“Aye, the cow Lady Rob led between the Beltane fires,” he said.
In unison, the women turned around and stared at her. The suspicion in their gazes told Rob that her worst nightmare was coming true.
“The witch killed the cow with her evil touch,” Kendra spoke up.
“Aye, look at her left hand,” a second woman agreed. “Old Clootie marked her as his own.”
“Shut yer foolish mouths,” Gabby snapped, taking a step toward them. “The laird will have yer tongues for voicin’ such lies.”
Rob squared her shoulders proudly. She held her left hand out toward the women who leaped back quickly in fear.
“’Tis a birth stain, not the devil’s mark,” Rob told them. “I am yer new lady and have yer best interests at heart. Never would I do anythin’ to jeopardize yer welfare.”
Silence reigned for several long moments while the women mulled that over in their minds. In the end, Kendra ruined whatever chance Rob had for winning the women’s trust.
“I heard her mother is a Sassenach witch,” Kendra said. “She passed that infernal ability along to her daughter. Look at her Sassenach dog. Why, ’tisna a dog at all. ’Tis a cat and her witch’s familiar.”
“Suffer a witch to die,” one of the women agreed.
“The laird will kill the lot of ye if ye dare to lay a finger on her,” Gabby warned.
“She cast her witch’s spell on Gordy and the laird,” Kendra insisted. “’Twill be broken once she’s dead.”
“Aye, let’s drown her and her cat,” a woman said.
“Let’s have done with it,” another agreed.
Gabby stepped protectively in front of Rob as the group of women started forward. That gave Rob the chance she needed.
“Take Smooches and run into the woods,” Rob ordered Gavin, thrusting the pup into his arms. “Follow the woodland path and find yer father.”
Without hesitation, Gavin clutched the pup close against his chest and dashed toward the forest. “Da!” he shouted. “Help! Murder!”
“Fetch yer brother back here,” Kendra ordered Duncan.
The boy looked from Rob to Gavin and then his mother. Finally, he shook his head and refused to budge.
“Ye must go through me to get to Lady Rob,” Gabby informed them.
“Get her!” one of the women shouted.
Five of the women rushed Gabby who, in spite of her healthy size, was unable to fend them off. The women tackled her to the ground and then sat down on top of her. Gabby struggled in vain.
Kendra and two other women grabbed Rob, who fought frantically for freedom. They dragged her to the water’s edge and shoved her to her knees. Kendra pushed her head toward the water.
“Gordy!” Rob screamed, and then sucked in her breath as her head plunged beneath the water’s surface . . .
Strolling leisurely down the path that led to Glen Aray, Gordon and Dewey heard the screams for help. Both men dropped the fish they’d caught, raced toward the valley, and burst upon a shocking scene.
Clutching Smooches to his chest, Gavin was running toward them and shouting for help. Beyond the boy, five women sat on top of Gabby, who was cursing them loudly and struggling to buck them off. At the water’s edge, Kendra and two women were drowning his wife.
Gordon reached them in mere seconds. He yanked the two women away from his wife, tossed them aside, and then grabbed Kendra.
Gordon lifted the dark-haired beauty and slapped her hard, then dropped her to the ground beside her accomplices. He pulled his gasping wife to safety and held her protectively close within his embrace.
“Gordy, I didna do it,” Rob rasped, weeping and clutching at him. “I — I swear I am no witch. Tis a birthin’ stain, not Old Clootie’s touch. I never killed the cow.”
“She’s a lyin’ witch,” Kendra screamed. “She killed the cow with her touch and cast a love spell on ye.”
“Aye, the spell will be broken when she’s dead,” one of the women agreed.
Several others nodded, but dared not speak to the laird’s son.
“’Tisna so, Gordy,” Rob sobbed. “’Tisna so.”
Gordon looked from the women to his sobbing wife. In a flash of awareness, he realized what her life had been at Dunridge Castle. Everything fell into place. Now he understood why she’d never attended a MacArthur shieling. And why she wished to remain in England.
