Rowan's Lady (25 page)

“He wasna happy, but Jinny and I laughed. Red John
told us that it wasna polite to laugh at someone in distress.” Lily smoothed
out the skirt of her blue dress and set her doll on the table beside her
trencher.

“Red John is right, Lily. ’Tisn’t polite nor
honorable to laugh at someone in distress.”

Having had enough of being ignored, Beatrice
cleared her throat. “Good evening, Rowan. Lily.”

Rowan turned and gave Beatrice a slight nod. “Lady
Beatrice.”

“I think ye’ll like tonight’s dinner. I had cook
make all of yer favorite dishes.” Beatrice smiled warmly and rested her hand on
Rowan’s arm. “I hope that meets with yer approval, Rowan.”

Beatrice would not be the first woman who tried to
bribe her way into a man’s heart with food. “Thank ye,” he said curtly, not
impressed with her charm.

The tables were soon laden with venison, pheasant,
fruits, vegetables and all manner of delectable foods. Rowan continued to
ignore Beatrice as he ate in silence. He could feel her watching him out of the
corner of her eye. As the moments went on he could feel her frustration growing.

He caught sight of Frederick then, coming down the
aisle toward him. His face was unreadable. Frederick climbed the stairs, came
to Rowan’s side and whispered in his ear.

“I didna get to see her, Rowan, but I did talk to
her maid.”

“And?” Rowan was certain he was not going to like
the answer.

Frederick hemmed and hawed for several long
moments, as if he was uncomfortable giving Rowan the information.

“Out with it, Frederick,” Rowan told him as he
leaned back in his chair.

“Lady Arline is indisposed.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow and waited for Frederick
to continue. When he was not forthcoming with more information, Rowan let out a
frustrated breath and stood. He took Frederick by the arm and stepped away from
the table.

“What do ye mean, she’s
indisposed
?”

Frederick cleared his throat. He looked both
embarrassed and frustrated. Finally, he blurted out the answer. “She got her
monthly courses and is sufferin’.”

Rowan blinked once, then again. His Kate had
always had a horrible time with her monthly courses. Sometimes her cramping was
so bad that she would vomit. “I see,” he said quietly. “And what of the
healer?”

Frederick ran a hand across his beard. “The maid
says the healer has been to see her and that she reports Arline will be well in
a few days. They say no’ to worry overmuch.”

Rowan was not satisfied with that answer. “And
why, pray tell, has the healer no’ come to see me?”

“I dunnae, Rowan. But I did tell the maid to relay
yer message that ye wish to speak to Ora as soon as she comes back. She’s out
helpin’ someone with the ague right now.”

Rowan supposed that he would have to wait. The ill
took precedence over his desire for information on how Arline fared. Still, he
was left with a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Go back and tell the maid that I
will
see
Lady Arline first thing in the morn. I dunna care how ill she is, I will see
her.”

Frederick nodded and quickly left to deliver the
message. Rowan returned to his seat to finish his meal.

“Is something the matter, Rowan?” Beatrice asked.

He was uncomfortable discussing Lady Arline with
Beatrice. Rowan knew that Beatrice wanted more than just a friendship with him.
She wanted far more than he could ever give. He knew that very soon, he would
have to let her know truthfully how he felt. “Nothin’ to concern yerself with,
Beatrice.”

“’Tis Lady Arline ye worry over.”

Rowan hid his surprise by taking a pull of his ale.
“Aye, I do.”

Beatrice appeared not to be bothered by his
statement. “She is a verra nice young woman. I saw her earlier today.”

He was not sure if he should be bothered or glad.
“And how did she fare?”

Beatrice took a delicate sip of wine before answering.
“I do not know if it is my place to speak on the matter of Lady Arline.”

Rowan had the sense that she wanted to tell him
something but worried he might not like the answer. Mayhap she was just as
uncomfortable discussing feminine matters as Frederick.

“Beatrice, ye ferget I
was
married fer a
time. Things such as monthly courses and the like do no’ make me blush like a
maiden. ’Tis the natural course of things.”

Beatrice response was not what he had expected.
“I’m sure I do no’ know what ye are speakin’ of.”

