Rowan's Lady (4 page)

As if to make certain she did in fact understand
him completely, without question, he dug at her arms even harder and gave her
another good shake before letting her loose. He spun on his heels to look at
his men.

Arline could feel the iron begin to roll from
where it rested. Rubbing one hand along her arm, she reached around with the
other in time to keep the poker from falling over. Blood rushed in her ears as
her heart pounded against her breast bone. If he saw the iron poker he might
realize what her intent had been. She knew he would immediately withdraw his
earlier reprieve and order her put to death.

She took a deep breath, turned around slowly and
very carefully put the iron back in the stand. Once it was back in its place,
she began to rub her forearms. There would be bruises tomorrow, reminders of
just how powerful her husband was. Reminders of how he held her life in the
palm of his hands.

“Ye’ll take care of the brat.” Garrick tossed his
comment over his shoulder. “Me men have no time to waste on wiping noses or
arses.”

Arline spun around uncertain she had heard him
correctly. Her doubt was put to rest when the same man from below stairs
carried the little girl into the room. He stood near the doorway, looking
perturbed and disgusted, as if he were holding a bag filled with manure instead
of a sweet little babe.

Her little cheeks were blotchy, her tiny nose as
red as a beet, and her eyes bloodshot from crying. Hiccuping, her thumb in her
mouth, rattled sighs, the poor babe looked a frightful sight. But Arline was
beyond pleased to see her and to hear that she would be allowed to care for
her.

“Thank ye, me laird,” Arline whispered, frozen in
place, afraid to dash to the child and pull her from the man’s arms.

“Do no’
thank
me, woman,” Garrick bit out
as he turned once again to look at Arline. “’Tis only temporary, until her da
pays the ransom.”

Arline choked back a retort. She thought it odd
that her courage had returned now that he was not within arms reach of her
person.

“Ye’ve no’ much time left here, Arline,” Garrick
reminded her. “I recommend that ye do no’ question me again. And do nothing to
make me question me decision.”

Garrick gave a quick nod of his head toward the
man holding the babe before he quit the room almost as abruptly as he had
entered. His man stomped toward Arline and without saying a word, he thrust the
babe into her arms. A moment later the men left the room and pulled the door
shut behind them.

Arline was, to say the least, stunned at this turn
of events. She would not die this night, and neither would the babe. There had
been no need to beg for mercy, no need to argue or to fight. For whatever
reason, Garrick had decided to let her live, if only to take care of the
frightened little girl who was now resting her head against Arline’s shoulder.

Between hiccups and tear-induced heavy sighs, the
babe finally spoke. “I do no’ wike the mean man.” Arline stifled a giggle at
the babe’s inability to say her
l’s
and kept her own opinion of Garrick
to herself. There was no point in upsetting the child further.

“I want me da,” she said with her thumb still
tucked in her mouth.

Arline choked back her own tears, kissed the top
of the child’s head and gave her a hug.

“I’m sure ye do, child,” Arline whispered into the
auburn ringlets. She took a deep breath before stepping to the washbasin.
“We’ll wash yer face, get under the blankets and get some sleep. In the morn,
ye can tell me all about yer da,” Arline told her, trying to sound far more
confident and hopeful than she truly felt.

The child winced when Arline sat her down on the
stool next to the basin. “Me bum hurts,” she said, unwilling to relinquish her
thumb.

It was not a huge leap to reason out why the
little girl’s bottom was sore. Arline clenched her jaw and began counting to
ten.

“That mean man spanked me fer cryin’,” the little
girl said as she struggled to stand. “I want me da. Me da never spanks me.” Her
eyes began to fill with tears again.

Arline decided ten was not nearly a large enough
number to count to in order to settle her anger toward her husband. She grabbed
a clean cloth, poured fresh water over it and wrung it out while the little
girl stood clutching at her skirts. “When can I go home?”

Deciding it was far too late and the child far too
young to consider all the factors in answering that question, Arline began to
wash the little girl’s face and hands. “What is your name, sweeting?”