The Highlands abounded with ignorant people who believed in Old Clootie. His wife had passed her entire life as an outlander in her own home. While he’d been futtering Inverary’s maids and flirting with the jades at court, the angel in his arms had waited for him to rescue her as he’d done the day he’d slain the monster beneath her bed.
“My wife is an angel and the lady of Inverary,” Gordon said, his voice clipped with fury, his gaze on the women cold with accusation. “Yer continued good health depends upon rememberin’ that. I’ll suffer no qualms aboot dispatchin’ anyone who dares to touch her.”
“And if Gordy doesna get you, I will,’” Dewey spoke up. “The lot of ye disgust me.” He glanced at Kendra and added, “Fergus willna be pleased aboot this.”
Gordon lifted Rob into his arms and started walking across the glen toward the path that led to their lodge, “Dewey, bring the dog,” he called over his shoulder.
Gabby gently lifted Smooches out of Gavin’s arms and said, “Thank ye for yer help.”
“Thank ye, lad,” Dewey added, placing a hand on the six-year-old’s shoulder. “We’ll take Lady Rob’s pet to her.”
“Will she be well?” Gavin asked.
Dewey nodded, saying, “Gordy will take good care of her.”
Together, Dewey and Gabby followed Gordon toward the woodland. With hot tears rolling down his face, Gavin stood alone and watched them leave.
Rob had stopped weeping by the time they reached the lodge. Dewey hurried ahead and opened the door for them. With his wife still in his arms, Gordon followed his man inside, and Gabby walked behind.
“Ye can put me down now,” Rob said softly.
Reluctantly, Gordon set Rob on her feet. She stood beside the chair and stared like an unseeing statue into the darkened hearth.
“Can I get ye or ye lady anythin’?” Dewey asked.
“Privacy,” Gordon said, flicking a worried glance at his wife.
“I’ll send ye supper later,” Gabby offered, setting Smooches down on the floor.
“I’ll make us supper,” Gordon said in refusal.
“I’ll make it,” Rob told him in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
At Gordon’s nod, Dewey and Gabby left the lodge. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Gordon approached his wife. He felt uncertain about how to ease her pain. God’s balls, he felt a bit shaky himself. He’d nearly lost her to the women’s superstition. What if he’d delayed going to the glen? His wife would be dead instead of standing here in the lodge with him. That thought nearly felled him, but he knew he had to present a strong facade. His angel was in pain and needed his strength to get through this.
“I want ye to rest on the bed a while,” Gordon said, standing behind her. “I think both of us need to sit down.”
Rob nodded once and started to turn toward the bed. In the next instant, she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.
“God’s balls,” Gordon swore. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her across the chamber to the bed and sat down beside her.
What should he do now? Gordon wondered. He had no experience with swooning women, but then recalled that first night at Devereux House and waited for her to regain consciousness.
Relief surged through Gordon a few minutes later when her eyelids fluttered, and she began to revive naturally.
“Dinna move yet,” he said, placing the palm of his hand against her pale cheek.
Gordon drew her blouse over her head. After removing her skirt, he covered her with the blanket. Then he walked to the table and poured a dram of whiskey.
“Sit up slowly
and sip this,” Gordon ordered, perching on the edge of the bed.
Rob did as she was told, but kept her eyes downcast as if she feared meeting his gaze. Leaning back against the headboard, she sipped the amber liquid.
Gordon smiled as she grimaced against its taste. “Ye’ve been ill lately,” he remarked.
“’Tisna every day I’m almost drowned,” she replied without looking at him.
With one hand, Gordon gently raised her chin a notch and waited until she lifted her gaze to his. “’Twill never happen again,” he promised.
“I — I’m no witch,” Rob said, her emerald eyes glistening brightly with fresh tears.
Gordon leaned close and planted a chaste kiss on her lips. Then he pulled his boots off. Leaning back beside her against the headboard, he gathered her into his arms.
“Yer an angel,” he whispered, dropping a kiss on the ebony crown of her head. “My angel.”
“The Campbells will never accept me as their lady,” Rob said with a heavy sigh. Wearily, she rested her head against his shoulder. “Ye must annul our marriage for the sake of the clan. I can return to Uncle Richard’s.”
