Courting an Angel Read Online Free Page A

way. To her next lover, no doubt.
    “At what are ye starin’?” she asked, a flirtatious smile curving her full lips.
    “I’m admirin’ the most beautiful woman in Edinburgh,” Gordon answered, sauntering across the chamber to sit on the edge of the bed.
    Lavinia sat up and let the coverlet drop to her waist, exposing her breasts. “Ye have a remarkable way with words,” she murmured, gliding the palm of her hand across his bare chest. “Take yer boots and breeches off. I have urgent need of ye.”
    “When ye slipped into my bed this mornin’,” Gordon reminded her, “I told ye I couldna linger. I’m golfin’ with James.”
    “The king willna golf in the rain,” she argued.
    “’Tisna rainin’,” he told her. “Why dinna ye join us?”
    “I hate golfin’.”
    “How unfortunate.” Gordon cast her a long look and added in feigned dismay, “Ye possess the perfect stance for an excellent golf game.”
    “I do?”
    “Aye, widespread legs.”
    “Yer crude,” Lavinia said, lifting her nose into the air. Then, “When are ye goin’ to marry me?”
    Gordon leaned close and nuzzled the side of her neck. With laughter lurking in his voice, he reminded her, “Did ye forget, hinny? Ye’ve already got yerself a husband.”
    “Galbraith is an old man and canna last verra much longer,” Lavinia countered. “Challenge him to a duel and be done with it.”
    “I expected better of ye,” Gordon replied, giving her a reproving look. “Where’s the honor in challengin’ a man too old to defend himself? Dinna forget, lovey, I have a wife.”
    “The MacArthur chit?” Lavinia laughed derisively. “Annul her.”
    Gordon opened his mouth to reply but heard a knock on the door. He flicked a measuring look at Lavinia and hoped this wasn’t one of her tricks intended for Galbraith to find them together in a compromising position. Murdering a man old enough to be his grandfather wasn’t something he’d enjoy. Perhaps he’d better shop for that farewell trinket after his round of golf.
    “Gordy? Are ye in there?” The voice belonged to his friend, Mungo MacKinnon.
    “Here’s yer cousin. Cover yerself,” Gordon said to Lavinia. Then called, “Come in, Mungo.”
    The door swung open, and twenty-six-year-old Mungo MacKinnon walked into the chamber. Standing well under six feet, Mungo was slenderly built and a good six inches shorter than Gordon. He sported a crown of pale blond hair and deep-set blue eyes. Mungo leaned his bag of golf clubs against the wall and then grinned at Lavinia.
    “Cousin, ye look delightfully disheveled,” he teased her. “How’s yer husband?”
    “Verra funny.”
    “Are ye almost ready?” Mungo asked Gordon. “We dare na keep Himself waitin’.”
    Rising from his perch on the edge of the bed, Gordon pulled his white shirt on over his head and then reached for his black leather jerkin. “I was tryin’ to persuade Lavinia to join us,” he said, his gray eyes sparkling with mischief.
    Lavinia tossed the pillow at him, but in the movement, the coverlet dropped to reveal her breasts. She blushed prettily and yanked it up.
    The two men hooted at her embarrassment, but an insistent knocking on the door cut their laughter short. While Mungo hastily pulled the bed draperies shut to hide his cousin, Gordon crossed the chamber and opened the door a crack. A man, dressed in the black and green Campbell plaid, stood there.
    Recognizing the Marquess of Inverary, the Campbell courier offered him a sealed parchment, saying, “From His Grace.”
    “I’ll be returnin’ to Campbell Mansion this afternoon,” Gordon said, accepting the parchment. “I’ll see ye there later if this requires an answer.”
    The courier nodded and left.
    Gordon closed the door and leaned back against it. He started to break the wax seal on the missive.
    “What’s the news from Argyll?” Lavinia called. With the coverlet wrapped around herself, she emerged from the curtained bed.
    Suppressing a smile,