Rowan's Lady (23 page)

“I had Joan take her a tray. Joan tells me that
Arline did eat and she’s now resting quite comfortably.”

More of his anger faded. He was relieved to hear
that Arline had eaten. The woman was nothing but skin and bones. He worried
over that and those awful bruises on her torso. “And the healer?”

Beatrice took another sip of ale before answering.
“Lady Arline is quite well. All she needs is a few days rest.”

The kitchen staff began bringing trays of
delectable foods to the tables.

“Venison! Sweet cakes!” Lily squealed happily. “I
be verra hungry da.”

Rowan ran a hand over the top of Lily’s head and
smiled as she stuffed a bite of venison in her mouth. He’d let her eat whatever
she wished this night, for he knew it had been quite sometime since she had
eaten anything more than porridge or bread and cheese and apples. His stomach
tightened when he thought of how poorly his daughter -- and Lady Arline -- had
been treated.

He found his appetite waning. More than anything
he wanted to go to Lady Arline, to see with his own eyes how she fared. But if
she was resting, it would be rude of him to interrupt. He decided he would let
her sleep for now. But in the morning, he would go to her, just to see for
himself.

Getting Rowan Graham to fall in love with her had
turned out to be a daunting, if not an impossible task. Most men fell over
their own feet to get to Beatrice. But not Rowan. The fool.

It took a great deal of effort on her part, not to
dump her trencher on top of his head. Could the man not see how badly he needed
her? Could he not see what a value she was to him, to his people?

She needed him to see what a wonderful wife she
would make, needed him to find her irreplaceable.

It was not his heart that she desired. Nor did she
crave to join with his magnificent body. Those two needs and desires were
currently being met by a man much younger than Rowan Graham. Aye, he might not
exude the same power as Rowan, or the same level of sexual experience. Still,
there was something to be said for stamina.

There were other things that only Rowan Graham
could give her.

Beatrice had tried every feminine wile she could
think of and none of them had worked. The stupid man was still so in love with
his dead wife that he could not see what was standing in front of him. Or,
right beside him.

She knew she had been taking a chance by taking
the seat next to his without an invitation. She had hoped that by seeing her in
that spot, it would help give him a nudge in the right direction. At the very
least, get him to start thinking of her as a potential wife.

Her boldness hadn’t even elicited a smile. Nay,
instead, he had looked quite angry to see her there. It was all that blasted
Lady Arline’s fault. How in the bloody hell did the woman still live? She was
supposed to be dead. And if not dead, then on her way back to Ireland.

But nay, somehow the whore lived and found her way
here. Rowan had been somewhat evasive in his answers when she had spoken with
him earlier.
She needed our help, so we gave it. Were it no’ fer Arline,
Lily may be dead. I owe her a great debt, Beatrice.

She had been afraid to push the matter further
until she heard Lily. The brat spoke of nothing but
Wady Awine.
Lady Arline
this, Lady Arline that. As if the ugly wench was some kind of mythological
goddess come to life.

Bah! The child was witless and took up far too
much space in her father’s heart. But then, it wasn’t his heart Beatrice wanted
or needed. Just his hand in marriage.

She watched Rowan out of the corner of her eye. He
was focused intently on his daughter, hanging on every word that came out of
her mouth. It was as if Beatrice wasn’t there, as if she did not exist or were
of no import at all.

One way or another, Rowan Graham was going to
marry her. If he wouldn’t come willingly, slobbering all over her like most men
did, then she had no problem in deceiving him into asking for her hand.

Rowan Graham was honorable. That was Beatrice’s
biggest obstacle, yet, in the end, it would be her greatest weapon.

Arline could not remember falling asleep. She awoke
with a dull throbbing headache. Cursing under her breath, she threw back the
covers and rolled off the pallet. With no windows in her room, there was no way
to tell just how long she had slept.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stood and
tried to stretch her aching muscles. There was no fire left in the brazier.
Cold black coals were all that remained. It was a sign that she had been asleep
for several hours.

The room was cold, frigid and made her bones ache
all the more. There was not much wood or kindling left, but there was enough to
help take the chill out of the air. In no time, she had a decent enough fire
going.

