In her rare moments of lucidity, she could feel Rowan’s presence. Always beside her, holding her hand, and offering words of encouragement. He refused to tell her what had happened, what was wrong with her. His responses to her questions were always the same: Wheesht, lass. Ye need yer rest.
She didn’t want to wheesht or rest. She wanted her shoulder to quit burning and her head to quit pounding. And she wanted answers. Resistance was pointless as her body continued to betray her mind. She kept falling asleep
By the following afternoon, she felt less groggy and the pain in her shoulder began to diminish, though it still hurt like the devil. She was able to open her eyes without feeling like they were filled with burning embers.
Rowan sat in a chair next to her bed. She smiled at the sight of the big Highlander with his head lolling forward as he slept. From the looks of him, he hadn’t taken the time to shave in many days. His clothes were a rumpled mess as if he had slept in them more than once. Even in his current condition of disarray, he was a beautiful man.
She lay still, quietly watching him and wished she could remember what had happened and why she had been so angry with him and how she came to be in this room. Had something happened in her room? Had she been attacked there?
And why did Rowan refused to tell her what happened? It made little sense. Was he was only trying to protect her? That in and of itself was a very kind thing for him to do. However, she was not a babe, not a woman prone to histrionics. Certainly whatever had happened to cause her to be here could not be that terribly awful that he feared she would fall apart. She wished she could remember.
After a time, Rowan shifted in his seat and raised his head up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his palms. It took a moment for him to realize that yes, Arline was awake and yes, she was smiling at him.
“How do ye feel, lass?” he asked. His voice was filled with worry and concern. He leaned toward her and took her hand in his.
“Better,” she answered. She wondered if he realized he was holding her hand. She also wondered how on earth, considering her current condition of ill health, could she possibly get such a fluttering in her stomach and why her pulse raced at the touch of his hand?
“Good,” he said and his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
Arline tilted her head slightly. “What happened? I canna remember anythin’ but bein’ mad at ye. I canna even recall why I was so mad.”
“Ye had every right to be mad at me, lass.”
She rolled her eyes. His answer explained nothing. “Why will ye no’ tell me what happened?” She was growing frustrated with him.
Rowan let out a long, slow breath. “I do no’ want ye gettin’ upset again, lass. We can talk about everythin’ once yer better.”
“I am better,” she said through gritted teeth.
Rowan chuckled and smiled warmly. “Ye are? Then let’s say ye get out of bed and take a walk with me.”
“Why must men be so frustrating?” she muttered.
“We canna help it, lass.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We oft turn to fools when we’re around beautiful women.”
Certainly he was not referring to her. The arch of her eyebrow told him as much.
“Och!” he chuckled again, softly, and gave her hand another squeeze. “Aye, ’tis ye that I’m referring to.”
Certain that she must be dreaming, she pinched the side of her thigh. It hurt, but she decided it was possible that she was hallucinating. Who knew what was in that horrible potion Ora had given her earlier. And even if she were completely lucid, she held no proof that his compliment was nothing more than his kind attempt to make her feel better. Either way, his comment proved nothing and still did not answer her question.
If Rowan wasn’t going to tell her the truth behind her injury then Ora certainly would. Arline knew she had to get Rowan out of the room long enough for her to talk to Ora. Even in her current condition, she was not above a bit of duplicity in order to gain the information she sought.
“Ye look as though ye’ve not slept well, Rowan.”
“I haven’t.” In truth, he had not left her side for more than a few moments in the past days.
“I do no’ understand why ye haven’t. Ye should go climb into yer bed and rest. Mayhap take a nice hot bath and a blade to yer beard.”
“I canna do that,” he smiled at her.
He was being silly and she told him exactly that. “I do no’ understand why yer here, why ye’ve no’ slept or shaved, and why ye canna bathe or sleep, Rowan.” A huge part of her wished his refusal to leave her side was because he had some feelings for her other than those derived from her position as his daughter’s governess. ’Twas wishful thinking, she knew that, but still, she could not stop herself from feeling the way she felt.
