Gavin threw himself into her arms, and Rob hugged him close. How she wished his father would say those same words to her. Great Bruce’s ghost, she’d done what she vowed never to do, what she’d struggled against these many long months. She’d fallen in love with Gordon Campbell.
That night Rob learned what being married with children really meant. Gordon placed the fur throw down on the floor in front of the darkened hearth, and she covered the boys with a blanket. Smooches insinuated himself between them beneath the blanket.
Rob undressed in the darkness and, for modesty’s sake, donned one of her husband’s shirts. She climbed into bed and snuggled close to him. Lying there within the circle of his arms made her feel secure. When Gordon leaned close and covered her mouth in a sweet kiss, she entwined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.
“Lady Rob?”
“Yes, Gavin?”
“Can we eat bannocks for breakfast tomorrow?”
“If ye want.”
“I do.”
“Me too,” Duncan called.
“Verra well,” she said. “If ye dinna sleep now, I’ll be too tired to cook for ye.”
Silence reigned for several long moments.
Once again, Gordon leaned close and kissed her. Rob flicked her tongue across the crease of his lips, and their kiss deepened into smoldering passion. She felt his long fingers gliding up her legs, and her breath caught in her throat when he stroked the dewy pearl of her womanhood.
Noiselessly, Gordon moved to cover her body with his own, and Rob guided him inside her. The bed creaked in protest as they began to move as one.
“What are ye doin’?” Gavin asked loudly.
Gordon and Rob froze and then heard Duncan say, “They’re makin’ ye a baby sister.”
“Thank ye,” Gavin called.
Gordon and Rob struggled against their laughter and lost. Surrendering to the inevitable, Gordon rolled off his wife and pulled her close against the side of his body.
“Good night, angel.”
“Good night, husband.”
* * *
“Granny Biddy,” Gavin cried, dashing across the lodge yard.
Hurrying out of the stable where he’d been grooming the horses, Gordon felt a surge of relief at the sight of the old woman with Dewey and Gabby. With Biddy’s expertise, he would learn what ailed his wife. Even now, Rob lay on the bed inside the lodge because she’d become dizzy and nauseous at breakfast.
“Thank God yer here,” Gordon said, helping the older woman dismount. “Rob’s ill and needs yer tendin’.”
“What a journey I’ve had,” Biddy complained. “My bones ache, and my puir backside is sore. I’ll never make it back to Inverary alive. I’m the one who needs tendin’.”
Duncan and Gavin giggled out loud, earning themselves a frown from the older woman. Gordon hid his smile, and Dewey rolled his eyes. Only Gabby was solicitous of her.
“Come rest over here a minute,” Gabby said, taking her grandmother’s arm.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Biddy snapped, slapping the helping hand away. “Get the haggis from Dewey and bring it inside.” She rounded on Gordon and ordered, “Ye wait out here.”
Gordon inclined his head and whispered to Dewey, “Does she think to cure my wife with haggis?”
Dewey shrugged but said nothing. Five minutes passed, and then another five. Ten minutes grew into thirty, and then an hour.
Gordon stared at the lodge’s closed door. Each passing moment etched deepening anxiety across his features. God’s balls, what was taking so long? Rob must be terribly ill. What would he do if he lost her? That disturbing thought made his heart sink to his stomach. Accustomed to having her near, he couldn’t imagine life without her now.
“Is Lady Rob goin’ to die?” Duncan asked, apparently sensing his father’s tension.
Gordon glanced at the seven-year-old and wished he knew the answer. “No, son,” he said. “Lady Rob will be better now that Granny Biddy is here.”
“Is that a good lie or a bad lie?” Gavin asked.
Puzzled, Gordon turned to his youngest son and said, “I dinna ken what ye mean.”
“Lady Rob told me that —”
The lodge’s door opened. Wearing the fiercest scowl Gordon had ever seen on her face, Granny Biddy marched outside. Gabby followed behind her grandmother.
Braced for the worst, Gordon stepped forward and asked, “Well?”
“I ought to slap ye silly for draggin’ my brittle bones all the way up here,” Biddy snapped, surprising him. “The laird is correct; ye do possess the sense of a donkey.”
