Rowan's Lady (38 page)

Ora had given Arline a potion to drink to help
knock her out so that she would not be awake during the process. Unfortunately
it hadn’t taken full affect when Thomas placed the red-hot iron to her wound.
Her scream would forever remain branded in Rowan’s memory as one of the most
horrific wails he had ever heard. He prayed she would soon wake and speak to
him. He did not want that the sound of her scream and subsequent curses and
cries to be his last memory of her.

Thankfully, she had lost consciousness and
remained that way during the rest of the procedure. Once the wound was
cauterized and Ora agreed that Arline could be moved, Rowan carried the sleeping
lass to his room. With great care and devotion, he placed her in his bed,
covered her with furs and stayed by her side.

It would be some time before anyone could answer
the question of who in his right mind would attack a keep in the middle of
winter with only five men. The men who had attacked were of no use to anyone.
Their frozen corpses waited burial in the dungeon below the keep.

It had taken little time for Rowan and his men to
catch up to them and even less time to slay all five. His only regret was not
being able to glean any information from them. They had foolishly chosen to
attempt to defend themselves against fifty of Rowan’s men.

Two long, distressing days passed by slowly. Rowan
would not leave Arline’s side but for a few moments at a time and only to take
care of the most pressing business -- finding out who was behind the attack.
Besides Arline, the most urgent matter at hand was the missing Frederick and
the seven men who were with him. They had not been seen nor heard from since
the day Rowan had sent them to check on the men at the borders.

Dawn arrived peacefully on the morning of the
third day. Arline was kept heavily sedated to keep her from harming her injury
or from feeling any amount of pain. Arline rarely moved and at times it was difficult
to tell if she still breathed.

Lily was beside herself with grief. The nightmares
had intensified, making it difficult for her to sleep for more than an hour or
two at a time. No one was able to comfort the child. Worried that Lily might
become exhausted and over wrought with worry, Rowan had a pallet brought to his
room and placed between the fire and his bed. He and Lily slept side by side,
under several thick furs. She slept fitfully throughout the night at first, but
thankfully had finally been able to sleep for longer stretches.

Rowan had not shaved and had barely eaten over the
course of his bedside vigil. On the morn of the fourth day, he dozed in a chair
he had pulled next to the bed. He held Arline’s hand, though he doubted she was
aware he was even in the room, let alone holding her hand.

He was roused awake by the sound of many heavy
boots and excited utterances taking place outside his room. Moments later,
Frederick rushed in with Daniel, Thomas, and several other men fast on his
heals.

Frederick halted just inside the doorway, his eyes
immediately going to the sleeping form on the bed.

“Christ,” he muttered as he rushed to stand beside
Arline. Daniel and the others followed suit. The room seemed to grow much
smaller when it was filled with so many big Highlanders.

Rowan rose to his feet, relieved to see his
missing men. They looked like hell, with wind-burned faces and disheveled
clothes. “Thank God!” Rowan said as he came around the side of the bed to shake
Frederick’s hand. “What the hell happened?”

Frederick drew Rowan in and slapped his back. “I
could ask ye the same question,” he said as he withdrew and turned back to look
at Lady Arline.

Rowan sighed heavily and ran a hand across his
several days growth of beard. “Ye look like hell, Frederick.” He had noticed
what looked like dried blood on Frederick’s green tunic.

“Och!” Frederick smiled as he looked down at his
chest. “I look better than the bastard I gutted. And ye do no’ look too well
yerself, Rowan.”

Rowan ignored the comment. He took Frederick by
the arm and led him away from the bed. The group of men followed and huddled
together. Speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb Lady Arline, Frederick
began his tale.

“When we left we went first to our borders on the
East. All was well there. The men were able to seek shelter in the hut. They
received a good amount of snow and were glad to see us. We spent the night
there and headed back the next morn. I left their replacements and brought
Aaron, Sam, and Brown Thomas back with us. All was well until we reached the
southern borders.” He paused for a moment, shook his head and ran a hand
through his hair. Rowan bade him to continue.

