The Clan MacDougall Series by Suzan Tisdale Read Free Book Online Page B

she not be more like her mum, strong and beautiful? Perhaps if she had been either of those things her life would have been so different.
    Shivering, she thought back to the day the brothers had told her she would be going to work in Castle Firth. They had not allowed her to take anything with her save for the clothes on her back and the blanket her mother had made for her when she was born. Had she not been so relieved to leave her brothers, she would have protested more adamantly about taking more of her mother’s things with her. The blanket had been the only thing from her childhood she had left to remind her of her mother. Now it was gone forever, tucked under the pallet at Castle Firth.
    Aishlinn had learned a few short days after arriving at Firth that her brothers had traded her to work there. They had traded her for two sheep. That was all she had been worth to them. The thought pricked at her heart now, though she should not have been surprised by it. They had never been fond of her to begin with. Still, it stung at her pride to think she was of so little value to them. Would anyone ever think her worth more than two sheep?
    Pulling the plaid tighter, she tried to will her mind to stop wandering. What made her think she had 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 altogether the pain would eventually subside. At the rate she was going, she thought she might have to be dead a good sennight or two before the pain would ever leave her body.
    She tried to focus on something other than the agony and tried to concentrate instead on 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

    T hey 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