The Legend (24 page)

Ali thought on his words a
moment. "Very well, then," he said decisively. "So you will
marry her. What do you plan to do now?"

"I must talk to her,"
Alec mumbled, staring at his horse as the animal nibbled at the wood of his
stall. "And then I will spirit her away to Ely where we shall be married.
Tonight."

"Tonight?" Ali lifted
his eyebrows.

Alec was silent a moment, deep in
thought. Then he straightened, facing his friend. "Go to my bower and grab
a large satchel and stuff it with anything you can get your hands on; clothes,
food, anything else you can manage. I shall walk around to the window and you
will drop the bag to me. Then, you will go and retrieve Peyton and bring her
down here to the stables. Make sure Ivy does not come with you; I want Peyton
alone."

"And then what? You plan to
remove her to Ely? What if she makes a reluctant bit of baggage on the back of
your horse? She shall alert the entire fortress and your father will have your
head for trying to abduct her."

"She shall not be reluctant,
I promise you. Now go and do as I have asked; I have no time to waste."

Ali hesitated a brief moment,
gazing at his friend in the weak light. He had never known Alec to act rashly
and was frankly astonished. Alec had said he needed the Lady Peyton; since when
did Alec need anyone? But he understood somewhat; after all, he himself was
certainly beginning to need Ivy in an odd sort of way. Aye, he understood what
it was to need someone.

"Alec," he said softly.
"Is she truly worth this trouble? Would it matter if she were to marry
another? You would forget about her in time. After all, 'tis not as if you are
in love with the woman."

Alec's head snapped to his ebony
friend, his eyes glittering strangely. Ali could almost read the emotions in the
sky-blue depths as Alec attempted to discern what, exactly, he might be
feeling. He found that he could not adequately put his thoughts into words; he
wasn't even sure if the correct words existed.   He wasn't in love with her.

He couldn't be.

After a moment, Alec simply
turned his head away. "Nay, I am not in love with her. But I want her just
the same."

CHAPTER
EIGHT

Peyton was settled in an
overstuffed chair, seated by the narrow windows of her bower as Ivy read from a
book of poetry. Jubil, sleeping off her thorn apple trance, had been carried to
the bed by servants and currently lay in boneless limbo. Lady Celine had left
Peyton to rest some time ago and the room was still except for the drone of
Ivy's voice. But Peyton wasn't listening; her thoughts were still on the events
earlier that day.

Her wrapped hand reminded her of
the injury dealt by Alec's fury and her confusion was consuming; a deep ache in
the pit of her belly told her that she was feeling far more than anger and fear
at Alec's actions. It told her that her injury went deeper than the cut to her
hand.

Somehow, he had managed to injure
her feelings as much as she tried to keep herself protected from him. Without
realizing it, Alec had seeped into her emotions. With the damage dealt by the
loss of James, her bewilderment was almost more than she could bear.

"What did you think of that
prose?" Ivy broke into her thoughts.

Peyton was jolted from her
stupor. "I am sorry, Ivy. What were you saying?"

Ivy lowered the book, compassion in
her eyes. "Nothing, darling. How do you feel?"

"Well enough, I
suppose," Peyton said. "Why aren't you with Ali? Surely he is missing
you."

"He shall survive," Ivy
said with a faint grin. "I thought you needed me more, but I suppose I was
wrong."

Peyton returned her sister's
smile. "I do too need you, you silly wench. But your reading is putting me
to sleep."

"So sorry." Ivy slapped
the book closed and tossed it onto the bed. She eyed her sister a moment.
"Tell me how you truly feel, Peyton."

Peyton shook her head faintly,
toying with the material of her gown. "Angry. I want to go home."

"Peyton.... he did not
strike you, did he? Lord, He is such a large man he could easily...."

Peyton shook her head more
firmly. "He never touched me. He did not have to."

Ivy sighed with regret. "Ali
says he had never known Alec to raise his voice much less display his fury. He
is quite shocked by the whole event."

Peyton refused to be pulled into
the reasoning for Alec's outburst. Her gaze lingered on her sister a moment, seeking
to change the subject. "Are you planning to go through with this marriage
to Ali?"

Ivy followed her sister's lead,
her expression turning soft. "He shall make a considerate, wise husband.
And a fine father to our sons. I believe I am satisfied with the
arrangement."

Peyton nodded faintly. "You
have accepted him completely, then?"

Ivy smiled. "I suppose I
have. And I want you to accept him as well. It is extremely important to me,
Peyton."

