Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,153
death.
A loud, stern voice called out from somewhere behind her. “Stop!”
The men stepped back as someone walked toward her.
“My apologies, m’lady,” he said, sounding most sincere as he approached.
Aeschene suddenly had the overwhelming sensation that she was in the presence of pure evil.
“Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Randall Chisolm.”
Lachlan helped her down from her horse, tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and together, they followed Randall Chisolm into his tent. Once inside, Lachlan stood directly behind Aeschene, allowing Marisse to take his place.
Randall took a seat in a high backed, ornately carved chair.
In low, hushed whispers, Marisse was describing their surroundings. “I can honestly say I have looked evil in the eye this day.” She shivered once before going on to describe the man. “He has blonde hair and brown eyes, and a small scar on his forehead. He reminds me of a weasel, with his beady eyes and long nose.”
Aeschene nodded in understanding, trying her best to disguise the fact that she was more than just a bit nervous.
“We are in a large tent,” Marisse whispered so that only Aeschene could hear her. “Straight ahead of us, about ten to twelve feet, sits the Chisolm. There is a large bed behind him, covered with furs and such.”
The Chisolm was losing his patience. “What are the two of ye whispering’ about?”
Aeschene held up one finger as if to say, hold on a moment.
“Lachlan is right behind ye, standing next to Keevah. There are seven Chisolm warriors lined up around the tent.”
“I said what are the two of ye whispering’ about?” Randall repeated, raising his voice.
Aeschene gave one last nod of understanding to Marisse before turning her attention to the Chisolm. She’d make no apologies. “I am blind, as ye well ken,” she said mustering up the most firm tone she could manage. “Marisse is my maid and acts as my eyes. She is describing things to me so that I can have a better understanding of my surroundings.”
“Aye, I heard ye were blind,” he said dismissively. “I am glad ye are here. I have been looking forward to discussing my terms with ye.”
“I am nae here to discuss yer terms.”
He chuckled nervously, glancing about the room. “Pardon me?”
“I said I am nae here to discuss yer terms,” she said, a bit louder this time.
“Then why are ye here?”
Standing a bit taller, she said, “I am here to thank ye.”
“Thank me? For what?”
His confusion was growing by leaps and bounds; she could hear it in his voice.
“To thank ye for taking that bloody bastard I was forced to marry.”
There was no denying his complete bafflement. Randall’s brow knitted into a hard line. He glanced at Lachlan, then to the two women standing with Aeschene. None of them gave even the slightest inclination as to whether or not she meant what she said.
Once again, he was chuckling nervously as he tried to make some sense out of what was happening.
“Ye jest,” he said, his eyes darting from one person to the next.
“I can assure ye, I do nae jest,” Aeschene told him. “Now, before we I give ye the keys to the MacCullough keep, I would like to see them.”
Randall Chisolm’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide. “The keys?”
“That is what ye want, is it nae? The keys to the MacCullough keep? All of his lands?”
He stammered, incredulous. Nay, this was not happening at all as he had imagined. For years, he had dreamt of the moment he could destroy Black Richard MacCullough. Destroy his spirit, his heart, and his mind before he took the life from him.
“Ye are goin’ to give me the keys? To the MacCullough keep?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Aye, but not until I see them.”
Nay, this was a trick. It had to be. She was supposed to beg and plead for her husband’s life to be spared. Where were the tears? Why wasn’t she on her knees? Nay, nay, nay!
“Do ye truly expect me to believe ye are just goin’ to hand over MacCullough lands?” He was doing his best to regain his footing.
“Ye can believe what ye wish,” she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Did ye bring them with ye?”
“Why? Why would ye just give up so easily?”
“Who says I am givin’ up?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.
His heart began to pound viciously against his chest, his palms grew damp, and his breathing, Lord, he couldn’t get his breathing under control.