Chapter Five #2
Any warmth that might have graced Alec’s features vanished. His expression was calm, but his eyes were like ice and Peyton immediately sensed his change of mood. Just as his manner had changed at St. Cloven when she told him of James.
“I had two brothers. One died several years ago.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” she said, wondering if she should simply keep silent. Having no idea why he had suddenly grown hard, she was unsure if further words would provoke him. Surely extending sympathies would not anger him, she reasoned.
His jaw ticked and he moved to the narrow lancet window overlooking the bailey. He unlatched the pretty lattice shutter and opened it, breathing in the late July air. Sensing there was nothing more to say on the matter, Peyton looked at her hands and remained silent.
Alec’s gaze roved the bailey and he caught sight of Olphampa crossing towards the main house.
But his mind wandered, moving from Peter to the events of the past several hours; it was difficult not to ponder the eventful day.
Beyond the hostilities and the harsh words had been a most impacting occurrence; the kiss he and Peyton had shared permeated his senses and the heat of their contact left him breathless.
Never had he felt such passion as if their being together was completely right and natural.
A young woman entered the solar at that moment. Peyton looked up to find herself gazing at another Summerlin. The family resemblance was uncanny, but unfortunately, the strong features that made Alec so terribly handsome looked thick and harsh on a woman’s face. She gazed intently at Peyton.
“Greetings, Moppet,” Alec said, breaking from his deeper thoughts. “By your expression, I would assume you have been speaking to mother.”
“To father,” the girl corrected, her intense stare almost hostile. “Is this your future wife?”
Peyton stood up politely as Alec replied. “This is the Lady Peyton de Fluornoy. My lady, this is my sister, the Lady Thia Summerlin.”
Peyton bobbed a curtsy. “My lady, ’tis a pleasure to meet you.”
Thia put her hands on her hips; broad, beefy hips.
She was nearly Peyton’s height but a good deal heavier.
She had small blue eyes and the aforementioned thick features, but to her credit she possessed a glorious head of wavy hair, the color of dark honey.
In reaction to Peyton’s greeting, she simply sized up her future sister-in-law from head to toe before turning to her brother.
“I had no idea you were to be betrothed. When did this come about?”
Peyton felt the sting of Thia’s rebuff and regained her seat. Her mood darkened as she watched Alec warm to his sister, feeling distinctly belittled as he responded.
“A few days ago,” Alec said. “Where have you been, love? You usually greet me in the bailey when I arrive.”
Love, Peyton thought with contempt. He calls her love! What is there to love about horsey, bad-mannered Thia? Amidst her dark thoughts, it never occurred to her that she was actually jealous of the affection Alec held for his sister.
Yet it was far more than simple envy; every time she and Alec seemed to be getting comfortable with each other, something would occur and the chasm between them would widen.
The more she watched Thia interact with Alec, the wider the chasm yawned.
Peyton wasn’t feeling hatred so much anymore as she was simply feeling despondent and uncertain. Her entire world was out of sync.
“Helping the cook with the lambs,” Thia replied to her brother’s question. “Sometimes she isn’t strong enough to snap the necks and requires my help.”
“There are plenty of male servants to accomplish that task,” Alec said reprovingly. “Hardly a duty for a well-bred young woman. I believe we have had this discussion before.”
“We have, but I choose to ignore you,” Thia said stubbornly. “I like to work.”
Considering she looks like an ox, I am not surprised, Peyton smirked inwardly. Past the point of remaining on her best behavior in the face of Alec and Thia’s rejection, she crossed her arms and looked away, pondering her own thoughts. If they were going to be rude, then so would she.
The more Alec and his sister conversed, the angrier Peyton became.
It would have been polite to have included her in the conversation and she was incensed that they did not consider her worthy of their attentions.
She listened to every word between them and prepared to give her own rebuff when the conversation turned toward St. Cloven.
She would give them a taste of their own medicine.
“Lady Peyton is a marvelous artist,” Alec said, finally turning his attention to Peyton. “How long have you been painting?”
Peyton ignored him; she was looking away, pretending to study the tapestry on the wall and Alec moved toward her.
“My lady? I asked you how long you have been painting?”
Slowly, and with great contempt, Peyton focused on the two of them. There was no mistaking the hostility. “Are you addressing me, my lord? Forgive me for ignoring you, but I thought you were speaking to your sister. Still.”
