Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,112

suspicion as well as glee. Bags of flour, salt, spices and various other sundries piled inside, along with three barrels, and a few bolts of fabric.

“We did not kill anyone,” Rory told him with a hearty laugh.

Richard didn’t believe him. “Betwixt the two of ye, ye had mayhap two sillars,” he said with a scrutinizing glare. “How on earth did ye acquire this? Were ye gambling? Or did ye hire out yer sword arms as mercenaries?” Those were the only two possibilities that made any sense.

Lachlan threw his head back and laughed. “Nay, our sword arms weren’t purchased. But ye might could say ’twas a wager of sorts.”

Richard shook his head. “A wager of sorts?” He began to wonder if the two men weren’t into their cups.

“Aeschene’s necklace fetched more than just a pretty price,” Rory said as he handed the mounts off to a stable boy.

Confused, Richard drew his brow inward. “Aeschene’s necklace?” He had no idea to what he was referring.

Lachlan smiled and slapped a hard hand to Richard’s back. “Mayhap ye should ask yer wife.”

“In case it has escaped yer notice, my wife is not exactly speaking’ to me right now,” Richard politely reminded him. Neither were his men until just now.

Lachlan climbed back into the wagon. “Help us unload this in the kitchens and we will tell ye what we know.”

Dumbstruck. It had been a good number of years since Richard had felt simply dumbstruck.

They were standing near the kitchens and Rory and Lachlan had just given him a recounting of Aeschene’s plan. The plan to sell her necklace, the only thing of value the lass had to her name. Apparently, the necklace was worth far more than just a few sillars as she had believed.

“Those were not pieces of colored glass,” Lachlan said with a broad smile. “They were real. Real rubies and emeralds and garnets.”

Guilt filled Richard’s gut. “Lads, she might not have wanted to sell it if she knew ’twas truly worth that much coin.”

Lachlan and Rory shook their heads at their friend and laird. “Then ye do not know yer wife verra well,” Rory muttered under his breath.

Richard chose to ignore the remark and instead, focused on what he should do. “Mayhap we should return these things and get the necklace back.” Guilt tugged at his heart. He was the chief of this clan. ’Twas up to him to provide and protect his people.

“Good heavens! That be salt in that wagon!” ’Twas Hattie making the discovery and exclamation. Before he could stop her, she had climbed into the wagon with the agility and energy of a woman a fraction of her age. She was scouring the rest of the contents with a smile so bright and hopeful Richard didn’t have the heart to stop her.

Lachlan leaned in and whispered. “If yer wife could see Hattie right now, I would wager she would not tell us to return it.”

Richard knew he was right. Still, he felt he owed it to his wife to at least discuss the matter with her.

“Salt?” Alyce had stepped out of the kitchens at hearing the word. “Do we have salt?”

Richard shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I will go discuss this with Aeschene. Do not unload that wagon until I get back.”

Rory looked at him as if he were insane. “I would rather fight a herd of rabid jackals than to tell Hattie she cannae have her salt!”

Hattie looked up from the rear of the wagon. “What? Who says I cannae have this salt?” She looked positively murderous.

The walls were beginning to close in on Marisse. For days, she had stayed by her friend’s side, in her self-imposed exile. ’Twas as depressing as it was maddening.

“We were held virtual prisoners by yer father for far too many years,” Marisse said bluntly as she pulled on her cloak. “I will nae allow ye to do the same.”

Aeschene shrugged her shoulders, dismissing her friend’s complaint as she continued to stare out of the window at things she couldn’t see.

Marisse let loose a frustrated breath and shook her head. Enough is enough she thought to herself as she grabbed Aeschene’s cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “Come,” she said sternly. “Now.”

“I have no desire to see my husband,” Aeschene argued as Marisse pulled her toward the door.

“Bah! Ye wouldn’t see him if he stepped on yer foot,” she replied.

Were she feeling up to it, Aeschene would have at least feigned hurt at the insult. But as it was, her