Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,116
he stared at her, wholly confused.
“Nae now, Marisse,” Aeschene ground out.
“If nae now, when?” she asked. “’Tis high time he knew the truth.”
Judging from his wife’s pained expression, there was something dark and ugly hidden in her past. Something she didn’t want him knowing.
“The truth about what?”
Marisse raised her voice to drown out Aeschene’s protests.
“Those were nae things her parents said ye would do to her. Those were things they had done.”
Disbelief quickly turned to anger when he saw the tears clinging to his wife’s lashes. Her skin turned scarlet, her shame and humiliation undeniable. Marisse had spoken nothing but the truth.
They had beat her? Locked her away? He didn’t think it possible to hate the MacRay more vehemently, until this moment.
“Why?” His mouth felt dry as anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach.
“This is nae somethin’ I want to discuss,” Aeschene told him as she reached out for Marisse’s arm. To her credit, the maid stepped back, thwarting any attempt Aeschene might make to leave.
“Leave us,” Richard commanded in a deep, booming voice.
His men - who had been standing near the doorway - need not be told a second time. Marisse hurried away as well.
“Come back here, Marisse!” Aeschene exclaimed as she grabbed for her maid but came away with nothing but air.
Gently, Richard took Aeschene by her elbow, helping her into a chair by the hearth. “Ye and I are goin’ to talk,” he told her.
“I dunnae think so,” she told him, lifting her chin defiantly.
Richard sat across from her. Resting his elbows on his knees, he began to question his wife. “Be it true? What Marisse said?”
“Be what true?” she asked, intentionally looking away from him.
“Did yer parents beat ye? Did they lock ye away?”
“My mother never laid an angry hand on me,” she replied.
Richard grunted his disproval. “But yer father?”
Aeschene fell silent, wrapping her arms around her stomach.
“’Twas yer da who did these things to ye,” he said. It all made sense now, why it had been so important to her that she not be locked away or beaten. To be given free reign of the keep and lands. To be able to walk about whenever she wished. His mind filled with images of this sweet, kind young woman locked in her father’s dungeons. Had he not signed the peace accord weeks ago, he would be readying his men to attack Garrin MacRay.
“What crime could ye have committed to be locked away in yer father’s dungeons?”
“I was nae locked in his dungeons.”
He watched as she clung to her pride as fiercely as her tears. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but he needed to hear the truth.
“His gaol then, or his oubliette, or wherever he put his other prisoners.” He didn’t like the fact that she was mincing words.
He was met with more silence.
As her chest rose and fell rapidly, he knew there was much more to her story than what Marisse had told him, and far more than he could imagine on his own.
“Aeschene?” He lowered his voice and softened his tone. “Why would yer father do this? What offense did ye commit to make him lock ye away?”
Finally, she turned to look him straight on. “I committed no offense,” she told him bluntly. “I was nae in the gaol, or the dungeons. I was put in the attics.”
He didn’t think it mattered where she’d been locked away, but the fact was somehow important to her.
“He put me there to keep me safe.”
Safe? Nae, Richard didn’t believe that for a moment. Patiently, he waited for her to tell him more, though ’twas far from easy.
“I was forever trippin’ and runnin’ into things,” she said. “He thought I would be safer in the attics.”
He watched her closely as she struggled. Silently, he prayed she was going to tell him the truth, and not one of her stories.
“Aeschene, please, help me to understand.”
She turned away and wiped at an errant tear. “At first, he said ’twas to keep me safe,” she began. “But after a few months—”
“Months?” He could not hide his astonishment nor his anger. “How long were ye locked away?”
“More than three years,” she whispered.
He wanted nothing more than to rail against the injustice of it all, but stopped himself short when he saw the utter distress etched upon her face. Slowly, he took her hand in his in an effort to offer her some kind of comfort and reassurance. Deep down, he knew ’twas not enough. It would never be enough.