He gazed at her, seeing that battle lines were drawn again and having no idea why. “I was speaking to you.”
Peyton cocked an eyebrow, shooting Thia a most baleful glance before responding to Alec. “Then I shall answer you. I have been painting since I was old enough to hold a brush.”
Thia bristled at the open animosity. “Are you going to allow her to speak to you in such a manner?”
Alec would not be pulled into a confrontation and his expression remained calm as he turned to his sister. “What manner? She simply answered my question.”
Thia’s mouth opened in outrage. “Surely you are not that blind, Alec. ’Twould seem that your betrothed is somewhat of a disrespectful shrew. And you say you agreed to this arrangement?”
Peyton refused to be intimidated or insulted by Alec’s sister.
She fixed her with a pointed look. “I would rather be a shrew than an ox. And furthermore, at least your brother has found a mate. I doubt the same can be said for you unless, of course, your father intends to raid the barnyards for a suitable consort.”
Alec’s eyes widened at the insult and he choked off a loud guffaw, coming out as a harsh series of coughs.
Instead of being angry, he found he was actually proud of Peyton for refusing to allow Thia to belittle her.
His sister could be a sweet woman with a heart of gold, but she had a sharp tongue and a bullying manner.
He was immensely pleased to see that Peyton would not allow his sister to demean her and he stepped back, carefully observing the unfolding battle.
Thia’s eyes narrowed, surprised that the petite, fragile-looking lady was bold enough to return the insult. But Lady Peyton’s moxy only served to fuel her anger.
“You are an ill-bred little wench. How unfortunate that the Summerlins are to be saddled with your sickening presence,” she shook her head at Alec regretfully. “My sympathies, Alec. I sincerely hope St. Cloven is worth the asking price.”
Peyton stood up; she did not want Alec forced into taking sides, for he would undoubted ally with his sister and she did not need any more reason to loathe him. Instead of losing her control and raging at Thia as she did with Ivy, she smiled thinly.
“At least I have something attractive to offer a prospective husband, my lady,” she said.
“I doubt the crown jewels would serve as enough bribery in your case. But try not to let your bitterness show; mayhap a blind man shall happen across your path someday who will be impervious to your appearance. One can always hope.”
Thia glared at her, seeing that Lady Peyton was able to match her insult for insult. Acid-tongued chit. Since her own venomous mouth was unsuccessful in humiliating Lady Peyton, she resorted to the next weapon in her arsenal. Her size.
“Do not make light of my appearance, my lady. What I lack in physical beauty I make up for in power. Any man at Blackstone can tell you that my strength is nearly equal their own. I would wager to say you would not last long in a challenge.”
Peyton couldn’t help it; she started to laugh. Loud, bright laughter pealed from her lips and Alec smiled simply because she was so beautiful when she laughed. And he was enjoying himself, too, oddly enough.
“A challenge?” Peyton repeated incredulously. “Surely you jest, Lady Thia. Only men issue challenges and only men fight them. But…. in that case, I suppose it is perfectly natural for you to propose a duel then, isn’t it?”
“’Twas no challenge I issued. Call it a promise.”
Peyton raised a well-arched brow, not the least bit intimidated. “And I promise you will regret it for, you see, I have a sister a sight larger than you. Were you to do me any harm, she would see to it that it would be your very last transgression. Call that a promise.”
Thia shrugged. “As you wish.”
Peyton regained her seat, still shaking her head with mirth. “I am weary of this conversation. Do you not have lambs to slaughter or peasants to terrorize?”
Alec could see that the next step in their argument would most likely entail a physical brawl.
Choosing to intervene, he stepped forward and put his hand on Thia’s shoulder.
“I am afraid you cannot bully my future wife as you do every other woman. Call a truce and I will hear no more hostile words between the two of you. Understood?”
Thia’s small blue eyes gazed at Peyton a moment longer. “Only for you, Alec. But I cannot guarantee future peace.”
“I realize that,” he said quietly. “Just as there are mere civilities between you and Rachel. It would seem, Moppet, that you are not destined to be chummy with either of your brother’s wives.”
Thia snorted and looked away. “Rachel is a stupid bitch. And it would seem that at least one of those terms describes Lady Peyton as well.”