Chapter Three #5
Alec understood a great deal in that brief explanation.
She had lived through the death of a man she obviously cared for and her wounds ran deep.
Her prank, her desire to flee, made sense and he could see that she wasn’t running from marriage as an institution, merely from the pain it provoked.
He suddenly found himself wondering if he could heal her pain.
He had no idea why he was even considering approving the betrothal.
He did not want to be married, either, but as he gazed at the glorious red hair and creamy skin, marriage did not look so terrible.
With this exquisite creature on his arm, bearing his children, he could redeem a measure of his lost pride.
Pride dashed when he lay down his arms and retreated to Blackstone like a coward.
Her pain touched his own. He was intrigued and confused at the same time. The hands that gripped her arms began to caress her of their own accord.
“You certainly do not want to be alone for the rest of your life, do you?” he asked. “’Tis a terrible thing to grow old alone.”
“I would not be alone, I would have Ivy,” she insisted, his caresses causing her mind to scatter, her thoughts to evaporate. The urge to pull away was greater than before; so was the urge to stay.
“But what if Ivy marries and leaves you? You would indeed be alone, all by yourself at St. Cloven.”
She shrugged, attempting to shirk the friction his caresses seemed to create. “I never said that I would never be married. I simply do not wish to be married right now.”
“Now, or in five years. What difference does it make?”
She pulled herself free at that moment, her manner laced with irritation. “It does, that’s all. Why must I explain this to you?”
He looked at her as she backed away, scrutinizing the beautiful face. Far too beautiful to be alone. He almost laughed at himself for being swayed by a pretty face; he thought himself quite immune.
“Because I am the man you are to marry.”
Her eyes widened. “You?” she gasped. “You…. why did not you tell me that before I made a fool of myself and told you all of those…. Oh!” she suddenly slapped at him, catching his arm.
“How dare you not tell me that you were my intended from the very beginning. You let me go on like an idiot and…!” she slapped him again and again, angrily batting his arms and he fought off a laugh as he snatched her hands.
“Do not hit me. I do not like it,” he growled.
She struggled ferociously against his iron grasp. “If I had a dagger, I would do more than hit you! I would slit your throat!”
“Temper, lady. No future wife of mine will speak of slitting throats.”
“Future wi….! I do not want to marry you! Did you not understand one word I said? I do not want you!”
“And I do not particularly want you, but my father is insistent that I marry. So it would seem that we are stuck with one another.”
“Never!” she roared. “I refuse to marry you, Alec Summerlin. I hate you!”
“You do? How unfortunate for you. I am rather fond of myself.”
Her wrestling stopped and she scowled. “You self-centered, pompous boor! Marry yourself, then. I shall not be your wife, not ever!”
He still held her by the wrists, amused at her display of temper.
The more she raged, the cooler he became and he could see that his calm infuriated her further.
“Never is a long time, my lady. You said yourself you were fearful of being forced to wed someone you did not know. At least you know me.”
“And I hate you!”
“Why?”
She paused in her rage, focusing her sapphire blue eyes on him. “Because…. because you threatened me, treated me with disrespect and humiliated me in front of my sister. And because you completely disregarded my safety by allowing me to fall and strike my head, and…. shall I go on?”
“Please.”
She puckered her lips in an angry pout. Why else did she hate him? Oh, yes. “And because you are far too large. I do not like large men.”
He raised his brows as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “I am too large? Christ, what does that have to do with anything? Why should my size cause you this hatred? Moreover, if we are going to sling personal insults, then you are too skinny. And I do not like red hair.”
Her eyes widened at the insult and she succeeded in yanking her hands free of his grip. “And I hate blonds. Why is it that you keep your hair so short? You look like a thistle.”
He folded his massive arms across his chest. “At least my hair is kept and not looking like the tail of a horse.”
He almost laughed at the look of extreme outrage on her face. Her pretty cheeks were flushing bright with anger and he was expecting another barrage of slaps any moment. “You are a giant, a misshapen beast. And you have the disposition of a swine.”
“And you have the disposition of an obnoxious chicken. In fact, you look like one, too. A slovenly little bird with wild red plumage.”
Her face was contorted with rage. “Is that so?”