Her stomach growled. She had refused to eat the
porridge last night. There wasn’t so much as a crumb left of the bread. There
was nothing in her room with which to make tea. What she would not give for a
dram of whisky and a piece of venison.

She took her cloak from the peg and wrapped it around
her shoulders before sitting down beside the fire. How long would she have to
live like this? Could she last several more days with nothing but bitter tea
and stale bread?

As she sat gazing at the flickering flames in the
brazier a knock came at her door. She flew to her feet, unbarred the door and
opened it, hoping that whomever was on the other side was holding a tray of
food. She was so hungry that she would not turn away a bowl of porridge, no
matter how she detested it.

It was Lady Beatrice and her hands were empty.

“Lady Beatrice!” Arline said as she opened the
door and bid her entry.

“Lady Arline,” Beatrice said as she floated into
the room. “How fare ye this morn?”

Arline’s stomach growled her answer. She felt her
cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

“Ye poor thing! I be so sorry for this ill
treatment. I’ve heard how kind ye were to Lily. Ye deserve better, me lady.”

Arline waved her hand as if to say not to worry.
“How is Lily this morn?” Arline wanted nothing more than to go to the child, wrap
her arms around her, and tell her that all would be well.

“She is well. She adores Selina. They get along
quite well.”

Arline had seen neither hide nor hair of Selina
since yesterday. She supposed that Selina was busy caring for Lily while Arline
was locked away like a thief. Although she hadn’t spent much time with Selina,
she felt Selina could be trusted.

Arline’s first impression of Beatrice had been one
of immediate and intense dislike. Now that she had had ample time to think on
it, Arline began to think those feelings were the result of her own jealousy.
Beatrice seemed sincere and to genuinely care about her.

“And how does Rowan fare today?”

Beatrice’s smile faded. She took a deep, sad
breath and shook her head. “No better. He started drinkin’ the moment he woke
up this morning. And he’s been at it all day.”

Arline’s eyes grew wide with surprise and shame.
“All day? How long did I sleep? What time is it?”

“Och! Do no’ worry over it, me lady. Ye had been
through such a trial of late. We thought it best to let ye sleep. It is well
past the noonin meal.”

No wonder her stomach was growling so intensely.
That also explained the headache she had wakened with. She always got a
headache if she slept too long. “I apologize, Lady Beatrice. I’m not one to
sleep the day away.”

Beatrice smiled warmly at her. “After what ye’ve
been through? No one could blame ye fer sleepin’. Now, I must hurry. I will
have Joan bring ye another tray.”

Arline thanked her for her kindness. “I hate to be
a bother, but I could truly use a clean dress. Do ye think ye could arrange
it?”

“I shall do me best, but I can make no promises.
Rowan is still in a rage over ye today. He did ask where ye were. I told him ye
were no’ feelin’ well. If he finds ye, I’m certain he’ll order ye to the dungeon.
I fear he is no’ getting any kinder in his regard toward ye. He keeps referrin’
to ye as Blackthorn’s whore, calling fer ye to be flogged fer bein’ a spy.”

Arline pursed her lips together. Last night she
had been convinced he drank to dull his pain. She refused to give in to her
urge to go and find him and clobber him over the head with something heavy.

“I can assure ye, Lady Beatrice, that I be no
spy.”

“I believe ye, me lady. But Rowan? He canna think
straight when he is like this. He seems worse this time. Much worse.”

Arline raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well, he took three women to his bed last night
and that is so unlike him. Most times, he does no’ pick up the bottle until
after the noonin meal. I worry that this time, he might no’ stop drinkin’.”

Not stop? He had to stop. He had to think of his
daughter, his clan. “Ye canna be serious?”

Beatrice looked quite sorrowful. Her shoulders
sagged and tears formed in her eyes. “I am. He’s no’ ever been this bad before.
I tried talkin’ to him, but me words fell on deaf ears. He will no’ listen to
me, or to Frederick and Frederick be his most trusted and valued friend.
Frederick is just as worried as I.”

