To Tempt An Angel (Book 1 Douglas series) (18 page)

“I do
not
need bodyguards,” Robert insisted.

Angelica reached up to touch his cheek. When he looked at her, she stared into his dark eyes and said, “Someone wants you dead.”

Chapter 10

Who wants Robert dead? Angelica wondered, alone in her chamber the next afternoon. Worrying about Robert had stolen her sleep for most of the night, and she’d awakened later than usual. What should have been her first night of triumph had become a nightmare of dread.

Who hated Robert enough to kill him? For some unknown reason, Alexander Emerson despised him. Alasdair Trimble would probably love to see him dead but, in all likelihood, hadn’t had the time to hire an assassin. Robert must have other enemies, but she knew so little about him and his businesses.
Sacred sevens
, the whole of Scotland would love to see the Campbells extinct.

What Robert needed was an amulet to protect him against unseen forces, Angelica decided. She would speak to her aunt at the first opportunity.

The door swung open suddenly, and Aunt Roxie appeared as if conjured by her thoughts. “Good afternoon, darling,” her aunt called, crossing the chamber. “You slept late.”

“Good day to you,” Angelica said. “Do you know where Jasper is?”

“He’s visiting His Grace in the study,” Aunt Roxie answered. She sat down beside her on the chaise. “Darling, I need a tiny favor.”

“It’s yours if possible,” Angelica said. She smiled when she added, “After all, you
are
my favorite aunt.”

“I’m your
only
aunt,” Roxie drawled. “I want you to deliver an amulet and a salve to Robert.”

Angelica lost her smile as thoughts of their intimate encounter surfaced in her mind. “Can’t a servant do that?”

“I’ve passed the entire morning shopping for the proper amulet, consecrating it with my special magic and then preparing the salve,” Aunt Roxie told her. “I’m certain poor Robert would prefer you to tend his wound.”

“Won’t my reputation suffer if anyone sees me calling upon him?” Angelica asked.

“Nobody knows you, darling.” Aunt Roxie chuckled throatily. “Besides, an army of bodyguards in his father’s employ surround the poor boy.”

Angelica fell silent with indecision. She wanted to see him but felt reluctant to be alone with him because of their encounter the previous evening.

“A countess enjoys more freedom of movement than an untitled miss,” her aunt was saying.

Angelica found that difficult to believe. Society’s rules applied to everyone, didn’t they? “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

“Have I ever given you poor advice?” her aunt countered.

Aunt Roxie had spent her entire fortune keeping her and her sisters alive. Even though they’d fallen upon hard times, her aunt had insisted that she and her sisters learn the essentials of being a lady. Hence, the sisters had no fear of embarrassing themselves with any faux pas.

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” Angelica said, rising from the chaise. “Shall I leave now?”

Aunt Roxie gave her a dimpled smile. “Change your gown, darling, and I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

Dressed in a high-waisted peach gown, Angelica walked downstairs fifteen minutes later. Her aunt was already waiting for her.

“I adore that color on you,” Aunt Roxie said, handing her a package.

“Which house is Robert’s?” Angelica asked.

“Two doors down on the left,” her aunt told her, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “You are my golden girl, with beauty, intelligence, skill, and, most importantly, a generous heart.”

“I love you, too, Aunt Roxie.”

Angelica walked down the stairs, turned left, and paused. A small group of men loitered in front of the marquess’s mansion. She realized the men were the bodyguards hired by Duke Magnus.

“Good day,” Angelica greeted them. The men made a path for her, but when she started up the stairs, one of them touched her arm to stop her.

Angelica halted. She looked from his eyes to his hand and then cocked a blond brow at him.

“I’m sorry, miss,” the man said, his hand dropping away. “You must state your business here.”

Angelica blushed when one of the men said with a chuckle, “You know His Lordship’s vices. Why do you think the doxy is here?”

“Why don’t you search her for weapons?” another added.

Angelica wished she’d worn her last-resort dagger. Before speaking, she gave each of the men a withering look. Finally, she turned to the man who’d dared to touch her, saying “I am the Countess of Melrose and have come at the Duke of Inverary’s request. If you don’t believe me, walk two doors down and ask him.”

