Rowan's Lady (22 page)

“I’m sorry, me lady, I truly am. Ye must no’ take
it to heart. When he is drinkin’ he canna control his tongue or his fists.”

Arline shook her head as if doing so would bring
some clarity to the moment. “Lady Beatrice, please, tell me what he said.”

Beatrice took a deep breath and cast her eyes to
the floor. “He’s calling ye Blackthorn’s whore.”

He might have well slapped her across the face,
the shock was the same.
Blackthorn’s whore?

 Beatrice wasn’t finished. “I’m so verra sorry, me
lady. But he is so angry. He says ye may well have helped take care of Lily,
but ye were still married to Garrick Blackthorn and still his whore. I left and
came to ye as quickly as I could because he was talking about tossing ye into
the dungeon. He says he doesna feel he can trust ye.”

Arline felt numb, cold to her bones, and very much
alone. She knew, from the many nights she had listened to her father drink
himself into a stupor, that men said things while drunk that they would never
say during a sober moment. And sometimes they spoke their true hearts.

Rowan apparently thought very little of her. Had
he made the offer of a home and position caring for Lily so that he could keep
a close eye on her? Did he think she was a spy, working to gain knowledge for
Garrick.

“I truly did no’ want to tell ye this, me lady. It
breaks me heart to do so. He’ll be fine in a few days. But ye must stay out of
his sight until he’s done with the drink.”

Arline was too stunned, far too hurt to utter a
sound.

“We have a room fer ye, above stairs. He never
ventures up there and ye’ll be safe. Fer now, he’s ordered that we treat ye
more prisoner than guest. We canna give ye any clean clothes, ye canna come to
the gathering room fer yer meals. If he sees ye, he is liable to order ye
tossed in the dungeon.”

She had traded one prison for another. “How often
does he get like this, Beatrice?” Arline mumbled.

“Och, only every other month.”

Every other month?
How could she spend
every other month in hiding while she was supposed to be here taking care of
Lily? Lily, the poor babe. What pain must the poor babe suffer through when her
father was like this?

“What of Lily?” Arline asked.

“Och! He’d never hurt her, no matter how badly he
drinks. He loves that child more than anything.”

There was some relief in knowing that Rowan would
never hurt Lily. The poor child. How could a man as kind and honorable as the
one she had come to know these past few days turn into such a monster?

Blackthorn’s whore.
Is that what he truly
thought of her? It made her ill to think that he did. She felt angry and hurt
and violated. Even more so than when Garrick had beat her senseless and tossed
her out of his home.

“He’ll be fine a few days, me lady. But fer now,
we must keep ye safe and hidden.”

Mindlessly, Arline grabbed her dress and old
chemise and followed Lady Beatrice out of the room and to the third floor. It
was so very difficult to wrap her head around the prospect that the man she had
come to care so much for was in truth a drunkard and a mean one at that. How
could he think such things about her?

They made their way down a long narrow corridor.
Arline could tell that Beatrice was doing her best to make her feel better.
“Please, me lady, do not worry over it. Just a few days, and ye’ll see, he will
be his old self again.”

Arline wondered which Rowan was the true Rowan?
The kind, handsome, tender, honorable man or the mean drunk? She’d only known
him but a few days so she could not rightly answer that question at the moment.
She could only assume that Beatrice had known him longer and therefore she had
a better insight to the man. Beatrice seemed genuinely concerned for her
wellbeing and Arline could not detect even the slightest note of insincerity.

They finally reached their destination. Beatrice
opened the door and led Arline inside. It was a very small room. But at least
here, she had blankets. Small comfort but a comfort nonetheless. An old chair
sat in the corner, the pallet and blankets along one wall. A few trunks sat
along the opposite wall and in the center of the room was a brazier. It might
not have been as open and spacious as the room she had just left, but at least
she would be out of Rowan’s path. And there were the makings for a fire.

“My maid, Joan, will bring ye a meal verra soon,
me lady,” Beatrice said from the door. “I ken it be not much of a room, but
here, ye will be safe.”

