Aeschene scooted from the table as quickly as she could. She needn’t direct Marisse to take the lead. Inserting her finger into the loop, the women took to the stairs and all but ran down the hall to Raibeart’s room.
“Thank God!” Marisse exclaimed with much relief. “His color is good, Aeschene.” She led Aeschene to his bedside. The relief at hearing he had finally awakened washed over her. Kneeling down, she took one hand in hers while she felt his forehead. ’Twas dry and cool to the touch. “Raibeart, how do ye feel?”
He swallowed hard before answering. “Like I was near trampled to death by a herd of cattle.”
She smiled and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I imagine ye do.”
Lachlan entered the room and stood on the opposite side of his bed. “What happened, Raibeart?”
He recounted the story of how Aeschene had sent him after Colyne and Daniel. He was exhausted and in a good deal of pain, but he wanted to tell him what happened. “When I arrived, there were a dozen men surrounding Colyne and Daniel. They grabbed the boys, but Colyne was nae goin’ without a fight.”
Lachlan nodded, but showed no outward signs of any emotion he might be feeling. “How did ye come to be injured?”
“I had hidden behind a log, tryin’ to figure out what I should do. Colyne got loose, as did Daniel. All hell broke loose then.” He swallowed hard and asked for cider. Marisse helped him sit up so that he could drink. He fell back against the bed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I fought as best I could,” he said. “I killed two of the bloody bastards before Richard and Rory arrived. Then one of the bloody bastards hit me on the head.” He rubbed the back of his head, clearly still angry over it.
“What happened after they hit ye?” Lachlan asked.
“I fell to the ground and pretended to be dead,” he said. “I figured I would nae be much good to anyone if I were actually dead.”
Lachlan nodded his head in approval.
“One of them held a dirk to Colyne’s throat, threatened to kill him if Richard didn’t come with them.” There was no denying his anger. “So Richard and Rory went. They had no choice.”
’Twas very late when Aeschene and Lachlan slipped into Richard’s study. This was a conversation that was best had away from anyone who might overhear.
For over an hour, they discussed any and all options available to them, which were, to say the least, next to nil. They kept their voices soft, naught more than whispers.
While she didn’t have a lick of experience with battles or strategies of war, she did possess something that might prove valuable later; a very vivid imagination. That was the only thing that had kept her from going mad for all those years she was locked away in her father’s attics. It might, at some point, prove quite useful.
So plot and plan they did. Ideas flying fast and furious, each of them expressing possible actions to take in one event or another. More than once, Lachlan asked, what would Richard do? Aeschene was confident she had the answers to many of those questions. And those she couldn’t answer, Lachlan could.
Decisions were made and plans set into motion. The trick to this plan was secrecy. While they were each quite confident in the fealty of their clan members, all it would take to bring everything crashing down was one errant, misspoken word. In this part of Scotia, word sometimes seemed to travel on the wind.
They simply couldn’t afford to take any chances.
It had been nearly three days since her husband, brother-by-law, and friend had been kidnapped. Three long days and still no word from their captors. No ransom note, no demands; no communications at all.
Aeschene stood atop the parapet looking out at the midnight sky. She could hear the torches battling against the breeze, flickering and dancing in their sconces. The sound reminded her of linens hanging on the line to dry in the summer breeze.
Everyone within the keep had settled in for the night. To her left, he could hear the soft murmurs of two guards speaking to one another. Other than the wind, flames, and soft voices, ’twas a still and quiet night.
Lachlan had brought her up to the parapet a while ago. She knew he wasn’t far, keeping a watchful eye on her. He had only done so after she had promised not to take a step in any direction without him. I do nae wish for a repeat of yer walk on the plank, he had said. I still have nightmares.
She doubted he was haunted by anything, let alone that afternoon from months ago. Still, she gave him her solemn vow not to move without his assistance.
Her cloak whipped around her ankles, the wind increasing and whistling. For a brief moment, she thought she heard a woman’s laughter flittering in on it, chilling her to the bone. It sounded dark and forbidding, almost ominous. Immediately, she shoved the thought aside, believing ’twas just the sound of a woman’s voice coming from within the keep. Ye are simply tired, she told herself.
For a long while, she looked out at the darkness, her mind conjuring up images of her husband being tortured, of poor Colyne being terrified. Nay, Colyne would be spitting mad, if she knew the lad at all. She sent a prayer heavenward, asking God to not only keep them safe, but for Colyne to hold his tongue and temper.
She heard Marisse’s soft footfalls coming her way, and by the sound of the other footfalls, Keevah was with her.
“Aeschene,” Marisse whispered. “How on earth did ye get up here?”
“Lachlan?” she called to him.
“Aye, m’lady,” he said as he stepped from the shadows.
Marisse and Keevah breathed a sigh of relief when they realized she hadn’t traversed the ladder and dangerous parapet by herself.
“I am in good hands now. Ye can leave me.”
“Dunnae fash yerself,” Marisse told him. “We’ll nae leave her alone.”
Lachlan bid them all good eve, and stepped away, leaving the three women alone to talk.
“What are ye doin’?” Keevah asked, pulling her cloak tightly around her chin. The night air was damp and chilly, the wind gusting all around them.
“Thinkin’,” Aeschene replied.
“Och! That is never good,” Marisse jested.
Aeschene smiled wanly, knowing her friend was merely attempting to make her feel better. “They’re out there, somewhere,” she told them. “My heart believes they are still alive. I refuse to think otherwise.”
She heard Marisse sniffle ever so slightly. “What hell they must be enduring’ right now,” her voice cracked as she fought against tears that wanted desperately to fall.
Aeschene and Keevah each wrapped an arm around her. “Richard and Rory are verra smart men,” Keevah said. “Why, I imagine they are planning’ their escape at this very moment.”
Aeschene was fighting to hold on to her own tears. “I pray ye are right.”
Richard believed he was getting a glimpse into what his wife’s life must be like on a daily basis. His eyes were swollen shut from the beating he’d received on their first night here; he couldn’t see a thing. His jaw still ached from the repeated blows from the guards. Past experience told him he very likely had at least two broken ribs from being kicked repeatedly. Breathing was beyond painful, ’twas damned near impossible.