Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,163
ye put our babe’s life in jeopardy as well. We all could have been killed!”
She decided it might be best to simply let him have his say. After all, she couldn’t truly blame him for being angry. She had taken several dangerous risks.
“That was the most stupid, irresponsible, reckless, harebrained thing I have ever witnessed in my life!” He began pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “I swear ye will be the death of me someday!” He stopped long enough to rake a hand through his hair. “How could ye behave with such disregard for our babe? And why in the bloody hell did ye agree to marry Randall Chisolm? What if we had nae been successful this day? What if I had died? What if ye couldn’t have held the keep? Would ye have married the man?”
She understood then, with perfect clarity. He wasn’t as upset with the risks she had taken as he was with the words she had given the Chisolm.
“Richard, ye must ken that I did nae mean what I said to him. I had to make him believe I dinnae love ye, that I despised ye and wanted ye dead.”
He took a step back. Had he heard her correctly? “What did ye say?”
“I said I had to convince him that I wanted ye dead.”
“Nay, before that.” His heart was beating frantically against his chest.
Her brow knitted. “Which part?”
“The part where ye said ye had to make him believe ye dinnae love me.”
He saw a flicker of fear flash behind her brilliant blue eyes. A soft blush infused her cheeks.
“If ye were tryin’ to convince him ye dinnae love me, that can only mean one thing,” he was teasing her, taking pleasure in her distress. “Ye love me.”
Anger erupted in the blink of an eye. Putting her hands on her hips, her jaw set, her eyes piercing, she said, “For the life of me, I dunnae ken why! Ye are the most stubborn, pigheaded lout I have ever met.”
He grabbed her around her waist and pulled her to his chest. “But ye do in fact love me. Even if I am the most stubborn, pigheaded lout ye have ever met.”
He didn’t give her the chance to utter another word. Overcome with need and desire, he slanted his lips over hers and he pulled her more tightly against his chest. She melted against him, returning his kiss with the same intense passion and desire. Although he was stiff and sore, he found a resurgence of energy. He was soon divesting her of her dress as she tugged and pulled on his clothes.
Someone was knocking on the tent post. “Richard, I need to speak with ye,” Rory called out.
Richard ignored him.
“Richard, it be important. We are in need of a priest.”
Reluctantly, he pulled away and spoke to Rory over his shoulder. “Who is dyin’?”
“No one is dyin’,” Rory replied loudly. “Let me in.”
“Go away, Rory,” Richard called back to him.
“We need a priest, Richard. And we need one right quick.”
Aeschene was growing concerned until she heard Marisse giggling outside the tent. Richard heard her too. A wry smile came to his lips. “Are ye planning’ on doin’ to Marisse what I am about to do with my own wife?” he said, still refusing to release his hold on Aeschene.
“Aye, I do.”
Richard chuckled as Aeschene giggled. “Marisse, are ye planning’ on marrying’ Rory?”
“Aye, I am,” Marisse said. There was a happiness to her voice that Aeschene had never heard before.
“Call for a priest then,” Richard said. “And leave us alone.”
He waited until Rory and Marisse scurried away before turning his attention back to his wife. He pressed tender kisses to her cheeks and neck. “Aeschene, I need ye to ken what is in my heart,” he whispered against her ear. “I love ye lass. With all that I am. Ye make me want to be a better man. Ye had given me back something I thought lost long ago.”
“What did I give ye back?” her voice cracked on unshed tears.
“Hope, lass. Ye give me hope for the future.”
She rested her head against his chest, unable to hold back her tears. “I love ye, Black Richard MacCullough, with all that I am.”
Two lonely people who had been forced together through fate and circumstances held onto each other for dear life. Each of them giving the other the one thing they thought they would never have. Love.
Epilogue
March 1359
’Twas a foggy, cold and damp March morning. Aeschene MacCullough sat in