Courting an Angel (50 page)

“’Tis Henry,” the muffled voice said. “Open the door.”

“One moment,” Rob called.

Gordon gave her a quick kiss and then rose from the bed. “Go on and let him in while I dress.”

Rob padded on bare feet across the chamber and admitted Henry. She bolted the door behind him.

Henry winked at her and bowed over her hand, saying, “I see that your husband’s conjugal visit has brought the rose’s bloom to your cheeks, darling.”

“Thank ye for yer help,” Rob said, her blush darkening with her embarrassment.

“’Twas my pleasure,” he replied. “Well, almost my pleasure. Are ye ready, Inverary?”

Rob looked at her husband and dissolved into giggles. Over his breeches and shirt, Gordon had donned his skirt, long-haired wig, and cap. Then he covered the whole outfit with a woman’s hooded cloak.

“Good Christ, Inverary. You’re the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen,” Henry remarked. “My reputation as a connoisseur of beautiful women will never recover from this.”

Rob walked straight into her husband’s open arms. “I think yer the most handsome woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank ye, my love.” Gordon dipped his head and kissed her.

“Ahem.” Henry Talbot cleared his throat.

Gordon glanced up at the other man. “Verra well, Ludlow. I’m comin’. And keep yer hands off me as we leave.”

“I assure you, Inverary. Walking with my arm around your shoulders is a supreme sacrifice on my part,” Henry shot back.

Gordon gave Rob another quick kiss. “Have a care for the babe, angel. I’ll see ye in three weeks.”

And then he disappeared out the door.

After bolting it behind them, Rob closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. A lump of raw emotion formed in her throat, and she tried to gulp it down.

Gordon loved her. Surely she could muster the courage to survive whatever the next three weeks brought her.

Chapter 19

I love ye more than life itself. Ye and No Other . . .
 

Those magical words of love heartened Rob and gave her the inner strength needed to endure another three weeks of lonely, frightened isolation. And then the final moment arrived when gold would decide her fate.

On the evening of her forty-second day in captivity, Rob stood between two of the king’s guard beside the dais at the front of the royal audience chamber. All of the Stuart courtiers milled about and spoke in hushed tones, and Rob wondered if they’d attended the proceedings to see her hanged as a witch or walk free.

On one side of the milling throng stood Lavinia Kerr. The Earl of Bothwell, Henry Talbot, and Roger Debrett stood together on the other side of the chamber. Mungo MacKinnon waited on the opposite side of the dais for his gold. King James, his mouth dribbling a river, stood between Mungo and Rob.

Though pride forced Rob to maintain a serene expression, every nerve in her body tingled in a riot of barely suppressed panic. She stood on trembling legs and prayed she wouldn’t embarrass herself by swooning like a coward.

Where was Gordon? she wondered. Would this be the night she slept beside him at Campbell Mansion as he’d promised? Or would this crowd of courtiers attack her like a pack of wolves and drag her to yonder scaffold on Edinburgh Castle’s Esplanade?

And then Gordon appeared in the hall’s entrance. Looking none too happy, he paused there until the courtiers quieted and all their gazes fixed upon him, and then he started forward.

Clutching her swollen belly, Rob swayed on her feet. She just knew from the expression on her husband’s face that he’d been unable to raise the fifty thousand gold pieces necessary to free her.

Committing an insultingly outrageous breach of protocol, Gordon ignored the king and halted in front of Rob. Perhaps for the final time, he gifted her with his devastating smile and lifted her hands to his lips.

“Damsel, yer hero is here,” he whispered in a husky voice. “How do ye and the babe fare, my love?”

Unable to find her voice through her constricting fear, Rob managed a wobbly smile and nodded that she was well.

Turning away from her, Gordon stepped in front of the king and bowed. “Sire, I’ve come to collect my wife,” he announced.

“Even a deaf man hears the clinkin’ of gold,” King James replied. “Have ye the means to free her?”

Like a true Prince of Argyll, Gordon flicked a contemptuous glance at Mungo MacKinnon and then, with every ounce of arrogance he possessed, nodded at the king. “Shall I have it brought here, Sire?”

