Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,148

“Ye were grown men! Ye were my brothers. ’Twas yer job to protect me. Even from our father.”

“And who protected us from him?” Willem asked in a low voice.

Her brothers were cowards, but what could she have expected with Garen MacRay as their father? He had taught them, all of them, to cower in fear, to hold their tongues, to never speak up against an injustice. Since childhood, they’d witnessed him beat their mother and then turn his wrath on them. Closing her eyes against the awful memories, she fought hard to keep the tears at bay.

She was ashamed of him; she was ashamed of her brothers.

Apparently, he was unbothered by her undeniable shame. “Now, what in the name of God has Randall Chisolm done?”

By the time Aeschene was done explaining their current situation to her brother, she was exhausted and he was livid. She and Willem sat near the fire, sipping on cider and sharing a platter of bread and cheese. It was the first time she had spent more than a few brief moments with any of her brothers, other than Tiberius, in years.

“Do ye think our father was complicit in this?” Willem asked.

In truth, she wasn’t certain either way. “I dunnae ken. Perhaps Darrin kens?”

Willem gave a slow shake of his head. “Nay, I dunnae believe he is aware, elst he would have told me.”

“Are ye certain?” she asked.

“Darrin is nothin’ like our father,” he said as he took a sip of cider. “He wants to regain the reputation we once had, as honorable people who keep their word.”

Aeschene didn’t know the extent of her father’s treachery or what kind of reputation the MacRay clan had outside of the one with the MacCulloughs. Mayhap her father had betrayed more people than she had previously been aware.

“Since his death, I have discovered why he betrayed the MacCulloughs,” Willem told her.

Any bit of exhaustion or frustration she had been feeling vanished in an instant. She leaned closer to listen.

“It seems our father was nae good with coin. Somehow, he managed to squander away most of our fortune, along with his inheritance,” Willem said. He rubbed his weary eyes with the palms of his hands. “Instead of going to his allies or friends, he went to the Chisolm.”

“Why on earth would he go to them?” That didn’t make a lick of sense to her.

Willem let loose a heavy breath. “We think he was too ashamed. He did nae want his allies or friends to ken what he had done.”

It suddenly began to make sense. Her father’s public image was everything to him. He spent the better part of his life worried over what others might think. Perfection. For whatever reasons, he needed the rest of the world to believe he was living nothing short of the perfect life. Any imperfections simply wouldn’t be tolerated. And that was why he locked her away. Aeschene didn’t fit into the picture he had so carefully painted.

“So he went to the Chisolm,” she whispered.

“Aye, he did. He borrowed a large amount of coin to help dig our way out of the hole he had dug.”

“But the Chisolm expected father’s allegiance in exchange.”

Her perfect father had betrayed everyone for a bit of coin. Grief crept into her heart, but not for her father. Nay, she grieved for many reasons; the loss of their once good reputation, but mostly, the loss of so many innocent lives.

If Aeschene had learned anything in the week since the kidnappings, it was that she was far stronger and more intelligent than she had ever given herself credit for.

For months she had been making strides in showing her clans people that she was someone they could trust. In Richard’s absence, she had earned their faith and fealty. It had helped that she had met with her brother Willem out in the open, instead of behind closed doors.

“Ye must be exhausted,” she told him. “Please, stay and rest.”

“I confess, I have nae slept much these past few days,” Willem told her.

Hearing the exhaustion in his voice clarified her assumption. “I fear we are bursting’ at the seams, but I think ye could find a pallet in the armory.”

“I will rest for a bit,” he told her. “But I cannae tarry long.”

Giving instructions to one of her men, Willem was escorted below stairs to the armory. After he was gone, Marisse helped her pen a letter to her mother, offering her condolences. She also wrote to her brother, Darrin. Willem could deliver both