Rowan's Lady (45 page)

“I be glad that yer marryin’ a fine man like
Rowan, and not some eejit Orthanach chose for ye!” Morralyn quipped.

Arline threw her head back and laughed. “I be as
well!”

She pulled them to sit around the small table and
poured each of them a cup of tea. “This will be the last cup of tea I have as
an unmarried woman!” Arline jested.

Morralyn raised her cup for a toast. “To braw
Highlanders who like to bare their knees!”

They drank the tea and slammed the cups down as if
they’d just toasted with fine whisky.

“Blech!” Morralyn and Geraldine said in unison.

“Do they no’ ken how to make a good cup of tea?”
Geraldine asked.

Arline had to agree. “Och! I don’t usually touch
the stuff, fer ’tis awful. But, they seem to fancy it here.”

“I’d rather have whisky,” Morralyn said as she
winced. “Even
Scots
whisky.”

“Aye,” Geraldine agreed with a smile. She stood,
looking quite devious as she pulled a silver flask from her skirt. “I think I
can help with that!”

Both Arline and Morralyn were surprised. Geraldine
was never one to tipple, at least not that Arline was aware. And for her to
have a flask in her skirt? ’Twas most unusual.

“Och! Do no’ look at me like that,” Geraldine said
as she poured generous amounts of whisky in each of their cups. “Ye act like
I’ve never touched the stuff.”

“But yer always the
good
girl,” Morralyn
said as she lifted her cup and inhaled.

Geraldine giggled and sat back down. “That’s just
what Domnal told me last night!”

Arline nearly choked on her whisky. “Geraldine!”

Geraldine rolled her eyes and smiled at her
sisters. “I
am
a good young woman. I do no’ flaunt meself about like
Morralyn does.” She looked over the rim of her cup at the two of them. “Ye
probably think I am still a virgin too!”

It was Morralyn’s turn to choke. “Geraldine!” she
exclaimed. “Tell me ’tisn’t so!”

Geraldine simply smiled and sipped on her whisky.
“There is much ye dunnae about me, Morralyn. Like I said, I am the quiet one.
It makes things much more fun, fer people do no’ expect such things from me.”

They sipped on their whisky and talked as they
waited for time to pass by. Soon, Thomas would come to escort them to the
chapel. Selina would wait until the last possible minute to dress Lily for the
child had a way of finding dirt and trouble.

Morralyn yawned and gave her head a shake. “I fear
I’m growing quite tired. Whisky usually lifts me spirits.”

Geraldine agreed with a nod and a yawn. “While I
don’t drink as much as ye, I’ve tippled enough whisky in me day. Mayhap ’tis
all the excitement of the past days catchin’ up with us.”

Arline began to grow quite tired as well. As she
yawned, something niggled at the back of her mind and she could not quite put
her finger to it.

Her head began to feel odd, fuzzy, as if she
hadn’t slept in days. Moments later, her arms felt heavy and her legs felt as
though they were no longer attached to her body.

Her heart began to race as she realized what was
happening.

She tried to call out for help, tried to stand, to
move toward the door. It seemed so far away, out of reach. She fell forward as
she stumbled out of the chair.

“The tea,” she sputtered. “The bloody damned tea.”

Beatrice and Joan had been lurking in the hallway.
Beatrice had disguised herself as a kitchen maid. Her hair was wound in a braid
under a white kerchief and she wore a plain, gray woolen gown. Joan wore much
the same get up, complete with a white apron.

They had been waiting rather impatiently outside
Arline’s bedchamber. They had watching carefully from the end of the hallway in
hopes that they could get Arline alone. Beatrice nearly squealed with delight
when she saw three women leave the bedchamber. They would have to think of
something to get Arline’s sisters out of the way.

Joan had slunk her way down the hall and listened
outside the door. She heard a loud thump, like someone falling to the floor. She
held her breath in anticipation of a great commotion to come from within the
bedchamber. When nothing happened, she carefully opened the door and peered in.

Arline lay on her side on the floor. Her two
sisters were passed out in chairs with their heads slumped forward. Joan waved
for Beatrice to hurry inside.

“They all three drank the tea!” Beatrice said
excitedly. “Hurry, now. Go get Edward and Tom.”

