“Well, Raulf did not ken who she was, for he had never seen her before. Bein’ the beauty she was, and as cunning as she was, she stopped him, deep in the woods, pretending to be an innocent maiden. Who be ye? She asked him, battin’ her eyelashes and lookin’ coy. Raulf, bein’ alone now for many years since his wife died, he was taken aback by her beauty. He gave her his name. And what are ye doin’ all alone in these woods, she asked him. He explained to her what had happened with Dagda’s daughter and how he had made a gift for the good god.
Well, as we all ken, Aoibheall be a mean spirited, selfish, auld hag. And cunning. She asked Raulf to show her the gifts. Being the kind man he was, and believin’ she was naught more than a sweet young lass, he laid his bundle on the forest floor and unwrapped it. Aoibheall was jealous of the gifts. So jealous and angry she was, she turned herself back into the auld hag. She took the sword and the helm and gauntlets and shield and with her great strength, she flung them far and wide! And they were never to be seen again.” Aeschene looked sad at the telling of it.
“Now, me grandsire told me that whosoever shall find the sword, the gauntlets, the helm and shield, shall be a man most powerful and strong. For these things can never be destroyed, at least not by men. He told me once, that a man named Kevyn found the sword long, long ago and used it to slay ten thousand demons in one night. But that, lads, would be a story for another night.”
Daniel and Rory each let out low whistles. “That was a fine story ye told, m’lady,” Daniel said with a smile.
“’Tis the truth it be one I have never heard before,” Rory admitted.
Colyne climbed onto his knees and leaned over across the table. “If I found the sword, I would be the fiercest warrior of all time,” he said in exaggerated fashion. “Better even than Richard.”
The pride in the boy’s voice when speaking of his older brother was unmistakable.
“Och! When I was a little girl, my brothers and I used to look for the treasures every chance we had,” Aeschene told him.
“But ye are blind,” Colyne said incredulously. “How can ye look for things?”
Marisse shook her head and smiled at the boy’s innocence. “She has not always had such bad eyes,” she told him. “There was a time when our Aeschene was better with a bow and arrow than all the lads in our clan. She could out ride them too.”
“That I would have liked to witness,” Lachlan said.
Raibeart raised a dubious brow. “Be that true?”
“Well, I might not have been as good as Marisse likes to tell,” Aeschene said with a smile that said Marisse was exaggerating.
“Ye ken I speak nothin’ but the truth. It used to drive her brothers so mad they would not speak to her for days.”
Black Richard had remained unnervingly quiet during the telling of the story. “The hour grows late,” he said to no one in particular.
Aeschene turned to look at him and smiled. “Aye, I believe ye are right.”
They stared at one another for a long moment. Only one of them able to see anything clearly.
“Verra well,” Marisse said as she pushed herself away from the table. “I shall help ye above stairs, Aeschene.”
Deep down, Black Richard knew it should have been he who helped his wife above stairs, but his male pride and fear of his wife kept his buttocks planted firmly in his seat. He was not afraid of her as in ‘she could bring him bodily harm’. Nay, he was afraid of what he would do with her when they were alone. She was small and frail and he worried he would hurt her physically when it came to joining as man and wife.
’Twas with a good deal of eager anticipation that Aeschene waited for her husband. With Marisse’s help she had bathed as best she could in the basin and combed her until it glistened in the candlelight. Listening to Marisse’s good advice, she chose a modest nightdress. Although, according to her, there would not be much need of it once Black Richard found her in his bed.
They had been in such a hurry that they hadn’t taken the time to memorize the layout of Black Richard’s room to the fullest. She knew where the door was as well as the bed. The warmth from the hearth indicated that was just to the right of the door. Other than those few things, she was uncertain what else she might find.
His bed was a grand four poster with canopy. In order to climb into it, she had to grab hold of one of the posters and use it to help pull herself up. Mayhap if she asked him nicely, he might get a stool for her to keep next to the bed.
She sat in the quiet for a long while. Her stomach was in knots with a blend of worry and excitement. Tonight, she would finally find out if everything Marisse had ever told her about the wonders of joining with a man were true.
The hour continued to grow late, and still no sign of her husband. If she were more secure in getting about the keep, she’d be tempted to go below stairs to see what was keeping him. But nay, she did not want him to think her too eager, lest he think she was a woman of weakened moral character possessing little by the way of scruples.
Nay, ’twas best to sit on the edge of the bed and wait. He was, after all, the chief of his clan. It had to have been something important that kept him away.
Then again, he might not even realize she was here, in his bed, waiting for him enthusiastically.
It had been hours since she had come above stairs. Her eyes were growing heavy, her skin chilled from the cool night air. Deciding it would not hurt to lay down for a bit, she slid in under the thick fur and waited.
She could only doze, off and on, her mind otherwise engaged on what was to come. That is if her husband ever decided to make an appearance. Her thoughts ran a seemingly endless gamut. From worry he would never show, to worrying that when he did, he would be sorely disappointed in finding her here.
At some time, long after the midnight hour, the door to the chamber opened. Yellow light flooded in from the torchlit hallway. ’Twas just enough light to cast the person in silhouette.
“Richard?” she said as she sat up.
Black Richard’s heart skipped a few beats the moment he saw his wife. Sleepy eyed, her hair tousled ever so slightly, his first thought was that she looked like an angel.
God’s teeth, how he wanted her. With every inch of himself he wanted to bury his head into her chestnut hair, to run his fingers across her soft skin, and trail kisses from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His gut told him to be wary; she was first and foremost a MacRay. And even if she weren’t, she was so bloody tiny, he might hurt her unintentionally. His gut, his heart, and the thoughts racing through his mind made not a bit of sense to him. How could he want someone with such an intensity, yet be afraid to touch her?
“I be sorry,” he said with a scratchy voice. As much as he wanted to crawl into the bed and take the next few hours making love to her, he couldn’t find the strength to take that first step. “I shall leave ye to yer sleep.” As much as he couldn’t go to her, neither, he discovered, could he leave.
“Wait,” she said, tossing aside the fur and making her way to the edge of the bed.
She sat for along moment, before sliding down. Feeling around the end of the bed she found her robe and grabbed it.