Courting an Angel Read Online Free

givin’ ye a welcome-home kiss when ye return,” she said, refusing him.
    Henry lifted her right hand to his lips, gazed deeply into her eyes, and said, “Darling, you’re making me daft.”
    Isabelle burst out laughing.
    Rob giggled and then parried, “My lord, ye already were daft when I met ye.”
    As she watched the marquess walk toward the quay, a vague sense of relief surged through Rob. She loved him with all of her heart, but needed a bit of breathing space. Rob wanted to savor each moment with the only friend she’d ever had, and Henry’s departure would give her that opportunity.
    “Ludlow seems smitten,” Isabelle remarked.
    “So he says,” Rob replied, her gaze still fixed on the retreating marquess. “I willna kiss him until I’m free.”
    “Do you think Campbell will agree to that?” Isabelle asked.
    “I dinna know.” Rob slipped her left hand out of her pocket, removed the scrolled band of gold that she now wore on her smallest finger, and stared at it.
    Lifting the wedding ring from her hand, Isabelle admired it and then said, “There’s something written inside.”
    “‘Ye and No Other,’” Rob supplied.
    “How romantic,” Isabelle gushed, momentarily forgetting her friend’s preference for Henry Talbot. “The Marquess of Inverary must love you. What did he say when he gave you the ring?”
    “Somethin’ aboot bein’ his lady and how he’d always remain true to me,” Rob answered, hoping her friend proved wrong about the marquess’s feelings. “What a crock of dung that was.”
    “Campbell adores you,” the other girl disagreed. “No man would say such things to a lady unless he meant them.”
    Rob gave her an affectionate smile. “Isabelle, ye always see the good in people. Campbell never even wrote me a letter during all those years.”
    “Perhaps he’s been busy.”
    “For ten years?” Rob countered, cocking an ebony brow at her.
    “’Tis possible,” Isabelle said with a nod, then sighed dreamily. “‘Ye and No Other.’ Aye, the Marquess of Inverary loves you madly. I warrant ’tis the very reason he’s kept himself away. Campbell refused to tempt himself while you were growing into womanhood. Imagine, Rob. All those long, long years Gordon Campbell remained faithful to you . . .”
     
    * * *
     
    Holyroodhouse Palace, Edinburgh
     
    “Come back to bed and warm me,” the Countess of Galbraith purred throatily.
    Twenty-five-year-old Gordon Campbell ignored the blatantly sensual invitation. Dressed only in black breeches and boots, he stared out the bedchamber window that overlooked Holyrood Park.
    That first morning of November had dawned depressingly gray and frosted. October’s crowning glory of gold, orange, and red leaves lay scattered across the brown lawns. Bare branches etched stark silhouettes against a bleak sky.
    Gordon studied the fallen leaves and the barren branches. “No wind” registered in his mind. The overcast day appeared ideal for his golf game with King James. Losing to the king without seeming to do so was much easier on a windless day.
    “Gordy, did ye hear me?” twenty-two-year-old Lavinia Kerr asked in a whining voice. “I’m freezin’.”
    Gordon turned around and smiled lazily at the voluptuous redhead snuggled beneath the coverlet on the four-poster, curtained bed. His latest mistress possessed all the qualities he liked best in a woman — stupid, shallow, and married to someone else.
    No commitments was rule number one in Gordon’s personal philosophy. He needed no tender attachments impeding his soaring ambitions and was glad he’d followed his father’s advice by marrying MacArthur’s daughter when he turned fifteen. His marriage to her had saved him from myriad pretty vultures like Lavinia. When doing so suited him, Gordon intended to end his affair with the fiery-haired beauty in his usual way. He’d gift her with an outrageously expensive trinket, give her adorable derriere a final pat, and send her on her