Joan hurried from the room and Beatrice barred the
door behind her. She turned around and stared down at Arline. It was quite
difficult for Beatrice to not let out a happy squeal. Things were going as she
had planned them.

She strolled around Arline’s sleeping form, a
victorious smile painted on her face. “Ye may be an
honorable
woman,
Lady Arline. But yer a damned fool! I’m sorry,
me lady
, but I canna
allow ye to marry Rowan. It wasn’t in my plans, ye ken.”

There was far too much at stake to allow Arline to
marry Rowan. Beatrice had no strong affection for the man, but still, he was an
integral part to gaining everything that she had ever wanted and desired.

Joan quickly returned with Edward and Tom.
Beatrice unbarred the door and quickly ushered them in. The men carried
Morralyn and Geraldine to Arline’s dressing room and set them in the dark
corner. When they returned, they set about rolling Arline into one of the large
carpets. Edward hoisted Arline up and over his shoulder while Tom grabbed a
trunk from the dressing room.

Beatrice gave a quick perusal to make certain no
one could detect what was really inside the rolled up carpet. Once she was
satisfied, she gave a nod of her head. “Quickly now, to the wagon. They’re all
too busy to notice anythin’, but be careful! Remember, there be a reward fer ye
after ye get to Edinburgh.”

Edward and Tom gave a curt nod and left Beatrice
and Joan alone in the room.

Beatrice turned to Joan and smiled. “’Tis time fer
me to go marry Rowan Graham!”

Thomas thought it only slightly odd that Arline
had not waited for him to escort her to the chapel. He supposed she was tired
of waiting and much too excited to start the ceremony.

He met her as she came down the stairs, alone. She
wore a beautiful, blue gossamer gown that trailed several feet behind her. A
heavy veil was draped completely over her head, covering her face in its
entirety and he wondered how she could see. Women’s fashions were not something
he paid much attention to.

“Are ye ready, lass?” Thomas asked as he offered
her his arm.

All that he received was an excited nod as she
placed her hand on his arm.

Thomas led her out of the keep and to the chapel.
“I ken that I wasna too keen on the idea of Rowan marryin’ ye, lass. I’m glad I
took me time and came to know ye. Yer a fine woman fer him. Ye make him verra
happy. And I be verra proud to be escortin’ ye to him this day.”

He heard a sniffle and watched as a hand lifted to
wipe a tear.

“Och!” Thomas smiled down at her and patted her
hand. “I didna mean to make ye cry! But I reckon women more easily show their
feelin’s then men.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Thomas
could feel Arline tremble ever so slightly. He supposed she was nervous as well
as excited. Domnal greeted them at the door of the chapel.

“Are ye ready, me lady?” Domnal asked with a
smile.

She paused a moment, then gave a nod. Domnal opened
the door a slight cracked, poked his head inside. He gave a nod to the priest
before opening the door all the way.

Thomas cleared his throat, patted Arline’s hand
again and guided her inside.

Lily was waiting with Selina just inside the
doorway.

Selina knew the moment she saw Arline that
something was wrong. She stepped forward, her brow knitted. “Me lady,” she
whispered. “What happened to yer dress?”

Beatrice had to think quickly for some reasonable
explanation and could only pray that Selina would not recognize her voice.
“Tea.” She whispered her reply.

Selina’s face paled. “Och!” she exclaimed. “Ye
spilled tea on it?”

Beatrice nodded her reply.

“Ye poor thing!”

Lily stepped forward and pulled on Beatrice’s
dress. “I kept me dress clean, Arline!” she told her proudly.

It took a great deal of effort not to shoo the
child away. Beatrice had never been fond of children and was even less fond of
this one. She hated how Rowan constantly fawned over the child, bragged about
how smart she was, how beautiful she was. Doing her best not to give herself
away, she gave Lily a pat on her head before looking down the aisle.

There he was. The man she’d soon be married to.
She was not worried over what he’d do once he found out he had married her
instead of the insipid Lady Arline. By the time he realized what had happened
it would be far too late for him to undo it.

She stood taller, thrust her shoulders back and
raised her chin. Lily was chatting on about something, but Beatrice ignored
her. Besides, it was nearly impossible to understand a thing that came out of
the child’s mouth, what with her lisp and inability to pronounce her r’s and
l’s.