“Please do,” King James said.

Gordon looked over his shoulder and nodded at Dewey, who opened the audience chamber’s door and beckoned to someone in the corridor. A line of seven Campbell warriors, dressed in their battle plaids and carrying enormous burlap sacks over their shoulders, marched into the hall and through the crowd toward the dais. The first Campbell warrior emptied his sack of gold pieces in front of the king, making the crowd of courtiers gasp.

“Ten thousand gold pieces from my father, the Duke of Argyll, and myself,” Gordon announced.

The second Campbell warrior stepped to the dais and emptied his sack at the king’s feet.

“Ten thousand gold pieces from Iain MacArthur, the Earl of Dunridge,” Gordon said.

Great Bruce’s ghost, she’d never seen so much gold in her life! Rob glanced at the king whose gaze seemed glazed as it fixed on the small heap of gold at his feet. She peered at Mungo MacKinnon whose eyes held the same greedy gleam as the king’s.

And then Rob knew her husband’s ploy. Gordon was bent on enticing King James with the gold promised to Mungo. MacKinnon would lose the gold and a rich, influential ally in himself. It would be his revenge against a trusted friend’s betrayal.

As each of the five remaining Campbell warriors stepped forward and emptied his sack of gold at the king’s feet, Gordon announced its contributor: “Five thousand gold pieces from Percy MacArthur, the Earl of Weem . . . Five thousand gold pieces from George Gordon, the Earl of Huntly . . . Five thousand gold pieces from Francis Hepburn-Stuart, the Earl of Bothwell . . . Five thousand gold pieces from Henry Talbot, the Marquess of Ludlow . . . Five thousand gold pieces from Lord Roger Debrett, the heir to the Earl of Eden.”

“’Tis five thousand gold pieces short of the price,” Mungo insisted, though his gaze rested longingly on the incredible pile of gold. “By yer own word, Sire, the wench stands trial for witchcraft.”

Rob swayed precariously on her feet. Would she be dragged to yonder scaffold for lack of five thousand gold pieces? A merciful God could not be so cruel to her.

Fixing her gaze on the king, Rob saw the uncertainty playing across his face, and the royal dribbling had worsened with Mungo’s outburst. The price had been set at fifty thousand gold pieces, and even the king was at a loss about what to do unless MacKinnon agreed to take the slightly smaller sum.

“Sire, I am honored to present my wife’s final benefactor,” Gordon announced, gaining everyone’s attention. He nodded at Dewey, who opened the corridor door again and beckoned to someone outside.

Dressed completely in black like Old Clootie himself, a tall well-built man with a shock of burnished copper hair stepped into the audience chamber. He paused for maximum effect and then strode forward with an arrogant, predator’s grace.

“Uncle Richard!” Rob exclaimed in surprise, drawing the king’s attention.

The crowd of spectators erupted in excited murmurings as the undeniably impressive English earl advanced on the dais.

“’Tis the Earl of Basildon.”

“Elizabeth’s ‘Midas.’”

“England’s favorite son.”

“The earl with the golden touch.”

Reaching the dais, the Earl of Basildon glanced at Rob and cast her an unmistakably fond smile. He looked at King James and bowed from the waist.

“Yer Majesty, I present Richard Devereux, the Earl of Basildon,” Gordon made the introduction.

“Welcome to Scotland, my lord,” King James greeted him with a broad smile. “How fares my dear cousin, Elizabeth?”

“The queen is well and sends her fondest regards to her closest living relative,” Richard replied. “And, I am most honored to meet finally with Scotland’s monarch.”

King James grinned. He’d heard the lure of a promise in the words closest living relative. “And I have long waited to meet Elizabeth’s financial wizard.”

Richard Devereux inclined his head at the compliment and said, “Your Majesty, may I approach you and be heard?”

King James nodded.

Rob watched as her uncle flicked an insultingly disdainful look at Mungo MacKinnon, who appeared none too happy, and then walked around the pile of gold pieces. Reaching the king, he gave the young monarch an ingratiating smile.

