Rowan's Lady (46 page)

Within quarter of an hour, Rowan had the
information he needed. He hadn’t learned it from Beatrice but from her maid,
Joan who had promised to tell him all that she knew only if Rowan would keep
Beatrice from killing her.

He left Wee William behind to help guard the keep.
Findley, Duncan, Thomas along with twenty-five of Rowan’s best men, thundered
behind him as he led the way out of the keep.

Rowan knew he was in pursuit of a wagon, driven by
two paid men. The same wagon that Beatrice and Joan had hidden themselves in,
in a false bottom, to gain entry. Beatrice was taken to the dungeon and he did
not care one wit if Arline thought it too cruel a punishment. Beatrice was
lucky he hadn’t ordered her to hang.

He also knew that Joan had slipped the sleeping
potion into Arline’s tea. He hadn’t bothered to ask
why
for it simply
did not matter. If he found Arline alive and unharmed, he would ask Beatrice
the whys of it later. If she was harmed, Beatrice would not live long enough to
answer any questions.

The wagon was easy enough to follow for it left
tracks in the snow and mud. Still, the men who had smuggled Arline out of the
keep had at least a one hour head start. Rowan prayed that the two men who
drove the wagon weren’t stupid enough to do anything to harm Arline.

Many heads would roll this day. As soon as he got
Arline back.

Fury simmered, just at the edge. If the men in the
wagon felt the need to defend themselves, they’d not have long to live. Part of
him hoped that the fools would try something stupid, just so he’d have the
excuse to gut them.

Arline was having the oddest dream. She was being
jostled about, like onions in a bowl. ’Twas an odd dream for a woman to have on
her wedding day.

She felt groggy, disoriented, and quite nauseous.
Her tongue, thick and dry, stuck to the roof of her mouth. An incessant
throbbing in her head made her wonder if she hadn’t drunk too much at her
wedding feast.

She tried to shake the fog from her head, but felt
resistance. She tried lifting her hands to rub her throbbing temples, but
something barred their movement. Were her hands tied?

Panic set in. Through the fog, her memory started
to come back. She’d been in her room with Morralyn and Geraldine. They had just
drunk a toast to something tawdry…then she remembered. She’d been drugged!

Bloody hell! She tried moving but soon realized
her hands weren’t tied. She was bundled up in something. She wriggled and tried
to kick her feet, but met more resistance. She was bound in something, from
head to toe. Breathing became more difficult as the panic welled.

Good sense finally took over. It warned that she
would smother if she did not remain calm. It was not an easy feat to tamp down
the fear.

She was jostled once again and the force of it
rolled her to her back. Although sound was muffled, she could very well deduce
that she was in a wagon. Drugged and being taken away from the keep, from Rowan
and Lily.

Anger and determination soon replaced the fear and
panic. Angry that whoever had drugged her was stealing her away to God only
knew where. And fully determined not to allow it to happen.

She stopped her struggle to think and to feel what
she could with her hands and feet. If she could just get her hands on the seam,
hold tightly to it, she might be able to unroll herself from the carpet. She
knew it was a thick carpet, not a tapestry, for it felt far too heavy and too
smooth to be anything else. More likely than not, it was the same carpet that
had covered the floor near her bed.

Carefully, she felt around with fingertips and toes,
but came up empty. The wagon hit another bump of some sort. The jolt took her
rolling again, on to her stomach. Mustering her strength, she wriggled until
she was on her side. That made breathing much easier.

Focused intently on maneuvering her way out of the
carpet, the wagon came to an unexpected halt. She wasn’t sure if she should
feel relieved or more terrified. Either they had reached their destination or
Rowan had found her.
Please dear lord, let it be Rowan!

She lay still and strained her ears to listen. The
carpet blocked out nearly all sound. Everything was muffled and disjointed. Her
heart pounded against her breast as she tried to think of what to do next.

It felt as though hours had passed before she felt
someone tugging on the carpet. She was being pulled along the bottom of the
wagon in great tugs.
Please, please, please be Rowan!

