Rowan's Lady (28 page)

“Very well then,” she said as she stood and threw
her shoulders back and her chin up. She place a hand on Rowan’s arm, took a
deep breath and bade him to lead the way.

“But I do no’ want ye gettin’ mad at me if I
do
hit Beatrice with me chamber pot.”

Rowan’s lips curved into a warm smile and his eyes
lit with a mischievous twinkle. “Nay, ye’ll hear no objection from me.”

Every man, woman and child who lived within the
walls of the keep or within walking distance, was brought into the gathering
room. Curious whispers and inquiries flittered through the air. Some complained
of the lateness of the hour while others grumbled they were being made to wait.

The crowd grew silent and parted when Rowan
entered the room with Lady Arline on his arm. His steely glare and clenched jaw
left no room for doubt as to his mood. He was furious and cared not who knew
it.

He had his men spread throughout the room. Their
sole purpose was to watch and listen and wait.

With an air of gentle grace and dignity that
belied her torn and dirty clothes as well as her nervous stomach, Arline held
on to Rowan, gaining strength from his countenance. As long as he was here,
beside her, she felt she could face anything. Even an angry horde of people who
did not want her here.

She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at
those people who lined the aisle. Rowan led the way up the stairs. The tables
had been raised after the evening meal. The only thing that remained on the
dais was his high-backed chair. With his hand on her elbow, he helped her sit
in
his
chair.

It was a blatant display, to show his people that
he
was in charge and that he felt an intense level of respect for Lady Arline.
Should anyone have previously doubted it, now there was no question.

Rowan stood beside her with his hand on her
shoulder and scanned the crowd. Two people were conspicuously missing from the
congregation. Beatrice and Joan. Rowan waved two fingers at Daniel who made his
way at once through the crowd and up the stairs. Rowan leaned in to whisper in
his ear.

“Ye go and find Beatrice and Joan. Do no’ let them
out of yer sight.”

Daniel nodded and left the room in a hurry.
Several sets of eyes followed Daniel out of the room before turning their
attention back to Rowan.

Rowan waited, several long moments, before he
began to speak to his people.

 “Who among ye have sworn allegiance to me as yer
chief and to clan Graham?”

Every hand in the room raised, some hesitantly,
others more immediate.

“Who among ye question me judgment?”

All hands slowly lowered and quizzical expressions
stared back at him. “None?” he asked loudly. “None of ye question me judgment
as yer chief?”

He paused, waiting for a moment to see if anyone
did in fact question his judgment. When no hands went up, he nodded his head
approvingly.

“Raise yer hands if ye have had the pleasure of
meetin’ Lady Arline.”

His people looked at him curiously. A few of them
harrumphed at the mere mention of her name. Besides his men, the only hands to
be raised were Selina’s and one of the kitchen maids, whose name Rowan could
not remember.

“Two? Is that all?”

People began to whisper to one another, wondering
where Rowan’s line of questioning was headed. He raised his hand and a hush
fell over the hall.

“Out of all of ye, only two in this room have met
Lady Arline in person.” He shook his head, disgusted with each of them.

“You,” Rowan said, pointing to the kitchen maid.
She looked startled at being pointed out. “How much time have ye spent with
Lady Arline?”

The young girl looked at Mrs. McGregor as if she
sought permission to answer. “Nay!” Rowan barked at her. Everyone in the room
jumped at the sound of his angry voice. “Do no’ look at Mrs. McGregor. Look at
me.
”

He could see her tremble. She stammered, “I
dunnae--” she cast a furtive glance at Mrs. McGregor then turned her eyes to
the floor.

“Five times? Ten? More?” Rowan demanded.

“I do no’ think it was that many,” she mumbled.

Rowan gave Arline’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
They had spent a few moments speaking about the events of the last days before
they had come into the gathering room. She had already given him a list of
people she had met and her impressions of them.

Swiftly, he left Arline’s side and bounded down
the steps. “Come here,” he said to the maid. Hesitantly, the girl stepped
through the crowd and came to stand before him. He reckoned she could not be
more than four and ten. “What is yer name?” he asked sharply.

“Bridgett,” she murmured.

“I ask ye again, Bridgett, how many times have ye
met with Lady Arline?”

She whispered her answer so softly that Rowan
could not hear. He already knew the answer, but needed her to say it loud
enough for the entire room to hear. “How many?” he demanded.