She took note of the way his eyes twinkled in the candle light, the way the collar of his tunic moved with each beat of his heart, and the way he held on to her hand. Odd, quite odd.
“I would no’ and will no’ leave yer side until I ken that ye are on yer way to being fully recovered,” he said in a low, soft voice. “I could bathe, shave, and climb into me bed, but I think ye’d beat me over the head with the candlestick if I did.”
“What on earth are you goin’ on about? I be quite certain I’d no beat ye over the head with a candlestick just fer bathin’ or going to bed!” Mayhap he, too, had been injured and had suffered a grave injury to his brain.
Another chuckle, a wee heartier this time. “Are ye certain of that?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. The man had lost his mind. “Of course I be certain! Yer makin’ no sense, Rowan Graham. Did you suffer a head injury? Or did ye by chance drink some of that awful potion of Ora’s?”
He could not help but laugh at her. He hoped she would not take his laughter as an insult. Considering what had happened the last time he smiled like an ignorant fool, he quickly explained why he found her statement so humorous. “Lass, ye be in me room. Ye be in me bed.”
Her brows drew inward. His room? His bed? She had only been in his room once when she brought Lily to him. She’d been so focused on him at that time that she hadn’t paid any particular attention to his room, his furniture or anything else for that matter. Her focus had been solely on the man himself.
“Aye,” he said with a nod of his head when he saw the expression on her face. “Me room. Me bed.”
“But why am I here?” she asked. And not in me own room?
He stopped laughing and the smile left his face. His expression turned serious. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought he looked a bit fearful and embarrassed.
“Well?” she asked. “Or is that another question ye’ll no’ answer until yer damned good and ready, like what happened to me?”
Her original thought had been to convince him to leave her be long enough to speak with Ora. Now she had more questions. Somehow she doubted Ora would be able to answer most of them. She was as confused over what he had said as what he had not.
Rowan cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. His jaw muscles tensed and Arline could sense that he was mulling over her question.
“Truly, Rowan, ye are a perplexing man! I do no’ understand why ye canna tell me the truth. What happened to me? Why am I no’ in me own room?” She shook her head and began to grow weary of his silence. She reasoned that he was not going to be forthcoming with the information she sought.
Rowan remained mute, as did Arline. The only sound breaking through their muteness was the soft crackle of embers coming from the fireplace.
Rowan let out a short sigh before leaning in closer to Arline. “Ye became angry with me because I acted like an eejit,” he explained in a low tone. “I smiled.”
He had gone mad, she no longer held any doubt. “Ye’ve gone mad,” she said with disbelief. “Why would I get angry because ye smiled?” She could not believe him. If anything, his smile always left her feeling happy, confused, and excited.
“I fear I sm
iled at a most inappropriate time, Arline. I smiled because I was verra happy with something ye had just shared with me. Something that was verra difficult fer ye to share. Ye mistook me joy as me bein’ an ass. Ye even told me to go to hell.”
He looked genuinely miserable. Arline tried to remember what they had discussed that day, of what she had told him, but drew a complete blank. There were countless things she could have told him that would have been difficult for her to discuss.
“I be sorry, Rowan,” she told him. “But I canna remember.” She grew increasingly uneasy as well as concerned for Rowan. His expression was pained, as if he were dreading telling her any of it.
“Ora says that when someone suffers a severe injury, such as what ye suffered, their mind blocks out all memory of the event. Some people have been known to loose not just hours, but days. She thinks it’s the mind’s way of protecting a person, that the memory might be too horrible and painful.” He patted the back of her hand. “I fear I do no’ want to upset ye further, lass. But I also fear that if I am no’ completely honest with ye, ye’ll resent me all the rest of yer days.”
