Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,45

to check on Aeschene and find out what had transpired after the incident with the plank.

“Och!” Marisse exclaimed upon entering. “He looked mad enough to kill.”

Aeschene patted the bed, inviting her friend to sit with her. “Aye,” she agreed. “He was upset.”

“Upset?” Marisse asked incredulously. “If that was him upset I would hate to see him angry.”

Aeschene couldn’t argue her point and remained quiet as her mind was elsewhere engaged. There were many questions she had for her husband and she eagerly awaited his return.

“Where did he go?” Marisse asked as she took Aeschene’s hand in hers.

“To see the healer. He needs a few stitches.”

Marisse’s eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. “What did ye do to him?”

“Nothin’!” Aeschene laughed before explaining the nature of her husband’s injury. Marisse appeared just a bit disappointed. “Hmm,” she said. “I was hopin’ ye had found yer spine.”

Rolling her eyes, Aeschene replied, “It might surprise ye to learn he did not lock us away. It seems we were all lied to. He never received my requests to see him.”

“That bloody wench!”

“Who?” Aeschene asked, her brows drawn inward.

“Loreen. ’Twas she who we sent to find yer husband. And ’twas she who came back each time to say he could not be bothered, or he was not within the keep.”

It took only a moment for Aeschene to realize she was right. “Why would she do such a thing?” Aeschene asked. “She always seems so shy and awkward.”

“I would like to ken that as well,” Marisse replied angrily, shooting to her feet. “Me thinks she is not as shy and awkward as she would like us to believe.”

An idea came bursting into Aeschene’s mind. “Ye do not suppose she has feelin’s for me husband, do ye?” She hoped that was the real reason for the young woman’s actions. She didn’t want to believe that someone would be mean to her simply out of spite.

“’Tis possible,” Marisse said. “The only way we’ll ken is to ask.”

While she would have loved nothing more than to seek Loreen out and give her a piece of her mind, she let her cooler head and heart prevail. If Loreen’s motivations were born out of feelings she might have for Black Richard, then a good deal of caution was necessary. “I should like to discuss it with Richard, first,” she told Marisse. “Mayhap he can offer some insight into why Loreen would do such a thing.”

Disappointed once again, Marisse sat back down. “Verra well,” she said. “But if we do not get the answers we seek, promise me we shall have a wee chat with her ourselves.”

For not the first time in her life, Aeschene was quite glad to know that Marisse was her friend and not her enemy. Although she was not much bigger than Aeschene, and usually as sweet and docile as a newly born kitten, there were times when she showed a side of herself that was quite frightening.

An hour had passed while Aeschene waited for her husband to return to his chamber. Giving up, she threw her hands in the air in defeat and sighed before asking Marisse to go in search of him. “Certainly he must be done with the healer by now.” She sent with her a short list of questions.

It took some searching, but Marisse finally found the object of her friend’s frustration and consternation. He was in the training field’s, looking just as angry as the last time she’d seen him.

A crowd of some two dozen men were looking at their laird. Expressions varied from incredulity to fear. Surrounding him were several other men, each who looked as though they’d been rode hard and put away wet. Some sat on the ground, their arms resting on their knees, while others lay flat on their backs, out of breath.

She counted seven in all.

“Who be next?” Black Richard called out. He did not seem any worse for wear, only a slight sheen of perspiration dotting his forehead. His tunic was barely damp. ’Twas his scowl, hard and piercing, that nearly sent her knees to knocking.

Oddly enough, no one stepped forward, save for Lachlan. He approached his laird cautiously, with palms up. “I think we’ve all had enough for this day,” he said, smiling as if naught a thing in the world was wrong.

Frustrated, for reasons Marisse did not want to even try to guess, he sheathed his sword angrily. “Bah! I am surrounded by lay-a-bouts!” he declared. “I pray we never have to go into