“Annulment is impossible once the vows have been consummated.” Gordon sounded calmer than he actually felt. No matter the consequences, he would never let her go.
“A divorce, then.”
“Absolutely not.”
Rob gazed at him through eyes that mirrored the raw pain in her heart and her soul. “Ye must divorce,” she said in an aching whisper. “Livin’ like an outsider will destroy me.”
“They’ll accept ye in time and love ye as one of their own,” Gordon insisted.
Rob shook her head. “Ye canna force them to accept me any more than my own father could force the MacArthurs. He once told me that the clan is stronger than the laird. Consortin’ with me can only taint their loyalty for ye.”
Gordon suffered the overpowering urge to murder every ignorant MacArthur who’d ever shunned his precious wife. How they had hurt her. Probably beyond healing. Her pain became his pain, and Gordon knew he could never bear to let her go. Together, they would get through this ordeal, and somehow he would find a way to force his clan to accept her.
“For better or for worse, yer my wife and willna be returnin’ to England,” Gordon told her, though not unkindly. “The Campbells will accept ye as their lady.”
Rob held her left hand up for his perusal and said, “Old Clootie’s mark will always come between them and me.”
“What a silly chit ye are,” Gordon teased her. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on her birthmark. “Ye carry the flower of Aphrodite, not Old Clootie’s mark.”
Rob stared at him blankly.
“Dinna ye ken what I’m tellin’ ye?”
She shook her head.
“Aphrodite was the legendary Greek goddess of love,” he told her. “This flower is her symbol.”
That seemed to surprise Rob. “Then why do people believe ’tis the mark of the devil?” she asked.
“Holy church convinced its people that lovemakin’ was sinful except to procreate,” he explained. “Over the course of a dozen centuries, people forgot that the flower originated with a love goddess. Naturally, the church had a hand in suppressin’ the flower’s real meanin’.”
“But why?”
Gordon grinned. “Bald fat men, who canna wiggle their waggles, govern the church and dinna want anyone else havin’ fun.”
Rob giggled.
“Yer laughter sounds as divine as an angel at play,” Gordon said, brushing his lips across her temple.
“But how did ye learn this?” Rob asked.
“Among other thin’s, I enjoy readin’.”
With one long finger, Gordon lifted her chin and dipped his head to meet hers. His mouth covered hers in a long, slow, healing kiss. When she entwined her arms around his neck, Gordon drew her down on the bed. Within mere seconds, his lips persuaded her to forget the afternoon’s painful events.
* * *
“Come, Smooches,” Rob called, opening the lodge’s door. “’Tis time to do yer duty.”
She stepped outside and savored the warmth of the midday sun on her face and shoulders. Without warning, a dizzying wave of nausea swept through her and forced her to sit down on the ground to await its passing.
Rob felt thankful that Gordon had gone fishing with Dewey that morning. At least her husband wasn’t around to witness this latest seizure. His constant hovering was beginning to grate on her nerves.
Since that nearly fatal day at Glen Aray three weeks earlier, Gordon had been as attentive as a man in love. But how could that be? What her husband wanted was a legitimate heir for Inverary. He would have that some day, but not from her.
Rob knew she hadn’t long to live. Some unknown but horribly debilitating malady had caught her within its grip. Now she need not consider divorce; she’d be dead before one could be obtained.
When the queasiness passed, Rob got to her feet slowly. Clad in her oldest skirt and blouse, she appeared like a barefoot peasant girl. However, no peasant would wear an emerald-adorned wedding band or a necklace that sported a star ruby.
Glancing down at her beggar bead necklace, Rob saw that the star ruby was darker than pigeon’s blood. A chill of apprehension rippled down her spine, and she jerked into rigid alertness.
Like a doe sensing danger, Rob lifted her head and, turning slowly in a circle, scanned the surrounding woodland. Had Kendra and the other Campbell women come to finish what they’d begun three weeks earlier?
Serenity pervaded the air, and Rob detected no lurking danger. She reached up and touched the star ruby. As she did, the image of Gavin flitted across her mind’s eye.
Some day I’ll swim away out over my head . . .
