Chapter Ten #5
Ivy took a deep, ragged breath to steady her reeling head. “Nor did it occur to me,” she grasped her sister’s hand tightly. “I am sorry, Peyton. I should not have lashed out at you as I did, but I have spent the entire night worrying and crying and…. oh, Christ, I am so sorry. You are wed, then?”
Peyton smiled. “The Lady Peyton de Fluornoy Summerlin.”
Ivy managed a weak smile before her eyes fell on Alec, tall and strong, as he handed her the chalice of ale. “Thank you, dear brother. I do apologize for whacking your wife.”
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching. “We would duel come the dusk were I not so afraid that you would best me.”
“Coward,” Peyton muttered.
“Indeed,” Alec grasped her chin gently and studied the red welt on the creamy skin, almost a perfect handprint.
Ivy swallowed, embarrassed as Alec observed her handiwork on Peyton’s face. She thought it best to change the subject before he changed his mind and decided to call her out. “How is Ali faring? I have not seen him since early this morn.”
“He is exhausted but well, considering,” Alec replied, seating his large frame on the edge of the bed. “I am positive at this moment he is riding like the wind to reach Northampton. Hell, the horse probably isn’t fast enough and he is racing on foot.”
Ivy giggled, relieved, feeling a good deal of comfort and satisfaction. A most pleasurable end to a most horrible night, an end she thought never to see. “What made your father change his mind, Alec?”
Alec glanced at his flame-haired wife. “A close relative was most persuasive on your behalf.”
Ivy gave her sister a long look. “I am afraid to ask. Did you attempt to garrote your father-in-law? Or was it the threat of skinning him alive that caused him to change his mind?”
Peyton gave her sister an irritable look and moved toward Alec. “Nothing of the kind. I simply told him of the Warrington’s true nature and it was enough to convince him.”
The humor faded from Ivy’s expression. “That was my biggest fear, you know. Being thrown into the den of debauchers, alone.”
Peyton’s humor vanished as well. “Worry no more, darling. Lord Brian is a wise and sensible man.”
Alec’s thick arm snaked out and grasped her around the waist, pulling her onto his lap. “Only last night he was Lucifer incarnate. My father seems to be a great many things to a great many people.”
Ivy watched her sister and her new husband, marveling at how well they were getting on.
Their beginning had been so terribly rocky that she never truly thought she would see this level of fondness between them.
It was readily apparent that there was a great deal of affection and she sincerely hoped that somehow Peyton had been able to put James out of her mind.
From the way she was looking at Alec, it would seem so.
“When will we return to St. Cloven?” she asked after a moment.
Alec turned his attention to her briefly before returning to Peyton. “Tomorrow, most likely. Ali and I must pack our possessions and then we may leave.”
“We do need to return as soon as possible,” Peyton said, her arms wound around her husband’s neck affectionately. “We have an entire lot of pale ale that should be ready for sale. I must get back and determine its readiness.”
“Do you not have a master brewer to attend to that?” he asked.
“Of course. But I have the final decision.”
He almost added that her duty was past tense, at least until he learned the intricacies of ale making, but he bit his tongue.
It occurred to him that his wife was intelligent enough to continue her position as master ale administrator without his interference.
After all, she had been born into it, as he had not been, and knew the details and workings far better than he.
Moreover, the reputation of St. Cloven’s ale had not suffered in the least since Albert’s death; if anything, it had increased in quality.
Aye, he decided firmly, the best thing would be for him to allow his wife to continue with her duties. He was smart enough to know wherein her strengths lay.
“Then we shall leave tomorrow,” he said decisively. “As it is, I want to make sure St. Cloven’s stables are well equipped to handle my brood of horses before I transfer them from Blackstone.”
“Horses? What horses?” Peyton asked.
“My Saracens,” he replied. “I collected three mares and a stallion when I was in the Holy Land. I have been breeding the mares to the destriers and have developed several incredibly strong and swift animals. I have already sold two of them to the king for his private stable at a considerable price, and in turn I have several nobles breathing down my neck to purchase my next crop of foals.”
“Horses and ale. What a smelly combination,” Ivy snorted. “You two will certainly be a pair, one reeking of manure and the other of liquor.”
Peyton shot her sister a hostile glare, though exaggerated, before refocusing on her husband. “You never told me that you bred Saracens.”
“Not exactly bedchamber talk, darling,” Ivy said before Alec could answer. “I doubt that was foremost on his mind when he took you to bed last night.”
