Chapter Three #4
Peyton did not have an answer, aware that Ivy’s reasoning was sound.
Skipping, hopping, and walking quickly, the two sisters progressed down the road as the sky grew lighter.
The day was coming alive and there were a few villeins along the path, passing startling glances at the well-dressed women as they dashed by.
Peyton was aware that the villeins would identify them to the searching Summerlin soldiers, but she was not familiar enough with this portion of the province to risk moving off the established road.
’Twould not do to become lost before they were able to reach their destination.
The second attempt to escape had been foolish. She realized that but there was something deep inside her that refused to give in so easily. Mayhap it was the spirit of James, demanding that she resist another husband. For whatever the case, she was adamant in her refusal to be wed.
They were moving through a clearing when the unmistakable rumble of hooves sounded in the distance, carrying loudly on the damp dawn air. Peyton and Ivy stared at each other, startled.
“Here they come,” Ivy strained to see their pursuers. “What now?”
Peyton glanced about nervously. To the northwest was a large bank of forest. To the south, across the road, was another block of trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. She thought quickly.
“We part company. You go south and stay to the trees. I shall go north and lose myself in the forest. I shall meet you at home.”
“That’s madness! We will become lost and…!”
“Would you rather return to Blackstone? I, for one, would rather face the dark forest than Lord Summerlin’s wrath.”
Ivy gave her sister a reluctant look, turning once again to the sound of approaching chargers. “Very well. I shall meet you in the ale storehouse.”
“Good. Hurry, now; there is no time to lose.”
Ivy darted off across the road and loped down the embankment. Peyton watched as the dark blue cloak faded into a grove of trees before she turned for the northern route. Just as she entered the canopy, the posse passed by and she cringed as the sounds of destriers filled her ears.
The hooves faded and Peyton was finally alone again. Glancing about to catch her bearings, she continued northeast.
Unfortunately, the line of the trees did not follow the road and as the sun rose, Peyton found herself lost. She tried to ignore the growing apprehension and steer herself in the proper direction, but it was growing increasingly apparent that she was only succeeding in confusing herself further.
Tired, head aching, she found a stump and planted herself.
Above, the sky was brilliant and the birds were singing loudly.
Discouraged and frightened, Peyton verged on tears as she pondered what to do.
Knowing the sun moved from east to west, she decided to wait and watch the direction of the sun.
Then, mayhap, she could regain her bearings.
A few feet away, a red-breasted bird landed on the grass and watched her with beady black eyes. It screeched at her and she frowned.
“Be quiet, you. I do not need your grief.” The bird twittered again and Peyton threw a stick at it, but the bird did not move. “I know I should not have come into the woods, but I had no choice.” The bird screamed and she shrugged. “Instead of scolding me, you could help me find my way out.”
“I do not think the bird can help you,” came a deep voice.
Peyton jumped off the stump, tripping over her own feet and crashing to her bottom. As her initial terror subsided, her mouth went agape with surprise. Alec gazed down at her, sitting on her rump, and lifted an eyebrow.
“I will not ask what you are doing out here in the middle of the woods, for I have a rough idea. Where is your sister?”
Peyton struggled to her feet, brushing off her gown. “I am not going back. I…. I shall kill myself first!”
He continued to gaze at her and Peyton noticed he was not wearing armor, or a sword, and there weren’t any soldiers with him.
His destrier, several yards away, was loaded with satchels and other equipment.
Alec wore thick breeches and boots that ended just above the knee, a thick tunic and leather overtunic made from strips of fine hide sewn together.
His monstrous hands were covered by heavy leather gloves and she was suddenly puzzled. He appeared to be dressed for travel.
“Killing yourself seems rather severe to me,” he said.
She took a step back, trying to maintain her courage in the face of his massive presence. “It is not when one considers the alternative.”
“You would kill yourself rather than marry? ’Tis not only severe, but foolish. Why do you have such an adverse opinion of marriage?”
She eyed him. If he was going to return her, then why hadn’t he moved against her? He stood talking as if they had all the time in the world. Her eyes roved to the destrier and its burden.
“Are you going somewhere?”