“Cluck, cluck, cluck.”
Peyton’s eyes widened and he was quite positive that if the red mottling her cheeks further deepened, she would explode. She opened her mouth to forcefully return the insult, but suddenly turned away from him and choked out a sob instead. “You are a hateful monster, Alec Summerlin!”
He was immediately contrite. He hadn’t meant a word of what he said, dealing insult for insult. He’d only said those things to put her in her place.
“I am sorry, Patton. I did not mean it.”
“Peyton!” she yelled. “Are you dense as well as malformed? My name is Peyton! Pay-tin!”
“Peyton, Peyton,” he repeated quickly, softly. “I did not mean what I said, sweetheart. Truly.”
“Do not call me ‘sweetheart’,” she sobbed, wiping furiously at her eyes as she faced him. “I have been up all night traipsing along these dirty roads and I haven’t eaten since yesterday at noon, and my head aches and I do not need your overbearing presence. Go away!”
He sighed. The situation was certainly going from bad to worse and he did not like to see her cry. Soundlessly, he rose from the tree stump and made his way through the bramble back to his charger. Unloading a few items, he returned to the stump and arranged them orderly.
As Peyton sobbed, he built a fire from dry wood and manure and set a pot on it. Into the pot he put a chunk of dried beef stock and filled it half-full with water. When the water began to steam and the stock began to dissolve, he turned to Peyton.
“Come here.”
“No!” she snapped, gaining control of her tears. Pulling her cloak tightly about her body, she gazed up at the sun and then to the woods before her. “I am going home now.”
“Nay, lady, you are not,” Alec rose from his crouch by the fire. “You are going to stay here with me.”
Sapphire eyes flashed at him. “No. I think we have said quite enough to one another.”
He looked truly remorseful. “I did not mean what I said, my lady. You are not too skinny, you do not resemble a chicken, and I think you have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen. The color of liquid fire.”
She sniffed, lowering her gaze uncertainly in the face of his compliment. She did not know what to say for a moment. “And how do you know what liquid fire looks like?”
Huge boots met with the damp ground as he walked towards her.
Peyton swore she could feel the heat from his body as he closed in, stopping a mere foot or so away.
She refused to meet his gaze, still wiping at her eyes and nose, when an enormous hand reached out to tenderly grasp a portion of her hair, fingering the silken strands.
“It looks like this,” he whispered. “Red and golden and full of brilliance.”
She allowed him to touch her hair as the very air about them ceased to move.
She was only aware of his huge body before her and his fingers in her hair.
She watched, transfixed, as the hand fondling the strands moved to her head and she felt gentle fingers caress her scalp.
His other hand came up and Peyton’s entire head was suddenly encompassed in his great grasp, a grip of such warmth and tenderness that she felt weak with the painful tingling it evoked.
Her eyes lifted, focusing on his intense blue orbs. She couldn’t have looked away if she tried. She did not want to try.
Alec was going to kiss her. He’d decided that some time back and this was the perfect opportunity.
Her peach-ripe lips beckoned him like the finest wine and he was determined to taste her.
Her hair and skin was silk underneath his inquisitive fingers and he could smell the faint whisper of freesia emitting from her entire body. It lured him until he was mindless.
He lowered his head, inch by inch, surprised when she did not yank away from him. The distance closed with painful anticipation and when his lips slanted over hers timidly, he was aware that he had never tasted anything so sweet in all his life. The gentle kiss turned hungry.
Peyton couldn’t move. Rooted to the spot, her whole world revolved around the heated kiss Alec was delivering.
James had kissed her, always sweetly and occasionally lustily, but it had been nothing compared to this.
Alec’s kiss was demanding, passionate, searing…
. she was barely aware when her arms came up, timidly grasping the wrists that held her head.
When his tongue pried her lips open, she instinctively opened wide to him and her nails dug crescent-shaped wounds into his flesh.
She mimicked his actions, licking his mouth as he licked hers, tasting his male musk for the first time and finding that it drove her wild.
He dropped his hands from her head long enough to wrap her torso in an iron embrace and Peyton wound her arms about his neck as their mouths fused in a wonderful clash of awakening desire.