Black Richard's Heart (The MacCulloughs #1) - Suzan Tisdale Page 0,73

need of repair. Mayhap, in a year to two, Richard will finally find the time to repair them.”

Raibeart’s eyes grew wide as if an idea had suddenly dawned on him. “I’ve got it!” He declared loudly. “We shall help repair the cottages and huts!”

Colyne agreed with a grin and a nod. “I think that is a most excellent idea, brother.”

Raibeart’s smile beamed and he looked rather victorious. Tapping his temple with a slender index finger, he said, “I get my brains from our da.”

Getting Colyne and Raibeart to agree to help had been the easy part. While bored and restless, they truly wanted to help their brother. Especially Raibeart. While he didn’t say as much, Aeschene could sense that he wanted to prove to his older brother that he was mature and grown enough to help. If he had to help fix up a few dozen cottages to prove it, he would.

’Twas getting the MacCullough clanspeople to agree that was proving difficult.

As soon as she had learned Richard had put himself to bed, she had to go back to the kitchens to cancel the bath she had requested for him.

“Dunnae fash yerself over it, m’lady. Let the poor man rest. He can have his bath when he wakes.”

She was ever grateful for Hattie’s kindness and sensibilities.

As soon as they broke their fast, Aeschene, Marisse and the lads set out to offer their help to their fellow clansmen. ’Twas a bonny spring morn and the sunshine felt good upon her skin. With a skip in their step and a light heart, the small group walked through the gates and down the familiar path.

Ever hopeful, Marisse led them to the very first cottage and tapped on the door. The inhabitants within pretended not to be. But Aeschene could hear someone scurrying about inside. “We shall come back to this one later,” she told the lads.

They received a similar response from the second cottage even though Marisse swore she had seen an older woman running inside only moments before.

The owner of the third cottage opened the door. An older woman, with light brown hair that held only a hint of gray. She listened, albeit rather impatiently if her tapping foot was any indication. As soon as Marisse explained they were there to help, the woman politely declined the offer before not so politely slamming the door.

Pulling a tooth from a rabid cat-o’mountain would have been easier. ’Twas bad enough they weren’t pleased their laird had married a MacRay. Oh, none had said anything within earshot, but Aeschene was no fool. Whenever she, Marisse and the lads were near, the clans people would hurry back inside their homes and bar the doors.

She was would not be deterred. Defeat was not an option. If she had to knock on every door from here to their furthest borders, she would. Determined to set her plan in motion, they approached the fourth cottage.

According to Marisse and the boys, the roof was in serious need of new thatching. “Dugan lives here, with his wife and four children,” Raibeart told them. “He is a right good leather maker.”

A very gruff man answered their knock. Tall, wiry, with a mass of dark hair that fell past his shoulders, and very intense brown eyes, as Marisse would later describe him.

Aeschene gave him a kind greeting and warm smile before explaining why they were here.

“I do not need yer charity,” he growled. “I can fix me own roof.”

The emphasis on the word yer did not escape her. He was, of course, referring to the fact that she was a MacRay.

Diplomacy was called for, if his tone of voice was any indication, and she decided ’twas best to ignore the inference. “Och, I be quite certain ye can,” Aeschene replied. She dared a step closer and gave him her warmest smile. “Raibeart tells me ye be a fine leather maker and verra busy with yer wife and four children.”

She was met with cold silence and prayed she hadn’t inadvertently insulted him.

Leaning in, she whispered, “Our offer is more for Colyne and Raibeart’s benefit than yer own.”

“What do ye mean?” he asked gruffly.

“I am tryin’ to find the best way to keep the lads occupied.”

“Do they even ken how to thatch a roof?” He was openly scoffing at the idea.

“’Tis doubtful,” she replied honestly. “But they are bright lads. I am quite certain they could learn.”

He was still unconvinced.

Leaning in a bit closer, she lowered her voice further. “’Tis my belief that if we