Haunted Ground (8 page)

Rowan dipped her fingers into the salve, her eyes never leaving Brendan’s wound.  Thankfully, the gash in his back wasn’t as deep as the ones in his thigh and upper arm, but it was long and dissected his back nearly in half, making it appear flayed.  She would bind it tomorrow, but for now, she would just put the ointment on it and leave it open to the fresh air, just as her mam had taught her.  One good thing about a sword wound is that at least it was a clean cut as opposed to the torn and jagged flesh as might be left by a boar tusk. 

Rowan gently applied the salve, relieved to see that she wasn’t causing Brendan any pain.  He was off his head with the mead Reverend Pole had given him, his eyes closed and his lashes fanned against the lean cheek.  Good, he needed to rest after what he’d been through, and she would add some tincture of the poppy to his next drink to help him sleep some more.  Her mam always said that sleep helped to regenerate blood.  Pain from one wound was enough to addle a man’s brain, but Brendan was badly hurt in three places, so he must be in unbearable agony when awake.

The skin around the wound felt hot to the touch and slightly puckered, but the salve should soothe and heal, and hopefully prevent any festering.  Rowan wiped her fingers on her apron and set down the bowl before gently covering Brendan with the blanket up to the waist.  If she pulled it up higher, the fabric would stick to the salve and have to be ripped off come morning.  He’d be cold tonight, but that couldn’t be helped. 

Rowan reached out and touched his cheek.  Thankfully, it was cool to the touch, so no fever then – not yet.  She watched for a moment as Brendan’s eyes moved rapidly behind the eyelids, his hands curling into fists, his body tense.  No doubt his mind was replaying whatever happened to him, as her mind still did whenever she was at rest.  She’d never made the decision to stop speaking, but when she finally stumbled into her uncle’s arms on that day four years ago, she simply couldn’t bring herself to tell him what happened.  The words had stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her unless she forced them back down, into some dark corner where they couldn’t hurt her anymore.  After all, words had the power to kill, to rob you of those you loved, to destroy.  For weeks after she’d come, her aunt and uncle, and even Reverend Pole kept asking her what happened, needed her to explain, but every time she opened her mouth to speak, nothing would come out except hot, bitter tears that flowed down her cheeks and onto her hands as she covered her face in a useless attempt to try to block the memories.  Only Reverend Pole had been able to guess at part of the truth, but he kept it to himself, realizing that to speak of it to others would cause Rowan more pain.  She wouldn’t be able to bear the questions or the pitying looks that would come, followed by suspicion and malicious remarks which might cause history to repeat itself.

Eventually, everyone gave up and left her alone.  They addressed her less and less frequently, and after some time she became a shadow who lived in Caleb and Joan Frain’s house, someone who wasn’t quite there, not in the way other people were.  The people in the village went from giving her curious stares to just shaking their heads in dismay, wondering how a perfectly normal girl could have gone soft in the head, as they thought of her.  After a time, they stopped seeing her as well, treating her as a piece of furniture or a tree on the side of the road.  She thought she’d mind, but she didn’t.  It made her feel safe.  If people didn’t truly see you, they wouldn’t hurt you.

But Rowan wanted Brendan to see her.  There’d been no spark of recognition when he saw her at the house, but he had been so weak from loss of blood that he likely wouldn’t have recognized his own mother.  Would he remember her?  She remembered him.  He was one of the few good memories she kept in her heart, one of the memories from the past she allowed herself to relive whenever she felt despair threaten to engulf her; a memory of a time when everything in her life was happy and safe, and tragedy was something that happened to others. 

It’d be about six years now since she’d seen him.  He was a lad of seventeen then, but she’d been only twelve, excited beyond words to travel to her uncle’s village for the wedding of her cousin.  How she’d envied Maisie then.  Was there anything more wonderful and romantic than to stand before the reverend with your loved one and pledge eternal love as you were joined in matrimony, to live in God’s blessed sight for the rest of your lives?  Rowan had been breathless with wonder as she watched Maisie get ready for the wedding; Maisie’s cheeks stained with a rosy blush as her mother explained what was expected of her on her wedding night. 

