Rowan's Lady Read online

  Now here she was, consigned to her rooms and for the briefest of moments she found herself wishing her father was here. She didn’t necessarily miss the man, but she knew that her father would keep her from being killed by her husband. Aye, she may have to agree to another arranged marriage, but even that was better than death.

  At the moment, she was more than tempted to bargain with the devil himself in order to ensure the safety of the little girl below stairs and to live through the next two weeks. What she needed was a plan, a way out of this mess and a way to keep the child out of harm’s way.

  Mayhap she should throw herself at her husband’s mercy and beg. Begging wouldn’t be such a bad thing, if it meant she would have the chance to live through the next sennight. And it would be worth it in the end, if she knew she had saved the child.

  Bribery was another option. Arline’s father had been holding onto a substantial sum of coin for her. It was a large amount, left to her by her first husband. She had hoped to use the funds to travel the world, once this farce of a marriage was annulled.

  Strictly speaking, she couldn’t actually get her hands on the funds until she reached the age of five and twenty, just a few months away. Under her current circumstances however, she felt certain her father would part with it if it meant securing her life and future.

  Arline was jostled out of her thoughts by a commotion that was taking place in the hallway outside her chambers. Sounds of heavy feet and grumbling, agitated men’s voices grew louder as they neared her rooms.

  Arline stopped pacing and pulled the heavy, iron poker from its stand next to her fireplace and hid it behind her. She was uncertain at the moment, just what made her decide she’d not go down without a fight. Insanity perhaps, or the maternal instincts she’d not known she possessed until less than an hour ago. Or it could be something all together different. Whatever it was, it did not matter. She was determined to keep breathing for at least a few moments more.

  Arline nearly jumped from her skin when the bar on her door was thrust upward. The scraping sound made her skin prickle with fear. She could feel her blood rush from her face when five large, angry-looking men hurried into her room without so much as a knock or polite request to enter. Rude beasts, every last one of them.

  Her husband led the pack of men into her room, but left them near her door as his heavy feet pounded across the floor. Garrick towered over her, his face red with anger, his blue eyes nearly black with rage. He made no attempt to hide his displeasure, his anger. Arline’s head began to swim with fear.

  She tried to look him in the eye but could not. The courage she had mustered only moments ago fell away the instant he stood before her. Arline felt very much like a fool as she tightened her grip on the iron she hid at her back. Courage, ye foolish woman! She cursed silently. Ye had it a moment ago. Do no’ let the bastard win.

  “Ye will never, ever defy me again,” Garrick seethed as he grabbed Arline’s forearms. “Do ye understand that?”

  Garrick had grabbed her so suddenly and with such force that she let loose her grasp on the iron. Thankfully, it did not tumble to the floor but instead it fell toward her and rested against her bottom.

  “Aye, m’laird,” she scratched out, nodding her head rapidly.

  “I will give ye no more chances,” he said as he dug his fingers into her arms and shook her. “Do ye hear me words, woman?”

  Her arms burned where he dug into them. Biting her lip to keep from crying out -- which was no easy feat for it stung considerably -- Arline nodded her head again and held her breath. He had given her a reprieve. For what reason she could not at the moment understand nor did she care. She would simply be thankful for it.

  As if to make certain she did in fact understand him completely, without question, he dug at her arms even harder and gave her another good shake before letting her loose. He spun on his heels to look at his men.

  Arline could feel the iron begin to roll from where it rested. Rubbing one hand along her arm, she reached around with the other in time to keep the poker from falling over. Blood rushed in her ears as her heart pounded against her breast bone. If he saw the iron poker he might realize what her intent had been. She knew he would immediately withdraw his earlier reprieve and order her put to death.

  She took a deep breath, turned around slowly and very carefully put the iron back in the stand. Once it was back in its place, she began to rub her forearms. There would be bruises tomorrow, reminders of just how powerful her husband was. Reminders of how he held her life in the palm of his hands.

