Arline’s father had sent a small group of men to escort her back to Ireland. They arrived the same day as Phillip and Helena. Arline had pleaded with her father’s men to allow her a few more days, for time to spend with the couple and their precious babe. Her pleas for time were denied. They would leave on the morrow at first light.
“Yer father insists that we return with you immediately, m’lady,” her father’s first lieutenant explained.
Arline knew all too well that her immediate return did not signify that her father missed her. There was a very strong possibility that he was already in the process of finding her another husband. At least she would have a year of mourning before being forced into another marriage. Hopefully, her next husband would be younger, but she would settle for someone kind like Carlich.
With what little time they had together, Arline did her best to explain to Phillip the regrets and guilt Carlich had struggled with.
“Forgiveness is no’ an easy thing to ask for, and at times ’tis even more difficult to give,” Arline told Phillip as she handed him Carlich’s last letter.
They stood on the steps of the keep in the brilliant sunshine. Helena stood beside her husband, holding their daughter. Love for her husband was plainly evident in Helena’s eyes. Mayhap, Arline thought, Helena can help him to see the truth.
“If he had to do it all over again,” Arline explained, “He would have done things verra differently.”
The doubtful expression on Phillip’s face said he did not believe her. Mayhap it was too little, too late. With a heavy, anguished heart, Lady Arline left Phillip, Helena and the babe on the steps.
She had already said her goodbyes to Fergus, Meg, and the rest of her people. Fergus had tried to offer her hope that all was not lost. “Ye’ll return someday, I ken it,” he told her with a broad smile. As much as she wanted to believe him, her heart told her otherwise. Instead of arguing, she gave him a firm hug and whispered thank you into his chest.
Her father’s lieutenant held the reins to a black gelding. With help from the stable master, she was soon mounted and leaving the one place she had ever felt at home or at peace.
There was comfort knowing that she had Robert Stewart’s letter and the men in the shadows. Combined, those two forces could prove quite useful in the future. Deep down however, she prayed the need to use them would never arise.
She took with her many happy memories of Carlich, Fergus, and her people. Her father might be able to take her from Scotland but he would never be successful in taking Scotland from her heart. Tucked securely away, like Carlich’s box, she would keep her feelings for and memories of this place well hidden. Only in times of sorrow or loneliness would she allow her heart to revisit them.
Along with those, was the image of the very handsome man, whose name she did not know. The exceedingly handsome man with the perfect teeth and brilliant smile was forever etched in her mind.
For whatever reason -- she could make no real sense of it -- she had decided to use that image to measure against any future husband she may acquire. She had convinced her heart that only a kind, gentle man of good character, temperament and patience could posses such a handsome face. That too, she would keep unto herself.
Losing Carlich left a gaping hole in her heart. More friend and grandfather than husband, still, she missed him. He had treated her with respect and dignity. Next to her sisters, he had been her dearest friend and closest ally.
Arline paid no attention to her father’s men, six in all. They led her out of the gates of the keep and headed east. The beautiful morning, with the cloud free, brilliant blue sky stood in stark contrast to the ache in her heart.
They had not ridden long when they heard the sound of many horses charging from behind. They pulled rein and spun around only to see at least fifty men on horseback riding hard toward them.
“Ready your arms, men,” the lieutenant ordered. Much to Arline’s surprise, the men made no attempt to protect her. Instead, they formed a line behind her.
Arline’s heart lodged in her throat with the memory of the night she and the MacDougall men were attacked. She glanced over her shoulder only to see that her father’s men looked positively terrified. She cursed them all under her breath as she removed her sgian dubh from her pocket. She was fully prepared to defend herself, even if the cowards behind her would not.
Just as she was ready to shout that she would ride back to the keep for help, she caught a glimpse of a very familiar figure. He sat taller in his saddle than any of the men he rode with.
“Wee William,” she whispered. She let out a relieved sigh and giggled. Shaking her head at the cowardice of her father’s men, she urged her horse forward to meet the MacDougall men.
