Aeschene sat up, wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Move out?”
Marisse patted her hand and smiled. “Mayhap after a few nights of not bein’ able to do the only thing he seems to enjoy doin’ with ye, he might come to his senses.”
“Refuse to do my wifely duty?” she asked incredulously.
“Och! Did ye ever stop to think he has a few duties of his own?”
Aeschene thought on it for a long while. Joining with Richard wasn’t a duty, ’twas a downright pleasure. ’Twas the only time of the day where she felt he was truly hers, that he truly cared. But there had to be more to their marriage than just the physical pleasures they found in their marital bed.
She worried it was an underhanded thing to do, but she was desperate. “Verra well,” she said as she wiped away more tears. “I only hope ye are right.”
Richard had spent most of his day digging in the quarry. He had hoped some hard physical labor would make him feel better. Instead, it simply intensified his hangover. It was also next to impossible to focus on breaking stones needed for the wall, for his mind was on his wife.
There had been no doubt in his mind he had hurt her. As the day wore on he came to the realization that it wasn’t Aeschene he didn’t trust, but himself. He cared for her more than he wanted to. But every time he thought about going to her and wrapping her in his arms and begging her forgiveness, the image of his fathers and brothers lying dead - dead at the hands of the Chisolms - came crashing into his mind.
Aye, he knew Aeschene had not had a hand in her father’s treachery. It hadn’t been she who had lied and plotted against his clan. And it certainly wasn’t by her hand that his father and brothers had died.
He climbed up the ladder into the misty afternoon. Men were working hard to fill a wagon with the stones he had carved from below. Weeks ago, he would have enjoyed seeing the progress they were making. But today, he found no comfort in their progress.
He handed his tools off to one of his men and headed for the keep. Hopefully the ride back would do him some good. Grabbing the reins of his horse, he climbed up and headed back.
In a matter of a few days, she had somehow managed to get his heathen brothers off the path that bordered on criminal, to do good work. He’d been trying for years to do what she had accomplished with relative ease in such a short amount of time.
She had also somehow managed to win over most, if not all, of his clans people. It hadn’t been easy at first, but again, in no time at all, she’d won their hearts.
His men were enamored with her and her maid. If his suspicions were correct, at least half his men would gladly offer for Marisse’s hand if Richard hadn’t forbidden them to get near her.
When he had first agreed to marry this wee lass, he had believed it would take years before the clan or his men accepted her as one of their own. He had been wrong.
He had to admire anyone who could accomplish such feats as these.
Mayhap if he did spend more time with her outside of their marital chamber, he could ease the guilt he felt for actually liking the daughter of his enemy. And that is what it all boiled down to: guilt for liking a MacRay.
Who was he kidding? He was in love with her.
That realization startled him to the core. He pulled his horse to a halt, shaking his head in disbelief.
I love her.
And he was quite certain she loved him.
Once again, the images of his father’s and brothers’ dead bodies crashed into his mind. Did he not owe them something more than this? More than falling prey to a beautiful woman whose father was just as responsible for their deaths as the Chisolms were?
He never missed his father more than now. God, what he would not give to talk to the man right now, to seek his good counsel and advice.
There was no one for him to turn to now and that made him feel all the more alone in this world.
“Ye should be focusing yer energy on feeding and protecting yer clan, ye fool,” he murmured. And not on some bonny lass who could potentially bring ye more harm.
Tapping the flanks of his horse, he resumed his ride back to the keep. Along the way, he made up his mind to put all his energy into what the clan needed and not what he wanted. If he had learned anything from Angus McKenna and his own father, ’twas that the clan came first.
Tired and filthy, Richard headed to the loch first to wash away as much dirt as he could. The cold water did not help his hangover nor did it help to clear his mind.
A hot bath and a warm meal was what was called for at the moment.
Into the keep he went, dreading the thought of seeing the hurt in Aeschene’s eyes. Servants were setting the table in the gathering room for the evening meal. “Alyce, would ye tell Hattie to heat water? I am in desperate need of a bath.”
Alyce bobbed a curtsey before leaving the gathering room to do as he had requested.
Outside his chamber door, he paused and took in a deep breath. Aeschene would most likely be within and undoubtedly still upset over the morning’s events.
All he wanted was to grab clean clothes and head below stairs for a bath. He waited, knocked again, but no answer came from within. Slowly, he opened the door and found the chamber dark and empty.
He knew he should have felt relieved she wasn’t there, but instead he felt disappointed. Grabbing clean clothing, he left the room and went below stairs to bathe.
The warm water did help relieve some of the tension, helped to ease some of the ache in his muscles. But it did nothing to help free the images of his crying wife from his mind.
After bathing and donning clean clothing, Richard went back inside the keep. Lachlan and Rory were standing by the fire, talking about the progress on the wall. Above stairs, he passed Marisse in the hallway. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man. Her scowl said much; his wife was still quite upset with him.
He knocked on his door before entering. The room was just as empty and dark as he had left it an hour ago. Leaving, he called out to Marisse who had just reached the top of the stairs.
“Marisse, where is Aeschene?”
She turned to look at him. “In her room.”
“I was just in our room and she is not within.” A sense of dread tugged at his heart, his first thought was that she was missing.
“She is not in yer room, laird, but her own.” She smiled, a devious smile that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“What do ye mean her room?”
“She has moved back in with me,” she said, before turning away and heading below stairs.
Furious, he headed back down the hallway. What kind of game was his wife now playing at?
He flung open the door to Marisse’s chamber and stepped inside.
His wife was standing at the window, arms wrapped around her waist, with her head resting against the window frame. If one didn’t know better, one would assume she was staring out at the early evening sky. Her unbound hair cascaded down her back in glorious waves. Waves he very much wanted to bury his face into. He had to remind himself that he was, at this moment, quite angry she had moved out of their bed chamber and in with Marisse. He wouldn’t stand for it. He pushed all thoughts of the physical aside, fully intent on getting to the heart of the matter.
“What are ye doin’?” he asked, doing his best to mask his anger.