The evening meal would be served soon. She decided that she would wait until then before she left her new quarters. If Rowan was drinking as heavily as Lady Beatrice had described, more likely than not he would pass out before long. As soon as she could, she would make her way through the keep to find Lily, just to make certain the child was in fact well.
A tear fell down her cheek when she thought of how kind he had been. How could she have been so foolish to believe he was any different from any other man she had known? Were it not for Carlich showing her that men could in fact be kind, she would never have believed it possible.
In a few days, once Rowan climbed his way out of the bottle, Arline would go to him and ask for the escort to Inverness. He would be much easier to deal with sober. There was no sense in poking a stick at the hornet’s nest for she knew she’d be stung repeatedly. He’d toss her into their dungeon and heaven only knew how long he would keep her there.
Not much time had passed before there was a knock on Arline’s door. She opened it cautiously. A young woman, mayhap in her early twenties, stood in the hallway with a tray in her hands. She was a very pretty young woman, with dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes.
“I be Joan, me lady,” she said with a curtsy.
Arline opened the door to allow the girl to enter. Joan sat the tray down on one of the trunks without saying a word.
“I thank ye kindly, Joan.”
“I wish it could be more, m’lady, but with Rowan in such a foul mood and the larder near empty, ’tis the best we can do.” She hurried to the door.
“The larder is empty?” Arline asked.
“Near to empty. The clan is still trying to make up fer all that was lost four years ago.”
The Black Death. There wasn’t a clan in all of Scotland, or people anywhere else, that had not been affected by it. Arline had not realized the toll it had taken on Clan Graham until now. It had to have been horrific if their larders were still bare after four years. Mayhap that was one more reason why Rowan drank.
“I managed ye some tea, m’lady, and a bit o’ bread.” Joan said apologetically. “They try to feed the bairns and wee ones first, ye ken.”
Arline felt her heart begin to crack even further. These poor, poor people! “Thank ye again, Joan.”
Joan gave a sad nod and left the room. Arline closed the door behind her and barred it.
No wonder Rowan had come to rescue Lily. He hadn’t possessed the funds to pay the ransom.
She was left feeling even more confused. How could a man like Rowan be a drunkard? He had risked everything to rescue his daughter, not because he was selfish and didn’t want to pay the ransom, but because he could not. Rather than risk his daughter’s life when Garrick found he could not pay, he risked his own life to save hers.
That was not the mark of a drunkard or a lout. That was the mark of a man with a heart, with conviction and honor. A man who loved his daughter.
Suddenly, she found she could no longer be angry with him. There was a distinct possibility that the man drank to dull the pain, the hurt left behind in the wake of the Black Death. How could she blame him? How could she hold anything against the poor man? He’d lost his wife, a good number of clansmen, and had nearly lost his daughter. ’Twas no wonder he drank.
She decided that she could no longer be angry with him. She would wait until he had sobered up and then she would have a good long talk with him. She would offer whatever assistance she could to help his clan grow and prosper. She could be more than just a governess, she could be his friend.
There was plenty of money being held in her name. In just a few short months, she would turn five and twenty and demand that her father turn the funds over. She would not use the money to travel the world. Instead, she would offer it to Rowan as a gesture of good will, of thanks for offering her a home. She would also do what she could to help him remain sober.
She could not hold anything he had said in a drunken rage against him. Chances were he was not angry with her, but with himself and the lot life had dealt him.
With her mind made up, she went to the trunks and removed the linen to see what Joan had managed to procure for a meal.
Porridge. Bloody hell.
Having bathed and donned fresh clothes, Rowan entered the gathering room with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. With great anticipation, he looked forward to seeing what Lady Arline would look like with clean hair and a fresh gown. Clean or dirty, the woman fascinated him.
The room was already filled near to capacity when he entered. His men, some with wives, some with women who hoped to someday be their wives, were milling about the room or already seated. The smoky air was filled with the sounds of laughter, giggles and chatter.
Ever since Kate’s death, Rowan had dreaded the evening meals. He missed having Kate sitting beside him, missed sharing his day with her over a fine meal. But tonight, he actually found himself looking forward to the evening. Lady Arline had begun to fill the void in his life. It made him feel young again, more alive and excited than he had felt in more than four years. Though he was still unsure what he exactly felt for her, he could not deny that he was growing genuinely fond of the woman.
His smile instantly faded when he saw that Lily was already seated at the head table, in her usual spot to his right. What frustrated and angered him so was the fact that Lady Beatrice was sitting in the spot to his left. He wanted Arline there beside him, not Beatrice.
Working his jaw back and forth he made his way toward the high table. He would not embarrass Beatrice by asking her to move, but come the morrow, he would make certain that she understood where the two of them stood. He’d make damned certain she was completely clear on the subject and that she would never sit in that seat again. When Arline arrived, he would put her on the other side of Lily.
He made his way up the three steps and toward his seat. Lily scrambled down from her chair and flung her arms around his leg before he could sit.
“Da!” she exclaimed happily. “I missed ye!”
Rowan scooped her up into his arms and gave her a big hug. “And why would ye be missin’ me? Ye just saw me no’ more than an hour ago.”
Lily giggled and gave him a peck on his cheek. “I always miss ye.”
He patted her back and set her down on the bench. He sat down beside her and turned finally to Beatrice. “Lady Beatrice,” he said, trying as best he could to mask his anger.
“Rowan,” she said with a lady like nod of her head. “’Tis good to see ye.”
He could not say the same thing and refused to lie about it. He was not happy, not happy at all, to see her sitting at the high table, without his invitation.
“I trust ye are pleased with how well the keep ran in yer absence?” Beatrice asked.
Rowan continued to clench his jaw, swallowed down the myriad of things he wanted to tell her. “My keep always runs well in my absence. I’ve good people here.”
She had been fishing for a compliment and he was not about to give her one. A look of disappointment flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced with a smile. “Ye do, Rowan, ye do.”
Beatrice took a drink of ale. Rowan was looking about the room, his expression growing more sullen as the moments ticked by. He could not find Arline anywhere.
As if she could read his mind, Beatrice spoke. “I believe ye be searchin’ fer someone who is no’ here.”
Rowan cast a angry glance at her before taking a drink of ale.
“Do no’ worry, Rowan. Lady Arline is safely tucked away. She was too exhausted, too tired this night to attend the meal. I’m sure she’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”
Some of his anger subsided. It made perfectly good sense that Arline was tired. Exhausted would probably be a more apt description. He made a mental note to check in on her later.
“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 reli
eved 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.
Thirteen
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.
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