“My lady!” Daniel called out as the large contingent of warriors rapidly advanced.
Arline’s heart lifted at the sight. She recognized the faces of Daniel, David and many of the other men who had seen her safely to Stirling. She was very glad to see them and wished that she could hug each and every one of them.
“Daniel,” she called out in return. Moments later, she was surrounded. “What are ye doin’ here?” she asked.
“We came to see ye, to offer our thanks once again,” David explained. His smile evaporated when he looked at the six men who were supposed to be protecting their lady.
“Phillip says yer da sent men to take ye back to Ireland,” Daniel said. He began to look just as angry as his brother when he saw Lady Arline’s supposed protectors.
Arline laughed when she saw the ire building in the brave warriors expressions. She needn’t ask them why they scowled and glared at her father’s men. She was no more impressed with them than the MacDougalls.
“I fear I may end up havin’ to protect them on my journey back to Ireland,” she said with a wry smile.
Two men began to push their way through the pack. Arline barely recognized them, for they weren’t shackled or covered in filth.
“I think the lass deserves a much better escort,” Angus said with a frown toward the six men.
“Aye,” Duncan agreed. He shook his head in disgust at the cowards.
Arline eyed the MacDougall men for a moment. Admittedly, her protectors left a lot to be desired. She knew without question that the MacDougall men would have formed a wall around her the moment they heard or saw strangers approaching. Apparently her protectors were not so inclined as to risk their lives for hers.
“Aye, they are no’ much to brag over,” Arline agreed.
Angus looked to Duncan first, then to Daniel and David before turning his attention back to Arline. “My lady,” Angus said. “If it pleases ye, I think I could spare a few of me men to help escort ye back to Ireland. I canna go meself, but I believe I could find a volunteer or two.”
For an extremely brief moment, she thought to decline his generous offer, but immediately pushed the thought aside. The last time she had ridden across the countryside, she had nearly been killed. If there were, as Robert Stewart had alluded, more traitors in their midst, they might seek to kill her out of retribution for the deaths of Seamus and Aric. If she were attacked on her way back to Ireland, she had no doubt she would not survive when she considered her current six escorts. Besides, she doubted that the MacDougall men would have listened to her.
“That would be verra generous of ye,” she said, accepting his offer. She scanned the group of men, looking for one man in particular. The handsome man with the brilliant smile. After a short time, she realized he was not with them. A slight pang of regret stung at her heart. ’Twas probably best that he wasn’t here for she might learn that he wasn’t as perfect as she had allowed her heart to believe.
When her six escorts finally realized the group of Highlanders presented no danger, they came to join them. Arline informed the lieutenant that several of the MacDougall men would be accompanying them on their journey back to Ireland. Seeing the fierce scowls and sheer determination on the faces of the MacDougall men, the lieutenant
did not offer any argument against it.
Shortly thereafter, Daniel, David, Ronald and Roy surrounded Arline. A handful of other MacDougall men fell in behind them and rode with her father’s men. For the first time in many weeks she actually felt happy and quite safe.
It would take at least two weeks for them to travel the long distance to her childhood home. Two more weeks of building wonderful memories that she would keep with her always.
Prologue Rowan’s Lady
Rowan’s Lady
Scotland 1350
The Black Death did not discriminate.
Like fire from hell, it spread across England, Wales, Italy and France. Untethered, unstoppable.
It cared not if the lives it took were of the noble and wealthy or the lowly born and poor. It showed no preference for age or gender. It took the wicked and the innocent. It took the blasphemers and the righteous.
The Black Death took whomever it damned well pleased.
It took Rowan Graham’s wife.
Rowan would not allow his sweet wife to die alone, cold, afraid, and in agony, no matter how much she begged otherwise. He would not allow anyone else to administer the herbs, to apply the poultices, or to even wipe her brow. He was her husband and she, his entire life.
