MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter by Suzan Tisdale Read Free Book Online Page A

worth or value? Hadn’t she nearly been born out of wedlock? She had never learned the true identity of the man who had fathered her. Had her mother loved him and did he love her? Was he a good man?   And what had caused his death?
    Had Broc not married the pregnant Laiden who knows how Aishlinn’s life could have turned out?   Would it have been possible to be worse than it was?
    Aishlinn knew that Broc had loved her mother, had loved her dearly.   But looking back, she knew that although her mother had been warm towards Broc, it was more likely than not out of a sense of gratitude.   She didn’t think it possible that her mum could have truly loved the cold and distant man.
    She had another go at taking a deep breath, a bit more slowly this time. Another jolt of pain shot through her ribs. Perhaps if she quit breathing all together the pain would eventually subside.   At the rate she was going, she thought she might have to be dead a good sinnight or two before the pain would ever leave her body.
    She tried to focus on something other than the agony and tried to concentrate of the few good memories she had left of her mum and her childhood.   She vividly remembered having laughed often as a child.   Never in the presence of Broc or her brothers however, for it was quite evident that none of them enjoyed laughter.   Unless it was at Aishlinn’s expense.   Nay, the laughter never subsided then!  
    Was there a chance that she could leave her past behind and start anew?   If she could find an inner strength, find some part of her mother inside her soul, then maybe she could.   Perhaps she could be strong and take control of her own life from this point forward.   She was, after all, Laiden’s daughter.
     

Six
     
    They waited for the lass to fall asleep before Duncan, Rowan and Findley broke away from the fire. They left the others behind to watch over the lass.   They had much to discuss amongst themselves and did not want her to overhear their conversation.   Duncan grabbed Aishlinn’s dress and shift that had been drying on a branch near the fire and they walked back towards the stream.   Not one man spoke until they were certain their voices would not carry.   
    “Why,” Rowan began, slipping back into the Gaelic. “Why would the earl skelp a wee lass so?” He had a good idea as to why, but did not want to say it aloud.
    “We ken the earl well Rowan. Evil needs no reason to skelp or to kill,” Duncan told him. None of them doubted the Earl’s cruelty as they had witnessed it themselves at very young ages.
    Rowan took the dress from Duncan and studied it.   “Tis been cut clean from top to bottom.” Duncan thought of it and an image of the earl standing over a terrified Aishlinn came to his mind.   As clearly as he stood there now, he could see the earl draw the dagger and cut her dress. How terrified she must have been!   He did his best to quash the anger and disgust that swelled in his stomach.
    Aishlinn was no kin to him, as complete a stranger as any, but that mattered naught.   He could not think of one thing that would cause a lass or a woman to deserve such treatment.   He thought of Aishlinn and how light her body had felt when he pulled her from the water.   He could not imagine a man going after one so young and the thought sickened him.  
    “Do ya really believe that wee lass could have killed the earl?” Findley asked, motioning his head back in the direction of their camp.  
    “Aye, I do,” Duncan said.   One look at her battered body was all he needed to be convinced she had done it and that it had been self-defense.   He imagined he would have done the same had he been in her position.   
    “Her dress be thread bare and worn,” Rowan said.   “Many a time its been patched and sewn together.” He paused for a moment.   “And no shoes upon her feet!” He was appalled.  
    The same thoughts bothered Duncan as well.   Another wave of anger began to wash