“I will go to the MacRay keep, as requested,” he told them. “But while I am there, I shall say me peace to David and the MacRay. ’Tis high time David knew the truth about Garrin MacRay.”
Rory grunted his disgust. “David will not listen, Richard.”
Black Richard knew he was right.
Lachlan agreed. “I cannae believe ye are bein’ forced to marry a MacRay wench! The MacRay’s only daughter.”
The more he thought on it, the angrier he became. He was being forced to marry the daughter of his enemy. There was nothing fair or just about David’s edict. He might has well have gutted Richard and be done with it, for the result would likely be the same. Knowing the MacRays and their penchant for duplicity and treachery, the woman would undoubtedly wait for Richard to fall asleep before running a blade across his throat, or plunging it into his chest. He imagined the MacRays were at this very moment plotting that very thing.
“There has to be a way out of this,” Black Richard grumbled. His ire continued to churn deep in his gut. It had been the MacCulloughs who had suffered the most these past years, at the hands of both the Chisolms and MacRays. It had been his clan who had been displaced, forced out of their ancestral home. It had been his clan who came far closer to total annihilation than anyone else.
Yet the two clans responsible for all of their pain and suffering were allowed to go on as if they hadn’t been complicit nor guilty. Nay, they weren’t being punished for their actions; the MacCulloughs were.
“’Tis a slap in the face for our many years of loyalty to David,” Lachlan said. “We have done naught but support him and defend ourselves against the Chisolms and MacRays. And how does David repay us?”
From the way the two men were behaving, one would think ’twas they who were being forced into a marriage with the MacRay’s daughter. Giving a shake of his head, Black Richard pushed away from the table and stood to his full height. He needed time to think, to try to formulate a plan that would get him out of the godforsaken plight. Marry a MacRay?
“I must agree,” Black Richard said with a shake of his head. “Again, I wish there way out of this.”
From their pained expressions, Lachlan or Rory held as much hope as he did. They knew their laird was doomed even before he stepped one foot on MacRay lands. “I think ye best prepare yerself for the inevitable,” Lachlan told him. “Fer we both ken that once David’s mind is set on a thing, there be nae changin’ it. Unless ye give him his weight in gold.”
Rory nodded in agreement. “And we do not have a bird’s shite worth of gold.”
Black Richard was too furious to think clearly. All he wanted was a chance to say his peace to both David and Garrin MacRay and get out of this ridiculous plan for peace. Aye, he wanted peace betwixt the clans, but not at any cost. He was, after all, a man of pride and dignity. Pride and dignity were all he had left to his name.
But how to get out of this mess? Suddenly, the solution burned bright. All need happen would be for the lass to take one look at his face. Undoubtedly, she’d run screaming from her keep and would refuse and who could blame her? Even David had a heart.
For the first time since that fateful day, he was glad for his scars.
Chapter Three
’Twas a fine, spring day. As far as the eye could see was a robin’s egg blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. Birds fluttered from tree to tree, chirping and twittering loudly to one another. Against the vivid green grass, newly born lambs bleated for their mothers. The wide, deep stream that ran north of the keep gurgled and bubbled, filled with fat trout. The light breeze smelled of blooming flowers, spring grass, and rejuvenation. Life was bustling all around the MacRay keep.
At least that is how Aeschene MacRay pictured springtime in her mind. The images were based on naught more than the sounds she now heard and old memories. Memories of a time when she could see.
Alone in her tiny room on the third floor of the MacRay keep, she sat in front of its one and only window. As she often did, she prayed that God would give her back the gift of sight. Having gone more than three years with seeing nothing more that blurred blobs of grays and blacks, she knew ’twas in fact a gift. Thus far, His only answer was to make her vision worse.
The only daughter to Garrin and Elspeth MacRay, she had turned out to be a sore disappointment. Nowhere near as beautiful as her mum — or so her family often liked to remind her — she was small and slight in stature. Her hair was a dull brown, her eyes an unremarkable shade of blue. Such a disappointment was she, that they kept her locked away in the small, cramped room in the attics. They said ’twas meant to keep her from getting hurt, but she knew better. Aye, she often stumbled and fell into things, but did that mean she should be kept hidden and locked away?
Her sole companion and friend was Marisse MacRay. A beautiful lass with golden locks, vivid green eyes, and an effervescent personality that drew people — or more specifically men — to her like moths to a flame. Just two years younger than Aeschene at ten and eight, the lass had been married once, albeit for a short while. And even now, as a widow, Marisse had already turned down more proposals of marriage than Aeschene could ever hope for in a lifetime. Even if she had perfect vision, there would be no proposals of marriage, no men running after her, for she simply wasn’t worth the bother. Or at least, that was what her father often liked to tell her.
Marisse was below stairs now, fetching their nooning meal. The only time Aeschene ever felt safe when left alone was here, in her room. There wasn’t much furniture she had to worry she might trip over or run into. Two sleeping pallets, which were now rolled up and tucked into the corner near the door. A small table and two chairs set near the brazier, two trunks in which to store their clothing, and a washing table that held a basin was on the opposite side. Over the table was a narrow shelf that held their combs and soaps.
This was the entirety of her existence. A small room with one, tiny window and naught much else.
Rarely was she allowed below stairs. Rarer still was the opportunity to go out of doors where she could feel the summer grass betwixt her toes or the sun shining on her face or the rain falling gently upon her skin. Those times only presented when her father and brothers were away from the keep for more than a few hours. It had been months since any of them had left.
Refusing to feel any amount of self-pity for her lot in life, she basked in what little sun did shine through the window. She was grateful for her friendship with Marisse, for the fact she had a roof over her head and food in her belly. There were many people, after all, who had no friends or family, and far less than she. Nay, she decided long ago to be thankful for what she did have, even if she couldn’t see it.
Today, however, she did yearn for something more. Something more than being shut away in this tiny room. If only her family would listen to her. They would know that she could still do many of the things she did before her vision weakened. She was not as useless as her father believed her to be.
She could still sew, though she had to have the fabric and needle very close to her eyes. She could still make and knead bread — though someone would need to put it in the fire and take it out — she could still chop vegetables, and she could very well still be a useful member of the household. But alas, they would not listen. So locked away and mostly forgotten she had been for more than three years.