Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
Peyton managed an embarrassed
grin as Alec pulled her into his gentle embrace. "We cannot age it too
long, my lord, else it will be too strong and bitter,” she said.
"Undoubtedly." Brian
rose and went to an ornate wooden table etched in gold leaf. Upon the table was
two large pitchers, and he poured amber liquid into four glasses. "I do
believe that in the six months you have been managing St. Cloven, the ale has
never been better. Do you not agree, Alec?"
Alec took a proffered chalice and
handed it to his wife, taking the next for himself. Ali took his cup silently
and moved to the distant wall, his expression guarded. He was still too wary of
Brian's intentions with Ivy to be chummy with the man.
"Absolutely," Alec
smiled at Peyton and took a healthy drink of his goblet.
Peyton followed suit, the
familiar tang of St. Cloven dark ale bathing her tongue. Two more swallows of
the liquid had her courage returning as well as her voice. Brian had resumed
his seat behind his desk, pondering his surroundings distantly as they drank
their ale in silence.
"My lord," she said,
setting her goblet down. "Is it truly your intention to marry Ivy to Colin
Warrington?"
Alec expected her to ask such a
question and turned expectantly to his father, waiting for the correct reply.
Brian, however, did not respond instantly. He continued to sit and contemplate
his ale.
"If you will forgive me, my
lady, that is none of your affair," he said after a moment. "With
your father dead, 'tis my duty to find your sister a suitable husband and...."
"And Ali is not
suitable?" Peyton demanded, bordering on outrage. "He was quite
suitable not a day ago. Why is he no longer suitable?"
Brian looked at her, then.
"Ali is not an heir. Your sister will become lady of Wisseyham Keep, a
substantial manor with a good deal of investment in cattle and, in that
respect, Colin Warrington is a more suitable mate."
"Colin Warrington is a
pig," Peyton said flatly, forgetting to whom she was speaking. "He is
a disgusting, filthy man with the morals of a barbarian. Obviously, my father
never fully divulged the extent of the de Fluornoy-Warrington feud, else you
would not make such a ridiculous statement."
Brian lifted an eyebrow at her
insolence. "Mind your tongue, lady."
Peyton was never one to back down
from a confrontation and with her sister's happiness at stake she would push
her manner to the very limits of respect.
"Gladly, but first I will
tell you exactly what Colin Warrington is capable of. He and his father used to
delight in burning fields of our barley to sabotage our livelihood until we
hired soldiers to stand guard on ripening fields to discourage such actions.
When they tired of burning our crops, they moved to harassing our villiens.
They would abduct children from parents only to leave the children to fend for
themselves miles away from the village, three and four year old children forced
to find their way home. More than half that were abducted never saw their way
home, my lord. Some simply vanished, and still others were eaten by wild
animals. Still other half-starving children somehow found their way to St.
Cloven, where we would feed them and try to nurse some health back into their
starving little bodies," her eyes stung with tears from the memory of the
tragedies, horrors she had forced away because the remembrance used to bring on
nightmares.
The mood of the room grew somber
as she continued. "But they were not sated with their sadistic lust; not
yet, anyway. They progressed beyond simple abduction to raping young girls,
threatening to kill them if they told who had deflowered them. Eleven, twelve,
thirteen years; it did not matter to them. I know for a fact that there are at
least four Warrington bastards roaming the village of March, one birthed from
an eleven year old girl. But we could never prove anything, for the victims
were too frightened to point a finger."
Brian did not look
particularly stunned, merely sickened. His handsome face was dark and icy, a
distinctly frightening countenance, but Peyton did not pause to contemplate his
expression; she was concerned only for her sister's future. After a moment,
Brain tore his eyes away from her and scratched his beard roughly. "Why
did Albert not ask for Summerlin assistance?"
Peyton smiled thinly.
"Because like you, my father had a great deal of pride. He did not want
others to be involved in a problem he never lost hope of solving on his own.
Even.... even after Nigel raped Jubil one day when she was in the woods
gathering ingredients for her potions. Fortunately, Jubil was intoxicated at
the time and remembered little, except that she kept recalling Nigel's face
looming over her. Never again wonder why father was such a recluse; he indeed
kept to himself. But he was distrustful with good reason."
Brian was staring at her,
digesting her words, and Peyton noticed the pale, faintly bluish ring
surrounding his lips. His expression was open and unguarded and she prayed that
he was reconsidering his stance. She continued to gaze at him, even as she felt
Alec's comforting hand on her back. He simply had to understand.
Finally, Brian sat forward with a
grunt and folded his hands on his desk deliberately, his brown eyes transformed
from soft to piercing. "Do you swear to me that this is true?"
"She would not lie to
you," Alec cut in, incensed.
Brian held up a sharp hand to
silence his son, his eyes never leaving Peyton. "Answer me."
"I swear it upon the word of
our Lord," she said without hesitation. "Ivy and Jubil will confirm
my story if you wish."
Brian stared at her a moment
longer, a throbbing vein in his temple drawing Peyton's attention. When he
spoke, his voice was low. "Ali, you will ride to Northampton immediately
and retrieve Lord Finchamp of Dowling Street. He is the lawyer who agreed to
marry you and Lady Ivy. You will bring him here posthaste."
Ali leapt into action, not even
bothering to thank the man before he was bolting from the room. Peyton felt her
entire body go limp with relief and she proceeded to down the entire contents
of her chalice without a pause.
"If he hurries, he can
return before the Warrington's arrive," Brian rose from his chair,
mumbling to himself like an old man. "I have got to see if there has been
any progress made on the birth of my grandchild."
Alec watched his father retreat
from the room, knowing how impotent and weak he must be feeling in the face of
his insolent children and a life that was intent on eluding his control. When
Brian disappeared into the dim depths of the foyer, Alec turned to his wife,
who was on her second cup of ale.
