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 can keep these two hellions busy, and I do mean busy, they will not have time for mischief, if ye get my meanin’.”
He did. She could almost hear the man smile. “Verra well, they can thatch me roof.”
One down, a few dozen more to go.
Richard managed only a few hours of sleep before he was awakened by the sounds of the construction taking place on the keep. He could have slept for a week had his strong work ethic allowed it. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he climbed out of bed. The cold water he splashed on his face felt good and invigorating. He pulled on clean clothes, slipped into his boots and went to help his men.
He didn’t return again until it was time for the evening meal. Aeschene was waiting for him in their bed chamber.
As always, she looked resplendent and beautiful. Tonight, she wore a simple green wool dress with tapered sleeves and the same silver belt draped around her waist. A long braid hung over one shoulder, the tip almost touching her belt.
“Richard?” she spoke as he entered the room.
“Aye, ’tis me,” he answered as he paused in the doorway, drinking in the vision as a parched man takes to water.
Clasping her fingers together, she smiled up at him. ’Twas a warm, sincere smile that said she was glad to see him. “Did ye manage any sleep at all?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
“Aye, a few hours,” he replied, ignoring the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her as he had done the night before.
“How goes the construction?” she asked, not moving from her spot by the bed.
“Well,” he replied went to wash up. He pulled his dirty tunic off and tossed it to the floor. His boots and trews followed soon after. He was silent as he poured water into the basin. It was not the icy cold water he’d grown accustomed to over the years. He supposed he owed the act of kindness to his wife. He supposed he should thank her. But he was too tired at the moment.
Lathering soap, he scrubbed his face, neck, arms and hands clean. He rinsed off with more of the warm water and began to feel slightly better.
“I imagine ye worked up a good appetite,” Aeschene remarked.
He hated small talk, especially when he was tired. “Aye,” he answered, doing his best to stifle a yawn.
After pulling on a clean tunic and trews, he sat on the stool and stuffed his feet back into his boots. It never entered his mind to ask her how her day went.
Aeschene waited patiently for him to ask that little question. There was much she wanted to discuss, much she wanted to tell him. She did not need eyes to know he was tired. She could hear it in his voice.
Mayhap, once he’d eaten a good, hearty meal, he’d feel better and more inclined to discuss her day.
Black Richard was quite surprised to see his younger brothers already seated at the table. Even more surprised see they weren’t fighting. ’Twas something he could not recollect ever witnessing before. Lachlan, Daniel, and Rory were already seated, as was Marisse. They were all speaking in a calm manner he was not used to hearing at his table.
“Are they ill?” he asked his wife as he guided her to her seat.
Aeschene giggled softly. “Nay, just tired.”
“Tired?” he asked, raising a brow as he studied the two boys.
“I kept them quite busy this day,” she said as she slid onto the bench.
Servants came bustling in with trays of food, stopping his inquiry as to how she had kept them busy. Besides the interruption, his mind was elsewhere engaged with thoughts of eating quickly and whisking his wife above stairs and loving her for the next few hours.
Colyne and Raibeart were being polite. Almost too polite.
And they weren’t picking at each other, or kicking one another under the table.
Instead of bickering and fighting, they were partaking in polite conversation.
They were sitting at the table like the good lads he knew they weren’t.
After a quarter of an hour of listening to the silence, Richard was quite convinced his young brothers were up to no good. Or had been.
He dropped his eating knife on the table with a shake of his head. “All right ye heathens. What have ye done now?”
Colyne and Raibeart turned to him, sincerely confused.
“We have not done anythin’,” Raibeart told him.
“Bullocks,” Richard replied. “Ye two never sit at the table like well-bred young men. Ye must have done something horribly wrong.” He looked at Lachlan. “Have they burned down the stables?”
Lachlan threw his head back and laughed.
Aeschene placed a hand on Richard’s forearm. “Richard, really,” she said, as if he’d just accused them of being spies for the English.
“We did not burn down anythin’,” Raibeart replied, genuinely hurt by the accusation.
Richard had to look too Lachlan for an explanation.
“It seems yer wife kept the lads busy, just as ye asked.”
Perplexed, Richard looked to Aeschene. “What did ye do?” Truthfully, he wasn’t certain he was going to like the answer.
“I did not do much,” she replied with a smile. “But Raibeart and Colyne certainly did.” To them she said, “I am verra proud of ye.”