“I be sorry, Rowan, but Mrs. McGregor was no’ verra happy,” Frederick said as he brought the tray to Lady Arline. Rowan took the now empty tray from her so that Arline could take the tray from Frederick.
“What do ye mean, she be no’ verra happy?” Rowan asked. Frederick glanced at Arline then back to Rowan. Rowan could tell there was something Frederick wanted to say but did not want to say it in front of Lady Arline.
Rowan stood and pulled Frederick aside. In a low voice he asked him to clarify what he meant.
“Mrs. McGregor said she’d no make anything special fer,” he glanced at Lady Arline before continuing on in a whisper, “fer Blackthorn’s whore.”
Rowan began working his jaw back and forth. He was long past the ends of his patience, ends that were, in fact, completely out of sight.
“I made the tray meself, fer she absolutely refused.”
“Why do they dislike me so?” Arline’s voice, trembling slightly, broke through the stillness of the room. She had heard their conversation. Blackthorn’s whore. It was like a dull knife cutting through her heart. She set the tray on the floor, unable to touch another bite of food. She felt sick and betrayed and for some reason, unworthy, though she knew that to be unwarranted.
Neither Rowan nor Frederick had an answer. She had done nothing to any of the clansmen to deserve their unkind words or mistreatment.
“Daniel has everyone in the gathering room,” Frederick said after several moments of tense silence passed.
“Go,” Rowan said, his attention and eyes focused intently on Lady Arline. “I shall be there shortly.”
Frederick gave a quick nod before quitting the room. Rowan and Lady Arline stared at one another for quite some time. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her but knew now was not the time. He wanted to take her in his arms and apologize, beg for forgiveness. Had he been paying closer attention to his instincts none of this would have happened.
Swiftly he went to her, knelt and took her hands again. “None of this is your fault, I want ye to ken that. While I am certain Lady Beatrice is behind all of this, I need to speak with my people.”
Arline sighed and shook his hands loose. “Why? What will it matter, Rowan. They do no’ want me here.”
He searched for the right words, a way to explain to her that they only felt this way for two reasons. One, someone had used lies to sway their way of thinking and two, they did no know her.
“Lady Arline, are ye going to just sit back and let Beatrice win?”
“What do ye mean?” she didn’t appreciate the accusatory tone in his voice.
“If ye do no’ go out there, to the gathering room with me, with yer head held high, then Beatrice wins. If ye hide, it will look as though ye have somethin’ to hide or that yer ashamed of yerself.”
“Go out there? To the gatherin’ room? With ye? To face all those people?” She shook her head. “Nay, I will no do that. They’ve made up their minds, Rowan. They do no’ want me here.”
He took her hands in his again. He liked the way her long delicate fingers felt wrapped around his. “The Lady Arline that I met last week would no’ let a woman like Beatrice get away with such behavior. The Lady Arline that I know would stand up to her, toe to toe, and not back down.” He squeezed her hands again. “And mayhap,” his voice turned playful, “she might even beat her over the head with a chamber pot!”
Arline could not help but join in his laughter. She knew he was right. If she hid, she would look guilty. Her crime? Weakness. No matter what rumors may be floating around the castle, whether there was any truth to them or not, the rumors would take hold and it would take a lifetime to dispel them.
If she truly were to try to make this her home, she could not back down, could not run and hide.
Until a few moments ago, she was thinking of nothing else but going to Inverness. Now, when he looked into her eyes, she wanted nothing more than to stay.
“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 m
umbled.
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 k
en 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.
“Aye, she treated me poorly but ’tisn’t like she stabbed me or poisoned me or tried to kill me!” Arline pleaded with him to listen to reason.
What Mrs. McGregor said and did next nearly cost her her life. She wriggled free from Thomas’ grasp. Her hand flew out before anyone had time to respond. Her hand landed with a loud smack across Arline’s face. It landed with such force that Arline’s head turned. “I said, do no’ defend me! Do no’ pretend that ye care what happens to me. I’d rather rot in the dungeon than have a whore such as ye act on me behalf!” With her face contorted and twisted with anger, she spat on Arline’s dress.
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