Certainly they were just jesting with her. But the more they discussed the joys of not having a man in their lives, the more she began to realize they were speaking the truth.
“Wait,” she said, holding up a hand. “Ye mean ye are truly happy being alone?”
Both women said ‘aye’.
“But do ye nae get lonely?” she asked. “Do ye nae wish there was someone to share yer hopes and dreams with?”
Marisse leaned over and patted her hand. “I share my hopes and dreams with ye. As for lonely? Nae, I dunnae get lonely.”
“But what about,” Aeschene leaned in and lowered her voice. “What about things of a more intimate nature?” The idea of not being able to join with her husband was downright terrifying.
“Ye ken ye dunnae have to be married to enjoy things of a more intimate nature with a man.”
Aeschene’s eyes grew wide again. “’Tis sinful!”
Keevah giggled heartily. “If it is done right, then aye, ’tis.”
Marisse laughed until tears streamed down her cheeks. Aeschene didn’t find this conversation nearly as amusing as her two friends. But she was ever so thankful they had taken her mind away from her worry, if just for a little while.
’Twas the middle of the night when Aeschene received word that Raibeart had been found and he was grievously injured. She sent for the healer at once, and with Marisse’s help, they prepared Raibeart’s room for his return. She called for linens, hot water, blankets, and whatever else she thought the healer might need.
“They are here!” Marisse called out from the hallway. “They’re bringing Raibeart up now.”
Anxiously, Aeschene waited by the small bed as she listened to the voices growing closer. Soon, the men were putting Raibeart into the bed while Marisse and Keevah flew into action.
“Is the healer here yet?” Aeschene asked to no one in particular as she knelt beside him.
“He’s comin’ up the stairs now, Keevah answered.”
She could hear linens being torn, someone carried in a bucket of hot water. “Raibeart, I am here,” she whispered into his ear. He groaned, but otherwise said naught.
“M’lady,” came Donald’s voice. “I need ye to move so I can tend him.”
She did as she was asked as he guided her to stand behind him.
“Raibeart, lad, can ye hear me?” Donald shouted. “Squeeze my hand if ye can hear me.”
God above, what she wouldn’t do to be able to see, to do more than stand in the corner praying. It hurt deeply to feel so useless. She wanted to do something, anything to help.
At some point, someone brought her a stool to sit upon whilst everyone else tended to her brother-by-law. Occasionally, Marisse or Keevah would give her updates. Donald is cleanin’ his wounds now, or, He is stitchin’ him up.
She sat in silence, listening to the worried whispers floating around Raibeart’s bed. He hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t uttered a word. No one had come in with any word as it pertained to Richard, Colyne, or Rory.
The longer she sat, the more her mind filled with images of the man she loved more than her next heartbeat, lying dead in some ravine or dark forest. The images of poor little Colyne, terrified and dying alone, nearly cleaved her heart in twain.
It seemed hours had passed before Donald spoke to her directly. His sole focus had been seeing to Raibeart. “He is restin’ now, m’lady. He took an awful blow to his head.”
“But he is a MacCullough,” Marisse said. “I doubt ye could damage those hard heads of theirs with a bucket of bricks.”
Donald chuckled slightly and agreed.
“We should let him rest for now,” Donald told her.
Aeschene finally asked the question everyone else seemed to have been avoiding. “What of Richard or Colyne? Have we any news of them? Or Rory?”
“None as of yet,” Marisse told her. “But I am-”
She stilled her with a raised hand. “Please, Marisse, do nae say ye are certain they’re all fine. We ken that if they were, they would be here by now.”
The last thing she wanted was to avoid thinking about the inevitable. “If they had been found, we would have received word by now,” she said, doing her best to keep her tone even and calm.
“Ye need to rest,” Keevah said as she took her hand in hers.
’Twas true she was exhausted to her bones, but she didn’t want to leave Raibeart. “Nay, I cannae leave him.”
Keevah wasn’t having any of it. “Up with ye, now,” she said as she pulled her to her feet. “Ye need to rest, if nae for yerself then for yer babe.”
A thought struck her then, with such force it nearly sent her to her knees. If Raibeart didn’t survive, and if her husband and youngest brother-by-law were gone, then the babe she carried would be the last surviving MacCullough. ’Twas unbearable to think such, so she tried to push all those thoughts aside.
Too tired to argue, she allowed Keevah and Marisse to take her to her chamber. They helped her into a soft and warm night dress and put her to bed. “Promise me, if there is any change with Raibeart—”
Marisse smiled. “Of course. And if we hear anything about Richard or Colyne, we will also wake ye.”
As soon as she heard the door close behind them, the tears began to fall. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop weeping. Please, God, let them be safe.
’Twas difficult to still her mind, when she was so worried about her husband and Colyne, and Rory. Quietly, alone in her chamber, she prayed and cried, cried and prayed until at last she finally succumbed to the exhaustion.
Aeschene felt like she’d only just fallen asleep when Marisse awakened her. “Raibeart woke, but only for a few moments,” Marisse said as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Her eyes flew open and she struggled to sit. “Did he say anything?”
Tears pooled in Marisse’s eyes. “They have taken Richard, Colyne, and Rory.”
“Who?” she asked breathlessly as her mind began to whirl.
“The Chisolms.”
Aeschene wanted to weep. She felt as though the wind had been kicked right out of her lungs. “To what end?”
Marisse shook her head and swiped away a tear. “We dunnae ken yet.”
“Ransom,” Aeschene said. “’Tis the only thing that makes any sense.”
“Aye, but we have not received a ransom demand yet,” Marisse said. “We only know what Raibeart has told us. As he lay bleeding’, he heard a man discussing taking Richard and the others to the Chisolm holding.”
Dread draped over her heart like a heavy mantle. She had never met Randall Chisolm; wouldn’t know him if he came in and sat on her lap. But she felt confident in her assumption that he was as vile as he was cruel. Lord only knew the manner in which he was probably torturing his captors.
Marisse began to sob. “They are nae all right,” she said. “They have been taken as prisoners.”
Aeschene pulled her in and held her. They cried together, grief stricken and consumed with worry. What will I do if this is the end for him? Her mind raced with many possible scenarios. Would the clan allow her to stay? Would they blame her, considering her father’s relationship with the Chisolm?