Rowan's Lady by Suzan Tisdale Page B

to listen
and thought he recognized the man’s voice. When he heard the man speak of
Castle Áit na Síochána , Archie breathed a sigh of relief. Castle Áit
na Síochána belonged to Rowan Graham. It had to have been Rowan who took
the child.
    Archie smiled into the darkness, admiring Rowan’s
ability to not only get into the Blackthorn keep undetected, but he had also
managed to get his daughter out. Rowan would have made a fine shadow man,
Archie thought. He would have done the brethren quite proud.
    He left them then, as quietly as he had arrived.
Lady Arline would be in very good hands amongst the Grahams. Out of harms way,
safe, protected. It would allow Archie time to continue his mission.

Seven
    They had ridden like the devil was chasing them.
And there was a good possibility that he was. Once Garrick learned that Lily
was missing or the dead bodies of his men were discovered, all hell would
undoubtedly break loose. Arline had no desire to be anywhere near Garrick or
his men when that happened.
    The pain in her ribs was beginning to subside. She
no longer wished to die in order to be free from it. Nay, it had lessened to a
more tolerable aching blended with a touch of nausea. The nausea intensified
each time Rowan urged their steed to leap over a small ditch or large felled
tree.
    Riding across the countryside brought back a flood
of memories of her time with the Clan MacDougall. Daniel had been among the men
to help take Arline to Stirling Castle. This ride was much like the one she had
experienced seven years ago. Jumping over felled trees, racing through icy cold
streams, through valleys, and narrow tracks that wound their way through
mountains.
    The only difference this time was that she was in
a good deal of pain and did not have her own horse. Nay, she rode perched in
front of Rowan.
    Rowan. The man whose image had been burned into
her mind all these years. The man who had invaded her dreams far too many times
to count, more than she cared to admit.
    His arms were just as strong and warm as she had
dreamt they would be. His chest, just as hard and massive as she had
envisioned. And he was just as beautiful as she had remembered, mayhap even
more so.
    Suppressing the desire to rest her head against
his chest had been futile. Before dawn broke across the horizon, she had
succumbed to the exhaustion and pain. It was not a blissful, comfortable sleep
she experienced. She dozed off and on, jolted back to her senses every time
they leapt across an obstacle.
    Why on earth did they have to jump like this? Why
could they not simply trot across the land, taking their time to gently glide
over the hills or through the streams? The answer was quite simple. Garrick.
They could not slow down, no matter how badly she hurt. The risk of Garrick
catching up to them was far too great.
    Arline’s time with Garrick Blackthorn left no
doubt that he would seek retribution for Rowan taking back his daughter
and for the men left dead on the forest floor. It wasn’t a matter of honor with
Garrick, it was arrogance and his warped sense of justice. He felt the rest of
the world should all should bow in his presence and worship the ground upon
which he trod.
    The desire to live far outweighed the desire to
slow their pace. There would be time to sleep later.
    The morning sun had just begun to rise when the
group made their way to yet another winding twisting road that made its way
around a small mountain.
    When Rowan abruptly slowed their pace to a slow
walk, Arline made the mistake of opening her eyes. They were walking along a
cliff with barely enough room for a man to walk, let alone these large horses!
It was dizzying androgen nauseating to look down.
    Lord almighty, she was terrified of heights! She
kept her face buried in Rowan’s chest with her eyes closed tightly. She
clutched his tunic with both hands and prayed they would not fall down the
cliff. She wasn’t ready to die just yet. Mayhap in forty or fifty years, but
not