“Rowan, it was a massacre. A damned bloody
massacre!” he said angrily. He caught himself and lowered his voice. “Derrick,
young Phillip, and Red Daniel were dead. The bastards had left their heads on
spikes. Flung their innards in the trees. God only kens where the rest of them
be.”

Rowan swallowed back the bile and anger that rose
in his throat. They had been good men, young men. Red Daniel was married and
had two wee bairns. Phillip was barely old enough to shave and Derrick was not
much older. Rowan hung his head, dreading the thought that he would have to
inform the families of these good men that they were not coming home.

“We buried what we could, Rowan,” Frederick
offered solemnly.

Rowan placed a hand on Frederick’s shoulder.
“Thank ye, Frederick. I’ll speak to their families soon.”

Frederick cleared his throat before going on.
“Derrick’s auldest brother, Patrick, was with me, Rowan. He’s agreed no’ to
tell his mum and da the whole truth. We,” his voice cracked as tears welled in
his eyes. “We didna think they needed to ken the entirety of it.”

Rowan agreed that it was probably best. ’Twas bad
enough to know they were gone. To know their bodies had been so violated,
slaughtered, would serve no good purpose.

“We left there as soon as we could, Rowan. About
two days ago, we came across a group of six men, hiding out in the caves near
Loch Breen.” Frederick cast a glance at Domnal who was standing to his right.
Domnal had been there and was visibly shaken. It had been his first experience
in hand-to-hand combat.

“They put up one hell of a fight, Rowan.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “How good a fight?”

“Good enough that we had to believe they were no’
Garrick’s men. They fought far too well.”

For days, Rowan had been convinced that Garrick
Blackthorn was behind the attack, for several reasons. The main reason being
that Garrick was the only man he knew who was foolish enough to attack in this
weather and to send just five men. “I was certain it was Blackthorn men who had
attacked. They wore no colors to prove it either way. We didna find anything in
their belongings to identify them or who they may have fought for.”

“They were no’ Blackthorn’s men,” Domnal said
quietly.

“Domnal is right,” Frederick added. “They were no’
Blackthorn men.”

Rowan waited patiently for someone to tell him who
the hell it was that had killed his men and had tried to attack the keep.
“Well?” he demanded, growing impatient.

“They were hired mercenaries. We were able to get
information from one of the bastards before he died.” Frederick smiled wanly.
“There are many more men coming, Rowan.”

Confusion grew on Rowan’s face. “What the hell do
ye mean?”

“Someone hired these men. Supposedly, the six we
came across were to remain at the border to wait fer reinforcements. They were
instructed to kill any Graham man, woman or child they came across. They were
to show no mercy. We learned that five men were sent ahead, to watch the keep.
I can only assume that they attacked Lady Arline because she was out in the
open.”

“That doesna make a damned bit of sense!” Rowan
growled. “Did they no’ think we’d retaliate? Did they no’ think we’d fight
back?”

“Nay, they did no’,” Frederick answered. “Fer they
were told there were but a handful of auld men and women at the keep. They were
told our men would no’ be here, ye’d all be drawn away and fightin’ to the
west.”

The more Rowan learned, the less he knew. He shook
his head in dismay. “None of this makes a damned bit o’ sense,” Rowan muttered.
“How could anyone ken we’d no’ be here?”

“Because we were to have been attacked a sennight
ago,” Frederick answered.

The storm had hit a sennight ago. Clarity dawned
and Rowan’s eyes grew wide. “The storm.”

“Aye,” Frederick said. “The storm.”

“It stopped them from attackin’.”

“Aye, it did.”

They stood facing one another as the same thought
that had occurred to Frederick suddenly occurred to Rowan. “If they were
delayed by four days, that means,”

Frederick finished his line of thinking. “We could
be attacked at any moment.”

“Bloody hell!” Rowan shouted.

“Aye,” Frederick said as he followed Rowan out of
the room. “Bloody hell is right!”

Rowan found Selina in the hallway. “Find Lily
now!” he barked. “Take her to my room. Send the healer there! Do no’ leave
either me daughter’s nor Arline’s side.”

Selina did not take the time to question his
order. She spun around to go find Lily.