Rob recalled the boy’s words to her. Gavin was in danger! Reason fled and instinct surfaced.
Rob scooped Smooches up, shut him inside the lodge, and ran down the path that led to Glen Aray. Fear for the boy blinded her to nature’s glory. She never saw the green lushness of the trees or the wanton wildflowers adorning the path. Even the chorus of sweet bird song fell upon deaf ears.
Gavin is in danger. That thought echoed within the corridors of her mind, making her pulse beat faster, urging her on and quickening her pace.
The closer Rob got to the glen, the faster her feet moved; but she never felt the stones and the twigs beneath her bared feet. Only that urgent sense of foreboding sent her careening down the path. Lighter than an angel’s touch, invisible hands on her back seemed to push her along.
“Gavin!” Rob screamed, bursting into the glen.
And then she heard the shouts for help. In the middle of the mountain pool, Gavin struggled to stay afloat while Kendra stood at the shoreline and screamed for help. All the women and the children appeared frozen in shock, unable to move to save the six-year-old.
Without breaking stride, Rob reached the shoreline and ran straight into the water. Hands on her arm jerked her back.
“Dinna touch my son,” Kendra cried. “Stay away from him.”
Rob whirled toward the woman. In one swift motion, she clenched her fist and swung, striking Kendra full on the face. She shoved the hysterical woman to the ground and dived into the water.
The shock of the cold mountain water nearly stole Rob’s breath away. Though hampered by her skirt, she swam toward the middle of the pool just as Gavin sank beneath the water.
Tucking her legs up, Rob dived beneath the surface. The sparklingly clear water made it easy for her to see him. She reached out, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him up with her. Breaking the surface, Rob clutched him against her breast. His small head lolled against her shoulder like a drowned kitten’s.
With a strength born of desperation, Rob finally got Gavin back to shore. The boy was deathly pale, his lips tinged with blue.
“Stay back,” Rob ordered, feeling the others crowding around her. Everyone, including Kendra, obeyed the authority in her voice.
Please God, let him live, Rob prayed as she rolled Gavin onto his stomach and began to pound rhythmically on his back. She hit him again and again until he retched water tinged with blood. Then she flipped him onto his back, pressed her mouth to his, and breathed life into him. An eternity seemed to pass before his eyelids fluttered open, and familiar gray eyes stared dazedly into hers.
“He’s alive,” one woman gasped.
“Lady Rob brought him back from the dead,” another added.
“’Tis a miracle,” said a third woman.
“Someone fetch a blanket for him,” Rob ordered. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Rob looked up and saw her husband kneeling beside her. She peered at the crowd in time to see several Campbells making the sign of the cross.
“Lady Rob is an angel,” Dewey said, passing Gordon a blanket.
Rob shook her head. “I’m a flesh and blood woman, nothin’ more.”
“’Tis the Lord’s mark stainin’ yer hand, not Old Clootie’s,” Gabby insisted. “Ye were touched by an angel.”
Chapter 14
Touched by an angel?
That absurd notion flabbergasted Rob. Only three weeks earlier these superstitious Highlanders had tried to drown her for being a witch, and now they were hailing her as an angel. Of course, she much preferred their acceptance to their murderous intent; but if their attitudes could change so quickly, what prevented them from turning on her again? How could she feel secure living among them?
“I’m a woman,” Rob said simply, glancing at their awed expressions. “But perhaps the Lord did help me save Gavin.” She wrapped the blanket tightly around the boy and smiled at him, saying, “Dinna move. Yer father will carry ye home.”
Rob stood when her husband scooped his son into his arms. She flicked a grateful smile at Gabby who’d placed a woolen shawl around her shoulders.
“I’m takin’ Gavin to my lodge,” Gordon told Kendra.
“No, he needs me,” she protested.
Gordon opened his mouth to argue, but Duncan piped up, “Sleepin’ in the same lodge as a witch will frighten Gavin.”
Rob flinched visibly. Without thinking, she moved her right hand to cover her birthmark. How could she ever hope to win the Campbell’s acceptance if her husband’s own sons rejected her?
Courting an Angel Page 28