Arline thought long and hard, all the while her fear and unease increased. Though she worried over what he might tell her, she worried more that the black patches of her memory would drive her mad. “I promise ye Rowan, that I’ll no’ resent ye. Of that, I can swear. I may become upset, but I have to ken what happened.”
She wanted to tell him that as long as he was with her she felt she could face any problem or difficulty. She had grown to value and treasure their friendship. Even if she had been angry with him, she knew, deep down, she could forgive him nearly anything.
“We had been talkin’ of first kisses. Young Robert had just kissed Lily, do ye remember?”
Her stomach tightened ever so slightly. A faint memory, as faint as a whisper, tickled at the back of her mind. First kisses. She vaguely remembered Rowan asking about her first kiss. The nonexistent one.
“Ye told me about yer marriages. All of yer marriages, and the lack of intimacy in them.” He spoke in a low, calm tone, giving her little bits of information at a time so as to not upset her too quickly. Her face paled visibly before turning a deep shade of red. Normally, that would have made him smile, but he could find no humor in her discomfit this day.
“Ye see, lass,” he paused, searching for the most intelligent way to explain the rest of it to her. There was probably no way of telling her what was in his heart without rambling on like a fool. He took a deep breath and began again. “Ye see, lass, I have grown to care a great deal about ye. But, there was a question as to yer,” he searched for any word he could find that didn’t sound cold or harsh. “Yer fertility.”
“My what?” she asked, her voice filled with confusion and shock.
He took a quick breath in and let it out through his nostrils. “There were some who were concerned that ye were barren. When I learned that ye were still pure, well, it filled me heart with joy!”
Mad, mad, mad. The man had lost his mind. She lay there in confused and stunned silence. Hopefully Ora would return soon. Arline could somehow send a signal to her that Rowan was completely insane and needed help.
Rowan watched as she sank back into the bed, looking as though she were trying to hide from him. He knew he wasn’t making much sense by beating around the bush.
“I wanted to ask fer yer hand but I couldna ask fer it if ye were barren.” His words spilled forth in an almost indiscernible manner. “The clan council would no’ have blessed our marriage. I would have had to give up Lily’s birthright and I couldna do that to her. I was willin’ to live the rest of me life alone, without ye, to save me daughter’s future -- and yers! I couldna ask ye to marry me and no’ be able to provide fer ye. I was a coward, Arline, a complete and utter coward and an eejit.”
Arline froze. She could only make out half of what he was saying. And that half scared her witless.
“But when ye told me finally of yer marriages and the fact that there be no way of knowing if ye were barren or no’, well, I couldna help meself! I was so overcome with joy, with knowin’ then that I could marry ye, that I couldna speak, I could barely think. All I could do was smile. Ye took that smile as an insult. I could see it in yer eyes, the hurt and the pain. But ye told me to go to hell and at the time, I didna ken why. Ye ran out of the room, out of the keep, and tried to run away.”
Flashes of blurred and fuzzy images popped up in the recesses of her mind. She could remember feeling cold, afraid, angry, and hurt, but it was all a jumbled mess.
“I couldna get to ye in time, ye ken. I tried, Arline, I tried so hard to get to ye. Ye climbed over the wall and before I could stop ye, our men on the wall saw riders approachin’. It all happened so fast. They shot at ye, their arrows flyin’ and landin’ all around ye. Ye were trying to get back to the keep, when ye realized what was happenin’.”
He hung his head in shame. “’Twas me fault, ye ken. I couldna get to ye in time. The last arrow hit ye in the back and went all the way through yer shoulder. I thought ye were dead, Arline, and it nearly killed me.”
She didn’t know which part of his story shocked her more. The fact that he wanted to marry her or the fact that he would have mourned her loss. Being shot seemed miniscule by comparison.
Someone on this earth wanted to marry her. He wanted to marry her. Voluntarily, with no bartering or threats. She was too flabbergasted to cry or speak just yet. She lay as still as a stone, contemplating all that he had just told her.
