll stay here with the pup while ye take care of yer private needs,” Gordon said, planting a kiss on the crown other head.

Walking back inside the lodge, Rob washed her face and rinsed her teeth, and then changed into her nightgown. She dragged a chair close to the hearth, untied her braids, and then brushed her hair.

Gordon returned a short time later. He leaned close and kissed her cheek, saying, “’Tis time for sleepin’, angel.”

While he smothered the fire in the hearth, Rob climbed into their bed and waited nervously. Was this the moment he’d make her his? She heard him moving around the room and then getting undressed. The bed creaked beneath his weight as he climbed in beside her.

“Good night, angel,” Gordon whispered, and promptly fell asleep.

Rob lay there in surprise. Why had he bothered to bring her all the way up into the mountains if he wasn’t going to make love to her? She didn’t wonder about that long, though. Their journey and the day’s unexpected events had wearied her, and she soon joined her husband in sleep.

* * *

“Wake up, angel.”

Rob heard the voice but kept her eyes closed in the hope that if she feigned sleep, those three words she’d come to despise would go away. Ah, but the invitingly husky sound other husband’s voice warmed her all over, and the faintest of smiles touched her lips.

“See what I’ve brought ye,” Gordon coaxed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Rob opened her eyes and blinked at the blinding sunshine streaming through the lodge’s open door. She shielded her eyes with one hand and looked at her husband.

He smiled and offered her a fresh bouquet of wildflowers. In his free hand, he held a bowl filled with something that smelled delicious.

“I give ye sunshine, flowers, and the gift of my smile,” Gordon said. “This mornin’ I’ve added a bowl of oatmeal porridge sprinkled with cinnamon.”

Rob sat up and leaned back against the headboard. She yawned and pushed several wisps of her ebony mane off her face, unaware of how delightfully disheveled she appeared as if caught in a lover’s tryst.

Taking the bowl and the spoon out of his hand, Rob tasted the porridge. “Why, ’tis delicious with the cinnamon,” she said. “Ye are na eatin’?”

“When a man rises with the dawn,” Gordon told her, “he canna wait until the sun is high to break his fast.”

“What were ye doin’?”

“Feedin’ the horses and fishin’ in the stream,” he answered. “I’ve got a bucket of fish outside. Later, I’ll clean a couple for our dinner and send the rest down to the valley when the others arrive this afternoon.”

Rob nodded. “Where’s Smooches?”

“Sleepin’ in the corner. I guess the fishin’ tired him out. Would ye like to bathe?”

“Aye, but —” Rob scanned the chamber but saw no tub.

“Angel, nobody bathes in a tub durin’ the summer shielin’.” Gordon lifted the empty bowl out of her hands and set it on the table, then grabbed two towels and said, “I’ll wait for ye outside.”