Randall was quiet for a long while, clearly thinking over what she was telling him. “But ye are with child.”
Choking on a sob, she swiped at the tears that fell down her cheeks. “I,” she swallowed hard, struggling with the words. “’Tis nae by my choosin’, laird. He took me against my will.”
“Black Richard MacCullough took ye against yer will?” He was incredulous.
She nodded, looking pained and humiliated. “He is not the man of honor people claim him to be. I have the scars to prove it.”
“Scars?” Randall asked. She could hear the doubt in his voice.
Tilting her head back, she pointed to the scar on her chin. “This scar? I received it when he pushed me down the stairs. It took six stitches to sew it up.” She shivered as if haunted by the memory. “I ask ye, laird, is that the action of an honorable man?”
Randall remained quiet, listening to her every word.
“He could nae and cannae get over the fact that I am a MacRay. He blames my father for his father’s and brothers’ deaths. He loathes my very existence.”
Richard lay on the floor of the tent in stunned disbelief. Not only was it difficult to believe his wife was actually here - he’d kill Lachlan for that later - he also couldn’t believe what she was saying.
Exhausted, weary from the two day walk here, bones and flesh aching from the multiple beatings at the hands of the guards, near freezing to death in the cold, damp dungeon, that was all a picnic on a sunny day in comparison to the things Aeschene was telling Randall Chisolm. Mayhap he was in far worse condition that he realized. Mayhap this was naught more than a fever induced nightmare.
Colyne leaned over and whispered in his ear. “All will be well, Richard. ’Tis just a story.”
Just a story.
Randall had fallen quiet again as he carefully pondered what she was telling him.
“I want nothing more than to be free of him and his people. They have been just as cruel to me, and to my maid and my friend, as Black Richard has been.” Aeschene said. “I will gladly give ye the keys to the MacCullough keep.”
Was she mad?
“In exchange for what?” Randall asked, clearly filled with doubt.
“I want to see him hang.”
Nay! Fear clenched at his heart. Doubts began to bubble up from deep within. Had she lied to him all these months? Had it all been a ploy? Had he been right in the beginning that she would end up betraying him in the end?
Colyne had felt him grow tense, coiled like a snake ready to strike. The boy reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, and once again he whispered. “Wheest, Richard.”
“See?” Randall quipped, referring to her blindness.
“I may not be able to see it clearly, but I will be able to hear it happen.”
Randall grunted his approval.
“On the morrow, at first light, I want ye to bring Black Richard MacCullough to his keep. In exchange for the keys, ye will hang him in his courtyard for his people to witness. I want to hear the crack of his neck when the hangman pulls the lever. I want to hear the groan and twisting of the rope as it sways to and fro from the weight of his dead body. I want his corpse left to hang there until every last bit of flesh is picked from his bones by the scavengers. ’Twill be a reminder that ye cannae be cruel and horrid to me and mine.”
Good lord! Richard mused. Does she truly hate me that much?
“What about his brothers?”
“Ye may hang Raibeart,” she said. “He is near death anyway.”
Nay! Nae Raibeart! He is just a boy.
Randall glanced at Colyne. “And that one? The youngest boy?”
“He has been the only kind person, besides the man behind me. Lachlan, bless him, has been my champion these past months. Were it not for him, I fear Richard would have killed me by now.”
Randall studied Lachlan closely for a long moment. There was no doubt he was trying to ascertain the truthfulness of Aeschene’s statements.
“Colyne will take the MacRay name, and come to live with us at the MacRay keep. As for the rest of them, ye may do what ye wish.”
Randall looked at Colyne again. “Is what she says true, boy?”
Colyne nodded his head rapidly. “Aye, laird. My brother has been a right bloody bastard to her.”
Nay, none of this makes any sense. Colyne would nae forsake me…
Randall and his men chuckled lightly at the boy’s tenacity. He then turned his attention to Richard. Unable to stand the sight of Randall Chisolm, Richard closed his eyes, his anger building and churning deep in his gut.
“Let me get this straight, lass. Ye are agreeing to give me the keys to the MacCullough keep-”
“As well as all the gold in the coffers and every square inch of his lands,” Aeschene quickly added. She still wasn’t certain if he believed her tale or not.
“All of it, just to have him hanged in his own courtyard?”
Aeschene nodded. “Aye, laird. I want naught else but to have him hanged and safe passage for us to MacRay lands.”
“Why do we nae just hang him here and now?”
“Ye would deny me my vengeance?” she asked with a raised brow. “I want his people to see it, laird. I want to see him hang in his own courtyard, on his own lands.”
Rory finally found the strength to speak. “I knew we couldn’t trust a MacRay,” he muttered loud enough for the men nearest him to hear.
Richard opened his eyes to search for his wife. He didn’t know what she was up to, but he knew, in his heart, she wasn’t betraying him. He couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of pride, even if he was bloody angry with her. She had come into the lion’s den, so to speak, and had faced the most evil of men. While he could appreciate her tenacity, he couldn’t appreciate the risk she took.
What are ye about, wife?
The meeting with Aeschene MacRay had been nothing at all as Randall had envisioned all these months. He had heard the stories and rumors that the MacCullough was very much in love with his wee wife. And who could blame him? She was a beautiful young woman.
“Forgive me if I am a wee bit skeptical, lass,” he told her pointedly. “But I have heard that the MacCullough is very much in love with ye.”
“Bah!” Aeschene exclaimed.
He watched as her maid openly scoffed at the notion. The other pretty young woman shook her head and rolled her eyes. The tall warrior behind them said naught. Randall saw the tic in the man’s jaw, a telling sign indeed.
“The only thing Black Richard MacCullough loves is his clan and seeking retribution for his father’s and brothers’ deaths. The man cannae even sleep most nights, for plotting his revenge.”
If what she was telling him was indeed true, then this turn of events would end up being even better than what he’d conjured in his mind. He had seen the way Black Richard had stared at his wife through his blackened eyes. Aye, there was something there, something dark and angry.
“Do ye want to ken why he hates me so, laird?” Aeschene asked.
“Please, do tell.”
“Betrayal, laird. He refused to show me any kindness all these many months because he was afraid I would betray him like my father did.”
Aye, her father had come to his years ago, groveling for gold. Randall’s father being the kind of man he was, took complete advantage of the situation. Back then, Randall didn’t understand his father’s reasons for giving the MacRay a box full of gold. Fealty, it seemed, could be bought.