“What of Lily? I was to take care of her.”
Arline’s voice began to crack. 

Beatrice smiled thoughtfully at Arline. “She’s in
good hands, me lady. Selina is taking care of her.” Beatrice left, quietly
closing the door behind her.

Arline stood in the center of the tiny room
feeling lost and hurt. Knowing Selina was taking care of Lily lightened
Arline’s heart somewhat. But still, she wished she could go see for herself
that Lily was doing well.

Arline could sense that the people here did care a
great deal for Lily. The women had practically smothered the child with hugs
and kisses earlier. But what of the one person here who had slipped the
sleeping draught into the ale? Could that person still be lurking about, only
pretending to have good feelings toward their chief and his child? Would that
person be foolish enough to try again?

With Rowan deep in his cups,
now
would be a
perfect opportunity for them to strike again.

She grew quite angry. How could Rowan lower his
defenses at a time like this? How could he drink himself into a stupor when the
traitor had yet to be found? What was the man thinking?

Pacing the room, which was no more than eight
steps by eight steps, Arline chewed on her thumbnail and tried to work the
events out quietly. The more she worked them over in her mind, the angrier and
more hurt she became.

The evening meal would be served soon. She decided
that she would wait until then before she left her new quarters. If Rowan was
drinking as heavily as Lady Beatrice had described, more likely than not he
would pass out before long. As soon as she could, she would make her way
through the keep to find Lily, just to make certain the child was in fact well.

A tear fell down her cheek when she thought of how
kind he had been. How could she have been so foolish to believe he was any
different from any other man she had known? Were it not for Carlich showing her
that men could in fact be kind, she would never have believed it possible.

In a few days, once Rowan climbed his way out of
the bottle, Arline would go to him and ask for the escort to Inverness. He
would be much easier to deal with sober. There was no sense in poking a stick
at the hornet’s nest for she knew she’d be stung repeatedly. He’d toss her into
their dungeon and heaven only knew how long he would keep her there.

Not much time had passed before there was a knock
on Arline’s door. She opened it cautiously. A young woman, mayhap in her early twenties,
stood in the hallway with a tray in her hands. She was a very pretty young
woman, with dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

“I be Joan, me lady,” she said with a curtsy.

Arline opened the door to allow the girl to enter.
Joan sat the tray down on one of the trunks without saying a word.

“I thank ye kindly, Joan.”

“I wish it could be more, m’lady, but with Rowan
in such a foul mood and the larder near empty, ’tis the best we can do.” She
hurried to the door.

“The larder is empty?” Arline asked.

“Near to empty. The clan is still trying to make
up fer all that was lost four years ago.”

The Black Death. There wasn’t a clan in all of
Scotland, or people anywhere else, that had not been affected by it. Arline had
not realized the toll it had taken on Clan Graham until now. It had to have
been horrific if their larders were still bare after four years. Mayhap that
was one more reason why Rowan drank.

“I managed ye some tea, m’lady, and a bit o’
bread.” Joan said apologetically. “They try to feed the bairns and wee ones
first, ye ken.”

Arline felt her heart begin to crack even further.
These poor, poor people! “Thank ye again, Joan.”

Joan gave a sad nod and left the room. Arline
closed the door behind her and barred it.

No wonder Rowan had come to rescue Lily. He hadn’t
possessed the funds to pay the ransom.

She was left feeling even more confused. How could
a man like Rowan be a drunkard? He had risked everything to rescue his
daughter, not because he was selfish and didn’t want to pay the ransom, but because
he could not. Rather than risk his daughter’s life when Garrick found he could
not pay, he risked his own life to save hers.

That was not the mark of a drunkard or a lout.
That was the mark of a man with a heart, with conviction and honor. A man who loved
his daughter.

Suddenly, she found she could no longer be angry
with him. There was a distinct possibility that the man drank to dull the pain,
the hurt left behind in the wake of the Black Death. How could she blame him?
How could she hold anything against the poor man? He’d lost his wife, a good
number of clansmen, and had nearly lost his daughter. ’Twas no wonder he drank.