“What’s wrong with my wife?” Gordon demanded.
“Nothin’ is wrong with her, ye blinkin’ idiot,” Granny Biddy shot back. “Yer seed hit its mark.”
“Ye mean she’s pregnant?” Gordon asked.
Duncan and Gavin shouted with glee and jumped up and down. Dewey hooted with laughter, and Gabby grinned at the amazed expression on Gordon’s face.
“I love ye,” Gordon vowed, hugging the old woman. He planted a smacking kiss on her lips and then headed for the lodge.
Rob was sitting on the edge of the bed when he walked in. She cast him a shy smile and asked, “Did Biddy tell ye?”
Gordon nodded and sat beside her on the bed. “Why didna ye tell me?” he asked. “I’ve been sick with worry for ye.”
“Ye have?”
Gordon smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, gently drawing her against the side of his body. “Of course I was worried,” he whispered, brushing his lips across her temple.
“I didna know myself,” Rob admitted, her eyes downcast. “I thought I was dyin’.”
Gently, Gordon turned her head toward him and waited until she lifted her gaze to his. He planted a kiss on her lips and whispered, “Thank ye, angel.”
Rob pasted a sunny smile onto her face, but her thoughts were troubled and blinded her to the tenderness in his expression. A simple thank you for bearing his child wasn’t enough; she desperately needed to hear those three magic words, I love you.
But what else could she expect? Disappointment had dogged her entire life. Why should this be any different? Perhaps she should consider herself fortunate that her husband respected her enough not to lie to her. That would be even more unbearable than knowing the truth.
June brought warm, dry breezes to the upper pastures and mountains. The summer mornings filled with the melodic sounds of bird song, afternoons heated beneath brilliant sunshine, and calm evenings brought displays of fireflies down in the glen. In the woodland garden, lady’s slipper orchids bloomed as did the mistletoe in the oaks. Midsummer Eve and the full mead moon came and went.
Sudden, severe thunderstorms arrived with the month of July. By mid August, goldenrod appeared in the glen and hinted at autumn’s blaze of color. The screech of blue jays replaced the sweet songs of robins and wrens, which vanished suddenly. When the full barley moon shone in the night sky, the Campbells counted the dwindling days of summer and their shieling.
One sunny August morning, Rob and Gavin sat together outside the lodge. With them were Gabby and Smooches. Though the six-year-old had been invited to go swimming with his father and his brother, Gavin preferred staying with Rob and stubbornly refused to go anywhere near the water.
“Let’s play court,” he suggested.
“How do ye do that?” Gabby asked.
Gavin leaped to his feet and bowed to Rob. After giving her his devastating smile, he asked, “My lady, will ye dance with me?”
“I’d be honored,” Rob replied, rising from the ground. She curtsied to the boy, and they began the pavane as she’d taught him.
“I’ve nobody to partner me,” Gabby complained. “What aboot me?”
Gavin stopped dancing and looked at her. “Lord Smooches is free for this dance,” he said, pointing to the pup.
Gabby lifted Smooches into her arms and then pranced around the lodge yard. “Why, Lord Smooches, w
hat a divine dancer ye are,” she exclaimed in a loud voice, making Rob and Gavin laugh. “Yer so verra light on yer feet.”
“What are ye celebratin’?” a familiar voice asked.
Rob smiled at her husband and said, “We’re dancin’ at the king’s birthday gala.”
“Lord Smooches is partnerin’ me,” Gabby called.
“Should I be jealous?” Dewey asked.
“I want to dance too,” Duncan said.
“We must pack our belongin’s and ride to Inverary this afternoon,” Gordon said as Mungo MacKinnon followed him into the lodge yard.
“All of Scotland knows aboot the queen’s death,” Mungo said, flicking a hate-filled glance at Rob.
“James wants us in Edinburgh by the second week of September for her memorial service,” Gordon said. “Dewey and Gabby will accompany us.”
“By the way, yer brother snatched Isabelle Debrett on the eve of her weddin’,” Mungo told Rob with obvious relish. “The king is furious aboot it too. He just might name yer brother an outlaw.”