Rowan chuckled. “I already ken that Lady Arline is
sufferin’ from her monthly courses. ’Tis why she is no’ joinin’ us this night.”

Beatrice looked genuinely surprised by his
statement. “Sufferin’? She was no’ sufferin’ when I saw her last.”

He found that quite curious. “How
did
ye
find her?”

Beatrice let out a heavy sigh. “Rowan, I think ye
be smitten with the young woman. I’ll no’ speak unkindly about her, fer ye
wouldn’t believe me, no matter what I said.”

Rowan’s brow furrowed, his curiosity rising. “Ye
think I be smitten with her?”

Beatrice took another sip of wine. “Aye, I do. And
I canna say that I blame ye.”

Silently, Rowan wondered who else believed he was
smitten with Lady Arline. He thought he had done a fine job at masking his
feelings as they pertained to Arline. Apparently he needed to work on that.

“Beatrice…”

She smiled and stopped him with a wave of her
hand. “Rowan, ye needn’t worry that I be jealous of Lady Arline. She is a
pretty young woman, but,” her words trailed off.

“But?”

“I truly do have only your best interests at
heart. I do value our friendship, Rowan. I’ve given up all hope of us ever
having more than just a friendship. Ye do no’ love me and ye never will. I ken
you couldn’t marry a woman ye did no’ love.”

Rowan sat is stunned silence. While he was glad
that the topic had finally been brought up, he was shocked at her honesty and
the fact that she seemed at ease with discussing the matter.

“Beatrice, I never meant to lead ye astray,”

Beatrice’s laugh was honest and genuine. Mayhap
there was more to Beatrice than just a beautiful face and elegant demeanor. He
felt guilty for misjudging her.

“Rowan,” she began, touching his arm again. “Yer
sense of honor is commendable. Ye never lead me astray. Och! I had hoped
something more would grow from our friendship, but I’m no’ a young and naïve
lass and ye needn’t worry over hurtin’ me. We are both adults. My heart is
quite intact.”

Rowan smiled at her then. He appreciated her
honesty and straight forwardness.

“Now, with that said, I do think ye need to tread
lightly with Lady Arline.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean the lass might not be all that she appears
to be. Now, I’m no’ sayin’ she be evil or wicked. But I feel like the lass be
hidin’ somethin’. What that is, I dunnae. ’Tis just the impression I get from
her that mayhap, she truly does no’ wish to be here or to be takin’ care of
Lily.”

Rowan found that difficult to believe. Arline had
displayed nothing but genuine fondness for his daughter. He looked over at Lily
who was pretending to feed her doll.

“Rowan,” Beatrice said, lowering her voice. “I do
no’ doubt that Arline cares for Lily. But I do no’ think she truly wants to be
her governess. I fear she is afraid to tell ye that fer fear of hurtin’ ye.”

Rowan cut a piece of venison and shoved it into
his mouth. He did not want to believe that Beatrice was right. He wanted Arline
to be happy here. He wanted her to feel as though she were part of his clan. He
wanted her to be an important part of their lives. He wanted …. He wanted
Arline.

His appetite for food quickly vanished when he
thought of how he truly
wanted
Arline. He set his knife down and pushed
the trencher away. He wanted her. But whether it was simply physical desire or
the need and want of something more, he could not say with any amount of
certainty.

Beatrice continued on but he paid no attention to
her. His mind was on a certain auburn-haired woman above stairs. On the morrow,
he told himself, he would go to Arline. He would find out from her own lips
whether Beatrice spoke the truth.

If Arline did not want to be here, if she was
wholly homesick, then he would give her the escort he had promised. If not,
well, he was unsure where to go from that point. The easiest thing would be to
step back and allow their relationship to take a slow, steady, natural course.

When he found himself praying -- something he did
not do on a regular basis anymore -- praying that Arline would want to stay, he
knew his heart was in trouble.

Four long days and three cold, lonely nights had passed
since Arline had first arrived at the Graham keep. With the fourth cold night
just an hour or two away, Arline was growing angrier and more frustrated with
the current conditions.

Were it not for Lady Beatrice and Joan visiting
her several times throughout the day, Arline was quite certain she would have
gone stark raving mad by now.