"Easy on that, love,"
he said softly. "I shall not have my drunk wife bouncing off the
walls."
She gave him an irritable look
and drained the cup. "I drink for a living, Alec. I have not been drunk in
years."
"How unfortunate. I was
hoping you would drink yourself into a stupor and I would be able to take
advantage of you."
She smiled, feeling contentment
as the warmth of the ale began to fill her. "Thank God all is working out
well. Ali will marry Ivy, I have married you, and we will all return to St.
Cloven to live happily ever more."
He smiled faintly in agreement.
"You make it sound as if we will have a perfect life together."
"I would hope we will have a
pleasant one, anyway. With my bold tongue and your considerable anger, 'twill
be anything but perfect."
"I do not have considerable
anger," he moved to her, enveloping her in his muscular arms. "'Tis
only irritation you see."
She cocked an auburn eyebrow.
"Irritation that kept you out of our bed on our wedding night. Irritation
that caused you to tear this room apart and very nearly me with it. Irritation
indeed."
He tried to kiss her but she
dodged him, twisting from his grasp. "Not now, Alec. I would go see Ivy
and tell her the good news."
He followed her about as she
tried to move out of his range. He reached out to grasp her arm, only to have
her slap his hand away. He grabbed at her skirt and she yanked the fabric from
his grasp, squealing with laughter when he rapidly snatched at her with the
other hand and succeeded in grabbing a handful of red hair.
Gently, he pulled her against his
taut chest, winding the liquid fire strands around his powerful hand and
cupping the back of her head.
"You will never escape me,
wench," he purred.
"I was not trying to escape
you," she replied, feeling the wickedly warm sensations of desire bubbling
within her chest. "I was merely trying to elude you because you know as
well as I that we are no longer satisfied with mere kisses, and there is no
privacy for.... that."
"What?" he whispered,
his mouth descending on her lips.
She bent her knees, slouching low
and trying to evade his probing mouth, but he merely wrapped an arm around her
waist and hoisted her up to his level.
"Nay, Alec, not now,"
she protested weakly, grinning as she turned sharply away from his seeking
lips.
"I merely wish to taste, my
lady," he whispered, his hot mouth latching onto her neck.
Instantly, she felt herself
giving in to him, but she fought against the overpowering passion that he so
easily elicited. "Please, Alec, no! I cannot.... I am still tender from
yesterday and this morn."
His kissed her neck but a brief
moment longer before pulling back with a heavy sigh. "I am a savage beast,
I know. But I simply cannot help myself when I am around you. 'Tis your own
fault for creating such a monster with your beauty and sensuality."
She smiled, kissing his lips
sweetly. When he moved to respond intensely, she avoided his pursuing lips and
put her hand over his face to stop the onslaught. "Put me down,
please."
"One more kiss and I
shall," he mumbled against her palm.
She glanced at him, giggling to
see that her fingers had plastered one eye closed while the other sky-blue eye
blazed brightly at her. "No more. Please? I would go see Ivy now."
He sighed and twisted his lips
reluctantly, but he did as she asked and lowered her to the ground. She
continued to grin as she straightened her surcoat.
"Thank you, darling."
He raised an eyebrow and grasped
her hand, leading her from the room. "I would respond that obeying your
request was my pleasure, but it was not. You are a cruel woman to deny your
husband a simple kiss."
She eyed him. "A kiss is not
such a simple thing between you and I, my Alec."
The door to the bower was bolted
from the inside. Peyton rapped softly, calling for her sister to open the door.
After an eternal pause, the panel opened and a hand suddenly came flying out at
Peyton, catching her in the jaw with a sharp slap.
Peyton stumbled back as Ivy
propelled herself from the archway, oblivious to Alec's presence. He reacted
instinctively, grasping his sister-in-law about her considerable waist as she
charged his wife.
"Why did not you tell me
what was going on?" Ivy raged as Alec restrained her. "Do you realize
what you have done to me?"
Peyton, hand on her cheek, stood
a safe distance from her raging sister. "Everything is as it should be,
Ivy. Ali is riding to Northampton for the lawyer as we speak."
As if by magic, Ivy's struggles
ceased and her blue eyes widened. But Alec did not let go of her just yet; the
woman was amazingly strong and she had dealt his wife a heavy blow. And he
wasn't entirely certain that she would not charge her sister again.
"What.... what do you
mean?" Ivy breathed. "Ali went to Northampton?"
Peyton nodded. "To fetch the
lawyer. Lord Brian seems to think you two will be married before the
Warrington's arrive this eve."
Ivy's strength fled and Alec
found himself supporting her. He and Peyton managed to steer her back into the
bower, directing her into the nearest chair. Alec went to pour her a large
draught of ale as Peyton patted her shoulder comfortingly.
"I am sorry, darling,
truly," she said softly. "We had no idea Lord Brian would react this
way. It never occurred to either of us that he would betroth you to Warrington
in my stead."
Ivy took a deep, ragged breath to
steady her reeling head. "Nor did it occur to me," she grasped her
sister's hand tightly. "I am sorry, Peyton. I should not have lashed out
at you as I did, but I have spent the entire night worrying and crying and....
oh, Christ, I am so sorry. You are wed, then?"
Peyton smiled. "The Lady
Peyton de Fluornoy Summerlin."
Ivy managed a weak smile before
her eyes fell on Alec, tall and strong, as he handed her the chalice of ale.
"Thank you, dear brother. I do apologize for whacking your wife."
He raised an eyebrow, the corner
of his lips twitching. "We would duel come the dusk were I not so afraid
that you would best me."
"Coward," Peyton
muttered.