She was lifted out of the wagon and laid on the
ground. At least they hadn’t tossed her into a loch or a river! A small
miracle, but now there was hope of getting out of this alive.

A moment later, the carpet was being tugged again,
and she soon felt herself being rolled out of it, all the while praying that it
was Rowan, and not her captors. In a flash, she decided to run like the devil
the moment she was free of the carpet. She’d only stop if she heard Rowan’s
voice.

Another tug and roll and she was free! The bright
sunshine stung her eyes as she rolled to her stomach, pushed herself to her
feet and took to flight!

Or at least she had tried to. She hadn’t taken three
steps when large arms encircled her waist and pulled her off her feet.

“Wheesht, me lady!”

She recognized that voice. It did not belong to
Rowan or any of his men. Fear enveloped her clear to her toes. Why on earth was
he
here and why had he taken her?

Rowan and his men pounded across the countryside,
following the wagon tracks. He could not help but feel that he would soon find
the wagon and the men who had taken his Arline. They’d been riding for nearly
an hour, hell-bent for leather, chasing down the whoresons. A wagon could not
travel as fast or cover as much ground as a man on horseback, especially a man
like Rowan Graham. With unwavering determination to get his bride back, he
urged his horse on. Mud and slush kicked up with each thundering step his mount
took, splattering his boots and legs, and occasionally, his face.

Sweat blended with mud, fury with agonizing worry
over Arline. He had to get her back, he could not lose her, not now, not after
all they had gone through.

They continued to follow the road as it wound its
way north and west. His dread and fury grew exponentially with each gut
wrenching moment that passed by without coming upon the wagon.

Joan had told them that the men were taking Arline
to the ruins of an auld kirk that lay near Loch Rannoch. Once they were there,
they were to kill her and leave her body for the scavengers and wolves.

The tracks headed in that direction. Rowan prayed
that the men would do as they’d been instructed and not decide to kill her
sooner. He swore that if he found her alive, he’d never allow her a moment
alone. She’d be under constant guard, four men surrounding her at all times
when she was not with him. He would spend every waking moment protecting her.

Soon, they came upon a bend in the road. Not far
ahead was the wagon they had been searching for. It was stopped in the middle
of the road and he could not see anyone. Not the driver, his accomplice nor
Arline. His heart plummeted to his feet, his dread crashing around him.

They raced toward the wagon. Rowan slid from his
horse before it had even stopped. He rushed forward with his sword drawn. He
saw the empty carpet lying on the ground, quickly inspected it for signs of
blood. Nothing.

Findley and Duncan had soon approached, with
swords at the ready. They walked to the front of the wagon. Fresh blood covered
the seat and the floor.

“Rowan!” Duncan called out as he began to scan the
forest.

Rowan rushed to the front of the wagon and
followed Findley’s gaze. “Blood?” he asked.

“Aye, and lots of it.” Findley answered.

Rowan ordered the men to fan out and search for
Arline and what might be left of the two men. Rowan was encased in dread and
fear as he tried to figure out what had happened.

With Beatrice’s help, two men had stolen Arline
away from the keep. Now the two men were missing and so was Arline. Had she
somehow managed to kill the two men, then flee?

A warning niggled at the back of his mind. It was
his fervent hope that she had somehow managed to stab the two men. Mayhap she
had only wounded them and they were now chasing her through the woods.

“Rowan! Here!” a voice called out not far from
where he stood.

He, Findley and Duncan followed the voice. They
soon came upon one of Rowan’s men. He was looking down at the ground.

Rowan braced himself for the worst and followed
the man’s gaze.

He’d found the drivers.

Their throats had been cut and they’d been tossed
on atop the other on the ground. Rowan knew that Arline did not possess the
strength to carry the men this far from the road. He surveyed the ground and
found no signs they had been drug. They’d been carried.

He crouched low, looking for some sign, something,
anything to guide him on what he should do next. He found a pair of boot prints
in the snow. They led to the two men, then away, back toward the wagon.

Rowan led his friends and men back to the wagon
where they immediately began to look for more signs. Duncan found a set of boot
prints, similar to those they’d discovered in the woods. He also found a set of
hoof prints.

