Chapter Six #3
Completely self-centered, he had demanded the women service him.
And they had, willingly; the result being that Alec had probably lived through more sexual experiences than any man alive; technically, however, he’d never experienced intercourse.
His pleasure had come upon the bed of the female tongue.
But he realized as he feasted on Peyton’s flesh the most prevalent reason he had never lain with a woman was because he had never found one that tempted him beyond reason.
Until now. He did not want Peyton to service him; he wanted to service her and gorge himself doing so.
For the first time in his life, he wasn’t concerned with his own relief.
He had found the woman he would marry, the only woman worthy of his bed, and he would have her.
His massive, heavy organ was straining against his hose uncomfortably and to make matters worse, Peyton had unknowing wrapped her legs about his body as he ravished her in the chair.
Her body was responding to him wildly, without reserve, and he suddenly lifted her out of the chair and laid her on the Saracen rug in front of his father’s desk.
“Alec!” she gasped, attempting to regain her senses from the throes of passion. “What are you doing?”
He grinned seductively. “What does it appear, my lady? The chair is most restrictive for our needs.”
Peyton did not wish to forfeit her virginity on the scratchy bed of a woolen rug and remembered well the time when James had tried to do just that.
But if Alec tried to kiss her again, she was lost. The man had power over her that James never had; it had always been exceedingly easy to control James, to manipulate him, and she had taken great pleasure with the control she exerted over him.
With Alec, it seemed as if the tables were turned and she was mindless, willing to do anything he asked. But with James….
James.
Guilt swept her. How could she allow herself to respond to Alec so freely, so wantonly, when she still loved James?
She was betraying their love in the deepest sense by reacting to the passions of another man.
Alec knew too well that he could incite her into a frenzy with his passionate touch and blazing mouth, and she was suddenly angry with him.
How dare he force her to submit, to forget her loyalties!
But she knew as she gazed at him that he was to be her legal husband. James was gone, dead for nearly a year, and there was nothing she could do to alter the course her future had decided to take. Yet, a fighting spirit deep inside her could not give in. Not yet.
“You will not have me on the floor, Alec,” she said firmly, rolling away from him and rising to her knees.
He was lying on his side, gazing up at her. “I…. I apologize, then. My bedchamber is at the top of the stairs.”
She shook her head, her red hair wild and untamed and completely charming. Primly, she closed her robe from his scalding eyes. “I think it best if I return to my bedchamber, alone.”
He reached out and gently grasped her arm. “What have I done? If I have done something, then….”
“You haven’t done anything,” she assured him, rising to stand. “’Tis just that my head aches terribly and I want to sleep.”
“I see,” he said softly, but she could hear the disappointment in his tone. “I am sorry to have forced myself upon you when you are not feeling well. Would you allow me to escort you to your room, then?”
She almost refused, but his beautiful blue eyes were looking at her earnestly and she felt herself relenting. “Aye.”
He rose swiftly, entirely too swiftly for a man his size. He startled her with his rapid movements and she took a step back from the huge body that was suddenly standing in front of her. He smiled down at her and protectively pulled the top of her robe together, covering her white chest completely.
“I am sorry I tore your shift,” he said softly. “I…. well, I sort of lost myself….”
She put up a hand to silence him. “I let you. I should not have, but I did, so there is no one to blame. Jubil will fix it.”
“Jubil?” he looked puzzled. “Of course, your aunt. I understand she has been in some sort of fit since her arrival.”
Peyton gave him an embarrassed look and was about to provide him with an evasive reply, but she reconsidered her strategy. He was, after all, the next lord of St. Cloven and would find out about Jubil’s peculiarities soon enough. Better to forewarn him.
“She has not been in a fit. She has been…. having visions.”
“Visions? What sort of visions?”
Peyton sighed sheepishly. “Jubil believes herself to be a witch. She divines fortunes and foretells the future. Sometimes, anyway, depending on what potion she ingests. More often than not, however, the concoctions simply make her crazy.”
He grinned faintly. “A crazy witch, did you say? What an interesting family I am marrying into.”