Peyton held up a hand to silence
Ivy's plea. "Say no more, darling. My bout with ignorance was a short
episode and I apologize for the hateful things I said about him. If you have
accepted him, then I have, too," she shifted in the chair, wincing when
her bandaged hand brushed against the wood. "Then you and Ali are to be
married tonight. What gown do you plan to wear?"

"The emerald silk,"
Ivy's gaze was on her sister's linen-wrapped hand. "What are you going to
wear?"

Peyton's mood darkened as her
gaze returned to the window. "Black."

"Black is striking on you,
darling, but I thought the ivory silk would be better with your hair,"
Ivy's tone was laced with sarcasm. "Besides, I should have thought...."

A sharp rap on the door disrupted
her sentence. Ivy rose from her chair and threw open the door, not surprised to
find Ali in the doorway. His ebony face tender on his future wife.

"Greetings, sweetling,"
he said softly. "How is your sister faring?"

"Well enough,
considering," Ivy replied, matching his smile.

Ali's gaze roved her lovely
features a moment, still reeling with his good fortune. He was amazed that
every day, every hour, brought increasing acceptance from his betrothed. It was
as if he were living a dream; he kept expecting to wake up and discover it all
to have been a wonderful fantasy.

"Might I speak with your
sister, sweet?"

Ivy stood back and motioned him
into the room. Peyton turned her attention to the black soldier and he smiled.

"Greetings this day,
demoiselle. How is your hand?"

"Aching a bit."

"And your head?"

"Except for the lump, it is
well."

Ali nodded with satisfaction,
noting that she had changed from her blood-stained gown into a garment of
bright yellow linen. It was a beautiful dress of soft layers, very flattering
to her white skin. Her glorious red hair was pulled off her face with a matching
ribbon and he thought she looked particularly fragile this day. But he had come
for a reason, not to gawk at the lady's beauty.

"I have been sent to escort
you, if you would be so gracious as to accompany me."

Without question, Peyton rose and
followed Ali to the door. Ivy, seeing that she was about to be left alone,
looked rather sad until Ali stroked her cheek gently. "I shall return for
you shortly, sweetling."

Peyton, in spite of her depressed
mood, saw an opportunity to taunt her sister and she would not pass it up.
Ali's tone was so sickly sweet that she could not resist mouthing 'sweetling'
to her sister as the soldier preceded her into the corridor. Ivy made a
menacing face and stuck her tongue out, bringing a smile of genuine humor to
Peyton's lips. White or black, Ali was a man and Peyton was compelled to tease
Ivy as if he were any other suitor.

She did not utter a word of
inquiry as the dark soldier took her outside into the late afternoon heat, and
she still did not voice her puzzlement when he took her into the stable yards.
Not until he led her into the quiet dimness of the livery did she look to him
questioning.

"Ali, why have you brought
me here?"

He smiled gently. "Someone
wishes to have a word with you, demoiselle."

Her brow furrowed just as Alec
stepped from the shadows. He was dressed in a heavy traveling tunic and a
leather overvest. In fact, he was dressed exactly as she had seen him the
morning he had found her in the woods.

"Greetings, my lady,” he
said softly.

Immediately, her pulse began to
race but she held her ground, refusing to allow him to see how apprehensive she
was. She stared at him a moment before turning to Ali.

"Is this why you brought me
here? I have nothing to say to him."

"But I have a good deal to
say to you," Alec said softly, gently. "Would you allow me the
privilege before you turn your back on me?"

"Why?" she spat, making
sure to meet his eye. "You would not give me the courtesy of explaining
myself before you were breaking tables and hurling chairs. Why should I show
you any consideration at all?"

"Because you are far more
gracious and wise than I am, my lady. I only ask a brief moment of your time.
Please."

She was shaking with emotion,
gazing bitterly into his blue eyes. Her taut body and angry expression told him
that she was still furious with him, as well she should be, and he fought the
urge to drop to his knees and plead for mercy.

Peyton tore her eyes away from
his sorrowful orbs and studied his clothing. As her attention was occupied,
Alec motioned Ali away with a faint nod and the soldier discreetly vacated the
stable.

"Where are you going?"
she asked after a moment.

"Away," he replied
honestly. "But I wish to speak with you before I go."

Away?
Suddenly Peyton did not like the
idea of him leaving. Where was he going? Angry or not, confused or not, she did
not want him to leave.

"Speak then," she said
shortly.

