Chapter Five #3
Peyton had moved past anger and found a strange sense of satisfaction clashing with Thia.
Mayhap in some way she was taking out her anger on the woman’s brother.
But the fact that Alec had not taken sides made Thia’s attitude far easier to deal with, and she was furthermore pleased to demonstrate that she could not be harassed. She smiled genuinely at Thia.
“I will not dispute your opinion. But I would rather be a bitch than a bitter, empty spinster with only brothers for male companionship.”
Thia’s jaw twitched and Alec stepped in between the two to remind them that he had ordered their insults ended.
“Enough, both of you. If this is to be the extent of conversation between you, then I would prefer that you did not speak to one another at all. I shall not spend the rest of my life pulling my sister and wife apart.”
Brian returned to the room then, bearing two dark bottles of wine.
His face was flushed with pleasure as he breezed across the room to where several pewter goblets were shelved.
“Burgundy!” he announced, handing Alec a bottle to open.
“The very finest! I have had it in storage for years simply waiting for the right opportunity to consume it.”
Alec drew out the cork and returned the bottle to Brian.
As Thia moved to assist her father, Alec moved to Peyton and stood next to her chair.
She sat stiffly, as if waiting for the next hostile barrage from the Summerlin sibling.
He found himself gazing down at her, studying the myriad of colors in the magnificent red hair and amazed with the perfect beauty of his betrothed.
It would seem that every moment, every hour brought about a new discovery, and he was intrigued.
Shortly, the room was filled with people.
Olphampa and Sula, Ali and Ivy and Celine arrived in a cozy group and Peyton was amazed to find not one, but three black-skinned people living at Blackstone.
Olphampa, a stocky little man nearly half the size of his massive son, seemed to be charming and his slight wife appeared very pleasant.
And the two were warmly receptive to Ivy, who seemed to be warming to them in return.
In fact, Ivy seemed far more at ease than Peyton herself and Peyton was envious and baffled with her sister’s relaxed mannerisms. She found herself again wondering what Ali had said to Ivy to cause such alleviation, such approval within a woman who not hours earlier had been intent on accusing him of being a savage.
The frustration, the pure puzzlement as she watched her only sibling converse with dark-skinned people left her speechless.
As Brian was pouring the wine, another pair entered the hall and Peyton turned to them curiously.
The man was slight of stature and build, with dark hair and brown eyes.
He would have been handsome were it not for the strange expression on his face and his slightly disheveled appearance.
The pregnant woman beside him was slight as well, with a plain face and unremarkable brown hair.
But she smiled politely at Peyton as Alec introduced the couple as his older brother, Paul, and his wife, Lady Rachel.
Paul moved directly to a corner and stood as if he were being punished. His eyes darted about nervously as his wife retrieved a goblet of wine for him, and he drank deeply before anyone else had even been served. He slurped the drink and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, looking uncertain and tense.
Peyton tore her eyes away from him after a moment.
Obviously, there was something terribly wrong with him.
Either that, or he was a horribly ill-mannered lout just like his sister.
His petite wife stood next to him vigilantly, admonishing him softly as a mother would a child.
Puzzled, Peyton tried not to let her confusion show.
The congratulatory toasts went well into the evening.
Brian and Alec imbibed a good deal of wine, whereas Olphampa declined all offers and drank fruit juices instead.
Paul drank heavily, too, but remained in the corner away from the rest of the group.
Ivy and Ali stood with Sula and Celine and chatted amiably, leaving Peyton seated alone.
Yet it was by her own choice; the verbal confrontation with Thia had left her drained and it was all she could do to reply politely when spoken to much less keep up a gay conversation. Thia, still next to the thin windows, drank her wine in moody silence.
Peyton would glance at Alec occasionally, angered that he was not making an attempt to converse with her, yet convincing herself that she was glad he wasn’t attempting the venture.
She had no desire to speak with him at the moment, but in the recesses of her mind she wanted him to talk to her so that she could show him that she had no interest in addressing him.
It was pointless to ignore someone if they weren’t striving to capture your attention in the first place.
It was the most peculiar craziness and she knew it, but it did not occur to her that she was wallowing in self-pity because her betrothed, whom she admitted to loathe, was neglecting her.
