Marisse let loose a frustrated breath and shook her head. Enough is enough she thought to herself as she grabbed Aeschene’s cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “Come,” she said sternly. “Now.”
“I have no desire to see my husband,” Aeschene argued as Marisse pulled her toward the door.
“Bah! Ye wouldn’t see him if he stepped on yer foot,” she replied.
Were she feeling up to it, Aeschene would have at least feigned hurt at the insult. But as it was, her heart simply wasn’t in it.
“If I see him,” Marisse said as she pulled her into the hallway, “I promise to walk in the opposite direction.”
Down the stairs and out of doors they went as quickly as they were able. Marisse purposefully hurried before Aeschene could change her mind.
“I do nae wish to see anyone,” Aeschene told her.
“Then we shall take a few laps around the keep,” Marisse replied, affecting a bright and cheerful air.
Tucking Aeschene’s arm into her own, she slowed their pace and tilted her face upward. “The sun feels good upon my skin. It feels good to be out of doors, aye?”
Another shrug of indifference from her friend. As far as Marisse was concerned, Aeschene’s depressing mood was growing tiresome. She had reached the ends of her patience. If she didn’t take matters into hand now, lord only knew how long her depressing attitude would last. “Aeschene, I ken ye be hurtin’, but ye will nae solve any of yer problems by hidin’ from the man.”
Aeschene ignored her by turning away.
Taking her by the shoulders, Marisse’s tone grew sterner. “I love ye like a sister. But this has gone on long enough. Ye either have it out with the man, or we pack our things and go live in a convent.”
“Bah!” Aeschene exclaimed. “Ye wouldn’t last an hour in a convent.”
“True,” she agreed. “But I would nae have any problem leavin’ ye to one.”
“Ye wouldn’t dare,” she ground out, her eyes turning to slits.
“Would ye like to test yer theory?”
Aeschene fell quiet as she scowled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“’Tis high time ye got bloody angry with yer husband and had it out with him.”
“Angry?” Aeschene was perplexed.
“Aye, angry,” Marisse replied. “I ken that is nae somethin’ ye learned from yer mum, but ’tis somethin’ she should have taught ye.”
“My mother is a kind, soft-spoken -”
“Ye may call it soft-spoken, but I would beg to differ. She should have stood up to yer da years ago.”
Aeschene was furious, her hands balled into fists. Marisse was glad to see something other than despair etched into her friend’s face.
“I am nae sayin’ yer mum was weak. I am sayin’ she was afraid.”
’Twas nothing short of the truth and Aeschene well knew it.
“Now, tell me why ye refuse to tell Richard what ye are thinkin’ and feelin’.”
It took a moment, but she finally answered. With tears pooling in her eyes, she said, “I be afraid of what he will tell me.”
’Twas a painful thing to admit, but there it was. Bottled up inside her for days, if nae weeks, Aeschene finally set the words that had been pummeling at her heart, free. “I fear he is ashamed of me, that he does nae like me because I am blind and imperfect. I fear he does nae trust me because I am a MacRay.”
Marisse couldn’t deny she had thought along those same lines. “No matter what he thinks or feels, it would be better knowin’ the truth than allowing that over active imagination of yer’s to run rampant.”
Aeschene’s introspection lasted far longer than Marisse thought it should. Finally, Aeschene took a deep cleansing breath. “Ye’ll nae give up yer pursuit of this, will ye?”
Marisse smiled victoriously. “Nay, my friend, I shall not, for ’tis the truth I want nothing more than for ye to be happy.”
Aeschene had to admit she did feel better. Having things out with her husband, no matter what the outcome, would have to be better than the sense of despair she’d been feeling these past days. They had just rounded corner on the far north of the keep when Marisse spotted Richard, his men, Hattie and Alyce standing next to a wagon.
“Be that Hattie I hear?” Aeschene asked as Marisse brought them to a stop.
“Aye, ’tis,” Marisse replied as she studied the group of people closely. Hattie looked mad enough to spit fire. Alyce appeared ready to weep. Richard and his men looked damn near terrified.
Even though she couldn’t see, Aeschene could still hear a fierce argument was taking place. Straining her ears to listen, she could only make out a few words. “Are they arguin’ about salt?” she whispered.
“Aye, I believe they are. Och! Hattie is waggin’ her finger at Richard!” Marisse couldn’t help but giggle.
“Oh, my goodness,” Aeschene murmured. “Did she just tell Richard to shove the salt up his—”
“Aye, she did,” Marisse said before biting her lower lip. Oh, the blazing tongue lashing their cook was giving their laird was a sight to behold. “Richard is backin’ up,” she told Aeschene. “So are Lachlan and Rory. Och! Rory has his hand on the hilt of his sword. Hattie just lifted something from the back of the wagon…”
“What wagon?”
Letting loose a quick, exasperated sigh, Marisse quickly described the scene unfolding before them. “Hattie and Alyce are in the back of a wagon. It looks to have supplies in it. Alyce is hugging something to her chest and keeps shaking her head.”
Aeschene was doing her best to picture it all in her mind.
“Och! Hattie just put the sack down. Now she has her dirk out and she be pointin’ it at the men. They’ve backed up a bit farther.”
Aeschene’s eyes were as wide as trenchers as she imagined the scene unfolding.
“Good lord! I did nae think Hattie could jump that far! She’s out of the wagon…”
Gasping, Aeschene said, “Is she going to stab one of them?”
“I think she might, she looks to be that angry.”
“Well dunnae just stand there,” Aeschene said grasping for her friend’s arm. “We must stop her!”
“Are ye certain? Because it looks to me it’s yer husband she wants to stab.”
While Aeschene wouldn’t have minded their cook giving Richard a little poke with her dirk, she couldn’t very well allow the woman to kill him, tempting as that thought might be.
“What on earth is goin’ on?” she demanded to know.
All eyes turned to look at her.
“I be about ready to stab yer husband, lassie,” Hattie replied. “Ye might want to have yer maid take ye inside. This could be a bit messy.”
Aeschene rolled her eyes. “If anyone is going to stab him, ’twill be me,” she told her as they neared the wagon. “Now, will someone please tell me what on earth ye are arguin’ about?”
“They brought us salt, now they want to take it away,” Alyce blurted out the answer. She sounded positively despondent.