They hadn’t known Rowan was there, hiding behind the chest, or her aunt wouldn’t have spoken so plainly, but Rowan had been shocked to the core to learn the secrets of the marriage bed.  No wonder no one ever spoke of such things.  It would be terribly wicked, if it wasn’t sanctioned by God and the Church.  She’d thought about it long after the wedding as she lay in her bed at night, wondering what it must be like to allow a man to do those things to you.  It had seemed utterly disgusting to her until she saw Brendan at the church.  His family had been late getting to the service due to the muddy roads caused by the endless rain of the past few days.  Luckily for Maisie, the sun had come out on her special day, painting the sky in bands of pink and gold, and making everyone suddenly much less sullen and angry, eager to enjoy the lovely day and the party to follow. 

Brendan had come with his parents, younger brother, and sister, Meg.  Meg was so pretty, with her raven hair flowing down her back and that wide smile that had all the lads asking her for a dance back at the house, but Meg was already betrothed to a man named Rob Garrow, who’d come with the family.  He was stocky and tall, his jaw covered by a golden stubble that matched the fair hair on his head, and Meg had eyes only for him.  They’d be wed after the harvest, but Rowan’s mam said they would not attend the wedding.  It was too far to travel for someone who wasn’t even kin.  Rowan would have loved to see Meg get married, if only for another glimpse of her handsome brother.  She didn’t like Jasper though.  He was a good-looking boy of around fourteen, but he had a cruel set to his mouth and looked around with derision, as if searching for something to mock. 

Jasper’s eyes swept over the congregation before they settled on her and narrowed in speculation.  He didn’t smile or give her a polite bow; instead, he just watched her with his head cocked to the side, his eyes boring into her in a way that bordered on insolence.  Rowan looked away, feeling suddenly self-conscious and uncomfortable.  She inched closer to her mother whose attention was wholly on the couple in front of the altar.  Her mother always cried at weddings, but not at funerals, something that Rowan found rather odd, but then her mam wasn’t much like the other women she knew.  Her mam was beautiful and special, a woman who had secret knowledge that she shared with only those she loved.

After the service was finally over, everyone walked back to Uncle Caleb’s farm for the wedding party.  Long tables were set up outside, and several women from the village were already hard at work, bringing out pies, platters of roasted meat, vegetables, and loaves of freshly baked bread.  There were several barrels of beer, and even a keg of whiskey.  The adults were talking loudly as they took their seats, hungry after church and eager to enjoy such a feast. 

Rowan licked the grease from the pie from her fingers, enjoying the smoky flavor of the meat filling that clung to her hands.  She’d like to have eaten more, but she was full to the bursting and tired of sitting for such a long time.  The adults were all talking and laughing, the men making veiled suggestions about the coming wedding night.  Rowan didn’t understand what they meant, but judging by the sly looks at the bride, and the merriment the comments caused, it must have been something shameful.  She slid off the bench and headed for the outbuildings.  It would be nice to have a few moments to rest before the bonfire was lit and the dancing began in earnest.  The party would go well into the night, and she meant to enjoy it.  Normally, she went to bed once it got dark, but today she was allowed to stay up as long as she wanted, and she planned to take full advantage of such a promise. 

Rowan walked into the barn and sat down on a bale of hay, leaning her head against the rough wooden planks of the wall.  It was nice and quiet, the animals chewing their cud and shifting restlessly in the stalls, as if somehow aware of all the gaiety going on not too far away.  She supposed they could sense that today was different, or maybe they couldn’t.  She always attributed human emotions to animals, something her mother found to be endearing. 

She must have dozed off because she woke up with a start, a shadow looming over her in the dim light of the barn.  Jasper Carr stood in the doorway, his large frame blocking out most of the light.  He was big for a boy his age, tall and broad.  He gave her a charming smile as he advanced slowly toward her.

“Rowan, is it?” he asked.  Rowan nodded, suddenly feeling trapped.  He wasn’t doing anything to frighten her, but she felt an overwhelming need to get out of the barn and into the summer sunshine.  She got to her feet and brushed the straw off her skirt as she took a tentative step toward the door, but Jasper blocked her exit.  He moved quicker than she expected, and she felt the first twinges of fear as she tried to get around him.