Alec actually grinned. “Your sister’s right, of course, and it never came up in casual conversation.”
Peyton shrugged in agreement, hearing her sister snickering over her shoulder.
With a sly glance, she looked to Ivy. “You are in no position to laugh at me for not knowing everything about my husband, considering the fact that you are unwed and no longer a maiden. I do not suppose you and Ali have done much talking, either.”
Ivy did not flush, as she should have. Instead, she gave her sister a bold, seductive look. “He said that you once asked if he was black all over. I can confirm that he is.”
Alec rolled his eyes at the bawdy turn in conversation. “I am sure he does not wish for that to become public knowledge, Ivy.”
“I am not the public,” Peyton said indignantly.
“Nay, you are not, you are my wife, and I shall not have you privy to such personal knowledge as another man’s body characteristics,” he cast a stern eye to Ivy. “You will keep such facts to yourself. You will not tantalize my wife with tales of your all-black soldier.”
Ivy laughed at him, as did Peyton. Alec tried to remain stern, pulling Peyton closer and burying his face in her neck lest they see that he was on the verge of grinning. Peyton patted his head as if he were a child.
“I am afraid we have embarrassed him with our bold talk,” she told her sister. “He shall never recover.”
“Poor, poor Alec,” Ivy clucked. “Tell me, Peyton. Is he white all over?”
Peyton opened her mouth and Alec’s head came up. “Not a word,” he threatened. “That is something your sister will have to ponder the rest of her life. Now, the both of you, cease this line of talk. I am terribly unnerved by the entire thing.”
Peyton and Ivy grinned at each other. “Poor innocent pup,” Ivy said soothingly. “Of course we will speak of something else that will not upset your delicate balance. Let’s talk about breeding.”
“Breeding!” Alec boomed. “Not a chance!”
“Horse breeding, Alec,” Ivy insisted, losing the battle against her giggles. “Won’t you tell us about it?”
“No,” he said flatly, swatting his wife’s behind when she leapt from his lap in a fit of snickers. “It’s a secret. Not for your fragile feminine ears.”
Peyton shook her head as Ivy begged and Alec refused, moving for the wardrobe and thinking on changing into a fresh gown. She continued to dig through the wardrobe as Alec and Ivy bantered until she suddenly realized that something was missing from their room. Someone was missing.
“Ivy, where’s Jubil?”
“She went out after the nooning meal to scour the countryside for new ingredients,” Ivy replied. “She took a knight with her – what’s his name? Toby? He looks a good deal like you, Alec.”
Alec raised an eyebrow, the mirth gone from his expression. He did not say anything for a moment, a distinct give away, and Peyton turned to look at him intently from her position by the wardrobe.
“Is he a cousin?” she asked.
He sighed and shook his head. They would both hear the truth soon enough; better to hear it from him. “He is my half-brother.”
Peyton looked at him in surprise. “You father’s bastard?”
“Nay,” he replied quietly. “My mother’s.”
Peyton’s eyes widened further and she glanced at Ivy, whose face was a mirror of her own. “Your mother’s bastard?” Peyton repeated.
He nodded faintly, rising from the bed with popping joints. “Toby was born while my father was away, fighting with King Henry. I do not know who his father is and I never asked.”
Peyton, brow furrowed with puzzlement, turned back to her wardrobe. “He is a very handsome man. Except for his shorter height, he looks a good deal like you.”
Alec appeared lost in thought a moment longer before glancing at his wife.
“He is a good lad. My father allowed him to return to Blackstone after fostering because my mother missed him terribly. Especially after the misfortune of Paul and the loss of Peter, my father would not deny my mother her living flesh.”
Peyton drew out a golden gown, her movements slow and thoughtful. “Your father is a saint, Alec. I would not be so generous.”
Alec shrugged. “He is a decent man, far more than most. As I said, I do not know the entire story regarding Toby’s birth and most likely never will. But, if you please, this knowledge goes no further.”
Ivy nodded solemnly as Peyton laid the golden gown on the bed. Alec eyed it with approval. “A magnificent piece. You will outshine the sun.”
“It’s not for me, it’s for Ivy,” she said firmly. “’Tis the dress she will be married in.”
Alec smiled faintly, glancing to his sister-in-law. “In that case, Ivy, you shall outshine the sun.”
Ivy stood from her chair, brushing her fingers over the burnished gold. “How long does it take to ride to Northampton?”