Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,103

in the quarry. Mayhap we could picnic? She didn’t think it an outrageous request, but her husband thought otherwise. He turned her down with the excuse that the quarry was too far away and far too dangerous. Another reminder, she supposed, of the fact she was less because she couldn’t see.

Any attempt she made, any suggestion offered to him, he refused. One would have thought he would have gotten the hint by now, but apparently, her husband was too thick headed to catch on.

All she wanted was time alone with him.

He refused.

This night, her heart felt heavy and truth be told, she was just a bit angry with him. She wasn’t going to ask him again. She wasn’t even going to talk to him again. And she damned well wasn’t going to join with him again. If he was so keen on sleeping elsewhere, then he could find the only other comfort he took from her elsewhere as well.

Just the thought of him sharing his bed with someone else left her stomach feeling cold. But what else was she to do?

“Aeschene, are ye well?” Raibeart asked as he finished his bowl of mutton stew. “Ye look pale and ye’re awful quiet this night.”

Waving away his worry, she replied, “Nay, I be fine.” ’Twas a lie, of course, but she couldn’t very well be honest with him.

Apparently satisfied with her answer, he left her alone.

After their meal was finished and servants began to clear the table away, Colyne came around to her side of the table. “Aeschene, would ye like to walk with me this night?”

She’d been lost in her own quiet misery for the entirety of the meal. And being as blind as she was, she hadn’t noticed Colyne had been quietly staring at her most of the evening.

“What?” she asked, having been shaken from her private thoughts.

“Ye have been askin’ Richard every night to walk with ye. Do ye want to walk this night?”

Raibeart left his spot and had come around to stand next to her. “I will walk with ye as well.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Ye are awfully sweet,” she said. But before she could voice her protest, Marisse and Rory were offering to walk too.

“It be a right pretty night,” Rory said.

Marisse was handing her her cloak. “Aye, a very pretty night.”

Out of everyone at the table, the only one who knew what her true intentions with the request for a walk were, was Marisse. Still, she made the offer, taking Aeschene’s hand in hers.

She wanted to say she was too tired. She wanted to rail against her husband and tell him exactly what she thought of his cold-hearted attitude towards her. However, she didn’t want to make a scene in front of everyone. The only thing she owned was her pride and she’d be damned if she’d beg or grovel or make a fool of herself.

“Thank ye,” she said as she got to her feet. “I would enjoy walkin’ with ye verra much.”

Raibeart tucked one of her hands into the crook of his arm whilst Colyne took the other. Soon, they were leading her out of the keep and into the peaceful, quiet night.

As soon as the door shut behind the group, Lachlan rested his elbows on the table. “Ye, cousin, are an arse.” His tone was low and firm and he minced no words.

Richard was stunned. “What did I do?”

Lachlan shook his head in disgust. “If she were my wife? I would walk with her every night if she asked me to. Hell, I’d walk to Inverness if that is what she wanted.”

“But she is not yer wife, now is she?” Richard asked, his own tone just as firm.

“So ye do remember ye are married to her?” Lachlan asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Richard glowered at him. If Lachlan read his laird’s expression correctly, Richard was quite tempted to break one of his bones.

“For the past sennight that lass has been askin’ ye to walk with her and each time ye deny that simple request.”

“Because it is not a simple request,” Richard fired back.

Surprised, Lachlan sat back in his chair. “So ye do understand why she is askin’?”

“Of course I do,” Richard replied drolly before downing the last of his ale.

“Yet, ye deny her. Why?”

“It isn’t any of yer business why.”

Lachlan was growing more and more frustrated. “Ye still do not trust her, do ye?”

“I do nae.”

Shaking his head, Lachlan scooted away from the table, the legs of his chair scraping against the stone