He passed a glance at his charger and cleared his throat, his commanding manner faltering slightly. “We were speaking of you. You have yet to tell me why you are so opposed to marriage.”
“Where are you going?” Intuitively, Peyton could sense his evasiveness and her anxiety faded somewhat. He, on the other hand, appeared somewhat unnerved.
“Stop evading my question.”
“I shall answer yours if you answer mine.”
“I did answer your question.”
“Nay, you did not,” she moved toward him, gesturing to his destrier. “You are loaded for travel, Sir Alec. Are you going on a journey?”
He sighed heavily and moved for the stump Peyton had occupied. Gracefully, he lowered his huge frame upon it. Peyton was a mere foot or so in front of him, a curious twinkle in her eye. He met her gaze, thinking her to be an incredibly lovely creature.
“Aye, I was traveling. A short respite. Now….”
“Where were you going?”
His brow furrowed. “Are you always so prying?”
“Always. Tell me or I shall haunt you forever.”
He made a wry face. “God help me, I believe you. Very well, then. I was traveling north to visit relatives.”
“Is that so?” she looked interested. “Where north?”
He shook his head at her nosy nature. “North. North of Durham, to a keep called Northwood. ’Tis where I fostered. Now answer my question or I shall take you over my knee.”
To his surprise, she smiled. He was absolutely enchanted; straight white teeth, slightly prominent canines, set in a bow-shaped mouth. Aye, she was utterly beautiful when she smiled and he felt a strange warmth settle in his limbs.
“Did not your father send you and the soldiers to find me?”
“And I thought those soldiers were looking for me,” he muttered to himself, and then turned to Peyton with a raised brow. “’Twas unwise to run away, my lady. You only delay the inevitable and risk provoking my father’s wrath.”
“Who says I ran?” she said innocently. “Who is to say that I wasn’t simply out walking, enjoying the morning, and got lost?”
“You are nearly to St. Cloven. A most exhausting morning constitutional.”
“I like to walk,” she insisted, averting her gaze coyly. “I could walk all the way to London if I so choose.”
He absorbed the flirtatious lowering of lashes, smiling faintly in spite of himself. “That may be. But you put me in a most awkward position. I was not planning on returning to Blackstone, yet I cannot leave you out here on your own.”
“Surely you can, my lord,” she insisted. “Simply point me out of these hellish woods and I shall be on my way.”
“I think not,” he reached out and grabbed her arm, whipping her into a most intimate position between his thick legs.
Standing her full height, she was exactly level with him where he sat.
Their eyes, sapphire blue flame to smoldering white-blue, riveted to each other as if somehow physically attached.
Peyton knew she should pull away from him but she couldn’t seem to manage the effort. His huge hands gripped her arms and scalded her tender skin. His touch was vibrant, his gaze consuming, and a strange liquid heat flooded her limbs. She could feel his hot breath on her face.
“Tell me why you hate marriage so and I will take it into consideration when I decide what to do with you,” his voice was oddly hoarse.
She swallowed, feeling as if his eyes were somehow molesting her. “What to do with me? What do you…?
He shook her gently, stopping her words. “Tell me.”
“But….”
“Tell me!”
She had no choice and found herself choking on her answer. “I do not hate marriage. I just…. that is to say, I simply do not wish to be married yet. I have no desire for a husband at the moment.”
She felt his grip relax. “So you do not hate marriage in general, but you feel that you are not ready for a husband. Is that correct?”
She shrugged uncertainly. “Aye, sort of…. and not knowing who your father has in mind as my prospective husband, I am intent on discouraging him as long as I can.”
Alec’s grip relaxed further but he did not let her go. He rather liked the feel of her. “And you are frightened?”
She let out a long, harsh sigh. How could she explain it to him?
It wasn’t any of his affair yet she felt herself confessing nonetheless.
“The only man I wish to marry is dead and I do not want anyone else. Aye, I am frightened. I am frightened of spending the rest of my life with someone I do not know.”
Alec studied her fine features, seeing her sorrow. This woman knew the pain of death as he did and he somehow felt kindred with her in that respect. “Were you betrothed to this man?”
“I was until he was killed on the tournament circuit,” her voice grew soft with grief. “There is no one else for me.”