“Looks like one man, one horse,” Duncan said as he
studied the tracks. “They look verra fresh and run to the east. I do no’ think
we’re far behind them.”

Rowan ground his jaws together and wound his hands
into fists. He found himself in the same position he was in just a few short
hours ago. Someone had taken Arline and he had no bloody idea who or why.

“Mount up!” Rowan barked as he headed to his horse.

He’d get her back, one way or another.

They had not been riding long when she figured out
that he had lied to her when he said he was taking her back to
Áit na
Síochána
. They were travelling in the opposite direction. He had lied. He
wasn’t taking her home.

At first, she thought she could trust him, for he
was one of the shadow men. He had killed the two men who had taken her and
promised that he was there to help her. “I’ll take ye home, me lady,” he had
promised with a smile.

In hindsight, she should have inquired as to which
home. They were heading toward Blackthorn lands. Certainly, he could not mean
to take her there.

Her arms were wrapped around his waist as she rode
behind him. Her wedding dress had not been designed for travel and did little
to keep out the cold. The hem was now ruined, wet from all the mud and slush
the horse kicked up as they travelled through the woods.

She knew the further they rode away from
Áit na
Síochána
, the less chance Rowan had of finding her. In her heart she knew
he had figured out she was missing. He loved her and he would come for her, of
that, she had no doubt.

In order to survive whatever lay ahead of her, she
knew she must feign ignorance and trust. She decided to play along and at the
same time, try to gain some information as to why Archie had supposedly come to
her rescue only to end up lying to her.

“Archie,” she said as she adjust her rump. “How
did ye come to find me?”

“I was at
Áit na Síochána
, watchin’ over ye
as is me sworn duty. When we learned ye’d been taken, I set off before the
others to find ye.”

She did not believe him. “I see,” she murmured.
“Where exactly are we goin’ now? I do no’ think
Áit na Síochána
, is in
this direction.”

“I didn’t say I was takin’ ye back to
Áit na
Síochána
, me lady.”

She sat upright. “But ye said ye were taken me
home.” Familiar panic began to rise and she hoped he had not detected it.

“Aye, I did.”

She was growing frustrated with his elusive
answers. “But me home is
Áit na Síochána
.”

She felt him grow tense. He hunched his shoulder
and cracked his neck. “It was yer home, me lady. I fear I canna take ye back
there.”

“Why not?” Even she detected the fear in her own
voice.

“I canna let ye marry Rowan Graham. I ken that is
what ye want, but I canna let ye do that.”

“Please, Archie, explain to me why ye canna allow
it?”

“I need ye to marry another.”

Her mouth opened in surprise. “Marry another? I do
no’ understand, Archie.”

He let out a frustrated breath. “Yer da waits no’
far from here. We have another that ye must marry and we need ye to do it fer
Scotland.”

What the bloody hell did he mean by that? “Marry
someone fer the good of Scotland?”

He responded with a nod. “I be sorry, me lady, but
we’ve no’ other choice. Ye need to marry the man we’ve chosen fer yet.”

“We?” she asked indignantly. “Who is
we?
”

He remained silent for a time. “How much do ye ken
of yer last two marriages?”

She told him she didn’t understand his question.

“Yer marriage to Carlich turned out to be quite
fortuitous for Robert Stewart. When yer da learned how helpful ye’d been at
rootin’ out two of the traitors, he came to Robert with an offer. In exchange
for a substantial amount of coin, he’d work with Robert to arrange another
marriage with another suspected traitor.”

Her blood ran cold and the hairs on her neck rose.

“We long suspected Lombard de Sotuhans. We had
been workin’ a verra long time to prove he was funneling money to the small
group of men who want to bring Scotland to her knees and see England rein over
her. We believed ye’d be a verra good distraction for de Sotuhans. Ye could
keep him busy while we sought the information we needed.”

Robert Stewart had betrayed her. He had sworn that
he would always protect her, had given her a letter to use if ever she were in
trouble and the shadow men could not be found. In the end, he had betrayed her
trust. The knowledge left her chilled to the bone.