With her thumb still planted firmly between her
teeth, the little girl answered. “Wiwee.”

Knowing the child struggled with her
l’s
Arline took a good guess. “Willie? Do they call you Willie?” Even as she said
it, she thought it an odd name for such a sweet little girl.

Willie nodded her head yes, still sucking her
thumb. With her free hand, the child absentmindedly grabbed at a length of her
auburn hair and twisted it around her finger. Arline thought she was the most
adorable child she’d ever seen. Though in truth, she’d not been around many
babes or children. It was a solitary life she had led.

“Willie,” Arline said the name again. Mayhap it
was short for Wilhelmina. The child was far too precious to have such a old
sounding name. Named after a grand mum? It was possible.

“When can I go home?” Willie asked again before
she yawned and shuddered. “Where is me da?”

There were many questions the child could ask.
Arline knew she’d not possess the answers for many of them. “Soon, I imagine,”
Arline whispered softly, trying to disguise her own doubt. Arline rinsed out
the cloth and folded it over the drying rack below the basin.

With no idea as to whom the child belonged, Arline
had no way of knowing if her father could pay the ransom. Garrick, though he
may be cruel and selfish, was not a foolish man. Certainly he would not have
taken a child from someone who couldn’t pay the ransom. Hopefully the child’s
family was not far away nor without the means to pay.

Arline took her comb from the table beside the
basin and carefully ran it through Willie’s auburn locks. The child’s night
dress was dirty and tattered. Led to the conclusion that the child had been
taken from her home in the middle of the night, Arline shuddered at the mental
images that flashed through her mind. Images of a night time raid, women and
children screaming, men shouting and fighting. Willie, terrified and crying,
wrenched from her mother’s bosom, stolen away to be held for ransom.

What horrors must her mother be going through
right now? If this were
her
child, Arline knew she would be sick with
worry if not already mounted, armed to the teeth, and on her way to retrieve
her daughter from the clutches of a most cowardly, brutal man.

Arline shook the dreadful thoughts from her mind
and took a closer look at the nightdress. It was a simple gown but made of a
fine muslin fabric with tiny silk bows at the ends of her sleeves and the hem.
The dirt and tears on the nightdress suggested mayhap a long journey or perhaps
it had been torn during the raid. Another thought entered her mind, one she did
not like to think. Perhaps the child was not properly cared for. Perhaps she
was sorely neglected, her parents not interested or capable of caring for her.

Gently, Arline guided the child to the bed. “Up ye
go, sweeting. We’ll get ye warm and in the morn, we shall break our fast and
talk then.” Arline lifted the child into the middle of the bed and wrapped the
blankets snuggly around her.

There was no doubt the child was exhausted. Red
rimmed eyes, blotchy cheeks, heavy eyelids stared up at Arline. “What if the
mean man comes back?”

Arline’s stomach tightened at that thought.
Certainly it would be a day or two, mayhap more, before the ransom was paid.
She tried to convince herself that Garrick would not return until Willie’s
parents had paid the ransom.

Arline added another log to the fire, grabbed the
poker and prodded at the coals until the log caught. “Ye needn’t worry about
him coming back,” Arline told Willie.
At least not until tomorrow.

Garrick was probably above stairs, in his
quarters, with his leman, Ona. Aye, Arline knew all about the woman, or at
least of her existence. Though she had never met her, she knew that Ona was the
woman to whom Garrick had given his heart. And as far as Arline was concerned,
Ona could have it. Arline wanted no part of her husband’s heart or, for that
matter, anything else he had to offer.

From what she had learned from the servants, Ona
was breathtakingly beautiful, with dark hair and eyes the color of the ocean.
Nothing at all like Arline with her unruly auburn locks and green eyes. Where
Ona was petite yet buxom, Arline was tall, slender and lacking the curves her
husband apparently admired.

’Twas all the better, Arline supposed. Let Ona
keep the fool happy and satisfied. I’d gladly take me freedom over a husband.