“Once.”

“Once?” he asked with a nod of his head. “Tell me,
Bridgett, how much time did ye spend with the Lady?”

She was staring at her feet, twisting her fingers
together. “I - I do no’ remember.”

“Well, was anyone else in the room with ye and
Lady Arline?”

Rowan was growing frustrated with the girl’s
hemming and hawing. He was about to ask her again, when a voice piped up from
the crowd.

“I was there, Rowan.”

He looked up to see Selina making her way through
the crowd. Selina ignored the whispers as she walked by them. “I was there.”

“Can ye tell me what happened at that meeting?”

“Aye, I can. It was the afternoon ye brought Lily
home. I was in the bathing room, helping Lady Arline. She was very sore,
covered with all those ugly bruises. I was helpin’ her wash her hair because it
hurt for her to raise her arms,” she cast a smile at Lady Arline. “She would
no’ admit to bein’ in pain, but I could tell that she was.”

“And how was Lady Arline behaving?” Rowan asked.

Selina’s expression changed to one of confusion.
“How do ye mean?”

“Well, was she rude? Did she make a fuss? Was she
complainin’?”

Selina’s eyes grew wide with shock. “Nay! Nay! She
was verra nice. She kept tellin’ me
thank ye,
and was tryin’ to convince
me that she could do it herself. But every time she raised her arms above her
head, well, I could see as plain as the nose on yer face now, that she was
hurtin’. Those bruises were awful, Rowan.”

Rowan nodded his head and bade her to continue.

“Well, we were almost done. I was takin’ good care
of her, like ye asked me to, when Bridgett came runnin’ into the bathin’ room
sayin’ that Mrs. McGregor needed me straight away.” Selina cast a look of
reproach at Bridgett, who had grown unusually quiet. Normally the girl was a
chatterbox.

“And then what happened?”

“Well, Lady Arline told me to go before I got into
trouble with Mrs. McGregor. She insisted. So I gave her a towel and we left.”

“I see,” Rowan said. He turned his attention back
to Bridgett. “Does Selina tell the truth, Bridgett?”

The girl shrugged her shoulders and refused to
answer.

Rowan took a few steps away, paced for a moment
before turning back to his people. Some of them looked perplexed by his line of
questioning, others, more than a handful, looked quite upset and angry. They
were staring at Arline with disdain.

“I would like to know
why
ye have all acted
like fools. I would like to know
why
ye all are so set on dislikin’ a
person ye’ve spent no time with. I’d like to know
who
ordered Lady
Arline to be treated so poorly, feedin’ her nothin’ but porridge and stale
bread, takin’ the room
I
gave her away and stickin’ her in one of the
storage rooms on the third floor. I would like to know
why
she was no’
given clean clothes. I would like to know
why
and by
whose
order
ye all decided to treat her with no respect at all!” His voice grew in direct
proportion to his anger.

“This woman,” he turned then to look at Arline.
She sat with her hands folded in her lap, her face filled with embarrassment
and sadness. It made him all the more angry to see her in such distress. “This
woman,” he began again, lowering his voice slightly. “She has done nothing to
deserve this kind of treatment. She protected my daughter, Lily, as fiercely as
if she were her own. She took a beatin’ from the hands of Garrick Blackthorn
while tryin’ to protect my daughter. I owe her -- we all owe her -- a great
debt, a debt that I can never begin to repay her.”

Shaking his head, he turned back to his people. “I
canna begin to reason
why
ye all would behave so poorly!”

Tears began to stream down Selina’s cheeks.
“Rowan, I didna
want
to!”

With his brow line with confusion, he looked down
at Selina. “Then
why?
”

Selina cast a backward glance at someone in the
crowd. Rowan pretended he hadn’t noticed. “Tell me, Selina. Why did ye do
this?”

“Because I was afraid,” Selina cried.

“Afraid of what?” he asked gently, giving her a
moment to answer. “Or should I ask
who
?”

Selina wiped away her tears with her trembling
fingertips. “She said if we didna help her she would go to ye and have us
tossed from the clan! That ye would believe anythin’ she said because ye hold
her in such high regard!” her words came tumbling out. “We canna leave the
clan, Rowan! Me mum, she’s no’ well and canna work like she used to. I have
little brothers and sisters. We love it here!”

