Chapter Five #4
She tried to maintain her unbending manner.
She had asked him not to call her sweetheart for good reason; James had called her by the term.
To hear it brought a myriad of aching memories; yet, somehow, hearing it from Alec’s lips seemed the most natural of things.
She realized she wanted him to use the expression often.
She smiled weakly at his warm expression. “I suppose using my proper name all the time does seem rather formal.”
He smile broadened. “May I then call you sweetheart? Or any other term of endearment that comes to mind? Or, should the situation dictate, mayhap an expression of insult in self-defense?”
She tried not to smile at his gentle taunts, but it was difficult. Instead, she lifted her eyebrows haughtily. “I shall consider your requests, both of them. But until I can make my decision, I will expect to be addressed as Lady Summerlin.”
“I am to address my own wife as Lady Summerlin?” he repeated with a mock frown. “Very well. You must call me Sir Alec. Or My Lord Darling. Or My Most Auspicious Sweetling.”
The tone of the conversation had become light and enjoyable and Peyton completely forgot about the events during the day that had brought her to the unalterable conclusion that she hated him.
When he gazed upon her as he was now, she was oblivious to everything but the heat on her cheeks and the expression on his face.
“As you say,” she shrugged. “At least you have not demanded that I prostrate myself in your presence.”
“Ah, but I shall,” he raised an arrogant eyebrow.
She matched his arrogance with a smile. “And I shall refuse, my lord.”
His grip on her waist tightened as he frowned disapprovingly. “You are an entirely disagreeable wench.”
She opened her mouth to reply when Brian suddenly intervened. Peyton realized Alec had been holding her tightly only when his massive arms were removed. She missed him already.
“Not here,” Brian admonished laughingly. “Can you not wait until the nuptials? I may have a grandson sooner than I hoped if your attentions toward each other are any indication of marital appetites.”
Peyton flushed furiously and lowered her gaze, embarrassed at Brian’s words and her own actions.
Being enveloped in Alec’s arms was so natural that she hadn’t given it a thought.
As Alec and his father chuckled over something Peyton did not quite hear, Ivy appeared at her sister’s side to divert her attention.
“Ali is taking me for a walk about the compound,” she said. “Why don’t you and Alec join us?”
“A walk?” Peyton repeated, embarrassment forgotten as she focused on her sister.
Passing a glance at Brian and Alec as they huddled in private conversation, she grasped Ivy by the arm and escorted her into their own secluded huddle.
Her manner was harsh as her chaotic thoughts demanded to be voiced; thoughts that had simmered in her mind for the length of the day. Now was the time to be heard.
“Good Lord, Ivy, you were ready to kill him earlier this day, and now you are allowing him to escort you on a walk without so much as a protest?”
Ivy’s cheeks mottled a faint red. How could she explain her feelings to Peyton when she herself did not fully understand? After a moment, she looked away uncomfortably. “We had a long conversation and I came to understand him somewhat. He…. He is very kind, Peyton, intelligent and considerate.”
“But he is black, for God’s sake!” Peyton hissed, making a valiant attempt to keep from being heard. “He is not like us. What did he say to convince you to accept him as easily as you have?”
The red in Ivy’s cheeks deepened. “I never said that I have accepted him. I have simply come to see things a bit more clearly, that’s all. I am coming to tolerate his company.”
Peyton shook her head in frustration. “You are acting like a fool. He is a lesser being, entitled to no more consideration or acceptance than those whom God has seen fit to create less fortunate than ourselves. He is not the equal you are suggesting.”
Ivy’s jaw quivered faintly. “He is a wise, chivalrous man and I shall not allow you to say such terrible things against him.”
Peyton stared at her sister, sensing the hostility and the confusion, but quite consumed with her own feelings of resentment and bafflement.
She simply couldn’t deal rationally with Ivy at the moment and her demeanor hardened.
“You are not going for a walk with him. After politely excusing ourselves, we will be retreating to our bedchamber. Alone.”
Ivy’s jaw ticked stubbornly. “I am going for a walk first. With Ali.”
Peyton gazed at her sister as if the woman had lost her mind.
“You have indeed accepted him, then. Listen to yourself, Ivy. You might not have admitted your approval in words, but undoubtedly in action. How could you do this? He is not like us, darling, not at all. He…. he is a different. A barbarian.”