His guilt was real, she could tell by the way he hung his head, ashamed to look at her. That he should feel guilty when it was her own stubbornness that had gotten her shot said much. It didn’t matter to him how she came to be in danger. What mattered to him was that he hadn’t been there to stop her from being hurt.
It bewildered her that he wanted to marry her. Either she was far more naïve than she ever considered herself to be or she was a fool. Either way, not once had she ever had even an inkling that he cared for her as anything other than Lily’s governess. At most, she thought he considered her a friend.
She finally found her voice, trembling and weak. “No one’s ever wanted to marry me on purpose before.”
Slowly, he raised his head and looked into her eyes. “I do.”
“But why?” she asked, still unable to grasp the idea of Rowan possessing a desire to marry her. “Me da hasn’t bargained for me, I have no dowry to speak of. I canna bring anything important to ye, Rowan.”
His lips curved into a warm smile. “Ye bring yerself, lass, and that is all I need. I do no’ need money or land or any other inducement. ’Tis ye I want and nothin’ more.”
How many nights had she lain awake longing to hear someone say those words? How many hours had been given to daydreams of Rowan Graham professing to love and want her? And now, the moment was here, and had she not been grievously injured, she would have fled from the room in fear. Her hands trembled, her mouth went dry, and those damnable fish swimming in her belly had returned once again.
“Ye canna be serious,” she said quietly. She found it difficult to look into his eyes, so filled with adoration and desire that her legs trembled. ’Twas a good thing she was lying down for had she been standing, she most certainly would have fallen over.
“I am, Arline. Verra serious.”
“But ye’ve never done anythin’ that would lead me to believe ye cared for me like, like that!”
He chuckled and leaned in close, so close that she could scarcely breathe. “I wanted to, many times.”
The way he said wanted, brought a tickling sensation to her stomach. It made her heart flutter. She thought it remarkable that the more he spoke, the less her shoulder ached. But what exactly had he wanted to do? She grew a spine and asked. “What did ye want to do?”
His smile broadened to the point that he flashed those brilliant white teeth. A twinkle gleamed in his eyes. “I wanted to tell ye how I felt. And I wanted to kiss ye. I st
ill want verra much to kiss ye, Arline.”
Her eyes grew as wide and as round as wagon wheels as he leaned in even closer. “Nay!” she exclaimed loudly as she lifted the hand of her good arm and pushed him away.
“Nay?” He was unmistakably taken aback.
She shook her head at him. “Nay! This is no’ how I imagined me first kiss to be!” she told him firmly. “Yer supposed to kiss me under the stars or, or, by the loch, or in an alcove! Not now, when I’ve been abed for days, and me hair is dirty and no’ combed! I’m no’ even dressed! And I’ve a--”
He stopped her from saying anything else with a kiss. A sweet, tender, gentle kiss. Once he had figured out she did no’ protest the fact that he wanted to kiss her and that her only complaint was the timing and location, he could not hold back.
The kiss was as he had imagined it would be. Wondrous, exciting, and magnificent. Her lips felt soft against his. He took delight in her sharp intake of air when his lips first touched hers.
He went in again, like a man diving into warm, inviting waters. He felt her trembling fingers clutch his hand. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to return the kiss at first. But soon, she leaned in, her lips pleading for more as she returned his kiss. Her innocence shone through in how she responded, greedily yet hesitantly.
Were she not injured, he would have climbed into the bed with her to begin a kiss that would last for days. His groin as well as his heart protested when he broke away.
He rested his forehead against hers as he did his best to steady his labored breathing. He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. His lips felt hot and burned for more.
“Yer kisses are corruptible!” she breathed out. Her entire body seemed to be one big trembling puddle of mush. It was everything she had ever dreamed it would be but decidedly different. It was real. Not something her heart or her creative imagination had designed. It was sweet, tender and gentle, yet filled with a level of passion she did not think possible. She was too shocked with her own response to his kiss to tell him how it made her feel.
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