Rowan's Lady (39 page)

He prayed for his people, for his men whom he had
sent in two opposite directions. He prayed for Lady Arline’s sisters. He even
prayed for Mrs. McGregor.

He prayed for strength, patience, and the ability
to see all the beauty that God had to offer and vowed never again to take
things for granted. Beauty could be found everywhere, if one looked at things
with one’s heart instead of one’s eyes.

Most of all, he prayed for the ability to control
his temper, to be a kind and patient man to all. Just as he had begun his
prayers with thoughts of Arline, he ended them there as well.

Please, God, let her live so that I might love her
all the rest of me days.

Rowan returned his room and Lady Arline’s bedside
with a wee bit more hope than when he had left it. Ora reported that Arline
fared well and thankfully had not gained a fever. A fever meant infection and
most likely death.

He hugged Lily, who had been sitting on the bed
next to Arline. She looked so forlorn and full of woe that Rowan had to fight
back tears. “Da,” Lily said as she sat on his lap. “Is Lady Arline goin’ to
die?”

The question nearly sent him to his knees. He
hugged her tighter, rubbed her back and tried to answer her question. “I do no’
think so, Lily. I went to the chapel and prayed for her.”

“Do ye think God heard ye?” Lily asked as she
rested her head against his chest.

“Aye, he heard me.” But whether God would choose
to grant his prayers remained to be seen. He would not pile his worries on top
of hers.

Selina offered to take Lily down to the evening
meal for which Rowan was grateful. Ora left with them after checking Arline’s wound.

Finally, he was alone with Arline. He brought his
chair closer to her bed and took her hand in his. The dark circles under her
eyes were such a stark contrast to her pale skin. What he would not give to
have her wake so that he could first apologize for whatever he had done that
had caused her to flee the castle. He could only pray that whatever wrong thing
he had done, she could find it in her heart to forgive him.

He sat in quiet contemplation for some time,
guardedly watching each shallow breath that she took. Ora had said she would
soon begin to wean her from the potion that made her sleep so deeply. If kept
on it too long, she might never recover, but if she woke too soon, she could be
in a tremendous amount of pain. It was a dangerously precarious endeavor,
trying to balance the two options.

Day finally gave way to night and still, she had
not stirred. Rowan lit a candle and placed it on the table next to the bed and
returned to his quiet vigil.

“Try talkin’ to her, Rowan.”

Rowan looked up to see Thomas standing in the
doorway. He looked reticent, uncertain if his presence would be welcomed.

“Come in, Thomas,” Rowan said quietly. There had
been a litany of things Rowan had prayed for earlier. One of those prayers had
been that he would quit being an ass and stop blaming Thomas for what had
happened to Arline. It was no more Thomas’ fault than it was Arline’s.

Thomas entered the room and stood across the bed
from Rowan. Genuine sorrow could be seen in his eyes and countenance. “I be
truly sorry, Rowan,” he whispered.

Rowan gave him a wave of his hand. “Nay. None of
this is yer fault and I’m sorry fer blamin’ ye. As ye’ve witnessed in me
before, auld friend, me anger sometimes makes me do and say foolish things.”

Thomas smiled his agreement. “’Tis true,” he
chuckled. “It becomes more apparent when yer in love.”

Rowan could not deny that. “Aye, love makes a man
sometimes act like a fool.”

“It can also bring out the best in a man,” Thomas
said. “I never felt as perfect or as imperfect as when I was in love. ’Twas as
if all was right with the world and I could handle anythin’.” Thomas had lost
his sweet wife more than ten years ago. She had fallen down an embankment and
crushed her head against a boulder. “Anythin’ but fer harm to come to me sweet
Elisa.”

Rowan understood that feeling all too well.
Elisa’s life had been cut far too short, as was the babe’s that she carried.
Rowan doubted that Thomas would ever get over the loss.

“I am sorry, Thomas, fer bein’ an ass to ye. I
hope ye can find it in yer heart to forgive me.”

Thomas shook his head. “I’ll forgive ye if ye’ll
forgive me.”

