Rowan's Lady

by Tisdale Suzan

  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.

  Fourteen

  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 grow
ing 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.

  “Did ye hear me, Rowan?” Frederick asked as he stood before Rowan’s desk.

  “Aye,” Rowan answered sharply. “Ye have no new information. The same as yesterday and the day before.”

  Frederick and Daniel looked at one another each man thinking along the same path: Rowan was growing frustrated.

  “Rowan, I may not have learned who tainted the ale, but I am growing quite concerned about Lady Arline.” Daniel said.

  Rowan finally looked up at him. “What of Lady Arline?”

  “Well, it seems she’s gaining a reputation around the keep as being…well, difficult.”

  Rowan looked at each man for a moment as he worked his jaw back and forth. “Difficult? How do ye mean?”

  Neither man wanted to tell Rowan the gossip they were hearing as it pertained to Lady Arline. Neither man believed what they were hearing, but still, it was quite disturbing.

  Frederick knew he had to tell Rowan about the gossip floating around the keep. “Someone is spreadin’ rumors about her Rowan. They say she refuses to eat, to leave her room, that we’re all beneath her. They say she cries all the time. There be another rumor that she wants to go back to Ireland, to her da and that ye are refusin’ to allow it.” There was more, much more that he had heard and he did not relish telling his chief, but knew he must. “They be referrin’ to her as Blackthorn’s whore.”

  Rowan shot to his feet his eyes filled with anger as well as surprise. “Blackthorn’s whore?” He was astounded. He could not imagine his people saying such things.

  “Aye,” Daniel said reluctantly. “I do no’ believe the rumors, Rowan. Ye ken how I feel about Lady Arline. She’s a fine woman, but somethin’ is afoot here.”

  Rowan had had enough. He hadn’t seen the woman in days, now he learns that his clansmen are using disparaging remarks against her. Aye, Daniel was correct. Something was wrong and he was going to find out what it was.

  Arline had made her way down the stairs and into the hallway outside the gathering room. A very large young man was walking in her direction. She stopped him and asked where she might find Rowan.

  “Down the hall,” he said, with a nod over his shoulder. “Second door on the right. He’s in his library.”

  Arline thanked him. “And be he drunk this night?” she asked tersely.

  The man looked at her as if she were insane. “Drunk? Nay, me lady.”

  “He is quite sober then?” she asked, only for clarification sake.

  “Aye, me lady,” the man answered politely.

  She thanked him again, lifted her cloak and skirts in both hands and rushed off to find him.

  Her anger had reached a boiling point by the time she had stopped the man in the hallway. When she learned he was finally sober, she felt some of that anger ebb. At least now she could have an intelligent conversation with the man.

  She rushed down the hallway and found the second door on the right. She paused only long enough to take a deep breath to steady her nerves. Without knocking, she
flung the door open.

  Rowan didn’t know at first just what had hit him in the front of his skull. He had just reached the door to his library when it flew open. The edge of it hit him squarely between his eyes. It had opened with such force that it caused the air to stir and papers on his desk went floating to the floor.

  The shock of being banged in the head with the edge of the door made him take a few steps back. Frederick and Daniel flew to his side to catch him in case he fell. They stood on either side of Rowan, holding his arms, with mouths agape.

  “Rowan!” Daniel exclaimed.

  Rowan shook his head which only made it hurt worse. “What the bloody hell?” he stammered, as he tried to focus his eyes.

  Lady Arline stood in the doorway. She’d gone as pale as a sheet, her fingers touching her lips as if she were trying very hard not to scream.

  “Och! Rowan, I be so terribly sorry!” she said from behind her fingers.

  He shook his head again and shrugged Daniel and Frederick away. “Damn it, woman!”

  Tears instantly welled in her eyes. She looked positively terrified. Even through his slightly blurred vision he could see that she was upset and afraid. He immediately felt bad for having cursed and yelled at her.

  “I be sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “Ye caught me unaware and, bloody hell, that hurt!” He rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “I be sorry fer yellin’ at ye.”

  “I’m sorry fer hittin’ ye with the door,” she murmured.

  He took another step back and bade her to enter with a wave of his arm. “Please, come in.”

  Arline hesitated a moment, took a deep breath, threw her shoulders back as if she were steeling herself for something. Lifting her cloak and skirts, she finally entered the library.

  She noticed the papers scattered around the floor in front of his desk. Rowan noticed them too.

  They bent at the same time to pick them up.

  Her forehead collided with Rowan’s as they bent to retrieve them.

  “Och!” Arline exclaimed as she took a step back and stared at him. He looked to be in a good deal of distress, rubbing his forehead, holding his breath. She nearly lost control of her bladder at that point.