Marisse rolled her eyes. A lock of hair had come loose and was tickling her forehead. She blew it out of the way, took Aeschene’s hand and said, “Ye need to be patient and listen to me. We’ll be walking along a balcony of sorts. There is scaffoldin’ everywhere, so ye best get yer temper under control. If ye fall, ye will have no one to blame but yerself.”
Realizing the two women were about to embark on something quite dangerous, Mildred scurried forward. “Ye cannae mean to take her out there!” she exclaimed.
“Aye, she does,” Aeschene replied sternly, answering Marisse’s behalf.
“Ye will need to duck down,” Marisse told her. “Watch yer head,” she said as she placed a hand on Aeschene’s back and guided her through the open window.
Grabbing a handful of skirt, Aeschene made her way through the window and eagerly waited for Marisse’s next instruction. To her, it seemed the entire ordeal was taking forever. She had a husband to scold.
“Take the loop,” Marisse said, guiding her hand to her back. “And do not try to rush!”
When Mildred realized just how angry her laird was going to be when he saw his wife out on the dangerous balcony, she could not resist following the two women out. Undoubtedly, ‘twould be a fight betwixt man and wife that would become legendary.
Carefully, Marisse led them around the corner. Half way across the balcony, she stopped so abruptly and without warning, that Mildred bumped into Aeschene.
“Och, m’lady!” she said.
Marisse turned to glower at the older woman. “What are ye doin’ here?”
Before the woman could answer, a voice — low, a bit angry, and confused as well — said, “I was about to ask ye the same thing.”
’Twas Lachlan.
“We’re out for a wee bit of a stroll,” Marisse replied.
Lachlan did not for even the briefest moment, believe her. Marisse did not rightly care if he did or not. She was on a mission to help her friend.
“Again, I ask what the three of ye are doin’ up here. ’Tis dangerous.”
Pulling back her shoulders and lifting her chin, Aeschene said, “We are perfectly aware of that fact, Lachlan.” Leaning in to Marisse, she whispered, “Is he blockin’ our way?”
“Aye, he is,” Marisse answered, not taking her eyes away from Lachlan.
“Step aside,” Aeschene ordered him.
Lachlan raised one brow, dubious with her order. “Mildred, since these two refuse to tell me what they are about, I shall ask ye.”
Mildred, while a bit afraid of Lachlan, for who wouldn’t be for he oft looked angry, decided she liked her lady and her maid. She’d never seen anyone give Lachlan an order before, aside from her laird and master, Black Richard. You had to admire women brave enough to do such a thing, she supposed.
Painting on a look of innocence and feigned ignorance, she said, “Ask me what?”
Lachlan glowered at her. “Why are the three of ye up here?”
“I cannae rightly say,” Mildred answered him.
Growing more perturbed by the moment, yet remaining undeterred he asked, “Cannae say or will not say?”
“Say what?” Mildred asked him.
Lachlan stepped around Marisse and Aeschene. “Ye ken bloody well what I mean, Mildred.”
Looking absurdly insulted, Mildred said, “Now, laddie, how am I to ken what ye mean? I cannae read a man’s mind!”
While the two of them argued, Aeschene and Marisse took a few cautious steps away. They paused, once, only to see if Lachlan had noticed.
“Woman!” Lachlan was yelling at Mildred. “I asked, why are ye out here?”
“And I told ye I cannae say!”
Seeing that Lachlan was firmly occupied, Marisse began to lead Aeschene toward the opposite end of the balcony.
“Do ye see him?” Aeschene whispered anxiously.
“Aye. He’s across the way.”
“Where?”
Letting loose a frustrated breath, Marisse replied, “Straight ahead. Mayhap fifteen to twenty steps forward. He’s hammerin’ at somethin’.”
For years, Marisse had been explaining everything in the greatest possible detail for Aeschene. It was second nature to both of them. When Aeschene took a step forward, Marisse stopped her with a gentle hand. “Wait for me,” she said.
But before she could walk around her to lead the way, a far less gentler hand had grasped Marisse’s arm. “What in the bloody hell are ye doin’?”
“Lachlan,” Marisse said, offering up one of her most dazzling and sweetest smiles.
He was not impressed. “Again, I ask ye what ye three are doin’ up here.”
Marisse wasn’t about to feign the same ignorance that Mildred had. “If ye must know, Aeschene needs to have a word with yer laird, her husband, the cold-hearted lout!”
So stunned by her outburst and the insult about his cousin and laird, his eyebrows sprang upward, very nearly reaching his hairline. “Why did ye not just send for him?”
Marisse rolled her eyes, as she often did when dealing with foolish people. “Do ye think we’re so simple minded?” She asked, giving him no time to respond. “Of course we sent for him. On five separate occasions in the past two days. But each time, he was either gone, or too busy.”
Exasperated, Lachlan ran both hands through his hair. “So ye climbed out on a balcony with one auld woman and a blind young lass?” he asked incredulously.
“I am not that auld!” Mildred protested, angered by his insult.
“What else were we to do?” Marisse asked, her tone most stern. “I’d die an auld woman before he came to see Aeschene. He’s a pig-headed, stubborn, mean lout!”
At remembering Aeschene, Lachlan turned his attention away from the annoying lass to find her cohort. The blood drained from his face when he saw what she’d done.
“Aeschene! Stop!” his voice boomed and echoed off the walls, causing man and beast alike to stop whatever they were doing.
Marisse spun around only to find her dearest friend was very close to killing herself.
‘Twasn’t the loudness of Lachlan’s voice that made Aeschene stop dead in her tracks. ’Twas the level of fear she heard in it. So loud and terrifying it sounded that she came close to losing control of her bladder.
Although tempted to turn around and ask him why he was screaming at her at the top of his lungs, she thought better of it. A moment later, when she heard her husband cursing like a madman, she became frozen in place.
“Aeschene!” Black Richard called out. Oh, lord above, he sounded furious. Though not nearly as terrified as Lachlan sounded. While her stomach knotted and instinct told her to turn and run as far away from Black Richard MacCullough as she could, she was too afraid to do anything but breathe.
“Do not move!” Richard called out to her. “Stay there!”
Oh, she must have done something quite foolish. Perhaps she had stepped in fresh mortar?
Richard’s voice grew nearer. “Lass, I need ye not to move, not a muscle, do ye understand?”
Now he sounded worried. That in turn made her worry. “I — what is the matter?” she asked. Unable to see, she couldn’t help herself if she didn’t understand the situation.