Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,11

Around her waist, a silver belt, and draped around her neck, the only piece of jewelry Aeschene owned: a heavy silver necklace her grandmother had bequeathed to her. Neither piece held any value other than sentimental.

Aeschene thought perhaps black might be a more suitable color, considering the occasion. With her hair combed to a brilliant shine, they decided to leave it free and flowing down her back. Neither of them was in the mood for false pretenses. There would be no flowers adorning her hair, no pretty roses to carry down the aisle, no songs sung in her honor. Nay, this was as dark a day as either of them could ever recall.

Aeschene wondered, briefly, what she would see in her parents’ faces if she still had the gift of sight? As Marisse quietly led her through the gathering room toward her father’s private study, she saw distorted images. Blurry visions of people sitting at the long table and others standing here and there. But none said a word to her as she walked by. Not even her mother. ’Twas as if everyone had taken a vow of silence.

Would she have seen concern filled eyes? Worry? Love or adoration? Mayhap in her mother’s, and possibly just a glimmer of it in Tiberius’s, but ’twas doubtful she’d see anything but shame and disgust in her father’s.

Marisse paused at the door to the study, knocked gently, and waited. They knew David was within, waiting for Aeschene. Someone opened the door a moment later. A voice she did not recognize invited them in.

“Ye can wait with the rest,” David told Marisse.

Giving Aeschene’s hand a gentle squeeze, she leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Do not fash yerself,” she whispered. “I will be waitin’ right outside should ye need me.”

A moment later, Aeschene was left alone with the King of Scotland.

David took her hand gently in his. “My, but ye have grown into a beautiful young woman,” he said before kissing the top of her hand.

She knew ’twas a lie, but didn’t have the courage to correct him. Carefully, he guided her to a seat next to the hearth. The fire within did little to stave off the cold fissures of dread and fear that were making her tremble.

She saw his blurry image take the seat next to her, heard the slight rustle of fabric against the wooden chair.

“How long has it been, lass?” he asked.

“Four years, yer grace,” she replied in a soft, low voice. She had known David her entire life and had met him on a few occasions. Although she had always thought him a kind and decent man, she was left to question if her view of him had been correct. He was, after all, marrying her off to the MacCullough.

“Did yer father tell ye why I am here?”

With a slow shake of her head, she replied, “Nay, yer grace. Marisse did, then me brother William told me the rest.”

He was silent for long moment. “I am told yer eyes have only gotten worse since last I saw ye.”

“Aye, yer grace, they have. I can no longer walk about without Marisse’s help,” she replied solemnly. “But I can do many other things,” she quickly added. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was less. Though why that was important she didn’t quite understand. Mayhap if she behaved more a simpleton, a poor wretched creature who couldn’t tie her own laces, he might change his mind.

More silence filled the space. Her stomach was a jumbled knot of worry. Oh, how she wished she could see his face, to look into his eyes to gauge what he was thinking or feeling.

“Yer family has been at war with the MacCulloughs for many years,” he said, breaking the uneasy silence.

Were it any other day, she would have found his deep voice soothing.

“I have tried to get both sides to lay aside this feud, but, to no avail. I have only two options left to me, lass. Either strip both sides of their titles and lands, or, arrange a marriage betwixt them.”

She liked neither option and wished there had been a third. The thought of her family losing everything was worse than the thought of having to marry the MacCullough. She knew what Marisse would have said at this very moment; Let them lose everything. ’Tis no less than they deserve.

“I have kent Black Richard MacCullough and his family for as long as I have kent yers,” he told her. “Black