I am going mad, she told herself calmly. Alec is driving me insane with his feverish kisses and icy, callous demeanor. She certainly did not want a cold, bitter man paying attention to her.
…. did she?
“You are beautiful,” came a soft male voice.
Peyton was jolted from her train of thought and glanced up to see Paul staring down at her. He was perspiring heavily and she instinctively drew back from him.
“I…. thank you, my lord,” she replied warily.
He continued to stare at her until she felt terribly uncomfortable. She found herself wishing someone would rush to her aid, for she had no idea how to deal with the man. Peyton rose from her chair to put a safe distance between them, frantically wondering where his watchdog wife had gone to.
“Your hair is so bright,” he said gently, reaching out and grasping a strand. “It looks like molten metal. Have you ever seen molten metal when the smiths fire broadswords?”
She was trying to remain calm as he fingered her hair in front of a room full of people who were not paying any attention. The urge to jerk away from him was overpowering.
“I have never seen molten metal,” she replied steadily. “Do you like to watch the smith?”
He did not answer, his eyes raking over her body in a most unnerving manner, and Peyton was growing quite apprehensive. There was something about the man that was just not right, something odd, and she took another step back.
Before Paul could reply, Alec was beside Peyton and firmly dislodging her hair from his brother’s grasp. When Peyton felt a protective arm go about her waist, she nearly collapsed against him from sheer relief. She hadn’t realized how frightened she had been until that very moment.
“You know better than to touch her, Paul,” Alec’s voice was quiet.
Paul’s eyes widened outrageously at the sight of his brother and he suddenly looked ashamed and uncertain. Peyton almost felt sorry for him and winced at Alec’s firm, unkind tone.
“Do you understand me?” he asked his brother. “You will never touch Lady Peyton again.”
Paul’s twitching eyes looked away, anywhere that was safe from his brother’s piercing gaze. His nervous hands worked and flitted about the chair, his tunic.
“I…. she is so lovely, Alec,” he said softly.
“I know. But she is mine. I forbid you to touch her.”
“I…. I apologize,” Paul whispered. “I only wanted to touch her hair. Like molten metal, Alec, from the smith’s forge. Did you notice?”
“I noticed,” Alec replied, his tone less unkind. “Go to Rachel now. ’Tis nearly time for you to retire.”
Paul’s guarded eyes shifted to Peyton once more before he turned away like a scolded child. Peyton watched him return to his wide-eyed wife, as did everyone else in the room. But they quickly turned back to their conversations, pretending not to have witnessed the exchange.
Alec still clutched Peyton and she was unaware that she was pressed into the curve of his torso comfortably. It was such a completely natural position that she still did not notice their close proximity, even when he gazed down into her sapphire blue eyes.
The blue of the sky bore into her and suddenly, she was only cognizant of his soft expression, his virile masculinity, his presence.
To hell with everyone else in the room and her own feelings of hostility; she suddenly found herself wishing he would kiss her again.
She wanted it so badly she was nearly quivering.
“He is harmless,” he said softly. “But I must establish at the very onset that you are not to be molested.”
“Molested?” she repeated with concern. “But you said he is harmless.”
“He is, truly. His extent of molesting would probably entail touching your hair or trying to kiss your hand. Anything else is beyond his scope of comprehension.”
She gazed back at him a moment. “What’s wrong with him? Did he suffer an accident or mishap?”
Alec shook his head. “He was born dull-witted, sweetheart. His mental intelligence is that of a young boy.”
“And he is your father’s heir? How…,” she suddenly stopped, peering at him. “What did you call me?”
“Call you?” he lifted an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Nothing…. oh, do you mean ‘sweetheart’? Forgive me, my lady, I forgot myself. You did, after all, ask me not to address you by that name.”
She was preparing to sharply agree, but her firm stance suddenly softened and she lowered her gaze. “Aye, I did.”
He shifted his grip on her, moving to wrap his other arm about her waist without even realizing it. In front of a room full of people, they were in a closely intimate position. A natural state. “Pray forgive me, my lady. I simply could not help myself,” he grinned.