  “Ye’ll take care of the brat.” Garrick tossed his comment over his shoulder. “Me men have no time to waste on wiping noses or arses.”

  Arline spun around uncertain she had heard him correctly. Her doubt was put to rest when the same man from below stairs carried the little girl into the room. He stood near the doorway, looking perturbed and disgusted, as if he were holding a bag filled with manure instead of a sweet little babe.

  Her little cheeks were blotchy, her tiny nose as red as a beet, and her eyes bloodshot from crying. Hiccuping, her thumb in her mouth, rattled sighs, the poor babe looked a frightful sight. But Arline was beyond pleased to see her and to hear that she would be allowed to care for her.

  “Thank ye, me laird,” Arline whispered, frozen in place, afraid to dash to the child and pull her from the man’s arms.

  “Do no’ thank me, woman,” Garrick bit out as he turned once again to look at Arline. “’Tis only temporary, until her da pays the ransom.”

  Arline choked back a retort. She thought it odd that her courage had returned now that he was not within arms reach of her person.

  “Ye’ve no’ much time left here, Arline,” Garrick reminded her. “I recommend that ye do no’ question me again. And do nothing to make me question me decision.”

  Garrick gave a quick nod of his head toward the man holding the babe before he quit the room almost as abruptly as he had entered. His man stomped toward Arline and without saying a word, he thrust the babe into her arms. A moment later the men left the room and pulled the door shut behind them.

  Arline was, to say the least, stunned at this turn of events. She would not die this night, and neither would the babe. There had been no need to beg for mercy, no need to argue or to fight. For whatever reason, Garrick had decided to let her live, if only to take care of the frightened little girl who was now resting her head against Arline’s shoulder.

  Between hiccups and tear-induced heavy sighs, the babe finally spoke. “I do no’ wike the mean man.” Arline stifled a giggle at the babe’s inability to say her l’s and kept her own opinion of Garrick to herself. There was no point in upsetting the child further.

  “I want me da,” she said with her thumb still tucked in her mouth.

  Arline choked back her own tears, kissed the top of the child’s head and gave her a hug.

  “I’m sure ye do, child,” Arline whispered into the auburn ringlets. She took a deep breath before stepping to the washbasin. “We’ll wash yer face, get under the blankets and get some sleep. In the morn, ye can tell me all about yer da,” Arline told her, trying to sound far more confident and hopeful than she truly felt.

  The child winced when Arline sat her down on the stool next to the basin. “Me bum hurts,” she said, unwilling to relinquish her thumb.

  It was not a huge leap to reason out why the little girl’s bottom was sore. Arline clenched her jaw and began counting to ten.

  “That mean man spanked me fer cryin’,” the little girl said as she struggled to stand. “I want me da. Me da never spanks me.” Her eyes began to fill with tears again.

  Arline decided ten was not nearly a large enough number to count to in order to settle her anger toward her husband. She grabbed a clean cloth, poured fresh water over it and wrung it out while the little girl stood clutching at her skirts. “When can I go home?”

  Deciding it was far too late and the child far too young to consider all the factors i
n answering that question, Arline began to wash the little girl’s face and hands. “What is your name, sweeting?”

  With her thumb still planted firmly between her teeth, the little girl answered. “Wiwee.”

  Knowing the child struggled with her l’s Arline took a good guess. “Willie? Do they call you Willie?” Even as she said it, she thought it an odd name for such a sweet little girl.

  Willie nodded her head yes, still sucking her thumb. With her free hand, the child absentmindedly grabbed at a length of her auburn hair and twisted it around her finger. Arline thought she was the most adorable child she’d ever seen. Though in truth, she’d not been around many babes or children. It was a solitary life she had led.

  “Willie,” Arline said the name again. Mayhap it was short for Wilhelmina. The child was far too precious to have such a old sounding name. Named after a grand mum? It was possible.

  “When can I go home?” Willie asked again before she yawned and shuddered. “Where is me da?”