Rowan did not doubt that Selina had acted out of
fear. The more he learned of Beatrice’s lies and deceptions, the angrier he
became. Though he was quite certain he knew it had been Beatrice who had made
the threats and terrified the lass, he needed her to say it aloud.

“Who, Selina? Who threatened ye?”

“Mrs. McGregor!” she blurted out.

“Shut up ye ungrateful wench!” the aulder woman screeched
as she made her way through the crowd. She looked positively incensed as if she
were ready to scratch Selina’s eyes out. Her face was deep red, her auld blue
eyes filled with contempt and hatred. Thomas grabbed her by the arm before she
could get too close to Selina.

Rowan felt as though he had been kicked in the
gut. His eyes shot to Mrs. McGregor who was standing near the back of the crowd.

Mrs. McGregor?
He found it difficult to
believe she was behind this. He thought it had been Beatrice. Mrs. McGregor had
come to them more than a year ago, after the death of their long time cook.
Mrs. McGregor was an excellent cook and ran her kitchen with an iron fist.

“Mrs. McGregor?” he asked, stunned by Selina’s
accusation. “Is this true?” Rowan directed his question at Mrs. McGregor. She
refused to answer, her countenance awash with a haughtiness and derision he’d
never witnessed in her before. She struggled against Thomas’ grip, a few
strands of her graying hair coming loose from the bun at the nape of her neck.

“How could ye do this?” Rowan asked. “I do no’
understand how ye could treat anyone with such vulgar disrespect.”

 The fact that is was a rhetorical question
slipped by Mrs. McGregor.

“Respect
her?
I think not!” the aulder
woman’s voice broke through the silent crowd. “She’s Blackthorn’s whore and
I’ll show her no respect! She doesn’t deserve it!”

For a moment, just a brief moment, Rowan was so
enraged that his head swam. Regaining his composure, he gestured for Thomas to
bring the woman to him.

“Why?” he ground out.

She looked at him as though he had lost his mind.
“Because she be Blackthorn’s whore! She comes here tryin’ to worm her way into
the clan, all high and mighty, like she’s the chatelaine, wantin’ everyone to
ferget
who
she is! ’Tis no’ right!”

Had Mrs. McGregor been speaking of Beatrice and
not Arline, he would have understood her displeasure and line of thinking. The
woman wasn’t making a bit of sense. Her accusations were unfounded and he knew
not where she had come up with them.

“How can ye say such things when ye have no’ spent
any time with her?”

“Bah!” Mrs. McGregor spat out. “I do no’ need to
spend anytime with the likes of her! I ken her kind well enough.”

Rowan took a step forward and leaned down so that
she could see just how angry he was. “Did anyone help ye come to these
conclusions? Did anyone put these thoughts into yer mind? How can ye judge a
woman ye’ve never met?”

She clamped her mouth shut. Without a doubt she
was holding something back, but what, he could only imagine. He was left to
believe that Beatrice had put these hateful thoughts into his cook’s mind.

When next he spoke, his words were blunt, sharp,
and left no doubt in anyone’s mind how he felt about their behavior. “Take her
to the dungeon,” he ordered Thomas.

Arline shot to her feet and shouted her objection.
Everything in the room came to an abrupt halt. “Nay!” she said again as she ran
down the steps and came to stand beside Rowan.

Rowan spun around, his eyes filled with
astonishment. Arline was upset, but not with Mrs. McGregor. She was upset with
him.

“Rowan,” she said as she placed a hand on his arm.
“Please, do no’ put her in the dungeon!”

“Why the bloody hell no’?” he barked out angrily.

“Because its cold and wet and filled with rats! Ye
canna do that to a woman!”

“Do no’ defend me!” Mrs. McGregor shouted. “I do
no’ want any help from the likes of
ye
!”

Arline ignored the woman, her focus at the moment
was on Rowan. “Rowan, ye canna lock her away like an animal, just because she
has a preconceived notion of me.”

Rowan tried to steady his breathing and his voice.
“’Tis no’ her notions that I’m punishin’ her fer! ’Tis the way she treated ye!”
His intent was not to keep the woman there indefinitely. Just long enough to
make her understand that she was not in charge of his keep or his people. He
was also using it as a means to gain information. A stay in the dungeon might
get her to open up and tell them what he was certain he already knew. Beatrice
was behind this.