first time was Aeschene glad her eyes had failed. The last thing she wanted was to see shame or pity in her his. Inwardly, she cursed Marisse for starting this then deserting her.
The three years prior to marrying Richard had been dark, bleak, and betimes, ugly.
There was naught to be done about it now. The proverbial cat had been let out of the bag. She knew her husband would not stop until he had every ugly and sordid detail. Undoubtedly he would use it to shore up his own less-than-pleased opinion of her.
Stealing her nerves and straightening her back, she decided to tell him everything. Let him use it as ammunition against her if he wanted. It no longer mattered. As far as she was concerned, Richard’s opinion of her was no better than her father’s.
“I was locked away because I had shamed my father by losin’ my eyesight. I had become imperfect in his estimation of me. Therefore, I was useless. I was of no value to him, ye see. So he locked me away.”
When Richard had no response or comment, she continued. “I saw no one, save for the maids who brought me my meals, and the weekly visits with me mum. I was allowed out once a week to bathe, but we had to be verra careful that we did nae cross paths with my father.” She swallowed hard at the memories of that first year. The pain just as intense now as it had been then.
“For a year, I was completely alone, save for the maids and my mum. Hours a day, I was in that tiny room with no one to talk to, no one too confide in. All I did was sew and try to grab whatever bit of sun shined in through the arrow slits.”
“A year?” His heart began to crack with grief. The indignity she suffered… “What about Marisse?” Richard whispered.
“Marisse did nae come into my life until well after that first year, after her husband died. ’Twas mum’s idea to have her come live with us, to take care of me. She all but begged my father for his permission. But after she explained how it would free up the maids to do more important work, other than to look after me, he finally relented.”
’Twas the only time she could remember her father changing his mind on a thing. Never had she met a more stubborn man. Until Richard MacCullough.
“I was so happy to finally have someone to talk to,” she told him, swiping away at another tear. “At first, we did nae get along too well. But that was simply because Marisse was mournin’ the loss of her husband. But it did nae take too long before we were good friends.”
Taking in a deep breath, she gave a slow shake of her head. “Richard, I understand why ye are so ashamed of me that ye want no one outside the keep to see us together.”
“That is nae true,” he argued.
“It is nae?” she asked, raising a brow. “Ye need nae lie to me, Richard. I ken that is why ye refused to walk with me, to get to know me better. ’Tis because ye be just as ashamed of me as me da. Ye do nae wish to be seen with yer verra imperfect and useless wife.”
Her words weren’t meant to wound, but wound him they did. Only because he could now understand with vivid clarity why those after dinner walks and the picnics she all but begged him to accompany her on were so important.
He had been an ass. A complete and utter ass.
“Aeschene, I am nae ashamed of ye. I do nae care that ye cannae see.” Mayhap, ’twas time he was honest with himself, as well as with his wife.
“Nae?” Unconvinced, she gave a slow shake of her head.
Richard was quietly trying to find the right words to give her.
“I also understand that ye dunnae trust me,” she said. “Because I be a MacRay.”
He felt his face burn with shame.
Slowly, she got to her feet. “I dunnae ken which is worse, Richard. Bein’ ashamed of me, or nae trustin’ me. They both hurt.”
Getting to his feet, he took her hand again. “Aeschene—”
She wasn’t going to listen to him. He could see the hurt in her eyes.
“Marisse,” she called out. “I know ye’re in the hallway.”
A moment later, Marisse appeared at the doorway.
“Aeschene, please, let me explain.”
She shook her hand from his. “Had I been born someone else