She raised a droll eyebrow. “As if your family is any less peculiar. A belligerent sister you call Moppet, an older brother who is most strange, and a father who thinks I taste nice. Really, Alec, how can you accuse my family of being odd?”
“I never said odd, I said interesting,” he corrected her, taking her arm as they moved from the room. “And my father isn’t the only one who thinks you taste nice.”
She blushed to the roots of her hair and he laughed a soft, throaty rumble. “Your innocence is charming, for such a firebrand.”
She gasped in outrage, slapping his arm feebly. “Not another word, Alec.”
He snickered, enjoying her embarrassment. “Why not? Your response pleases me more than you can know. We will do well together, you and I.”
She did not want them to do well together. She wanted to continue to keep him at a distance, his wife in name only and in body only. She did not want him to become a part of her mind, as well. James had become an integral part of her soul and his death had caused her nothing but torture.
He sensed her brooding silence as he led her to the stairs. “Now why so quiet? You do not want us to do well together?”
“Nay,” she said before she could stop herself. “What I mean is….”
Alec froze at the base of the stairs, the warmth gone from his expression. “Do you truly intend to hate me for the duration of our married life, Peyton? I do not want you to hate me.”
Her eyes were laced with uncertainty. She did not want to hate him either, but he was cold and…. certainly, he was not cold now, but it was all a grand performance to force her to relax her guard.
…. wasn’t it?
Gently, she pulled her hand from the crook of his arm and felt the sting of puzzled tears tweaking her eyes. “I cannot love you, if that is what you want.”
“I do not care if you love me or not. I simply do not want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who loathes me.”
Peyton gazed at him a moment, swallowing the tears, the confusion.
She had been very clear that honesty was to be the cornerstone of their marriage and she suddenly felt the urge to tell him everything that had been making her insane with frustration.
Gazing into his sky blue eyes, she knew that the time had come.
“I would be truthful with you, Alec,” she said quietly.
“The only time you are pleasant with me is when I yield to your passion. The rest of the time, we are usually arguing or fighting over something. Your cold demeanor confuses me greatly. If I told you I hated you, it was because you frustrated me terribly. I simply do not know what to think of you at times.”
He was still expressionless, but the tone of his voice changed dramatically. It was soft, almost pleading. “You think me cold? What have I done to convey this to you?”
Peyton lowered her gaze. By his tone, she understood that he was truly perplexed with her assessment and she thought a moment on her reply. She had come this far in her admission and it was only logical that she follow through. She had to work through whatever she was feeling and deal with it.
“When I told you of James’ death, you suddenly became cold and distant.
I was opening myself up to you, Alec, and you stepped on my outstretched hand.
When we speak of Ali, you become defensive and hard.
When I questioned you about your dead brother, you became a rock,” she lifted her gaze to him.
“It would seem that when I attempt to know you personally, as you are to be my husband, you cut me off. It’s as if you do not want me to know you at all, so all that I know of you is that you are an unfeeling, callous man merely concerned with your own wants and needs. ”
He looked at her a moment, suddenly seeing a great deal that he had been blind to all along. Of course she professed her hate for him; he had given her very little reason to like him.
“I am sorry if it seems that way. I assure you, my actions were never intentional,” his voice was soft.
“I simply do not express myself as well as some and if I convey harshness and insensitivity, it is unintentional. At least to you it is unintentional. I never meant to imply that I was cold and unfeeling.”
Peyton was somewhat appeased by his apology, but he did not address her specific complaints. She had been completely honest and expected the same of him.
“Why were you so cold after I told you of James? Are you envious of his memory?”
“Of course not,” he snapped softly. “Nothing of the kind. ’Tis just…. seeing the joust pole and the scabbard brought back unpleasant memories of my own, ’tis all. I apologize if I hurt your feelings, Peyton. You must believe I never meant to.”
Her self-protection vanished. “What memories, Alec?” she whispered, winding her hand into his huge warm palm and feeling his strength touch her. “Won’t you tell me?”