Chapter Ten #2
She was sure she would swoon from his insistent onslaught as he grasped her thighs and wound them around his waist, but it was a most pleasurable form of discomfort as the world around her faded.
She gripped him tightly as his hands left her long enough to lower his leather breeches, then cried sharply with bliss as he grasped her buttocks firmly.
“Are you sure you are not too sore?” he breathed in between fevered kisses.
She could only nod, eager to feel him inside her at once. “Now, Alec,” she gasped.
One hand on her bottom, the other possessively on her breast, he guided his great manhood into her drenched sheath, sliding nearly half his length instantly.
Peyton moaned from the pleasure-pain of it, driving her hips forward to meet him.
Their hips gyrated against one another as his massive organ found its seat and they began the primal mating rhythm.
Alec climaxed almost immediately. Peyton felt him throbbing within her, so highly aroused that his spasms threw her over the brink and she cried out, gripping his shoulders so tightly that she swore she was tearing his tunic to shreds.
The delicious convulsions she had been introduced to yesterday had returned and she latched onto his lips as their passion slowly faded.
No words were spoken as their kisses cooled from hotly passionate to warmly affectionate, wordless reminders of the fondness they were rapidly coming to feel for one another.
“Christ,” he mumbled, nibbling her lower lip. “What you do to me, lady.”
She grinned and he kissed her teeth, matching her smile. “We should be on our way,” she said softly.
“We should?” he suckled her chin.
She snickered softly, regaining her tattered senses and pushing against him. “Aye, we should. Enough for the moment, Alec. We will have tonight.”
He snorted. “If I am not thrown into irons.”
Her eyes widened with apprehension. “Your father would do that?”
He pecked her on the tip of her pert nose and gently lowering her to the ground. “Nay, he would not. But I am sure to receive the scolding of my life from both of my parents.”
She brushed off her skirts and shook the chaffed bits of bark from her cloak. She was uncertain as to how she should respond, knowing she certainly shared in the blame for their actions. Were there to be any punishment, she should be equally dealt with.
Next to her, he had secured his breeches and straightened his tunic. His hands were still covered with his great leather gloves, as they had been all along, and he examined his hands with a smirk.
“I did not even bother to take them off,” he raised them to his nose and inhaled deeply, with great relish. “Ah, sweetheart, they smell of you, musky and spicy and womanly. I shall surely never remove them now.”
She flushed and turned away from him, shaking her head at his crude comment.
He caught up to her with a grin and they exchanged glances, his tender and hers reproving.
Laughing softly, he grasped her hand gently and escorted her to the road where Midas was grazing contentedly on a cluster of buttercups.
*
It was shortly after the nooning meal when the looming structure of Blackstone appeared on the horizon.
Peyton felt her anxiety level soar at the sight, wondering what sort of chaos had transpired since their flight to Ely.
Had Ivy and Ali wed? Or had Sir Brian punished them both in a fit of anger?
And was Alec’s father waiting at this very moment, in fact, for the precise moment when they passed through the gate in eager anticipation of severing his son’s head for his disobedience?
Swallowing hard, she hoped her courage would hold out in the face of Brian’s undeniable rage.
There were several soldiers on the battlements, shouting to their comrades down below and Peyton heard Alec’s name at least twice. By the time Midas danced in through the open gates, Ali was there to greet them.
“Alec, thank God you have returned,” he said in a low voice.
Alec sensed Ali’s urgent manner but refused to give in to the tension. “’Tis good to see you too, lover,” he said with their usual banter. “Meet my wife, the Lady Peyton Summerlin.”
Ali closed his eyes a brief moment as if to ward off the horror of the introduction. “Then you did marry her.”
“Of course I did, I told you I would,” Alec dismounted his steed and eyed his friend. “And what of you? Are you a husband?”
Ali’s nostrils flared. “I am not.”
Alec raised an eyebrow, feeling the seeds of concern take root. “And why not?”
Ali’s jaw ticked and he looked distraught, far more upset than Alec had ever seen him. “Damnation, Ali, what’s wrong?” Alec demanded softly.