Knowing that the Black Death had finally reached Scotland, Rowan’s clan had prepared as best they could. The moment anyone began to show signs of illness, they were immediately taken to the barracks. Seclusion was their only hope at keeping the illness from spreading.
Within a week, the barracks could hold no more of the sick and dying. The quarantine was all for naught.
By the time Kate showed the first signs of the illness, the Black Death had taken more than thirty of their people. Before it over, Clan Graham’s numbers dwindled to less than seventy members.
At Kate’s insistence, their three-month-old daughter was kept in seclusion. It was the last act of motherly love that she could show her child. In the hours just before her death, Kate begged for Rowan’s promise on two matters.
“Ye shall never be afraid to speak of me to our daughter. It is important that she know how much I loved her, and how much we loved her together.” ’Twas an easy promise for Rowan to make, for how could he ever forget Kate?
’Twas the second promise she asked that threatened to tear him apart.
“And ye must promise ye’ll let another woman into yer heart. Do not save it long fer me, husband. Yer too good a man to keep yerself to a dead woman.”
He swore to her that yes, someday he would allow his heart to love another. Silently however, he knew that day would be in the very distant future, mayhap thirty or forty years. For there could never be a woman who could take Kate’s place in his life or his heart.
“I love ye, Kate, more than me next breath,” Rowan whispered into her ear just before her chest rose and fell for the last time.
Fires were built to burn the dead. When Rowan’s first lieutenant came to remove Kate’s body to add it to the funeral pyres, he refused to allow Frederick anywhere near her. Rowan’s face turned purple with rage, his chest heaved from the weight of his unconstrained anguish. He unsheathed his sword and pinned Frederick to the wall.
“If ye so much as think of laying a finger to Kate, I shall take yer life,” Rowan seethed. Frederick knew it was a promise Rowan meant to keep.
Later, with his vision blurred from tears he could not suppress, Rowan bathed his wife’s once beautiful body now ravaged with large black boils. He washed her long, strawberry blonde locks and combed them until they shined once again. When he was done, he placed a bit of Graham plaid into the palm of her hand before wrapping her cold body in long linen strips.
Alone in the quiet hours before dawn he carried her to final resting place under the tall Wych Elm tree. He stayed next to her grave for three full days.
Frederick finally came to see him late in the afternoon of the third day.
“I ken yer grievin’, fer Kate was a fine woman.” Frederick said. “Ye’ve a wee bairn that needs ye, Rowan. She needs ye now, more than Kate does.”
Rowan was resting against the elm tree, with his head resting on his knees. In his heart he knew Frederick was right, but that did nothing the help fill the dark void that Kate’s death left in his heart.
For a brief moment, Rowan could have sworn he heard his wife’s voice agreeing with Frederick. Deciding it best not to argue the point with either of them, Rowan took a deep breath and pulled himself to his feet.
For now, he would focus on the first promise he had made to Kate.
“Ye be right, Frederick,” Rowan said as he slapped one hand on his friend’s back while wiping away tears with the other. “I need to go tell me daughter all about her beautiful mum.”
Rowan's Lady is set for release in October 2013.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Suzan lives in the Midwest with her verra handsome carpenter husband and the last of their four children: a 15 year old, 6'3", built-like-a-line-backer son. They currently accept monetary donations to offset the cost of feeding him and keeping him in shoes. She also has three perfect grandchildren.
Suzan has no pets, save for the aforementioned son and husband. Living where they do, she figures the domesticated deer who believe her gardens are planted strictly for their enjoyment is plenty. Though, if she lived on ten or more wooded acres she would have a Redbone Coonhound that she would name Rufus. She'd also like to be a size 12 again, but doesn't foresee either of those things happening at anytime in the near future.
"Some say my writing is an obsession. I prefer to think of it as a passion."
You may keep up to date with Suzan at:
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McKenna's Honor, a Novella, Book Four of the Clan MacDougall Series Page 15