So a silent agreement was made between the two
friends. Rowan promised himself that he’d practice being more patient as well
as not let his anger run away with his good sense.

“Ye should talk to her, Rowan,” Thomas told him
again. “Let her ken that yer here.”

“I dunna ken if that is a good idea, Thomas. I’m
the reason she left the keep to begin with.”

Thomas cast him a puzzled look.

“I dunna ken what I did, but I did somethin’ that
angered her to the point that she fled the keep and climbed the wall to get
away from me.”

Thomas looked at Arline then back to Rowan. “Ye
must have done or said
somethin’
.”

Rowan had been wracking his brain for days trying
to figure out what he might have said or done. He came up empty handed at every
turn.

He recounted the events, as he remembered them, of
what Arline had told him right before she fled.

“Christ,” Thomas muttered when Rowan finished.
“The lass has had a rough time of it.”

Rowan nodded in agreement. “Aye, she has.”

“Did ye tell her ye were happy to learn she’s no’
barren? Did ye ask her to marry ye?” Thomas urged Rowan to continue with what
happened after he had learned the truth behind Arline’s marriages.

“I didna get a chance! I was so happy, standin’
there like an eejit, so surprised I was. Ye couldna have wiped the smile from
me face with an anvil.”

Thomas slapped his forehead with his palm and
shook his head at his friend. “Ye were smilin’?”

“Aye,” Rowan answered, unclear why that made any
difference. He’d been so happy, truly elated to know he could ask her to marry
him without worrying over losing his chiefdom or Lily’s birthright.

Thomas let out an exasperated sigh. “Ye fool! The
lass just shared the secrets of her life, her marriages, and ye
smiled
at her?”

Rowan couldn’t understand the significance for
several long moments. When he finally gained clarity, he felt could feel
nothing but relief. He hadn’t done anything unforgivable. And once he explained
to Arline what he had been thinking, he knew she would forgive him.

“I’m a complete eejit!” he sighed. “An ass and an
eejit!”

“Don’t forget
loud.”

Arline’s weak and scratchy voice made the heads of
both men spin in her direction.

She hadn’t heard the entire conversation, only the
part where Rowan admitted to being the eejit she knew him to sometimes be. Her
mouth was horribly dry, her tongue felt thick, as though it had grown too large
for her mouth. She ran her tongue over her teeth and tried to swallow. It felt
like she was swallowing a bucketful of sand.

Her brain pounded furiously against her skull and
her shoulder felt like it was on fire. She had no idea where she was or what
had caused her to feel like she’d been run over by a team of horses and a wagon.

“Water,” she scratched out. For the life of her,
she could not open her eyes, her lids felt as heavy as lead.

Rowan jumped to his feet, relieved to hear her
voice, even if it was weak and scratchy. He poured water from the pitcher into
a small bowl. He tried to conceal his utter joy and excitement, lest she open
her eyes and see a smile on his face. He did not want to start their argument
anew.

His hands trembled as he held the bowl to her
lips. She took small sips at first, just enough to wet her mouth and throat. It
hurt to swallow or move or think, let alone speak. She decided it best not to
do anything but breathe.

She had no memory of how she came to feel so ill
or in so much pain. The last thing she remembered was standing in her dressing
room and being consumed with anger over something Rowan had either said or
done. But what offense he had committed, she had no clear recollection.

After quenching her thirst she relaxed, feeling
only slightly better. Her arms and legs felt insufferably heavy and she knew it
would be impossible to move them, if she had the desire to make the attempt.

Though she had the sense of being asleep for an
exceedingly long time, she did not possess the strength to even make the
attempt to open her eyes to wake. The last thing she remembered before drifting
off to sleep again was the warm sensation of Rowan’s hand wrapped around hers.

Hours passed before she stirred again. She drifted
in and out of sleep throughout the evening and well past dawn. Ora continued to
decrease the doses and by morn, Arline was ready to bite steel, the pain in her
shoulder was so intense.