Ivy’s face went from a dull red to a sickly white. “If you refer to him in that term again, I shall kill you. I swear it, Peyton, with every breath in my body. He is nothing of the kind.”
Peyton was struck by Ivy’s defense of the man.
She’d never seen her sister look so absolutely serious.
Ivy’s sincerity unearthed a chord of remorse for referring to Ali in a derogatory term.
When Ivy had referred to him in the same manner, Peyton had been deeply embarrassed.
Now, out of frustration and fear, she had done the very same thing and she was appalled at her hypocrisy.
But her stubborn nature prevented her from apologizing. She sighed heavily, unable to match her sister’s intense gaze. “Mayhap I simply do not know you as I thought I did, Ivy.”
Ivy mulled over the muttered words, sensing the confusion within them.
Since her private conversation with Ali and the journey to Blackstone, her confusion towards the dark soldier was fading and she wished she could tell her sister the fear, the excitement, the wonder she was experiencing.
But gazing into Peyton’s sapphire orbs, she could see that now was not the time.
When Ivy spoke, it was in a hushed whisper. “Nay, darling, I do not suppose you do.”
Stung and disoriented, Peyton turned away and moved to the windows at the opposite end of the room.
The pleasant July evening filled the air, the scents of blossoms and the smell of hay wafting on the breeze as she tried to orient herself after a shocking conversation.
A situation that had been unpleasant from the onset had suddenly become worse, and she had no concept of where it would end.
Her future, her life, was careening out of control and there was no way to stop it.
She did not realize she was wiping at her eyes as she stood by the window deep in thought. She wanted to return home, tired of the disorientation she was feeling. But she was resigned to remaining at Blackstone, in a keep full of strangers, including her sister.
“Are you feeling poorly, dear?” Lady Celine was beside her, her lovely face concerned. “It has been a trying day. Mayhap you should retire early.”
She straightened respectfully as Alec’s mother addressed her. Thinking on the woman’s perceptive statement, she realized her head was aching and her stomach hurt terribly. The thought of a soft, cool bed sounded wonderful.
“I haven’t slept since yesterday, my lady,” she replied softly. In spite of Lady Celine’s somewhat harsh personality, Peyton could honestly admit that she found the woman comforting. Having never truly known a mother’s love, she found it very easy to succumb to Celine’s motherly attentions.
“Poor dear,” Celine’s arm went about her shoulders and she turned to her husband. “My lord, Lady Peyton is most fatigued. She shall retire for the evening, with your permission.”
Brian and Alec, standing together in conversation, looked at Peyton closely and Brian nodded firmly. “Absolutely,” he said. “Good eve to you, my lady. And welcome to our family.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said softly, feeling her exhaustion a good deal more with Lady Celine’s consoling manner. The more the woman hugged and patted, the more Peyton’s strength waned. Eyeing Ivy across the room, she knew that Lady Celine was her only friend in the world. Selfish pity bloomed.
“I shall take her, mother,” Alec said quietly, setting his chalice to the table.
“You will not,” Lady Celine rejected her son’s offer. “I am quite capable of caring for your betrothed. You may stay and enjoy your wine.”
Peyton could see by Alec’s expression that he was reluctant to do as he was told, but he obediently offered his future wife a good night and lifted her white hand to his lips for a chaste kiss.
Peyton felt the kiss like a scalding iron, matching the look in his eyes.
Her cheeks flushing a dull red, she lowered her gaze and allowed Lady Celine to lead her from the room.
*
After Peyton had retired for the evening, Ali excused he and Ivy from Brian’s gathering. He had promised the lady a leisurely stroll about the grounds, and stroll they would. As they were becoming increasingly comfortable with one another, he was desperate to know her further.
Ivy was silent and distracted as he led her out into the moonlit July eve, gazing up at the brilliant display in the heavens. He was acutely aware of Ivy’s soft footfalls beside him, crunching softly against the hard-packed earth of the bailey.
“I cannot remember such a beautiful night,” Ali said softly, making idle conversation as he glanced at her lowered head.
Ivy’s blue eyes turned upward, staring at the diamond sky above. “One can see the North Star most clearly.”
He nodded, still studying the sky. After a moment, he sighed. “I find it fascinating to imagine that the great masters, Socrates, Homer, Euclid and the like, have seen the same stars as I have. They have gazed upon the same moon, or been burnt by the same sun. An engrossing concept, really.”