certain, was sleeping peacefully. Why shouldn’t she? She was inside a dry tent, covered with furs and blankets, with a full stomach, and her maid. He would have slept like the dead were it he inside that tent.
Of course, ‘twould have been after he took several long hours of loving her. Slowly, methodically, he would have studied every tiny inch of her, with his hands, his lips, his tongue. Bit by bit until she was as mad with desire and need as he.
Thankfully, he was of an age where he could control himself physically. Twenty-five years ago, he would have spent his seed just looking at the comely lass who was now his wife.
He tossed and turned, keeping his head buried beneath the thin blanket he had taken for himself. The fired had been doused by God’s hands and angel tears hours ago. ’Twas so cold he could see his own breath. It was the end of May for the sake of Christ!
As much as he tried to convince himself this would be the last night he ever slept alone, he knew ’twas naught but a lie. Once they arrived at his keep, he would not be sleeping with Aeschene. A room had already been prepared for her. One with a nice, comfortable bed, and all the comforts he imagined any young woman would want.
He would join with her, but there would be no falling asleep next to her, or with her wrapped safely in his arms. Nay, ’twas too dangerous to even make the attempt. Ever since that fateful day, when he had lost his father and brothers, he had been tormented nearly every night with horrifying dreams. Dreams he could not remember, yet they left him shaken and disturbed. Many times, Colyne and Raibeart had to shake him awake. Ye were havin’ an awful dream, they would tell him. Ye were screamin’ somethin’ fierce and thrashin’ about.
Nay, he would not subject his wife to his own torments. He would not take the risk of injuring her physically, either. Hell, he had blackened Lachlan’s eye once without any memory of having done so. All because he dreamt a dream he could never recall. He would not risk personal humiliation in the figurative eyes of his wife and neither would he risk her safety.
When he looked at his future — what was left of it considering his age — ’twas bleak at best. Aye, he had been given a bonny wife, but she was a MacRay. That alone would preclude him from any visions of a happy future with a wife and bairns. Nay, the moment he got her with child he would send her away, without an ounce of compunction. He doubted she would complain once she realized the kind of man she’d been married off to.
Sending her away would be best for all concerned, he knew that deep in his gut.
But his heart begged to differ.
Chapter Six
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand.
Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.
Two contradictory bible passages that used to keep Randall Chisolm awake at night.
Years ago, he fervently believed that punishment should equal the crime and that vengeance was better off left to the good Lord to handle. But that was before. Before that fateful day when he lost his father and brother and fellow Chisolms on the field of battle.
He no longer held those youthful musings or beliefs.
There was a time when he believed a man should be able to grow old as he watched his children have children of their own. A man should be allowed a peaceful death, surrounded by his loving family. A death where he could depart this earthly plane with dignity, but not before imparting a bit of sage wisdom to those surrounding his deathbed. Some bit of wise and thoughtful advice his family could carry with them until their time here was done.
Now, the only thing he believed in was vengeance.
Because of all the things a man could believe in — love, honor, respect, duty — vengeance was the one and only thing Maitland Chisolm held close to his heart. Vengeance, retribution, getting even … aye, those were things that kept Maitland Chisolm’s heart beating. Right up to the moment Black Richard MacCullough plunged his sword into his father’s vengeful heart.
That was the moment Randall Chisolm lost all those youthful beliefs and became the man he was today; the moment his father died.
’Twas as if the good Lord