Authors: Patricia; Grasso
Rob knew from personal experience that anger sometimes hid an injured heart. Her rejection of his gloves had hurt Gordon’s feelings; his insulting her had probably never been his intent.
Had living like an outcast for eighteen years made her overly sensitive and jaded her thinking concerning his true motive for that gift? And wasn’t that proof that she could never be happy living with him in the Highlands? No one could erase the lifetime of harsh lessons learned at the hands of ignorant, superstitious people.
She should apologize to him for her churlish behavior and then ask him what motivated his giving her those gloves. That would be the adult thing to do.
As Rob turned away from the window, another thought occurred to her. Whenever her mother felt the need to apologize to her father, she wore her prettiest, most daringly low-cut gown.
If she was seeking Gordon’s forgiveness, then she had better look damned good. To that end, Rob dressed in a rose silk gown with scooped neckline and matching shoes. She slipped her beggar bead necklace over her head. If the ruby darkened redder than pigeon’s blood, she’d make a run for her chamber. Checking her reflection in the pier glass, she pinched her cheeks for color and then left the room.
Anxious thoughts slowed Rob’s steps as she descended the stairs to the foyer below. If Gordon had failed to send a servant to awaken her for their morning ride, then he must still be very angry. Had he missed her company on his morning jaunt? She certainly hoped so. That would make obtaining his forgiveness easier. The one thing she dreaded was staring into his piercing gray eyes that seemed to see to the dark depths of her soul.
Reaching the great hall, Rob found it nearly deserted. A few servants prepared the high table for dinner while her aunt sat in a chair in front of the hearth.
“What are ye doin?” Rob asked.
“I’m reading,” the countess answered, holding a book up.
That surprised Rob. “Shall I come back later?”
“Actually, I’m relieved you’ve interrupted me,” Lady Keely admitted, setting the book aside. “’Tis Lives of the Saints. So much needless sacrifice gives me the shivery creeps.”
“I ken what yer sayin’.” Then Rob asked casually, “Do ye know where Gordon is?”
“Lord Campbell is completing an errand for your uncle.”
“Oh.” Rob failed to mask the disappointment in her voice. She’d mustered her courage for nothing; he wasn’t even home.
“You look especially lovely,” Lady Keely complimented her.
“Thank ye, Aunt Keely.” Rob blushed with embarrassment like a child caught stealing marchpane. “I thought dressin’ up would lift my spirits after yesterday’s fiasco. If ye see Gordon, would ye tell him I’d like to speak with him?”
Lady Keely nodded. “Of course, dearest.”
Rob passed the afternoon watching her cousins romping in the garden and waiting for Gordon to appear, but he never showed for his usual golf session. When he also failed to appear for supper, she couldn’t bear the anticipation another moment.
“Where is Gordon?” Rob asked, turning to her aunt as the family supped together at the high table.
“Doing an errand for your uncle,” Lady Keely answered. “I told you that this afternoon.”
“Great Bruce’s ghost, ’twas hours ago. He should have returned by now,” Rob said, becoming alarmed. “He could have suffered an accident or —”
“Campbell is delivering several financial reports due the queen at Hampton Court,” Uncle Richard interjected.
“Do ye mean he went to court and never told me?” Rob asked, surprised.
“Did the marquess need your permission to leave?” her uncle countered.
“No, but ye could’ve had Henry deliver those reports.”
The earl cocked a copper brow at her, the same warning gesture her own mother used for conveying irritation. “And do I need to explain my actions to you?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Rob lowered her gaze. “I’m verra sorry, Uncle Richard, and meant no disrespect.”
“Your uncle forgot to give the reports to Henry,” Lady Keely spoke up. “Old people tend toward forgetfulness, you know.”
“Thank you, dearest,” the earl said dryly.
Lady Keely turned to her husband and teased him, “Well, you are a lot older than you were eleven years ago.”
“So are you.”
“True, but you’ll always be older than I am.”