  There were many questions the child could ask. Arline knew she’d not possess the answers for many of them. “Soon, I imagine,” Arline whispered softly, trying to disguise her own doubt. Arline rinsed out the cloth and folded it over the drying rack below the basin.

  With no idea as to whom the child belonged, Arline had no way of knowing if her father could pay the ransom. Garrick, though he may be cruel and selfish, was not a foolish man. Certainly he would not have taken a child from someone who couldn’t pay the ransom. Hopefully the child’s family was not far away nor without the means to pay.

  Arline took her comb from the table beside the basin and carefully ran it through Willie’s auburn locks. The child’s night dress was dirty and tattered. Led to the conclusion that the child had been taken from her home in the middle of the night, Arline shuddered at the mental images that flashed through her mind. Images of a night time raid, women and children screaming, men shouting and fighting. Willie, terrified and crying, wrenched from her mother’s bosom, stolen away to be held for ransom.

  What horrors must her mother be going through right now? If this were her child, Arline knew she would be sick with worry if not already mounted, armed to the teeth, and on her way to retrieve her daughter from the clutches of a most cowardly, brutal man.

  Arline shook the dreadful thoughts from her mind and took a closer look at the nightdress. It was a simple gown but made of a fine muslin fabric with tiny silk bows at the ends of her sleeves and the hem. The dirt and tears on the nightdress suggested mayhap a long journey or perhaps it had been torn during the raid. Another thought entered her mind, one she did not like to think. Perhaps the child was not properly cared for. Perhaps she was sorely neglected, her parents not interested or capable of caring for her.

  Gently, Arline guided the child to the bed. “Up ye go, sweeting. We’ll get ye warm and in the morn, we shall break our fast and talk then.” Arline lifted the child into the middle of the bed and wrapped the blankets snuggly around her.

  There was no doubt the child was exhausted. Red rimmed eyes, blotchy cheeks, heavy eyelids stared up at Arline. “What if the mean man comes back?”

  Arline’s stomach tightened at that thought. Certainly it would be a day or two, mayhap more, before the ransom was paid. She tried to convince herself that Garrick would not return until Willie’s parents had paid the ransom.

  Arline added another log to the fire, grabbed the poker and prodded at the coals until the log caught. “Ye needn’t worry about him coming back,” Arline told Willie. At least not until tomorrow.

  Garrick was probably above stairs, in his quarters, with his leman, Ona. Aye, Arline knew all about the woman, or at least of her existence. Though she had never met her, she knew that Ona was the woman to whom Garrick had given his heart. And as far as Arline was concerned, Ona could have it. Arline wanted no part of her husband’s heart or, for that matter, anything else he had to offer.

  From what she had learned from the servants, Ona was breathtakingly beautiful, with dark hair and eyes the color of the ocean. Nothing at all like Arline with her unruly auburn locks and green eyes. Where Ona was petite yet buxom, Arline was tall, slender and lacking the curves her husband apparently admired.

  ’Twas all the better, Arline supposed. Let Ona keep the fool happy and satisfied. I’d gladly take me freedom over a husband.

  With the fire adequately banked, Arline stood, slipped off her robe and laid it on the chair next to her bed. She blew out the candle and paused beside the bed as the light from the fire washed the room in warm light.

  Willie had finally succumbed and was fast asleep. Her little thumb was still between her lips and she had a lock of hair twisted around her finger.

  Arline slipped into the bed and snuggled next to the sleeping babe. She took great care not to disturb the sweet cherub. Arline rested her head in the crook of her arm and watched the child sleep.

  Try as she might, she could not keep her heart from feeling sympathy for this child. The invisible shield she had constructed months ago, the one meant to protect her from disappointment and heartache, was being chipped away, one sweet baby breath at a time. Arline tried to convince herself that there was no harm in feeling something for this innocent babe. But her heart warned no good would or could come of it. As soon as the child’s father paid the ransom the babe would be gone. And Arline would be left alone again, with a gaping hole in her heart.

