“Please, Rowan, just think on it fer a spell. Think what marryin’ Arline would mean, in the end, after all ’tis said and done.”
“Does the clan council ken that there is a possibility that Arline is barren?”
Thomas shook his head as if he understood where Rowan was heading. “I do no’ ken and I do no’ care. If ye decide to go through with this, ye will have to bring it before us. I’ll no’ lie fer ye, Rowan, no matter how much I love ye like a son.”
Rowan knew that he could not, in good conscience ask Thomas to lie or withhold information. Thomas was more than just his friend and advisor, he was also a member of the counsel. He would do what he felt was for the good of the clan and its future.
Last night’s dream, where he lost Arline for eternity, came crashing to the forefront of his mind. Had the dream been an omen foretelling the future or was it simply telling him what he already knew -- that he could not have Arline as his wife?
His palms began to feel clammy and his stomach uneasy. He could not imagine going through the rest of his life without Arline as his wife. But neither could he imagine living it as anything other than chief of Clan Graham.
He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
After much back and forth between himself and Thomas, Rowan finally agreed to think on the matter further. The last thing he wanted was to think. He wanted to feel. Feel something other than alone and lonely. He wanted a bit of happiness in his life, a bit of contentment and harmony. Was that too much to ask for?
He wanted to feel Arline’s hair as he ran his fingers through it. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have her skin pressed against his, her lips on his lips. He wanted to feel her lying next to him as he drifted off to sleep each night and again, when he woke in the morning.
It wasn’t just an intense physical attraction he felt toward Arline. Nay, it went much deeper than that. He loved her as a person, as a woman. She was kind and generous, funny and smart. She was strong and honorable. She was all the things he needed and wanted in a woman, and much more.
He did not know how he would go on with the rest of his life if the clan counsel did not give their blessing and allow the two of them to marry. Aye, he could marry Arline without their permission, but that could lead to so many troubles. The clan counsel could call for a vote to have him stripped of his chiefdom.
Everyone in the clan would be allowed to vote on whether or not he could remain as their chief. Although many of his people had come to accept Lady Arline as part of the clan, he could not guarantee they would accept her as his wife.
What then? What would he do if he were stripped of his position? His pride would not allow him to stay here while someone else led his clan. He couldn’t bear it.
Although being chief of Clan Graham was his birthright, there were still certain protocols that had to be maintained and met. Even though he had inherited his position, his people could take it all away if they deemed him unfit to lead.
And what of Lily? Although she could not be the actual chief of the clan, any potential husband could take on that role. It would strip her of her future by default if the clan voted against him.
He could not remember ever having to make a decision as difficult as the one that now lay before him.
Just this morning he had felt as though he were floating on air. Happier than he had been in more than four years. Now, he had the sensation that he was adrift at sea, holding on to nothing more substantial than a piece of driftwood. Damn.
Twenty
Rowan stayed to his library in self-imposed seclusion for the remainder of the morning. He had not realized how much time had passed until his stomach began to grumble. With his mind still considering his choices and his heart in utter turmoil, he left his den of isolation to search for food.
Mrs. Fitz, a comely brown-haired woman of mayhap forty years, was doing a remarkable job in her new position as head cook. She had been working under Mrs. McGregor for the past two years, knew the kitchens and the clans people as well as anyone, so it had been an easy decision for him to make. Besides, Lady Arline had recommended her for the position.
Lady Arline. Every thought looped back around to her. As he walked the length of hallway toward the kitchens, he shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath. The beautiful redhead was always at the forefront of his thoughts. He could not banish the images of her from his mind. Nor could he stop the thrumming of his heart those thoughts brought.
And he could not escape the fact that she was having a positive affect on most of his clan. Lily adored her, Daniel and Frederick nearly worshipped at her feet, and even Thomas had grown to admire the woman.
There remained only a handful of people who held to the belief that she was a spy, sent by Garrick Blackburn for mysterious and nefarious reasons. Och! How he wished he could change their minds and their hearts toward her. If he was ever to be allowed to marry Arline, he would need the approval and blessing of each member of his clan.
Just as the course of a stream could be altered by one tiny pebble, so too could a man’s mind, heart, even his destiny, be affected by one small, simple opinion.
He was paying very little attention to where he was going as he rounded the corner in a huff and walking far to quickly to stop what next happened.
Lily was suddenly in front of him, carrying a tray and Lady Arline was right behind her. He was able to avoid knocking Lily down by spreading his legs far apart to allow his very surprised little girl to sweep through them. However, he could not, no matter how he tried, stop his forward momentum. The only thing he could do to keep from landing on top of Lady Arline as they fell was to wrap his arms around her, spin, and allow his back to take the brunt of the fall.
He hadn’t realized that Lady Arline was carrying a tray until he felt it slam against his chest during their less-than-elegant fall to the floor. He also had not realized the strength of his own skull until it bounced off the stone floor.
It had all happened so quickly, the blink of an eye really, that both he and Lady Arline were left stunned, with eyes wide and mouths agape. The pitcher of ale and the earthenware mug were smashed into his chest. He could very well have been bleeding and not known for his shirt was soaked, his brains rattled from the blow to his head and his heart left pounding in his throat.