Earl Richard’s gaze warmed on his wife. “I’m not too old to —”
“No, you’re not,” Lady Keely interrupted, casting him a blatantly seductive smile. “You’ll never be too old for that.”
Rob saw the heated look that passed between them. After eleven years of marriage and six daughters, the earl and his countess still loved each other.
Would she ever possess such a lasting love in her own life? Rob wondered. No, she didn’t think so. Wonderful things only happened to nice people. Her devil’s flower damned her to a lifetime of misery.
Taking control of her emotions, Rob gave herself a mental shake. She should be enjoying this evening of freedom, the first she’d had in weeks. Tomorrow was Christmas. The marquess would certainly return then.
Christmas came and went without Gordon making an appearance. Rob pasted a smile onto her face and refrained from asking questions about him, but at odd moments, irritation and heartache mingled within her breast. She had a would-be husband and a would-be betrothed. Both had abandoned her on Christmas.
The next four days passed excruciatingly slowly. Rob awakened late each morning and spent the afternoon with her cousins in the garden. Each evening she sat in front of the hearth in the great hall and wondered what Gordon was doing and with whom.
Then Henry Talbot’s image would form in her mind’s eye. Guilt over neglecting his memory made her squirm mentally.
Rob awakened late on the fifth morning. Gazing out the window at the day, she spied her uncle’s barge docked at the quay. The sight of that barge lifted the heaviness from her heart like the midday sun evaporating the morning mists from the Thames. Unexpectedly, she became fully aware of how glad she was that Gordon had returned home.
’Tis nothin’, Rob told herself. Of course, she was happy that he’d finally returned. Hadn’t he kept her entertained while Henry was busy at court? Soon Henry would complete his duties to the queen, and Gordon would leave for Scotland. Only then would she be able to secure permanent happiness here in England.
Though she told herself repeatedly that she cared nothing for Gordon, Rob took special pains with her toilet that morning. She dressed in one of her favorite outfits, an emerald silk gown and matching satin slippers. Should she don one of the pairs of gloves he’d given her? No, that would be too obvious, and he might begin to believe that she cared for him.
Rob hurried downstairs and, expecting to see Gordon, slowed to a casual stroll when she walked into the hall. Lady Keely, surrounded by her five oldest daughters, sat in a chair in front of the hearth. No one else was in attendance except for Mrs. Ashemole who lifted a sleeping baby Hope from her mother’s arms and carried her out of the hall.
“Good morning,” the countess called, watching her cross the hall. “Or should I say ‘good afternoon’?”
“Good day to all of ye,” Rob returned the greeting.
“Good afternoon, Cousin Rob,” the five little girls chorused.
“I saw a barge docked at the quay,” Rob remarked, trying — but failing — to hide the excitement in her voice. “Do we have company?”
“Lord Campbell returned from Hampton Court this morning,” Lady Keely told her. “He went directly to bed. The poor man said he hadn’t slept for more than five hours in as many days.”
“I see.” A surging wave of jealousy crashed through Rob, and in its wake the heaviness returned to weigh her heart down. Her husband had been carousing at the Tudor court with beauties who bore no evil deformity.
“Want to play with us in the garden?” Bliss asked her.
Rob shook her head. “Later perhaps.”
“No shouting,” Lady Keely warned as her daughters started to leave. “We don’t want to awaken the marquess.”
Rob sat in the chair beside her aunt’s, folded her hands in her lap, and waited for Gordon to awaken. He never appeared, and that afternoon stretched out longer than the preceding four days put together.
When suppertime arrived, Rob kept her gaze riveted on the hall’s entrance. Four days and one exceedingly long afternoon of waiting had taken its toll on her nerves. With her hands hidden on her lap, she furiously ran her thumb back and forth across her devil’s flower. Surely, Gordon would join them for supper. The man required food, didn’t he?
When the earl’s majordomo appeared, Lady Keely instructed him, “Please serve the marquess a supper tray upstairs.”