“Wait!  Where are you running off to in such a hurry?  I only wanted to sit with you awhile.”  He was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, which frightened Rowan all the more.  Her mother always said that the eyes were a window to the soul, and Jasper’s gaze was hard and threatening. 

“My mam will be looking for me,” Rowan mumbled as she tried again to get around Jasper’s bulky frame.  He reached out and caught her, dragging her against him like a sack of flour.  He smelled of beer and Rowan wondered how much he’d drunk.

“Your mam is too busy having a good time to be looking for you,” he breathed, his face moving closer to hers.  “How about I teach you a game?  Would you like that?”

Rowan shook her head vehemently.  “No, I don’t want to play a game.  I just want to go back to the party.”

“What a silly little girl you are,” Jasper said, pulling her closer until she felt his breath on her face.  She instinctively tried to back away, but Jasper’s arms were like bands of steel around her.  “If you don’t learn how to make a man happy, no one will ever want you.  You’ll be an old, dried-up spinster.”  He laughed without humor and suddenly cupped her breast.  It was too small to fill his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over her nipple through the fabric.  Rowan tried to pull away, but Jasper just laughed, pushing her against the wall and sliding a hand under her skirt.  “Shall I show you what else men like?”

Terrified, she struggled against him, but he was too big for her to even budge.  He was enjoying the game, releasing her for a moment and then grabbing her even harder.  Most likely he hadn’t come upon her by accident, but followed her from the main house.  He’d had this in mind all along, ever since he spotted her in the church.  Hot, angry tears began to flow down Rowan’s cheeks.  She was still too innocent to understand what Jasper could do to her, but the feeling of helplessness that engulfed her was frightening, making her realize that someone could exercise power over her against her will and she could do nothing to stop it.

“Let me go,” she begged, but Jasper just chuckled and tried to pull down her bodice.  Rowan was about to scream when Jasper beat her to it.  He let out an angry bellow as he was practically lifted off his feet and tossed against the wall by his brother. 

“Get out!” Brendan roared.  Rowan expected Jasper to put up a fight, but he just looked at his brother with contempt. 

“I was only having a bit of fun.  I wouldn't have hurt her,” he said, clearly trying to appease Brendan.  It seemed that Jasper actually looked up to him and wanted his forgiveness, but it wasn’t to be given.

“Get out,” Brendan repeated, quieter this time.

“She’s ugly anyway,” Jasper sniggered as he got to his feet.  “Ugly, and flat as a wooden plank.  No man will ever want her, unless he’s blind.”  Jasper spit at Rowan’s feet and stumbled from the barn, but not before he gave his brother a mighty shove.  Brendan didn’t budge or spare Jasper a glance.

“Are you all right?”  He’d taken her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes, his gaze so different from his brother’s.  His eyes were kind, and an understanding smile played about his lips as he watched her dissolve in tears.  She was so ashamed and stung by what Jasper had said about her. 

“Did he hurt you?”  Brendan gazed into her eyes, his face full of kindness and sympathy, which made her feel even worse.

Rowan just shook her head.  She’d already forgotten about Jasper’s clumsy advances, but the words rankled.  Was she really ugly?  What if he was right and no man would want her when the time came?  There were two women in their village who never married, and everyone always felt sorry for them, saying they’d been unlucky in life and a burden to their families.  Was that to be her fate? 

Rowan was distracted by the sound of the violin as old Mr. Graham tuned his fiddle in preparation for the dancing.  She loved to dance, but at the moment she wanted to just go off somewhere and be alone.  Who’d want to dance with her?  She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she barely noticed Brendan studying her, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“You know, I have a mind to dance.  Would you do me the honor?  I wager dancing with the prettiest girl will make all the other lasses take notice of me.”  He was grinning at her and Rowan thought that all the girls at the party already took notice of him and were probably scheming to get his attention and an invitation to dance, and here he was, asking her.  Brendan held out his hand to her and Rowan took it, enjoying the feel of his large hand closing around hers and making her feel safe and wanted.  She followed him back to the yard, her heart thumping in time to the music.  Maybe he was just feeling sorry for her, but she didn’t care.  She certainly wasn’t the prettiest girl, but he was the handsomest lad, and right now she was the happiest girl in the world.