He closed his eyes tightly and shook away the pain in his head as he tried to catch the breath that had been knocked from his lungs. He pulled Arline closer, using her as a brace against the pain in his thick, Scottish noggin.
When he finally opened his eyes, she was looking back at him. At first, he thought she was frozen with fear. But then, he noticed she was not looking at his eyes, but was staring at his lips.
He was close enough to press his lips against hers and he was sorely tempted. Even with a pounding skull, ale leaking all over him and bits of crockery digging into his chest. Aye, this is where he wanted her. In his arms, on top of him, under him, it mattered not. Remove the spilt ale, the jagged shards digging into his flesh, his throbbing head and their clothes, and he reckoned it would be a most perfect union.
“Rowan,” Arline finally spoke, sounding breathless and damned appealing. His groin began to ache and at the same time, sing with delight. He imagined he could have seven arrows piercing his body at the moment and his maleness would still respond to this beautiful green-eyed auburn-haired woman. He also reckoned that she wouldn’t even need to be sprawled across him. Just the thought of her would bring him to full attention. His male member was going to be the death of him someday, he just knew it.
“Da!” Lily squealed from very near his feet. He heard her set her tray down on the cold stones. He also heard her little feet rushing to his side. “Lady Arline!” Lily exclaimed as she stood next to them.
The sound of his daughter’s voice had two affects on him. It immediately cleared the wicked images of a naked Lady Arline from his mind and acted like a bucket of frozen water thrown on his lower extremities.
Thank God fer Lily or I’d be carrying Lady Arline up the stairs to me chamber right now. Blow to the head and cut skin be damned.
Rowan closed his eyes again, hoping to settle his nerves and regain the use of his lungs. “Woman, ye’ll be the death of me,” he whispered without thinking.
Arline scurried away and he did not like the emptiness she left behind. “I be terribly sorry, Rowan,” she murmured softly.
He sensed by the tone of her voice that he had hurt her feelings. Of course she could not know by his statement that he was not angry or upset with her.
He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. She was sitting but a few steps away from him, holding on to Lily as if she were a rope meant to keep her from drowning.
He could not help but notice that the bodice of her green dress was also soaked with ale. He could just make out the shapes of delightful, perky breasts. At least in the recesses of his wicked mind they were delightful.
“Are ye well, da?” Lily asked. Her eyes and voice were filled with worry and concern.
Rowan took a deep breath and nodded his head an act which immediately filled him with regret. “Aye, I will be well.”
He took a moment before rolling over to his side. Arline remained frozen, her eyes were as wide as trenchers and moist, as if she were fighting back tears.
“I be verra sorry, lassies. I was no’ watchin’ where I was going. ’Tis all me own fault, no’ yers. Please, fergive me.” His words were meant for both Arline and Lily, though his eyes were glued to Arline’s.
“We were bringin’ ye a meat pie, da,” Lily said as she knelt down to look at him. “I helped Mrs. Fitz to make them.”
His daughter still looked quite worried over him. Forcing a smile he took a moment before pushing himself to sit. He took Lily in his arms and gave her a grand hug.
Ye almost kissed him! Arline thought before chastising the wanton, harlot of a woman that had invaded her dreams and was rapidly taking over her waking hours. Ye be a fool, an eejit of a woman, she told herself as she stared at the object of her torment.
Her nerves were frayed, her emotions all jumbled and making her stomach feel once again as if it housed a school of large salmon. She cursed herself for thinking of kissing him and for regretting not following that urge.
Taking a deep breath, she gave a mental shake of her head and tried to push the thoughts from her mind. The man was most assuredly injured, and the only thing ye can think of was to kiss him!
After he had declared she would be the death of him, she felt relieved that she hadn’t. Certain she was that he would toss her out into the cold winter if she had taken that bold step and done what she wanted most to do. She vexed him, she had no doubt for he had just told her so.
She didn’t want to vex him, she wanted to kiss him. Repeatedly. Both her heart and her lips desperately wanted to know what it would feel like. How often had she wondered and day dreamt on that very subject? Too many times to count.
She had often wondered if he would respond positively to such a bold move. Would he take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly and soundly with those horribly magnificent lips of his? Would he smile fondly and welcome her lips against his?
Nay. She knew that now for he had just told her. She would be the death of him.
Her eyes filled with tears that she would not shed in front of him. She’d die first before she would shed another tear in his presence. It was, of course, to be expected. She was cursed with some affliction she could not identify that kept men -- whether it be her father, her husbands, or any other man -- from loving her.
She was doomed to spend the rest of her life alone. No matter how she tried to convince herself that that was exactly what she wanted, to live a life of solitude, her blasted heart refused to give up. Her heart wanted to be loved, to be adored and respected.
Her heart wanted all those things it could not have. It betrayed her, left her feeling abandoned, unlovable, unwanted.
Rowan’s deep voice, soft and filled with something she could not recognize broke her quite reverie.
“Are ye well, lass?” he asked as he pulled himself to his feet.
