’Twas long after midnight when he finally climbed into his bed, but sleep did not come easy. His mind was beset with worry. Worry over why the Farquars had attacked Abel’s farm, worry over how he would get his clan through another winter, and worry over his wife.
He had been tempted to go to her chamber across the hall, just to see if she had settled in well enough. But the hour was so late he was certain she’d been fast asleep. ‘Twould do neither of them any amount of good to wake her, no matter how badly he ached with a fervent need to have her in his bed.
By the time dawn arrived, he had slept only a few short hours. He woke feeling just as exhausted as he had the night before. Bleary eyed, he rubbed his eyes with his palms before climbing out of his bed.
The room was frigid, the fire having burned out long ago. He padded barefoot to the table that held his basin and pitcher. Using his fingertips, he broke through the thin layer of ice that had formed in the pitcher. He shivered as he splashed cold water onto his face.
All the while he tended to his morning ministrations, his thoughts were of Aeschene. Had she slept well? Had she eaten? Was she warm enough?
That was the old Black Richard sneaking through. The man he’d been before. He glanced into the looking glass that hung over the table. He hated what he saw in his eyes when he thought of her. He saw hope.
“That man is gone,” he told his reflection. “Ye cannae trust her for she is a MacRay.”
Two days.
Two entire days of being locked away in her room. Two days of not seeing her husband.
He had promised, Aeschene fumed quietly. He promised never to lock me away and he has done just that.
Locked away. Forgotten. Just as her family had done.
This kind of behavior she had come to expect from her father and family. But from Black Richard? After his most sincere and heartfelt promise? Nay, this was unacceptable.
Not once had she been called to sup with the family. A family which was now hers and she had yet to meet. Not once had he come to check on her, to make any inquiry as to her comfort or mood.
On the day of their wedding, she had been filled with so much hope. Hope for a future with her husband, hope for bairns of her own. Hope that she would be treated with respect and dignity. She had carried that hope in her heart over countless miles of flat land, glens, and rolling hills, and right up to the doorstep of the MacCullough keep.
That hope now dwindled with each heartbeat spent behind the unlocked doors of her new prison. That was how she had begun to think of this room and her new life. With marrying Black Richard, she had simply traded one prison for another. The only differences between the two was that this room had more sunlight and it came with an invisible, unapproachable husband.
Aeschene had reached her breaking point. She was beyond angry; she was incensed. And if she were being truthful with herself, she was hurt. He lied. He lied to me and worse yet, I believed him.
For over half an hour, she had been pacing the room, from one chair to the other, fuming. Marisse, bless her, remained quiet, for she knew ’twas sometimes best to let Aeschene work things out on her own.
“I have had enough of this,” Aeschene declared, balling her hands into fists. “I will not be locked away and forgotten again.”
Marisse smiled knowingly and slid from her spot on the bed. “Well, it be about bloody time.”
In no mood to hear a lecture from her friend, Aeschene held out her hand. “Help me find the bloody fool, will ye please?”
Marisse smiled proudly at her friend. “It would be to my greatest delight.”
With her index finger inserted into the loop at the back of Marisse’s dress, the two women made their way down the steps and into the gathering room. Aeschene strained her ears to listen for any sign of people gathered about, but ’twas difficult with the sound of the heated blood rushing in her ears. The noonin’ meal had already been served and cleared away, and it appeared to her no one was about.
“Ye there,” Marisse called out to someone. “Where be the laird?”
’Twas an older woman who answered. “They be workin’ on the west tower this day. I suspect ye’ll find them there’.”
“And how would we find our way to the west tower? From within or without?”
If the sound of the woman’s voice was any indication, she was irritated with Marisse’s questions. “Just follow the sounds of hammerin’ and cursin’,” she replied tersely.
Marisse grunted her displeasure. “Because we are new here, why dunnae ye just show us the way?”
“I be far too busy,” the woman replied. “Go up to the third floor, turn right at the top of the stairs. Ye’ll see them.”
“Pardon me,” Marisse said, growing more impatient with the woman. “But is it not yer job to see to the comfort of yer mistress?”
“Bah!” she exclaimed. “My job is scrubbin’ up after Colyne and Raibeart. ’Tis Loreen’s job to tend to the MacCullough’s wife.”
Aeschene had had enough. The two women would undoubtedly argue until nightfall if she didn’t put a stop to it now. Pulling back her shoulders and lifting her chin, she affected the air of chatelaine, lady, and mistress. “What is yer name?” she asked, straining her eyes toward a shape in the distance.
“Mildred,” the woman replied, sounding confused and curious at once.
“Mildred, if ye do not take me to my husband now, I shall make certain you’re scrubbing chamber pots for the next six months.”
Aeschene heard the woman mumble under her breath as she drew nearer. Pushing past Marisse and Aeschene, she started up the stairs. “Follow me.”
Scaffolding had been erected along a good portion of the west tower. Access was gained at two points, each of them tall wide windows, one on either end of the keep. Marisse leaned through the window Mildred had led them to, to gauge both the sturdiness of the structure as well as to figure out where the man who had hurt her dearest friend was located. From the window, one would take a walkway that curved around the tower leading to the portion of the keep that housed the bedchambers. Another walkway, this one made of stone, was built along that side of the wall, making a long, narrow balcony of sorts.
That did not seem dangerous at all. What did send a fissure of dread down her spine, was the wide gap at the other end of the balcony.
“Well?” Aeschene asked impatiently. “Do ye see him?”
“Be patient,” Marisse warned. “’Tis not as easy as ye might think. There are several scaffolds and workin’ platforms betwixt here and where the men are workin’.”
“But do ye see him?”
Marisse rolled her eyes. “Be still!” she whispered harshly.
“He’s out there,” Mildred told them. “But I dunnae think he will take kindly to the idea of the two of ye bein’ up here. Mayhap ye should call for him.”
Aeschene was not about to take the time to explain that she had in fact, called for her husband on several separate occasions these past days. Each time Loreen returned, ’twas with the message that he was busy and she needed to stay in her chamber until he came for her.
She had waited long enough.
Giving Marisse a little shove, she said, “Let us not tarry any longer.”