She took a deep breath and urged Thomas forward,
quite ready to become Rowan Graham’s wife.

The moment he set eyes on his
bride,
the
hair on the back of his raised and his skin prickled. His stomach tightened and
he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something was horribly wrong.

He forced a smile and leaned in to speak with
Findley. “Do no’ give on that something is wrong, Findley. But I tell ye, that
is
no’
me bride,” he whispered. “Spread the word to the men.”

Findley feigned a happy smile as he patted Rowan
on the back. “What do ye mean that be no’ yer bride?”

“That is
no’
Arline,” he whispered.

“How do ye ken?”

“That woman has a bosom. In case ye haven’t
noticed, Arline is tall and quite slender.” Rowan’s stomach began to churn with
anger. “And where be her sisters? They were to walk in front of her.”

Findley looked up, still smiling, and studied the
woman. Figuring that Rowan would know better than anyone if the woman was his
bride or not, he turned to whisper in Duncan’s ear. Within moments, word was
spread amongst the men standing next to Findley as well as those stationed
around the chapel.

To the untrained eye, Rowan was nothing more than
an excited groom. He waited at the altar with a broad smile plastered to his
face. His insides however, were one big knot of anger and worry. He scanned the
faces of the guests as Thomas began to walk the woman down the aisle. He recognized
many of the faces. Not wanting to cause alarm or worse yet an all out brawl, he
remained mute. Who knew if this woman had any accomplices or not? If she did,
and Rowan moved too quickly, lives could be at stake.

Thomas detected something wrong in Rowan’s
countenance. He also took note of the whispers between the men. Something
was
wrong, he just did not know yet what it was. He would wait for a signal
from Rowan before he acted.

Playing the part of beaming groom, Rowan smiled as
he took her hand from Thomas. “Thank ye kindly, Thomas, fer bringin’ me bride
to me.”

Thomas nodded and stepped to the side. Rowan took
his bride the last few steps toward the altar and stood quietly before the
priest.

Rowan leaned in and whispered in the woman’s ear.

“If ye so much as move a muscle, I shall thrust me
blade into yer side.”

She tensed ever so slightly and Rowan could feel
her tremble. If the woman made any kind of gesture, instigated any trouble
amongst the crowd, he would do as he had promised. If she had the courage to
look at him, she would see the sincerity and the fury in his eyes. If anything
had happened to Arline, he’d have no problems killing the woman standing beside
him.

“Where the bloody hell is Arline,
Beatrice
?”

 As soon as she was next to him and he smelled the
cloying sent of roses, Rowan knew who was hidden behind the heavy veil. He
never cared for the scent of roses. The only woman he ever knew to wear it was
Lady Beatrice.

The question of
how
she gained entry could
wait for later. For now, he had to find out where Arline was and if Beatrice
had men in waiting to attack.

“Do ye have men in the pews?”

She refused to answer, refused to move.

“Beatrice, I swear to ye that I will ring yer
bloody neck if ye do no’ answer me. Do ye have men here?”

The priest leaned forward with a look of concern
on his face. “Be there a problem, Rowan?” he asked.

Rowan looked up and smiled. “Nothin’ we canna
handle, father.”

“Yer a bloody bastard,” Beatrice seethed.
Damn
him, damn him, damn him!
“Aye, I have fifty men in the pews and five
hundred more waitin’ beyond the walls to attack.”

He smiled and looked over his shoulder. One look
at the faces behind him and he knew she lied. Mayhap one or two, but not fifty.

He turned back to the priest. “Me bride and I need
a moment alone, father. She doesna feel at all well.”

Rowan yanked on Beatrice’s arm and led her away
from the altar toward the priest’s office. Findley followed while Duncan
remained behind. Whispers erupted through the crowd, curious as to why the
bride and groom suddenly left before the ceremony had even begun.

Wee William left his spot in the front row to come
speak with Duncan. “What the bloody hell is wrong?” he asked.

Duncan put a hand on Wee William’s shoulder and
drew him down so that he could tell him. The rest of the men began to spread
out through the crowd, waiting, watching each person for the slightest sign of
trouble.

When Duncan finished explaining the situation as he
knew it, Wee William rose to his full height. “Damn.”