Read Online Courting an Angel by Patricia; Grasso - Free Book Online

consideration. In good conscience, she could never compromise her virtue and integrity in order to save herself from heartache. What she needed was an honorable solution to her problem. An annulment was the only thing possible, but she needed his permission to get it.
    As she stared out the window and pondered the bleakness of her future, Rob spied the dark figure of a man walking across the snow-covered lawns toward the Dowager House. Mist, sheer as a bride’s veil, crept up the banks of the Thames and swirled around the Marquess of Inverary’s legs.
    Gordon Campbell’s piercing gray gaze and chestnut brown hair conspired with his rugged features to make him an unusually attractive man, the kind about whom maidens dream. Too bad he hadn’t been born English. Rob knew she wouldn’t have minded being his wife. On the other hand, the marquess admitted being a womanizer and did seem overly proud.
    That was it! No self-respecting Highlander would keep a woman who loved another. In the morning, she would explain — ever so gently and tactfully, of course — that Henry and she shared true love. Campbell would bow out with his pride intact and, hopefully, return to Scotland posthaste to annul their marriage. If he wished, he was welcome to use Old Clootie’s mark as the reason.
    That dim hope buoyed Rob’s sagging spirits, but it was a long, long time before sleep seduced her into sweet oblivion.
     

 

 
    Chapter 3
     
    “Good morning.”
    Rob awakened to the cheerful greeting but refused to open her eyes. In a futile attempt to shut the intruder out, she yanked the coverlet over her head.
    “’Tis time to awaken,” the insistent voice told her. “I’ve brought you a breakfast tray.”
    Reluctantly, Rob pulled the coverlet off her face. Lady Keely sat on the edge of the bed. Brilliant, blinding sunshine streamed into the chamber through the window behind her aunt.
    Rob moaned as if in pain and snapped her eyes shut. Great Bruce’s ghost, she despised mornings and much preferred the night’s dark beauty.
    “The morning ages,” Lady Keely said. “Your handsome marquess will soon arrive.”
    “Tell Henry to come back later,” Rob replied without bothering to open her eyes.
    “I’m referring to the Marquess of Inverary,” the countess said.
    The memory of the previous evening seeped into Rob’s sleep-befuddled mind and made her gasp. She bolted up in the bed and would have thrown the coverlet off, but then thought better of it and leaned back against the headboard.
    “Campbell kept me waitin’ for ten long years,” Rob said, noting her aunt’s puzzled expression. “I dinna think expectin’ an hour or two of waitin’ on his part is unreasonable. Do ye?”
    “Gobbling one’s food is certainly unhealthy,” Lady Keely agreed with a conspiratorial smile. She set the breakfast tray across her niece’s lap. “’Tis wise to eat slowly.”
    Rob looked over the usual morning fare of bread, ham, hard-cooked eggs, and apple cider. A sudden, unexpected wave of homesickness washed over her, and she suffered an acute craving for a Highland breakfast. Barley bannocks, oatmeal porridge, and Old Man’s milk would certainly fortify her for the inevitable confrontation with the Marquess of Inverary.
    “Do ye ever miss the mountains of Wales?” Rob asked, her gaze rising to meet her aunt’s.
    “Every day of my life,” Lady Keely admitted. “’Tis the reason we summer there each year instead of accompanying Queen Elizabeth on her annual progress.”
    “I’d give my eyetooth for a mug of Moireach’s Old Man’s milk,” Rob said, her voice wistful.
    “Who’s Moireach?” the countess asked. “And what is Old Man’s milk?”
    “Moireach is the undisputed queen of Dunridge Castle’s kitchen,” Rob answered. “Old Man’s milk consists of egg and milk beaten together, sweetened with sugar, and zested with whiskey.”
    “I’ll tell Jennings to give Cook instructions,” the countess said.
    Rob shook