Chapter Eleven
“You did not have to hit him,” Peyton said softly.
Alec stood by the windows as a soft breeze caressed his heated face. A second cup of St. Cloven Dark Ale rested in his massive palm and he could feel his wife’s warm hand on his arm.
“He was a threat to you,” he said simply.
Peyton laid her cheek against his broad back, winding her arms around his narrow waist. “He was no threat to me, my Alec, not with you as my protector. You truly did not have to strike him.”
He shrugged, his only answer, and drained his cup. She felt his huge palm enclose her two hands clasped at his waist. “I suppose I should retreat downstairs and apologize for my rash actions.”
“Nay, darling, you will stay here until your father sends for you,” she replied evenly. “Your father will do a better job of calming the Warringtons without your presence. Let them cool before you go charging in.”
He contemplated the world outside his chamber window a moment longer before turning to capture Peyton in his arms, breaking a smile at the sight of her lovely face. “I do not charge.”
“Aye, you do,” she said firmly, winding her arms around his neck. “You do indeed charge and you are faster than a bolt of lightning. I never saw you move and suddenly, Colin was writhing in the dirt.”
He lifted his shoulders. “As I have said, I have learned to compensate because I no longer carry a sword. I have learned to fight with my hands and feet. I simply must be quicker than anyone else because a man with a blade is given a heavy advantage automatically. If I do not move faster than my enemy, my life is forfeit.”
She sighed and shook her head, eyeing him with disapproval. “You father did not need this added stress, you know. He has enough to deal with.”
Alec looked remorseful for the first time. “I realize that. But I was defending you and I do not regret my protective instincts. Had I not moved, he most likely would have injured you somehow.”
She smiled. “I am not afraid of him, my darling. Not with you to defend my honor.”
He smiled weakly and she pinched him lightly on the cheek. He caught her mirth and squeezed her tightly, brushing her lips with his own a couple of times before slanting over them hungrily.
To think of Colin Warrington in possession of such sweetness and beauty drove him crazed with fury, emotions he funneled into his kiss and in no time he had her aloft in his arms, heading for his bed. Peyton sensed his passion, fed off it, and her own lust quickly blossomed.
But their desire would have to wait. Just as he reached the bed, there was a heavy rap on his door and he tore his mouth away from his wife reluctantly.
“Who comes?” he demanded.
“’Tis me, Alec.”
Peyton looked at him questioningly as he lowered her to the ground. “Toby,” he told her, moving for the door.
Toby looked embarrassed for his intrusion as if he had known exactly what they were doing behind the closed door.
“Your father requests your presence in the solar,” he said softly, his blue eyes passing to Peyton shyly. “And I am to take your wife to assist your mother.”
“Rachel still has not delivered?” Alec asked, concerned.
Toby shook his head. “Not yet. Your mother is exhausted and your father requests that your wife relieve her of her duties while she rests.”
Peyton nodded firmly. “Of course,” she said, although she was unnerved by the prospect; she’d never attended a woman in birth.
Other than a horse, she’d never even seen a birth and she was horrified and fascinated by the mysteries it held.
But in the same breath, she also felt a sense of maturity.
As if being a wife entitled her to the privileges of seasoned, knowledgeable women, and she was anxious to join their ranks.
Even though she was aware that the child was most likely a stillborn, she was nonetheless willing, and frightened, to accept the challenge.
Lady Celine was depending on her assistance and she would not disappoint.
’Twas her duty, as Alec’s wife, and she was eager to prove her worth to the House of Summerlin in an attempt to offset the impulsive action of their elopement.
She had every intention of bravely meeting her new duties, no matter how potentially disturbing they might be.
As they moved for the door, she fought back her natural apprehension and turned to her husband. “Are you going to be all right without me?”
“Yes, love, I shall be fine,” he assured her, bordering on mockery.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Do not be glib. I am serious.”
“As am I,” he grinned, kissing her sweetly on the cheek. “Toby, take good care of my wife.”
“Aye, my lord,” Toby replied softly.
Alec’s boot falls faded down the hall and Peyton turned to Toby, scrutinizing his features for traces of Alec.
She saw a good deal of her husband in the muscular young knight, only three years older than herself.