“Dinna bother, Jennin’s. I’ll take it,” Rob said, leaping out of her chair. Hurrying across the hall, she never saw the smiles that passed between her uncle and her aunt.
With tray in hand, Rob stood outside Gordon’s bedchamber door. She balanced the tray on her left forearm and reached out with her right hand, but then hesitated.
Should I knock? she asked herself.
No answered an inner voice.
Summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, Rob opened the door and stepped inside the chamber. She closed the door behind her lest she flee.
Melancholy dusk cast the chamber in semidarkness. Only one night candle burned on a nearby table.
Rob focused her gaze on the bed. Its brocaded curtains had been left open, and though unable to see his features, she discerned the form of a sleeping man and started forward slowly. She set the tray on the bedside table, turned to stare at her husband, and nearly swooned at the seductive picture he presented.
Bare-chested, Gordon lay on his back with the coverlet pulled up to his waist. In sleep his face appeared boyishly vulnerable, yet he exuded an aura of power.
Unhurriedly, Rob studied his handsome features. His jaw was strongly chiseled and his lips sensuously formed, inviting sweet surrender to his kiss. She slid her gaze lower, saw the strength in his well-muscled chest with its mat of brown hair, and struggled against the sudden urge to touch him and feel his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips.
When her interested gaze reached the boundary line of body and coverlet, Rob wondered if he wore anything at all. Could that flimsy coverlet be the only barrier between his nakedness and her? That tantalizing thought frightened and excited her.
As if he sensed another’s presence, Gordon opened his eyes and asked in a sleep-husky voice, “What are ye doin’ there, Livy?”
“Who’s Livy?” Rob demanded. Her voice sounded overly loud in the chamber’s hushed atmosphere.
Gordon focused on her and yawned. “Ah, angel. Good mornin’ to ye.”
“’Tis evenin’,” Rob snapped. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked an ebony brow at him to indicate her irritation. “Did ye travel to England to attend court or to court me?”
“I see that ye missed me,” he remarked.
“Missed ye?” she echoed, incredulous. “Dinna flatter yerself, my lord. Yer the wart on my existence.”
“I’m growin’ on ye, then?” Gordon asked with a wry smile.
“Yer verra funny, my lord.”
“Sit beside me,” he invited her, patting the bed. “I promise I’ll give ye the attention ye deserve.”
Rob bristled at his conceited arrogance. “No, thank ye,” she replied, lifting her chin a notch. “There’s a tray here for ye if ye’ve the energy to eat after carousin’ at court for long days and even longer nights.” She marched back across the chamber to the door but leveled one final parting shot at him, “And I hope ye didna catch anythin’ fatal from galavantin’ aboot.”
Rob slammed the door behind her and started down the corridor to her own chamber, but the sound of Gordon’s laughter dogged her every step. She passed a sleepless night wondering about the woman named Livy.
Rob awakened later than usual the next day. The heaviness in her heart kept her weighted to the bed until early afternoon.
The last day of December was Hogmanay Eve in the Highlands. Homesickness for her parents and her brothers coiled itself around her heart. At Dunridge Castle, her ancestral home, that festive night would be celebrated with guising as animals, burning smoking sticks to ward off evil sprites, and eating special cakes. The doors would be thrown open at midnight, and everyone would rattle utensils to scare off the last vestiges of the old year, paving the way for all that was new.
Rob emerged from her chamber just before supper. Entering the great hall, she hesitated for a fraction of a moment. Gordon stood with her uncle and her aunt near the hearth and smiled warmly at her when he caught her gaze. Out of habit, Rob hid her stained hand within the folds of her gown and joined them.
“Good evening, my dear,” Lady Keely greeted her.
Rob smiled at her aunt and then her uncle. Finally, unable to delay the moment, she turned her gaze on the marquess.
“What’s the news from Hampton Court?” Rob asked, assuming a casual attitude, determined to show her husband that the woman named Livy meant nothing to her.
“The usual court doin’s,” Gordon said with a shrug. He gifted her with his devastating smile as if he knew what game she was playing.