According to Beatrice, Rowan was still soaking at
the bottom of a whisky bottle and his anger toward her was growing worse as the
hours passed by.

Depending on the hour, he either wanted Lady
Arline labeled a traitor to the crown and tossed into the dungeon, or, worse
yet, declared a witch and burned at the stake.

Just what she had done to deserve his anger or
mistrust she could not fathom. Over and over, she searched her memory for
something, no matter how miniscule, that she might have said or done on the
journey here that would have made him hate her so much.

And hate her he did. Vehemently and passionately,
according to Lady Beatrice.

He had ordered that Lady Arline go nowhere near
his daughter. He had ordered her locked away, fed nothing but bread and
porridge. And this morning? He had declared, much to her horror, that she was
no longer allowed the comfort of wood for her brazier. He wanted her to suffer,
to suffer intense ignominy. She was Blackthorn’s whore. There had even been
talk that he would have moniker branded to her forehead!

She paced around her cold room, chewing on her
thumbnail, wondering what she had done to anger God so much that he had placed
her
here
to suffer so.

And what, pray tell, had she done to deserve Rowan
Graham’s disdain and hatred? Had she not done everything in her power to keep
his daughter safe? Had she not helped them escape Blackthorn castle? And not
once, the entire time they rode to Clan Graham lands had she complained of
anything. Not her bruised and battered body, the lack of hot water nor good
food. She had even gone so far as to give up her dream of going to Inverness to
live the rest of her life alone, save for the company of her sisters.

At one point, she had even pondered giving the
funds her father held for her to Rowan so that he might build up his larder and
help his clan return to the same great power they had been prior to the
destruction left by the Black Death.

The more she paced, the angrier she became.

Patience, Lady Arline, Beatrice had told her
repeatedly. ‘Twill all be over soon.

Joan knocked at her door with her evening meal. It
came as no surprise to Arline to find the usual fare of stale bread, porridge
and that God awful bitter tea.

Arline thanked Joan and sent her on her way.
Tonight, she didn’t bother with asking how Lily was getting along or how drunk
Rowan was. The answers were always the same. Selina was caring for Lily and
Rowan was drunk and angry.

Arline sat down on the little stool, staring at
the tray. Porridge. God in heaven how she hated porridge!

Anger rose from her belly to her fingertips. She
took the tray and slammed it against the wall. She had reached the end of her
patience.

“If Rowan Graham has a problem with me, he can
tell me to my face!”

She flung open the door with such force that it
slammed against the wall with a loud thud as she stomped out of her room and
down the hallway.

She was going to put an end to this nonsense,
demand an explanation and the opportunity to defend herself against his
accusations.

Muttering curses and blasphemies all the way down
the hall and stairway, Arline went in search of Rowan Graham.

Rowan was beginning to question his first
impression of Lady Arline. He had believed at one point that she was an
honorable woman of strong moral character. But after days of her refusing to
leave her chamber, he began to question his first impression of her.

He had tried to see her before the evening meal.
He had gone to her room, the the door was barred. He knocked several times, had
almost begged her to allow him to enter. Finally the bar lifted, but it was not
the Lady Arline, but Joan who answered the door.

“She be sleeping,” Joan told him in a hushed
whisper as she stepped into the hallway.

Joan was a petite woman and Rowan was able to make
out Lady Arline’s sleeping form in the bed by looking over her blonde head.

“Sleeping? Is she well?”

Joan closed the door and led Rowan a few steps
away. “Pardon me fer bein’ so blunt, m’laird, but I think the lass be
depressed. She will no’ see anyone, no’ even ye.”

Rowan could not hide his confusion. “Why will she
no’ see me?”

Joan seemed reluctant to answer his question. “I
really canna say, m’laird. Ladies, ladies like Lady Arline, often behave
strangely and do things that make no sense to the rest of us.”

Joan left him there, perplexed and at a loss. He
took Joan’s words to mean that mayhap the
lady
was behaving like a
spoiled child.

Now he sat behind his desk in his library, only
half listening to Frederick and Daniel. Their investigation had turned up no
new leads. Rowan was growing frustrated with their daily reports that held no
information. He was half tempted to pull every single member of his clan into
the courtyard and interrogate them one by one.