“Your Majesty, when news of my beloved niece’s detainment reached me in London, I entertained but three thoughts,” Richard said in a voice that carried to the far corners of the chamber. “First, I thought a terrible miscarriage of justice was victimizing Rob. Regardless of the stain on her hand, my wonderful niece is no witch. Then I decided I must immediately journey to Scotland and help settle this horrible misunderstanding. What upset me the most was the fact that fifty thousand gold pieces would secure her freedom.”

“I warrant ’tis a great amount of money,” King James agreed.

“’Tisna fair,” Mungo cried. “Ye set the price at fifty thousand, and there it stands.”

“Your Majesty, allow me to make myself perfectly clear,” Richard said. “The incredibly low price for her release angered me more than anything else. My beloved niece is certainly worth at least one hundred thousand gold pieces. Anything less is exceedingly insulting.”

Rob gasped, as did everyone else in the chamber. Great Bruce’s ghost, was Uncle Richard here to help her or to see her hanged? She looked at her husband, who was smiling as if enjoying himself immensely.

“I insist upon paying the true worth of my beloved niece,” Richard added.

Rob stared at her uncle, and then she knew his game. It was a bribe, of course. Uncle Richard was bribing King James to win her freedom and to keep her free for all the days of her life. She watched her uncle raise his hand and gesture at the seven Campbell warriors who again stood in the rear of the hall. They marched forward and, one by one, emptied sacks of gold pieces at the king’s feet.

“Fifty-five thousand gold pieces from the Earl of Basildon,” Gordon announced, and then winked at her.

Rob longed to fly into his arms, but stood rooted to the floor. Was she free to leave or not? She looked at the king for an answer.

“Ye would pauper yerself for a favored niece?” King James was asking her uncle, his disbelief apparent in his voice.

“Pauper?” Richard Devereux cocked a copper brow at the king and then smiled. “Your Majesty, ’twas merely pocket change.”

Mungo MacKinnon was unable to control his greed a moment longer. Without royal permission, he started forward to claim his ransom in gold.

Rob watched her uncle lean close to the king and whisper in the royal ear. Whatever he said brought a smile of satisfaction to Jamie’s face.

“Hold, MacKinnon,” the king ordered. “Ye set the price for the lives of yer father and yer aunt at fifty thousand gold pieces.”

Mungo nodded, but shifted his gaze to the Earl of Basildon. He seemed to mentally steel himself for the unexpected.

“Tell me, Mungo lad,” King James said pleasantly. “I wondered if ye’d set the price for yer own life at — let’s say, one hundred thousand gold pieces? Is yer life worth that much?”

Mungo nodded. “Yes, Sire.”

King James turned to Gordon and ordered, “Step forward, Inverary.” Then, “Draw yer dirk and kneel.”

As if he knew what was coming, Gordon smiled and drew his dagger. Then he knelt in front of the king.

“I demand ye swear on yer dirk, that most solemn of all yer Highland oaths, that ye’ll never seek revenge on Mungo MacKinnon for past deeds,” King James ordered.

Holding his dirk high, Gordon said without hesitation, “I swear by this dirk and all that is holy to refrain from revengin’ myself on Mungo MacKinnon for past crimes.”

“MacKinnon, ye may leave with yer life,” King James said with a smile. “However, I do claim these gold pieces for savin’ ye from Campbell’s wrath.”

Mungo opened his mouth to protest, changed his mind, and clamped his lips together. He’d been beaten and knew it. With a deferential nod at the king, Mungo turned on his heels and left the chamber.

Rob could scarcely control herself. She longed to fly into her husband’s arms. Apparently, Gordon felt the same because the look he fixed upon her was filled with yearning and promise. Neither moved for fear of angering the king.

“My lord, I hope ye’ll enjoy my hospitality for a few days,” King James was saying to her uncle. “I’ve several questions of a financial nature to ask ye.”

Richard Devereux smiled. “Your Majesty, I’d be honored to extend whatever advice I can.” The earl shifted his attention to Gordon, and the king’s gaze followed him.

“Well, Inverary, I dinna relish the prospect of yer wife givin’ birth in my audience chamber,” King James said. “Are ye takin’ her home or no?”