These people knew their chief, their friend, far
better than Arline. She supposed they’d known each other for years. If his best
and truest friend was worried, then mayhap Arline should worry as well.

“I say we wait a few more days, me lady. And if he
doesna stop his drinkin’, we’ll make arrangements fer ye to leave, to go back
to Ireland.”

“Nay!” Arline exclaimed. “I will no’ ever go back
to Ireland.”

Beatrice looked puzzled by Arline’s statement.
“No’ go back? But why?”

Arline had no desire to confide in Beatrice. It
was far too embarrassing and humiliating to explain. “I have me reasons. I will
no’ go back. But if Rowan does no’ stop this time, then I shall leave. But I’ll
no go back to me father.”

“Then we shall find ye safe haven elsewhere,”
Beatrice said. “But fer now, please, do no’ leave this room. I fear fer yer
life, me lady, I truly do.”

With that, she left Arline alone to ponder her
situation.

Her dreams of belonging to a family such as
Rowan’s was rapidly dwindling away. Of course, she still had her sisters,
Morralyn and Geraldine. The funds their father held for Arline would be enough
to see they lived comfortably for the rest of their days. Nay, they wouldn’t
live a life of luxury but neither would they live a life of want and need. Her
heart stung with missing them. Mayhap she should just go to Rowan now and ask
for the escort to Inverness. But nay, he was drunk, mean and threatening to
have her flogged! There would be no way to have an intelligent conversation
with him in his current state.

Such a fool she had been to think, even for a
brief moment, that she could live here, among the people of clan Graham. She
had begun to care a great deal about Rowan, Lily and even his men. She had
hoped that his people would welcome her, if not with open arms then with the
possibility of forging friendships.

Her mind began to wander to something else Beatrice
had said. Rowan had taken three women to his bed last night. Three! The thought
made her cheeks burn red and her anger bubble up again. She could barely
imagine what it would be like to be with one man. She couldn’t imagine what
such an intimate act would be like with two additional women. An involuntary
shiver ran down her spine.

Mayhap Rowan Graham wasn’t the honorable kind man
she believed him to be. Mayhap he was just as morally bankrupt as her own
father. It was that bright smile of his, that more than beautiful face and
those dark brown eyes. He hid behind a façade of beauty, but deep down,
underneath it all, he was just as depraved and ruthless as most other men she
had known.

“I be an utter fool,” she mumbled aloud as she
began to pace around the cramped room. “A complete and utter eejit!”

Rowan was worried when Arline had not appeared in
the gathering room that morning. Believing she was still mending from her
injuries and far too tired to make it down the stairs, he went about his normal
daily routine.

He and his men took to the training fields for a
few hours. They had to maintain a level of preparedness in case Garrick
Blackthorn decided to reclaim some of the dignity he lost when Rowan was able
to gain entry into his keep and retrieve his daughter.  Knowing Garrick
Blackthorn as he did, Rowan wouldn’t put anything past the man. Garrick was a
full-grown man, but still acted more like a spoiled child. There was seldom any
sense to be found in anything the idiot did.

Part of Rowan wished that the fool
would
attack,
just for the opportunity to kill the bastard. He relished the thought of
cutting his throat or running his broadsword through his gut.

But the more sensible part of him knew that the
clan might not be able to withstand such an attack. The number of fighting men
was nowhere near what it had been before the Black Death. He had been slowly
rebuilding the numbers, offering home and hearth and the promise of a future to
men who had also lost much four years ago. It was a slow process.

The men he did have were well trained and loyal
and he knew he could count on each and every one of them. But they did not have
the numbers to equal Garrick Blackthorn’s.

Rowan was not completely without hope. If
Blackthorn trained his men in the same manner he treated people, with no
respect or dignity, then he probably had a group of lazy warriors whose fealty
was to their own necks.

He had spent a good portion of the afternoon in
his library with Lily asking one question after another. Very few of them could
he answer. Most of them were in regard to Lady Arline.

“But
when
will she get better? And when can
I see her?” Lily asked as she sat on the edge of his desk playing with the doll
that Arline had made for her.