She decided that she could no longer be angry with
him. She would wait until he had sobered up and then she would have a good long
talk with him. She would offer whatever assistance she could to help his clan
grow and prosper. She could be more than just a governess, she could be his
friend.

There was plenty of money being held in her name.
In just a few short months, she would turn five and twenty and demand that her
father turn the funds over. She would not use the money to travel the world.
Instead, she would offer it to Rowan as a gesture of good will, of thanks for
offering her a home. She would also do what she could to help him remain sober.

She could not hold anything he had said in a
drunken rage against him. Chances were he was not angry with her, but with
himself and the lot life had dealt him.

With her mind made up, she went to the trunks and
removed the linen to see what Joan had managed to procure for a meal.

Porridge. Bloody hell.

Having bathed and donned fresh clothes, Rowan
entered the gathering room with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face.
With great anticipation, he looked forward to seeing what Lady Arline would
look like with clean hair and a fresh gown. Clean or dirty, the woman
fascinated him.

The room was already filled near to capacity when
he entered. His men, some with wives, some with women who hoped to someday be
their wives, were milling about the room or already seated. The smoky air was
filled with the sounds of laughter, giggles and chatter.

Ever since Kate’s death, Rowan had dreaded the
evening meals. He missed having Kate sitting beside him, missed sharing his day
with her over a fine meal. But tonight, he actually found himself looking
forward to the evening. Lady Arline had begun to fill the void in his life. It
made him feel young again, more alive and excited than he had felt in more than
four years. Though he was still unsure what he exactly felt for her, he could
not deny that he was growing genuinely fond of the woman.

His smile instantly faded when he saw that Lily
was already seated at the head table, in her usual spot to his right. What
frustrated and angered him so was the fact that Lady Beatrice was sitting in
the spot to his left. He wanted Arline there beside him, not Beatrice.

Working his jaw back and forth he made his way
toward the high table. He would not embarrass Beatrice by asking her to move,
but come the morrow, he would make certain that she understood where the two of
them stood. He’d make damned certain she was completely clear on the subject
and that she would never sit in that seat again. When Arline arrived, he would
put her on the other side of Lily.

He made his way up the three steps and toward his
seat. Lily scrambled down from her chair and flung her arms around his leg
before he could sit.

“Da!” she exclaimed happily. “I missed ye!”

Rowan scooped her up into his arms and gave her a
big hug. “And why would ye be missin’ me? Ye just saw me no’ more than an hour
ago.”

Lily giggled and gave him a peck on his cheek. “I
always miss ye.”

He patted her back and set her down on the bench.
He sat down beside her and turned finally to Beatrice. “Lady Beatrice,” he
said, trying as best he could to mask his anger.

“Rowan,” she said with a lady like nod of her
head. “’Tis good to see ye.”

He could not say the same thing and refused to lie
about it. He was not happy, not happy at all, to see her sitting at the high
table, without his invitation.

“I trust ye are pleased with how well the keep ran
in yer absence?” Beatrice asked.

Rowan continued to clench his jaw, swallowed down
the myriad of things he wanted to tell her. “My keep
always
runs well in
my absence. I’ve good people here.”

She had been fishing for a compliment and he was
not about to give her one. A look of disappointment flashed in her eyes,
quickly replaced with a smile. “Ye do, Rowan, ye do.”

Beatrice took a drink of ale. Rowan was looking
about the room, his expression growing more sullen as the moments ticked by. He
could not find Arline anywhere.

As if she could read his mind, Beatrice spoke. “I
believe ye be searchin’ fer someone who is no’ here.”

Rowan cast a angry glance at her before taking a
drink of ale.

“Do no’ worry, Rowan. Lady Arline is safely tucked
away. She was too exhausted, too tired this night to attend the meal. I’m sure
she’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

Some of his anger subsided. It made perfectly good
sense that Arline was tired. Exhausted would probably be a more apt
description. He made a mental note to check in on her later.