Chapter Four
Peyton, Alec and Ali were at St. Cloven by noon.
As they entered the fortified manse, Alec greedily drank in the sight of what was to become his.
In front of him, Peyton was already squirming from his grasp and he lowered her to the ground.
Anxious for her sister’s safety, Peyton gathered her skirts and immediately made haste to the storehouse. Alec and Ali dismounted and followed.
The ale storehouse was a huge barn, the hard-packed floor covered with straw and stocked with barrels of ale maturing in sectioned lots. The servants who tended the ripening liquor were nowhere to be found as Peyton pushed open the great door and went inside.
“Ivy?” she called loudly. “Are you here?”
Immediately, there was a loud thump. “Peyton!” Ivy jumped from her hiding place up on a small loft and rounded a pyramid of ale barrels. But her gleeful expression was immediately cut short by the sight of Alec and Ali. “Peyton! They caught you!”
“Nay,” Peyton assured her quickly, but Ivy was already moving for a weapon. An iron implement used to open the barrels was within her grasp and she wielded it threatening.
“Let her go,” Ivy snarled.
“Cease, Ivy,” Peyton advanced on her sister. “Put that down. They’ve not captured me.”
Ivy refused to do as she was told. When Peyton came within arm’s length, she reached out and attempted to disarm her sister. Ivy, however, was not at all convinced of her sister’s sincerity and instantly the two of them were struggling for the weapon.
Alec and Ali looked at each other, wondering if they should intervene in the physical confrontation.
They listened to Peyton plead, coax, and finally scold her sister harshly for her foolishness.
Frustrated and angry, Peyton had been dealt enough of Ivy’s refusals and gave the iron length a sharp twist, breaking her sister’s grip.
Tossing it away, she slapped Ivy on the side of the head.
“Stupid cow! Why do you not listen to me?”
Ivy slapped her back. “Do not hit me!”
Peyton advanced but Alec cleared his throat loudly and closed the gap between them. “Enough, ladies. This will not deteriorate further. Lady Ivy, your sister has not been captured. She is a willing party in this matter.”
Ivy glared at him. “Matter? What matter?”
“Returning to Blackstone, of course,” Alec replied. “You will accompany us as well.”
Ivy looked at her sister, trying to determine the situation for what it was. Was Peyton being forced? Ivy wasn’t completely convinced that her sister was willing to return to Blackstone in light of the events of the past day, and Peyton could read her doubt.
“Might I have a word with my sister alone, my lord?” she asked Alec.
“By all means,” Alec waved her off, his eyes roving the contents of the storehouse. “Take your time. ’Twill give me a chance to inspect my acquisition.”
Peyton winced as Ivy’s eyes opened wide. “What is he talking about?”
Peyton hastened to control the damage. “Calm yourself. Give me a moment and I shall tell you.”
“Peyton, what is he saying?” Ivy demanded loudly, ignoring her sister’s advice to relax. “What have you done?”
A flash of anger bolted through Peyton. “I haven’t done anything. Why must you always assume I have done something?”
So much for the private conversation. Ivy faced off against her sister angrily. “He called St. Cloven his acquisition. Did you sell it to him?”
Peyton was cornered, flushing with uncertainty. Her gaze flickered guiltily to Alec, who decided to take matters into his own hands.
“She did not sell St. Cloven, my lady,” he said quietly, meeting Ivy’s hostile gaze. “Your sister is my future wife; therefore, the keep will be mine.”
Ivy visibly paled. “No!” she gasped.
Ali moved to stand beside Alec in support of his friend’s claim. “Do not appear so shocked, demoiselle. Your sister is not the only de Fluornoy woman taking a husband.”
Ivy went from chalk white to sickly gray. “Oh, Christ.”
Peyton looked surprised, gazing at Ali’s helmed head. “What are you talking about? Sir Alec did not allude to a husband for Ivy.”
Alec and Ali looked at each other, silent words of approval passing between them.
In Ali’s short, concise statement, he had obviously accepted the contract and Alec returned his gaze to the two women.
“Did not I mention it? My apologies. I cannot imagine that I have become so forgetful,” he smiled humorlessly and gestured towards his armored friend with a gloved hand. “Ivy is to marry Ali.”
“No!” Peyton and Ivy gasped in unison.
“Yes,” Alec and Ali answered in equal synchronization.
Shock filled the storehouse as Peyton and Ivy stared at the two men as if they had suddenly lost their minds. “I am too young!” Ivy bemoaned. “I am only seventeen! I do not…!”