Ali took a cleansing breath. “Your father suspected that you had abducted Lady Peyton for the purpose of forcing her into marriage. He knew that I was a party to your secret and tried to coerce me throughout the night to tell him of your whereabouts; naturally, I refused. Knowing that Lady Peyton would be your wife upon your return to Blackstone, he dissolved my betrothal to Ivy and pledged her to Warrington in her sister’s stead. ”
Peyton heard everything. With a shriek, she slid off Midas. “My God, Ali, where is she?”
“In her bower. Awaiting her groom, who should be arriving late tonight.”
Alec’s gaze drifted to the structure, black and foreboding. His characteristically emotionless face was dark with the turn of events.
“Alec, she cannot wed Colin,” Peyton grasped his arm. “You must talk to your father!”
“There is more,” Ali continued, his voice dull with emotion and fatigue. “Rachel went into labor last night. She is still laboring to bring forth a child Pauly believes to be dead and your mother is beside herself.”
Peyton put her hand to her head, closing her eyes and saying a brief prayer for the slight, dark-eyed woman.
With tension and crisis surrounding them like a fog, she felt Alec’s arm go about her comfortingly and she collapsed into his warmth and strength.
Yesterday, they had only been concerned with themselves and no one else, and Peyton suddenly felt very guilty and selfish.
Tears stung her eyes with the enormity of the situation as she looked to Ali.
“Ali, I am so sorry,” she whispered. “Had I not gone with Alec, you and Ivy would now be married.”
He smiled weakly. “We shall be still. I plan to do what Alec has done; abduct my bride.”
Alec shook his head faintly. “It will not work. The church will not marry you, merely a lawyer, and therefore your marriage to Ivy could be dissolved on the grounds that it is a common law union.”
Ali’s ebony eyes flashed. “She is mine, Alec. Believe me when I say I have made the woman mine in every sense of the word and I will not stand by while she weds Warrington.”
Alec drew in a deep, slow breath, comprehending Ali’s meaning and knowing his disappointment all too well. He had been able to remedy his situation, but Ali was helpless and anger suddenly tore at him.
“Ali, take my wife into your safekeeping, please,” he gently removed Peyton from his waist and placed her hand in Ali’s. “I am going to speak to my father. You will bring my wife inside in a few minutes, but allow me a brief time alone with him first.”
“Be mindful that he is in a bitter mood. I have never seen him so dark, Alec.”
Alec did not reply, crossing the bailey with his proud, strong gait toward the entrance. Peyton and Ali watched a moment before turning to look at each other, silent words of apology and question and apprehension filling the space between them.
Ali smiled faintly. “So you are Lady Summerlin now? Congratulations, mademoiselle. May your union be blessed.”
Peyton glanced at Alec as he disappeared into the castle. “I am beginning to believe our marriage is already cursed,” she turned back to the ebony soldier. “How is Ivy faring?”
His smile faded. “Despondent. I have been not allowed to see her since early this morn.”
Peyton sighed with regret, wondering when the situation suddenly careened out of control.
When she had left with Alec yesterday, it seemed as if they were to be the only people affected by their decision and she could see how their rash action was collapsing.
Ali was affected, and Ivy, and the damnable Warringtons were being drawn into the circumstance.
Having eloped was hazard enough, but now with the added concern of Rachel’s dead child, it would seem that the Summerlins had more to deal with than ever before.
But she did not regret her decision to marry Alec. And she knew he did not, either. Were she to repeat that moment in time, she would have done the same again.
Ali tucked her hand into the fold of his elbow and they began to stroll towards the castle, a leisurely pace to allow Alec time to deal with his father. And with the turmoil of the past night, the inner sanctum of the castle was far worse than the ninth level of hell.
Alec strode into his father’s solar without bothering to knock. Brian was at his desk, his handsome face scrutinizing a sand-colored piece of vellum before him. When he heard the heavy boot falls he glanced up, surprise and rage washing his features.
“Alec!” he exclaimed.
“What is this I hear? You plan to wed Lady Ivy to the Warrington pup?”
Brian was up from his desk, moving towards his son as if to wring the living daylights out of him. But he came to an unsteady halt instead, no fists forthcoming even if he was mere inches from his son’s face. “Where’s Lady Peyton?”
Alec was undoubtedly cool, cooler still in his outrage. “My wife will be joining us shortly.”