The man had the good grace to flush; the others laughed at his expense. “I’m sorry, my lady,” the man apologized. “His Grace instructed us to be thorough in protecting the marquess.”

“Apology accepted, sir,” Angelica replied. “However, thoroughness does not imply lewdness.”

Angelica turned her back on them and walked up the stairs. She reached out and banged the knocker against the door.

A tall, dignified-looking man with graying hair opened the door. He looked her up and down and, apparently, decided her business was legitimate. “Please, come inside,” he said, and stepped back to let her pass.

Shrugging off the feeling that she’d seen this man before, Angelica walked inside and heard the door close behind her. The marquess’s foyer was less imposing than his father’s. Along with marble statuary, carved cornices, and rococco ornamentation were several pieces of potted greenery that softened the overall atmosphere of the reception hall. There were a synonium plant with heart-shaped leaves, a double ivy topiary, and a six-foot dracaena plant.

“Whom may I say is calling, my lady?” the majordomo asked with a polite smile.

“The Countess of Melrose,” she answered.

The man lost his smile. “The Countess of Melrose is deceased,” he informed her. “You are an imposter.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was previously in the Earl of Melrose’s employ and know his wife is deceased,” the majordomo told her. “I don’t know what you want, but you must leave at once.”

Angelica said nothing but stared at him for several long moments. “Webster?” she said finally. “Is it you?”

The man seemed taken aback. “How do you know my name?” he demanded.

“Don’t you remember Angelica?” she asked. “Is Mrs. Sweeting here, too?”

“Lady Angelica, is it really you?” he asked with a surprised smile.

Angelica hugged her father’s former majordomo. Then she asked, “Mrs. Sweeting?”

Webster shook his head. “The Duke of Inverary purchased her a cottage on the outskirts of London and pensioned her off. Later, the marquess persuaded her to leave retirement to assume a position with one of his acquaintances. Your father-—?”

“—passed away recently,” she told him.

“I am truly sorry,” Webster said. “His Lordship was a kind and decent man. You wish to see the marquess?”

“I’ve brought him a couple of items from Aunt Roxie,” she answered.

Webster grinned broadly. “How is Lady Roxanne?”

“My aunt enjoys the best of health and is still as beautiful as ever,” Angelica answered. “We are guests of the Duke of Inverary.”

“Come with me,” Webster said. “The marquess is working in his study.”

Angelica followed the majordomo up the stairs. The balustrade was a dark mahogany, and a round-headed window graced the landing, along with a potted wisteria tree.

“How does the marquess manage to keep these plants alive inside the house?” she asked.

Webster paused. “His Lordship requisitioned several dozen pieces of greenery created with bark and silk.”

Angelica reached out and touched a lavender wisteria flower. “
Sacred sevens
, it
is
silk,” she said with a smile.

“His Lordship says a man should be well-planted,” Webster told her. “He enjoys gardening and wanted to bring the outdoors inside his home.”

His revealing statement about the marquess heartened Angelica. A man who cared for plants wasn’t beyond redemption.

Reaching the study, Webster knocked on the door and, hearing the marquess call out, entered the room. “The Countess of Melrose has arrived for a visit.”

“Send her in,” she heard him say.

Robert stood when she walked into the study and gave her his devastatingly charming smile. He seemed sincerely happy to see her.

“Welcome to my home,” Robert greeted her. “If I had known being injured would bring you here, I would have hired the assassin myself.”

“If I had known a bullet would make you so agreeable, I might have pulled the trigger myself,” Angelica quipped, making him smile. “How does your arm feel?”

“I can handle the pain,” he answered.

“I’ve brought you some things from my aunt,” she said, crossing the study.

Like the Duke of Inverary’s, the marquess’s study faced the rear garden, and bookcases had been built into the walls. An enormous oak desk stood in front of the high, round-headed windows that allowed ample sunlight into the room. The chamber’s only ornamentations were a thick, red Persian carpet, a mosaic of a lion and a lioness, made from thousands of colored tesserae, hanging over the mantel, and a giant alabaster statue of Atlas holding up the world, perched on top of a black marble pedestal.

“What about your reputation?” Robert asked, walking around the desk.