Rowan shouted out orders as he thundered down the
stairs. People were sent in different directions with orders to prepare for an
imminent attack. In moments, the keep was a flurry of activity.

Frederick had tried unsuccessfully to gain Rowan’s
attention as they bounded toward Rowan’s library. “Rowan!” Frederick shouted to
his chief’s back. “There be more!”

Rowan flung open the door to his library. “I want
every able-bodied man assembled in the gathering room within a quarter of an
hour!” Rowan shot the order to one of his men.

Frederick shook his head and grabbed Rowan by the
arm. “Rowan, I need ye to listen!”

“What is it?” Rowan ground out.

“There should be three hundred men, to the west of
us. They’re waiting fer their orders to attack. They’ll no’ move an inch until
they receive them.” Frederick waited impatiently for that information to sink
in.

Rowan mulled this bit of news over in his mind.
They could not withstand an attack of this magnitude. Whether their unknown
enemy was well trained or not did not even factor into the equation. The enemy
had sheer numbers on their side. Hope began to wane and he grew increasingly
worried.

“Rowan, do no’ give up hope just yet,” Frederick
said hopefully. “All is no’ lost, ye ken?”

“No I do
no’
ken! We canna withstand an
invasion of three hundred men.”

A smile grew on Frederick’s face. “Nay, we canna
withstand an invasion. But, we can make certain the invasion never takes
place.”

For a brief moment, Rowan thought mayhap Frederick
had lost his mind. Curiosity begged him to ask the question. “What do ye have
in mind?”

Frederick threw his head back and laughed
heartily, sealing Rowan’s previous opinion as it pertained to the man’s
soundness of mind.

“Och, Rowan,” Frederick said. “Pour me a wee dram
and I’ll tell ye exactly what I be thinkin’.”

Less than an hour later, Rowan, Frederick and the
others departed from their meeting in the library. Rowan was not only convinced
that Frederick was indeed in complete control of his faculties, but that the
man was brilliant.

Two hours later, Frederick, Daniel and nine of
Rowan’s best fighting men had left the keep and headed west. If Frederick’s
plan worked -- and there was a very good chance that it would -- then the
impending attack on
Áit na Síochána
would never take place. Only time
would tell.

On the off chance that Frederick and Daniel
failed, Rowan had dispatched messengers to his closest ally, Caelen McDunnah,
asking for his help in defending
Áit na Síochána
.

After his men left, Rowan donned a cloak and left
the keep, heading directly to the chapel. It was a place he hadn’t stepped foot
in since Kate’s death. He had stopped praying four years ago. This afternoon
seemed as good a time as any to start again.

The chapel, a small stone building, stood on the
east side of the keep. It was a simple, utilitarian building that could hold
some two hundred people.

They had lost so many people four years ago,
including their priest. Rowan, having given up on God, had made no attempts to
find a replacement. The Black Death had been all the proof that Rowan needed to
believe that God had turned His back on Rowan and his clan.

His stable master, Red John, acted as a priest of
sorts, though not a celibate nor sober one. Nay, Red John was married and had
eight children -- seven sons and a daughter. Still, he was the most qualified
in that he had memorized the Bible, could recite any passage from memory, and
most people considered him a kind, generous, and godly man. So he stepped in
and led services three times a week.

Rowan paused outside the door of the chapel for
several long moments. Before he entered, he asked for forgiveness for waiting
so long to return and for thinking God had abandoned him.

Stepping inside the quiet chapel hadn’t been as
difficult as he had imagined. The late afternoon sun shone through the windows,
casting a soft, honeyed glow on the room. Little bits of dust floated in the
air, dancing in the sunlight like tiny faeries.

He closed the door behind him and reverently
walked to the altar. With no warm fires burning, his breath misted and hung in
the air. Crossing himself, he knelt before God for the first time in far too
many years.

Rowan prayed for many things over the next hour.
He prayed repeatedly for having asininely believed that God had abandoned him
when he knew it had been the other way around. Rowan had abandoned God.

He prayed for Arline, that she would recover and
would agree to become his wife. He prayed for his daughter, that she would grow
to be a fine young woman.