With the fire adequately banked, Arline stood,
slipped off her robe and laid it on the chair next to her bed. She blew out the
candle and paused beside the bed as the light from the fire washed the room in
warm light.

Willie had finally succumbed and was fast asleep.
Her little thumb was still between her lips and she had a lock of hair twisted
around her finger.

Arline slipped into the bed and snuggled next to
the sleeping babe. She took great care not to disturb the sweet cherub. Arline
rested her head in the crook of her arm and watched the child sleep.

Try as she might, she could not keep her heart
from feeling sympathy for this child. The invisible shield she had constructed
months ago, the one meant to protect her from disappointment and heartache, was
being chipped away, one sweet baby breath at a time. Arline tried to convince
herself that there was no harm in feeling something for this innocent babe. But
her heart warned no good would or could come of it. As soon as the child’s
father paid the ransom the babe would be gone. And Arline would be left alone
again, with a gaping hole in her heart.

Curses! What had she done to deserve such agony?
Had she not always done her best to be a good and dutiful daughter? A quiet and
acquiescent wife? Never a day passed that she did not say her prayers. She did
her best to always put others’ feelings ahead of her own. She had sacrificed so
that her sisters could eat and have a decent roof over their heads.

Her sisters were one of the main reasons she had
agreed to marry Garrick. Her father had threatened to take them away, never to
be seen or heard from again. There was no doubt in her mind that he would have
done just that. So she had acquiesced and married Garrick Blackthorn.

If the Good Lord had ever seen fit to give her
children, Arline thought they would have looked like the innocent babe sleeping
next to her. Auburn ringlets, thick lashes and alabaster skin. If a stranger
were to see the two of them together, they would probably assume the babe was
hers. No one would be the wiser.

Arline began to worry again over what would happen
if Willie’s father could not pay the ransom. What then? Garrick had proven time
and again that he was not a man to be toyed with. There was no doubt in
Arline’s mind that he would have no compunction about killing the child. If not
for the sheer amusement of it, then simply to punish the little girl’s father.

Guarded heart be damned. Arline could not let that
happen.

She was guarding her heart against loving a
man.
A child was an all together different story. A child,
this
child, was an
innocent. It wasn’t her fault that men were fools.

Mayhap, this was God’s way of making up for the
fact that Arline would never have children of her own. He had put the child in
Arline’s life for a reason. Arline was meant to keep the child safe.

Her mind began to race with different
possibilities and scenarios for stealing the child away from Garrick. Disguise
herself as a servant and tuck the child into a sack, slinging it over her
shoulder? Or mayhap hide in one of the many wagons that came and went from the
keep? Nay, a bold, daytime escape was far too risky.

There had to be a way out of this castle.

It was treacherous ground she trod upon. If she
failed, Garrick would probably kill them both.

Rowan Graham lounged peacefully on the ground
propped up on one elbow, his long legs spread out and crossed at the ankles. He
gazed into the campfire, only half listening to his men. His mind, as well as
his heart, was back at his keep with his four-year-old daughter, Lily.

Rowan and ten of his men had been gone for more
than a sennight, hunting red deer to add to the winter stores. He did not enjoy
being gone from his daughter for more than an hour, let alone a week’s long
hunt. The hunt and being away from his daughter had played hell with his
nerves. Tomorrow could not come soon enough. He missed Lily. She was all he had
left of Kate.

He could not help but think of Kate whenever he
thought of Lily. Lily was like her mother in many ways. Stubborn, adorable,
beautiful, adventurous. She had successfully wrapped Rowan around her wee
finger the moment she was born. As the days and years progressed, the hold grew
tighter.

If he had his druthers, his life would be decidedly
different.

He would not be chief of his clan, Clan Graham.
His wife, Kate, would still be alive. He would not have lost his mother,
father, and youngest sister, and countless others, to the Black Death. He would
not feel so insufferably alone. And Lily would not be an only child.

The Black Death had destroyed so many lives, his
own included. It seemed that no one or no clan had been left unaffected by it.
Not a day went by that he did not curse that damned disease.