Was it genuine concern she saw in his eyes? Mayhap, but it wasn’t necessarily for her as a person. He was most likely worried over his daughter’s governess, not her as a woman.
She swallowed back the tears and mumbled that she was well. She noticed then his torn and soaked tunic that was plastered against his broad, muscular chest. Taking a deep breath, she swore she would not swoon nor would she cry over that which she could never have. Instead, she did the grown up, mature and intelligent thing. She could not blame him, for the curse was hers.
“Yer bleedin’!” she cried out in surprise. It wasn’t just the ale that soaked his tunic, it was blood.
She shot to her feet and reached out to tend to his injuries. She could not panic in front of Lily so she willed her hands and voice to remain calm. “Lily,” she said calmly, “help me get yer da to his room.”
She placed her hands on his tunic and began to examine the tears. She opened one of them and peered inside. Rowan gently grabbed her hands with his, and pressed them against his chest.
“I will be well, Arline. ’Tis just a few scratches.”
He could feel her hands tremble inside his and he found himself unable to let them go. He felt something then, something warm and loving though it was hidden under a current of fear. She cared for him, he could feel it in her touch and see it in her eyes.
“Och! Ye stubborn Scot! Just let me see to the wounds. Ye do no’ want them to get infected!” she tried to free her hands from his grasp. He held on tighter.
That would solve all me problems, he thought. I could let the wounds fester and die from it. Would be far more desirable to die from that than from me aching heart.
She was looking into his eyes, her forehead creasing and he could tell that she was about to argue with him.
“I’ll have Thomas tend to them. He’s our healer on the battlefields. I promise ye needn’t worry over a few scratches.”
The look she gave him said she did not believe him and for some reason, it made him smile. “Lily, run and get Thomas. Have him meet me in me bedchamber.”
He raised a brow as if to say now do ye believe me? “I’ll help ye to clean up this mess,” he told her as he finally let go of her hands.
“Ye will do no such thing!” she said sternly. “Ye go to yer room now. I’ll take care of the mess.”
He had the sense that she wanted to say more, something along the lines that he was a stubborn fool. His smile grew as he reached out and touched the tip of her nose. “Yer a good woman, Lady Arline. A verra good woman.”
And with that, he left her to seek out the solitude his room offered.
Arline followed him with her eyes as he made his way down the corridor. Her breath did not return until he rounded the corner and was out of her sight.
Twenty-One
Unfortunately for Rowan, his wounds were nothing more than a few deep scratches. He could not hope for a raging infection that would end his sorry life thereby negating the need for him to make a decision.
Selina and Lily brought a tray of food to his room after Thomas had declared he was fine and that it would take more than a stone floor and a pitcher of ale to do the man in.
Rowan stayed to his room the rest of the day, pacing back and forth as he mulled over what to do about Lady Arline. He sent word to Arline and the rest of the clan that he would not be joining them for the evening meal under the guise of the knock he took to his skull. ’Twas a full out lie. His head had stopped pounding hours ago. It was his heart that ached.
He wanted her to be his wife. He wanted to remain chief of his clan. How could he have both?
After the evening meal, Selina returned with Lily so that she could bid him good night. He remained in his seat by the fire and tried to at least appear as though he had a headache.
He found it quite odd that Selina had brought her
instead of Lady Arline. He found he would not have to inquire as to the location of Lady Arline, for Lily offered her information up with all the innocence of a four-year-old girl.
“Lady Arline has a headache too, da.” Lily told him as she climbed onto his lap.
His heart immediately filled with worry. Had he somehow injured her during their tumble earlier? Had the tray that lodged between them injured her somehow?
He looked up to Selina for some kind of confirmation or expansion.
Selina smiled warmly at him. “She’ll be fine, Rowan. She thinks she’s been cooped up in this keep for far too many days. If the weather is nice on the morrow, we’ll take the children outside to play.”
He found little reassurance in Selina’s words. He tamped down the urge to see Arline with his own eyes. Mayhap the less he saw of her the quicker he’d be able to make up his mind.
Many hours later, he awoke to the sound of Lily crying. His heart lurched at the sight of his babe standing in the open doorway to his room, tears streaming down her little cheeks.
He reached her in but a few fast steps and picked her up. Holding her to his chest, he whispered softly. “Wheesht, babe. Da is here.”
Between sobs, Lily explained her plight. “Lady Arline did not come to sleep with me tonight,” she hiccuped and lifted her head to look at him. “I had a bad dream again,” she said. Her little eyes and nose were red. Her tears left salty trails down her cheeks.
“Wheesht, little one,” he whispered as he bounced her up and down gently.
“Lady Arline has the bad dreams too, da,” Lily said as she thrust her thumb between her lips.
Rowan’s heart skipped beating for a moment and he felt very much an intolerable oaf. Not once had he thought to ask Arline how she was faring. His only concern over the last weeks had been for his daughter.
He had thoughtlessly assumed that since Lily did not come to him in the middle of the night, that she was recovering nicely from her ordeal. She rarely talked with him about what happened at Blackthorn keep. He had assumed that meant that her time there was not as bad as he had originally imagined.
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