Rob paled by several shades, and then began rubbing the stain on the back other left hand. Turning a worried gaze on her husband, she echoed, “Dubh is an outlaw?”
“Dinna fret aboot that,” Gordon said. “I can handle Jamie. Besides, the Debrett lass probably wished to disappear with Dubh. Perhaps he rescued her instead of snatched her.” Looking at Mungo and Dewey, he added, “Come along, lads. We’ll share a mug of whiskey.”
Rob watched their retreating backs as they walked to the lodge. How could they behave so casually about Dubh being named an outlaw? Had he really abducted Isabelle on the eve of her wedding? Her marriage to whom? Apparently, while she’d been summering in the mountains, the world had continued without her. How did she dare —?
“Lady Rob, can I go to court with ye?” Gavin asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“I dinna think so, sweetie.” Noting the droop in his expression, she added, “I need ye at Inverary to care for Smooches. Will ye do that for me?”
Happy again, Gavin grinned and nodded. “Damsel, I’ll guard Lord Smooches with my life.”
“Shall we go inside and pack our belongin’s?” Rob asked.
Gavin nodded. Taking their cue from her, Gabby and Duncan started toward the lodge.
Rob reached for Gavin’s hand and turned to follow them, but glanced at her beggar bead necklace. The star ruby had darkened redder than pigeon’s blood.
How provoking, Rob thought. The moment Mungo MacKinnon appeared, her star ruby warned her of danger. Well, she carried her husband’s child within her body and would take no chances with the babe’s safety.
The time for strapping her last resort to her leg had arrived.
Chapter 15
Great Bruce’s ghost, how would she survive the Stuart court?
Rob furiously rubbed a finger back and forth across her devil’s flower as she gazed out the window from her husband’s chamber at Holyroodhouse Palace. Having arrived in Edinburgh late the previous evening, she hadn’t actually met any courtiers but felt the nervous hives rising upon her body.
That Gordon was the king’s confidant and an insider at court worried her immensely. How could she measure up when critical gazes searched her for flaws? She could never fit in here; Old Clootie’s mark prevented her acceptance. Rob knew that as surely as she knew her own name.
Anxiety and insecurity mingled in a deadly combination and stole her peace of mind. Rob wished she were back at the shieling, or anywhere else that wasn’t here. Had it only been last autumn that she’d been an innocent maiden flirting with Henry Talbot at Devereux House? Last autumn seemed like a lifetime ago.
So many things had happened since then. The most important, of course, was that she would become a mother early in February. If she survived the Stuart court.
“Those gloves ye wanted are here,” Gabby called from the other side of the chamber. “Gawd, there must be a dozen pair of them.”
Relieved, Rob closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. Her aunt had remembered to pack the fingerless gloves Gordon had given her, and her uncle had shipped her belongings to Campbell Mansion.
Exposing her deformity at court required more courage than Rob possessed. What if the king’s courtiers saw her devil’s flower and started making the sign of the cross whenever she passed by? She’d heard the rumors of how superstitious King James was. Why, he even believed in witches.
Rob forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. Becoming too frightened could mar her babe. In an attempt to free all those troubling thoughts from her mind, she concentrated on the picturesque scene outside her window.
The chamber had a perfect view of Holyrood Park and the esplanade that led to Edinburgh Castle. Early autumn wore its most serene expression that day. Brilliant sunshine touched the land, and clear blue skies kissed the distant horizon.
The seasons changed early in these northern climes. Though only mid September, the oaks and the birches and the elms had already gone to gold while the pines and the spruce and the fir remained evergreen. Several trees had even changed their golden garb to orange and red. Meanwhile, the green lawns of summer were rapidly browning.
In London, summer would just be passed its ripening peak and waning; but here, in Edinburgh, autumn had arrived with all of its colorful beauty. Strangely, Rob felt an aching melancholy as she surveyed the glory of nature outside her window.
“Which gown will ye be wearin’?” Gabby called.