“God’s Blood, You are seventeen? You are an old maid, wench,” Ali turned to Alec. “I cannot marry her, Alec. She is far too old.”
“I am not,” Ivy retorted hotly in an abrupt turnabout. “I am only seventeen.”
Ali shook his head regretfully. “You should have been married at twelve. How is it that you are so old and unmarried?”
Ivy frowned terribly and Ali smiled beneath his lowered visor.
He had decided the moment he saw the Lady Ivy wrestling with her sister that he would marry her, for she would bear him strong sons.
Moreover, she was a very pretty girl with hair of spun gold and the body of a ripe goddess.
Aye, a most pleasing wench for his taste and he was eager to learn of her reaction to his heritage.
Without hesitation, he raised his faceplate.
Ivy’s scowl vanished with unnatural rapidity.
Her blue eyes were riveted to him for several long moments, gazing at the smooth mahogany skin, the onyx eyes.
Gone was her blatant defiance, her natural resistance.
Her breathing began to come in labored drags as she stared at the man she was to marry with growing horror.
“No,” she gasped after a moment. Then louder: “You cannot be serious. I shall not…. I cannot marry you.”
Peyton eyed her sister distressfully. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with Ali’s dark appearance, either, and the fact that the man was to be Ivy’s husband came as a shock. But for Ivy’s sake, she struggled to maintain her composure.
“’Twill be all right, darling,” she said softly. “Do not work yourself into a frenzy over….”
Ivy whirled to her sister, grabbing her by the arms as if to use her as a shield between her and Ali. “No, Peyton, I shall not marry him. He is not like us at all. He….he is dark.”
Peyton passed an uneasy glance between Ali and Alec; Alec’s usually impassive face was unnaturally hard and he turned away, meandering aimlessly toward the barrels of aging ale.
Peyton watched his stiff back, his massive hands clenching and unclenching.
Obviously, he was displeased with Ivy’s lack of acceptance in the matter. But she hardly blamed her sister.
“Sir Alec, mayhap you should reconsider my sister’s betrothal,” she said as politely as she could. “She is, after all, a lady of noble breeding and deserving of such consideration. Meaning no disrespect to your…. soldier, but is my sister not entitled to an English husband?”
“I am English,” Ali’s voice was low. “God’s Blood, woman, I told you I was born and raised in England. I have fought for our king. What more proof do you require?”
Peyton’s gaze moved from Alec to Ali. Her expression was open, protective, and mayhap the least bit remorseful.
Although her nature was independent and, occasionally blunt, she had become aware earlier that the black man before her was vibrant with emotion and feeling.
Even if she wasn’t fully convinced that he was a true man in every sense of the word, she had no desire to injure his feelings with the realities of their obvious difference.
His dark countenance aside, he was still a mere soldier. Not even a knight.
As she struggled for a tactful reply, Ivy moved from behind her.
“You are not English,” she accused sharply. “I have never seen a black Englishman. Your skin is black like the feathers of a raven. Certainly it is not white like mine, or my sister’s, or Sir Alec’s. I refuse to marry a man with such limited intelligence!”
Alec whirled toward Ivy, the veins on his neck throbbing.
He appeared sincerely intent on doing Ivy great harm and Peyton was terrified for her sister’s safety.
But one look from Ali was all that was required to steer Alec away from the blond woman, and he resumed his wandering toward the barrels of ale with reined agitation. Peyton could see his jaw ticking.
Ali, however, was quite calm. Far calmer than he had been when he and Peyton had first exchanged words in the forest. He focused on Ivy intently.
“What gives you the impression that the color of my skin is indicative of my intelligence?” he asked quietly. “I am far more intelligent than most of my white counterparts, Alec Summerlin included. He will vouch for this.”
Alec could feel the stares of the two women on his back, waiting for confirmation. Fighting to calm his natural anger for the insults dealt to his friend, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Ali was the best student amongst the pages while we were fostering,” his voice was strangely tight.
“He can figure the most difficult mathematics in his head, he can decipher Greek, French, Latin and Arabic without any effort whatsoever. My strengths lie in finances and other areas, but his skills and knowledge in the aforementioned subjects can put the most learned scholars to shame. He is anything but simple.”
Peyton looked to Ali, struggling against the disbelief that threatened. Ivy, however, was not so discreet. She was still focused on Alec. “There are horses and pigs that harbor intelligence, too.”
Alec’s thinly-held control slipped and he moved toward Ivy, his ears mottled with flush. “Ali is not an animal. If I hear you refer to him in that manner again, I shall….”