Ora explained that the pain was good for her; it
let her know that she was still alive. Arline was not as thrilled to remain
among the living as she could have been. Her shoulder felt like there was a
large horse standing on it, grinding his hoof into her wound. Her brain
continued its assault against her skull. And the one time she did try to open
her eyes, the light from the one candle burning near her bed felt like the
light of a thousand. It burned her eyes and caused her head to throb even more.

How she came to be lying abed in so much
nauseating pain, she did not know. That fact irritated her to no end. She could
not remember what had happened to her. The last memory she had before waking in
such an ungodly amount of pain was standing in her dressing room. She vaguely
remembered being angry at Rowan, but for what reason, she could not recall.

In her rare moments of lucidity, she could feel
Rowan’s presence. Always beside her, holding her hand, and offering words of
encouragement. He refused to tell her what had happened, what was wrong with
her. His responses to her questions were always the same:
Wheesht, lass. Ye
need yer rest.

She didn’t want to wheesht or rest. She wanted her
shoulder to quit burning and her head to quit pounding. And she wanted answers.
Resistance was pointless as her body continued to betray her mind. She kept
falling asleep

By the following afternoon, she felt less groggy
and the pain in her shoulder began to diminish, though it still hurt like the
devil. She was able to open her eyes without feeling like they were filled with
burning embers.

Rowan sat in a chair next to her bed. She smiled
at the sight of the big Highlander with his head lolling forward as he slept.
From the looks of him, he hadn’t taken the time to shave in many days. His
clothes were a rumpled mess as if he had slept in them more than once. Even in
his current condition of disarray, he was a beautiful man.

She lay still, quietly watching him and wished she
could remember what had happened and why she had been so angry with him and how
she came to be in this room. Had something happened in her room? Had she been
attacked there?

And why did Rowan refused to tell her what
happened? It made little sense. Was he was only trying to protect her? That in
and of itself was a very kind thing for him to do. However, she was not a babe,
not a woman prone to histrionics. Certainly whatever had happened to cause her
to be here could not be
that
terribly awful that he feared she would
fall apart. She wished she could remember.

After a time, Rowan shifted in his seat and raised
his head up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his palms. It took a moment
for him to realize that yes, Arline was awake and yes, she was smiling at him.

“How do ye feel, lass?” he asked. His voice was
filled with worry and concern. He leaned toward her and took her hand in his.

“Better,” she answered. She wondered if he
realized he was holding her hand. She also wondered how on earth, considering
her current condition of ill health, could she possibly get such a fluttering
in her stomach and why her pulse raced at the touch of his hand?

“Good,” he said and his shoulders relaxed ever so
slightly.

Arline tilted her head slightly. “What happened? I
canna remember anythin’ but bein’ mad at ye. I canna even recall
why
I
was so mad.”

“Ye had every right to be mad at me, lass.”

She rolled her eyes. His answer explained nothing.
“Why will ye no’ tell me what happened?” She was growing frustrated with him.

Rowan let out a long, slow breath. “I do no’ want
ye gettin’ upset again, lass. We can talk about everythin’ once yer better.”

“I am better,” she said through gritted teeth.

Rowan chuckled and smiled warmly. “Ye are? Then
let’s say ye get out of bed and take a walk with me.”

“Why must men be so frustrating?” she muttered.

“We canna help it, lass.” He gave her hand a
gentle squeeze. “We oft turn to fools when we’re around beautiful women.”

Certainly he was not referring to her. The arch of
her eyebrow told him as much.

“Och!” he chuckled again, softly, and gave her
hand another squeeze. “Aye, ’tis
ye
that I’m referring to.”

Certain that she must be dreaming, she pinched the
side of her thigh. It hurt, but she decided it was possible that she was hallucinating.
Who knew what was in that horrible potion Ora had given her earlier. And even
if she
were
completely lucid, she held no proof that his compliment was
nothing more than his kind attempt to make her feel better. Either way, his
comment proved nothing and still did not answer her question.

If Rowan wasn’t going to tell her the truth behind
her injury then Ora certainly would. Arline knew she had to get Rowan out of
the room long enough for her to talk to Ora. Even in her current condition, she
was not above a bit of duplicity in order to gain the information she sought.