  Curses! What had she done to deserve such agony? Had she not always done her best to be a good and dutiful daughter? A quiet and acquiescent wife? Never a day passed that she did not say her prayers. She did her best to always put others’ feelings ahead of her own. She had sacrificed so that her sisters could eat and have a decent roof over their heads.

  Her sisters were one of the main reasons she had agreed to marry Garrick. Her father had threatened to take them away, never to be seen or heard from again. There was no doubt in her mind that he would have done just that. So she had acquiesced and married Garrick Blackthorn.

  If the Good Lord had ever seen fit to give her children, Arline thought they would have looked like the innocent babe sleeping next to her. Auburn ringlets, thick lashes and alabaster skin. If a stranger were to see the two of them together, they would probably assume the babe was hers. No one would be the wiser.

  Arline began to worry again over what would happen if Willie’s father could not pay the ransom. What then? Garrick had proven time and again that he was not a man to be toyed with. There was no doubt in Arline’s mind that he would have no compunction about killing the child. If not for the sheer amusement of it, then simply to punish the little girl’s father.

  Guarded heart be damned. Arline could not let that happen.

  She was guarding her heart against loving a man. A child was an all together different story. A child, this child, was an innocent. It wasn’t her fault that men were fools.

  Mayhap, this was God’s way of making up for the fact that Arline would never have children of her own. He had put the child in Arline’s life for a reason. Arline was meant to keep the child safe.

  Her mind began to race with different possibilities and scenarios for stealing the child away from Garrick. Disguise herself as a servant and tuck the child into a sack, slinging it over her shoulder? Or mayhap hide in one of the many wagons that came and went from the keep? Nay, a bold, daytime escape was far too risky.

  There had to be a way out of this castle.

  It was treacherous ground she trod upon. If she failed, Garrick would probably kill them both.

  Three

  Rowan Graham lounged peacefully on the ground propped up on one elbow, his long legs spread out and crossed at the ankles. He gazed into the campfire, only half listening to his men. His mind, as well as his heart, was back at his keep with his four-year-old daughter, Lily.

  Rowan and ten of his men had been gone for more than a sennight, hunting red deer to add to the winter stores. He did not enjoy being gone from his daughter for more
than an hour, let alone a week’s long hunt. The hunt and being away from his daughter had played hell with his nerves. Tomorrow could not come soon enough. He missed Lily. She was all he had left of Kate.

  He could not help but think of Kate whenever he thought of Lily. Lily was like her mother in many ways. Stubborn, adorable, beautiful, adventurous. She had successfully wrapped Rowan around her wee finger the moment she was born. As the days and years progressed, the hold grew tighter.

  If he had his druthers, his life would be decidedly different.

  He would not be chief of his clan, Clan Graham. His wife, Kate, would still be alive. He would not have lost his mother, father, and youngest sister, and countless others, to the Black Death. He would not feel so insufferably alone. And Lily would not be an only child.

  The Black Death had destroyed so many lives, his own included. It seemed that no one or no clan had been left unaffected by it. Not a day went by that he did not curse that damned disease.

  While Rowan reflected on his life and what he wished he had, his men were proudly discussing the number of deer they’d killed and how glad they would be to return home on the morrow. Many of the men were married and talked anxiously about needing the company and warmth their wives offered. Rowan envied them.

  If Kate had lived…. If Kate had lived, then he imagined that he would be joining in the conversation regarding warm, loving wives, whispers and giggles in the dark, and the joys a man could find in his wife’s open arms.

  As it was, there was no such talk for him. He hadn’t been with a woman since Kate died more than four years ago. There had been plenty of women over the years, who had happily offered to warm his bed, but he would have none of them. His heart, he supposed, would always belong to Kate. He couldn’t imagine inviting another woman into his bed, let alone his heart.

  Guilt, to be honest, was what kept him in solitude and away from women. Why should he be allowed to enjoy his life while his wife lay in the cold, dark earth? There was no fairness to it. It should have been he who died, not his beautiful sweet wife.