“The black and gold brocade with my black shawl,” Rob answered, glancing over her shoulder. “Dinna forget the black gloves.”
Rob gazed out the window again while she tried to summon the courage to accompany her husband into the mob of noble strangers attending the memorial service for Scotland’s late queen. The service was set for precisely twelve noon. She had no doubt that Gordon would be annoyed if he returned to their chamber and found her clad in her bedrobe.
And then Rob saw him.
A magnificent rider on horseback caught her attention as she turned away from the window. Even from this distance, she recognized her husband. A smile touched her lips as she admired the incredibly virile picture he presented.
From the opposite direction, a woman on horseback rode straight for Gordon. Rob noted the heavy mass of gloriously red hair cascading down the woman’s back and her impeccable dress.
Gordon jerked his mount to an abrupt halt and gifted the lady with one of his devastating smiles. The woman halted her horse beside his.
Great Bruce’s ghost, Rob thought. How could two horses stand that close without biting or kicking each other?
Gordon reached for the woman’s hand and raised it to his lips. The woman laughed in response, retrieved her hand, and then gracefully dismounted. Gordon wasted no time in dismounting too.
When they faced each other, the woman threw herself into Gordon’s arms. She looped one arm around his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him passionately.
Rob clutched her belly as if trying to protect her unborn child from his father’s betrayal. Unable to move away from the window, she felt her world crumbling down around her.
Once a womanizer, always a womanizer, echoed within her mind.
“What’s so interestin’ outside?” Gabby asked, standing beside her. “Holy horseshit, ’tis Gordy kissin’ — Come away from the window and dress, or ye’ll be late for the service. Never mind aboot that. She’s probably an old friend or — or . . .”
“Or somethin’,” Rob finished.
“Exactly.”
MacArthur pride forced Rob to lift her chin a notch. She would remain calm for her baby’s sake and ask him for an explanation. Brushing a tear from her check, Rob told herself to keep a tight control over her emotions and prayed that Great Bruce’s ghost would give her strength.
After removing her bed robe, Rob crossed the chamber and searched through one of her satchels. She fastened the garter with the black leather sheath to her leg an
d placed the last resort inside.
“Will ye be needin’ that blade?” Gabby asked.
“Aunt Keely told me that at court friends come and go, but enemies tend to accumulate,” Rob said. “Certainly, wearin’ my last resort canna hurt.”
“Whatever blows yer gown up, dearie,” Gabby replied. “Dewey and I will be sittin’ with the other retainers in the rear of the chapel. Holler if ye need me.”
Gabby drew the black and gold brocaded gown over her mistress’s head. After slipping her arms inside its sleeves, Rob turned around so the tiny buttons in the back could be fastened.
“Suck in yer gut.” Gabby chuckled. “The gown barely fits, so I’d better start lettin’ the seams out on the others.”
Rob set the beggar bead necklace over her head and frowned at the star ruby. The magical stone had darkened redder than pigeon’s blood on the day that Mungo MacKinnon arrived at the shieling and hadn’t faded yet. The sight of its constant danger warning was beginning to give her the creeps. Rob could almost feel the evil lurking in the shadows at Holyrood Palace and itching to grab her as she passed by.
Rob pulled on her black, fingerless gloves and felt much better. Hiding Old Clootie’s mark gave her confidence. She wrapped the black cashmere shawl around her shoulders just as the door swung open.
“I hope yer ready,” Gordon said, smiling at her as he walked into the chamber. “I’ve already been to the High Street.”
Rob whirled around at the sound of his voice and stared at him. In spite of her worries, she couldn’t help admiring her husband. Dressed in his Campbell plaid with a white shirt and black doublet, Gordon appeared a magnificent figure of a man, and she could well understand why the ladies were attracted to him. However, he had insisted on their marriage and dragged her out of England. She expected — no, demanded — faithfulness from her husband.
“We ladies take longer,” Rob said, managing a faint smile.
“’Tis well worth the wait,” Gordon told her, planting a kiss on her lips. “Ye look divine.”
Rob captured his piercing gray gaze with her own and asked without preamble, “Who was that woman?”
Courting an Angel Page 30
