Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,28

day was long. However, as she sat up on the makeshift bed with tousled hair and sleepy eyes, she was the most seductive creature he had ever seen. His gut told him her hair would be as soft as any silk, had he possessed the strength to touch it. And her skin? Undoubtedly as smooth as a ripe peach.

“Good morn,” she said, her voice scratchy from sleep.

Frustrated with his physical reaction to her, he grunted by way of a response. “Do not dally.” He did not wait for a response as he stepped back outside and let the flap close once again. He quite literally bumped into Lachlan who had been right behind him, silently observing.

“Bloody hell,” Black Richard groused as he stepped around his cousin.

Lachlan shook his head as he fell in beside him. “’Twill be a verra long day, aye?”

In no mood to play riddles, Black Richard gave him a look of warning. “Say what ye mean and be done with it.”

Chuckling, Lachlan slapped Black Richard’s back with an open palm. “A long day of ridin’ home and waitin’ until ye have yer wife in yer bed.”

Black Richard felt his face grow warm with an odd blend of embarrassment and anger. “Ye watch yer tongue, Lachlan,” he warned as he stopped and poked Lachlan in his chest with the tip of his finger. “Or ye’ll be findin’ it shoved up yer arse.”

Aeschene was quite certain her new husband was in a foul mood. It took no great mental acumen to arrive at such a conclusion. His gruff tone said much.

More likely than not, Aeschene reasoned, her husband’s foul mood was due to the fact he had slept out of doors in the rain. It stood to reason he was tired, cold, and hungry. As she fought to gain her wits and dress as quickly as possible, she had to work hard to wake Marisse.

“I fear me husband be in a foul mood this morn,” Aeschene explained as she shoved Marisse’s shoulder. “I would not test him.”

“He be yer husband, not mine,” Marisse grumbled.

“But he is yer new laird,” she politely reminded her. “I worry if we dally long, he will have ye cleanin’ chamber pots for a month.”

“Och!” Marisse groused as she sat up. “Ye kept me up half the night with all yer worryin’, and now ye expect me to hurry so as not to make yer husband angry?”

When put that way, Aeschene did feel a good measure of guilt. “I be sorry, Marisse. I truly am.”

Appeased by her sincerity, Marisse tossed off her furs and searched for her dress. “It be lucky for ye that I be an amiable sort of lady,” she told her.

Aeschene bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. “Aye, I be quite blessed in that regard.”

Situated atop a bluff overlooking a loch to the south and forests to the north and west, the MacCullough keep was an impressive sight. Or it might have been at one time. Dozens of cottages dotted the land to the east. Many of the cottages had fallen into disrepair after the first Chisolm attack. Only a handful remained occupied.

Marisse studied the landscape and surroundings as they traveled along a narrow, winding, and well-worn path that led up to the massive wall. Even though the sky was a brilliant blue, the grass a vivid green, she felt an inescapable air of despondency fall over her. ’Twas as if an invisible cloak of sadness had draped itself over the space, and in turn, her. There would have been no way for her to explain what she felt, were anyone ever to ask. But feel it she did. No matter how hard she tried to shake the feeling away, ’twas as if it clung to her with shadowy claws.

“What does it look like?” Aeschene asked in an excited whisper.

Marisse had no desire to lie to her friend, but neither did she wish to frighten her. And she most certainly did not wish to insult her new laird and his men. “’Tis a grand keep,” she replied quietly.

Aeschene turned to look straight ahead, her eyes filled with awe, wonder and excitement even if she couldn’t actually see anything. Just knowing ’twas a grand keep was good enough for her.

Marisse tried to judge the thoughts of the menfolk riding with them. Pride was reflected in each of their eyes. But for the life of her, she could not understand from where the feeling came. How could anyone feel pride over dilapidated