Angelica dismissed his question with a wave of her hand saying, “Aunt Roxie explained that a countess enjoys more freedom of movement than an untitled miss.”

Robert smiled as if she’d said something wildly amusing. “I’m glad your aunt explained the situation to you,” he said. “Now, what have you brought me?”

“An amulet for protection and a salve for your wound,” she answered, setting the package on his desk.

Angelica opened the box containing the amulet and smiled at her aunt’s extravagance. Attached to a heavy gold chain was a replica of Wotan’s Cross, a cross inside a circle. The circle and the cross were made of gold, and a blue topaz sat inside the center of the cross.

“What a handsome pendant,” Robert said.

“Topaz with gold is powerful protection against envy, intrigue, disease, injury, sudden death, and lunacy—” Angelica told him, placing the gold chain with the pendant over his head to hang around his neck.

Lunacy?” Robert echoed.

“It is especially effective if worn on the left arm,” she added, “but I suppose my aunt believed you would never wear a bracelet.”

“Give your aunt my thanks,” he said.

Angelica peered up at him. “Wearing topaz also draws love.”

“I hope so,” Robert said, putting his arms around her and pulling her close, his clean scent of mountain heather assailed her senses, enticing her to remain within the circle of his embrace.

Slowly, Robert lowered his head until his warm lips claimed hers in a lingering kiss. When she returned his kiss, he flicked his tongue out to caress the crease between her lips.

Remembering their sensuous interlude of the previous evening, Angelica broke off the kiss and stepped back. She turned away and walked behind the desk to gaze at the garden below until she could compose herself. What power did Robert Roy Campbell have over her that she would forget her resolve as soon as he touched her?

Below in the garden, a blond-haired woman sat in a gazebo and looked toward the house. Not wishing to get the woman in trouble with her employer, Angelica turned her back on the window and walked back to the desk to pick up the jar of salve.

“Sit on the settee and remove your shirt,” she instructed him.

Robert grinned wolfishly. “With pleasure, my lady.”

Fixing his black gaze on hers, Robert unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it toward the desk. It landed on the chair.

His well-muscled chest mesmerized Angelica and she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from it. She only hoped she could complete her task without falling prey to his irresistible allure.

Angelica sat on the settee beside Robert and gingerly removed the bandage on his upper arm. The wound bled a bit and looked sore but much better than it had the previous night.

“What’s in it?” Robert asked as she dipped her fingertips in the salve.

“My aunt simmered certain herbs in oil and then blended it with beeswax,” Angelica told him. She touched his wound with her fingertips and felt him flinch almost imperceptively. She hoped she wasn’t hurting him too much.

“You have a gentle touch,” Robert said in a husky voice. When she snapped her gaze to his, he asked, “What herbs?”

“There are yellow chamomile, leaves of plaintain and woodruff, bark and buds of poplar, and myrrh to seal the wound,” Angelica told him. Then she asked, “Who wants you dead?”

“I have no enemies,” Robert told her.

“Alexander Emerson dislikes you,” she remarked, watching for his reaction.

He didn’t seem surprised. “How do you know?”

“I read the hatred in his eyes the night I met him and his father,” Angelica answered.

“My former brother-in-law blames me for his sister’s death,” Robert admitted. “However, Alexander is incapable of murder.”

“Underestimating others is unwise,” Angelica advised him. She gazed at him through her disarming blue eyes and added, “Your wife suffered an untimely accident, didn’t she? Why would he blame you?”

Robert looked away and speculated, “Perhaps if she hadn’t married me, Louisa would be alive today.”

The obvious pain in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. The marquess had loved his wife and felt her loss keenly.

And where does that leave me?
Angelica wondered. She could never compete against a dead woman.

“I suppose we can add Alasdair Trimble to your list of enemies,” Angelica said with a smile.

Robert returned her smile. “I suppose we can.”

“Along with a host of husbands and fathers?”

“Either you consider me as wicked as Satan,” Robert said dryly, “or you give me more credit than is my due.”

“Actually, the first time I saw you, I suspected that Old Clootie himself had stepped out of that crowd at the fair,” Angelica said, her cheeks pinkening with the admission.