His gaze lingered on her a moment
and she felt the familiar heat from his attentions, but she ignored it. This
was not the time for such feelings, as delicious as they could be.

Alec knew this was probably his
one and only chance to apologize and he chose his words carefully.
"Although I know my actions this day were inexcusable, mayhap you will
allow me to give you a bit of insight. As I said before, the church considers
Ali less of a man and therefore will not admit him into knighthood. In fact,
the only people who ever considered Ali an equal are the men he served with as
a warrior, men who have seen his bravery and brilliance. Women, on the other hand,
have been very cruel for the most part," his voice softened. "Ali and
I grew up together, fostered together, and I can honestly say I never knew an
English lady who looked at Ali as a man. They considered him a freak, something
to be laughed and gawked at. I remember one time at a celebration at Roby
Castle in Yorkshire, Ali approached a young lady and asked her to dance. She
immediately laughed in his face and announced quite loudly that she did not
associate with apes. Her friends joined in the laughter and began mocking him
terribly. Ali simply smiled, bowed crisply in thanks, and walked away. I wanted
to kill the wench, but Ali let the insult roll off his back as if it mattered
not. But it mattered a great deal."

Peyton listened, her heart aching
for the black warrior even as her anger at Alec faded. She could see that
simply speaking on the subject upset Alec a great deal.

"A few years ago, after we
returned from the Holy Land, he fell in love with a woman who lives not far
from here. She was the only woman who showed him a small amount of kindness
and, of course, he was smitten. Ali even went so far as to ask for her hand,
but her father refused cruelly. When Ali asked her to run away with him to be
married, she told him that although she was fond of him, she could never marry
him because he was not a true man. It would seem that she was only kind to Ali
out of pity," he leaned against the wall, his expression pensive.
"The only women Ali was able to associate with were women who were paid
for their services. He lost his innocence to a woman of forty-some years who
carried the French pox. Ali still bears scars from the disease."

Peyton was completely calm by the
time he finished, gazing at him openly and without hostilities. He met her eyes
and smiled weakly. "I suppose what I am trying to say, although not
entirely adequately, is that I overreacted to your statement simply because I
have grown accustom to women describing Ali as a beast.  And I was angry with
you for deceiving me into believing that you could mayhap learn to see him as I
do. I saw hope in your manner, in your actions. I wanted to believe it was
possible."

She crossed her arms
thoughtfully. "Alec, I will admit that his skin color shocked me at first;
it was difficult not to react to his darkness in a land full of white-skinned
people. And I will further admit that I had my own doubts as to whether or not
he was a true man. But I have been witness to his intelligence, I have learned
to trust my sister's opinion of him, and I have discovered that there is indeed
an authentic man beneath the ebony skin. Certainly there is a wide collection
of men I would refer to as beasts, but Ali is not among them."

"I realize that now,"
his voice was a whisper. "But I reacted to you as I have so wanted to react
all of these years to every woman who has ever seen Ali as though he were some
sort of monstrosity. But I knew deep in my heart that you are not like them in
the least."

"But you have grown used to
them and, therefore, reacted accordingly and assumed I was of the same shallow
traits," she supplied quietly. "I have already admitted that I did
share some of those qualities. But I would like to think that I can overcome
them."

He nodded, meeting her gaze with
a look of sincere remorse. "I called you a bitch, Peyton, and I am deeply
sorry. The term is the very farthest from the truth."

She continued to gaze at him a
moment, feeling a deep sense of understanding for his earlier actions.  In
truth, she hadn't been the target; it had been all of the women she
represented. Above all of the terror and confusion his rage represented, she
deeply admired Alec his devotion to his friend.

"You are so wrong," she
said softly. "I can indeed be a bitch when the mood strikes me. Ask
Ivy."

His weak smile returned more genuine
than before. "I choose to disbelieve you. You are stubborn, aggressive and
willful, but you are not a bitch."

Her eyebrows arched.
"Stubborn, aggressive and willful? And, pray, what else? I had no idea you
thought so highly of me, Sir Alec."

He could feel relief flooding him
at the beginnings of the raillery they seemed to share. He was nearly weak with
hope that mayhap she was willing to forgive him and grateful to realize that
she was not only beautiful, she was rational and perceptive as well. Only a
good deal of understanding and intelligence would have been able to comprehend
what he had attempted to explain in his own defense.

"I do indeed think highly of
you, my lady,” he said softly. “ Much more than you know."