Toby caught her open appraisal and knew instantly that Alec had told her of their blood relations.
Usually shy and reserved, he found himself studying her in return. Christ, she was a beautiful creature.
“May I show you to Lady Rachel’s room?” he asked respectfully.
She nodded, taking his proffered arm. “Thank you, sir knight.”
He smiled, blushing brightly. “My pleasure, Lady Summerlin.”
Considering Alec had righteously pounded the man, Colin did not look overly bruised.
There was a huge swollen nodule on his jaw, but other than that he appeared in good health.
He stood in Brian’s solar with a cup of fine St. Cloven ale in hand, disdainfully watching the activity in the bailey as Baron Rothwell and his father conversed tensely.
Alec’s blow could not have come at a worse time.
With Nigel outraged at Peyton’s marriage, it certainly had not helped matters that the new husband had pummeled the would-be suitor.
Nigel forewent any casual greetings, delving directly into his protests that Colin had not been given a fair chance to win the fair maiden’s hand and furthermore stating his displeasure that Ivy had been offered as compensation.
Brian, irritated with the man’s commanding attitude and haughty manner, informed him with a shade of satisfaction that Ivy’s offer had been withdrawn due to a previous betrothal contract Albert himself had made, an arrangement Brian had been unaware of until most recently.
A lie, of course, but it was a falsehood that would hopefully deter Nigel from an all-out declaration of war.
He was angry enough to have lost the heiress, but to lose the sister as well was a considerable insult.
Brian sent for Alec early into the meeting simply for the fact that Alec’s presence could not infuriate Nigel and Colin any more than they already were; moreover, Alec was a calming influence on his father and Brian was not entirely in control of his emotions at the moment.
Alec’s elopement and Rachel’s labor had him on the edge.
When Alec entered the solar, characteristically in control of his outward composure, Brian felt a good deal of relief.
Other than a disinterested glance, Colin paid Alec little attention.
Nigel, however, spent a good deal of time glaring at the massive man as he vigorously protested his treatment from the entire House of Summerlin.
Alec dutifully apologized for his lapse in manners but did not go so far as to apologize for the action of striking Colin.
From the look on his son’s face, Brian knew there was no amount of pleading that could convince him to apologize for preserving his wife’s safety.
And it was also readily apparent to Brian that Alec’s body was tense even if his expression held firm, an unusual state for his son to acquire.
He was well aware that the taut stance was on behalf of his wife, and further on behalf of Ali and Ivy.
With Colin in the room, Alec was very much on his guard, but it was more than that; Brian sensed a good deal of animosity.
He was extremely unnerved by the emotions radiating from Alec; he’d never known Alec to radiate any sort of emotion and it made a difficult situation all the more trying.
He had hoped that Alec would inject a certain amount of control into the setting; obviously, he had been wishing for naught and he felt his superior hold slipping.
“Tell me, my lord,” it was the first time Colin had spoken since entering the solar. “Is the Lady Ivy already married?”
“Nay,” Brian replied. “We have planned the ceremony for this evening.”
Colin turned away from the window, his large green eyes glittering. Alec studied him; he was tall and muscularly lean, not unattractive in the least. He would have been handsome had it not been for the simple fact that evil seemed to emit from him like a vile smell.
Alec remembered coming upon Colin once or twice in his youth, before he was sent away to Northwood to foster, but little beyond that.
They had never remotely been friends, mostly for the fact that Colin seemed to have a hostile attitude toward Ali.
Alec possessed a vague memory of a five-year-old Colin Warrington calling Ali a demon.
It was a recollection that still bore weight.
“Who is she betrothed to?” Colin asked.
Brian folded his hands on his desk, his face calm and steady. “Ali Boratu.”
“The black barbarian who calls himself a man?” Nigel said incredulously. “God’s Balls, Summerlin, you might as well have married her to a horse!”
Brian waited for Alec to tear both Nigel and Colin limb from limb and was mildly surprised when no rage was forthcoming. A glance at his son showed his face as unreadable as always, yet the veins in his neck were throbbing distinctly.
“Ali is a decent man with some wealth and a most fitting mate for the second daughter of a lesser knight,” Brian explained evenly. “The betrothal has been inked for quite some time.”