Chapter Fourteen
Jubil was a bat for nearly a week. She continued to hang upside-down in the solar, shut away from the rest of the world as Peyton raged her irritation and then, finally ignored her.
Alec went to the solar one evening after the meal and seated himself next to the hanging woman, pelting her with gentle questions as to why she must remain a bat.
All she would tell him was that she must be made aware of the danger, and it puzzled him.
He knew better than to ask Peyton for clarification; she thought it all a load of silly nonsense.
When Jubil finally descended from her cloud of toxin-induced visions, she could not walk and could barely speak.
Toby had carried the woman to her bower where she proceeded to sleep for three days.
In truth, Peyton was very concerned for her aunt and spent a good deal of time by her bedside in silent vigil, ready to offer watered ale or a bit of food should Jubil desire it.
One moment she’d be terribly angry with her aunt for the self-abuse, but in the next moment she would pray for her recovery. She’d never seen Jubil so drained.
As Jubil recovered from her experience, Alec delved deeper and deeper into the workings of St. Cloven.
His days were filled with ale-making and his Saracens, and his nights were filled with his wife.
His life seemed to hinge on the bright red-gold head, eager to catch a glimpse of her as he went about his duties, more than eager to taste of her with a stolen kiss or a lingering embrace.
Peyton occupied every corner of his mind that wasn’t busy learning about the ale process or focused on his foaling mare. There was so much to learn and be joyful of that he had little time to linger on the family he had left behind.
But linger he did. Sometimes at night after Peyton had fallen asleep, he found himself thinking on his sister’s fate.
Had she indeed married Colin? Or had his father shown an ounce of courage and denied the petition?
God only knew how badly he wanted to contact his father, to apologize for actions he was not sincerely remorseful for committing.
But he would apologize all the same, simply because he was sorry he had defied his father.
He had never taken pleasure in the disobedience, but he knew in his heart that he had to do what was right.
Thrust into a new world he had fallen in love with helped ease the ache of separation from his tightly-knit family, but he still felt as if a piece of his life was missing.
The days were growing cooler. October was approaching and the winds of fall were upon them. The trees in the surrounding forests were changing with the season, turning colors of brilliant orange and yellows, and the animals were beginning to store their food for the winter.
One night, Alec and Peyton had spied a family of raccoons moving to a warmer hovel, and Peyton had taken delight in counting the five babies.
He had simply taken delight in her, wishing he could summon the courage to tell her of his love.
More than ever, his emotions for the woman were consuming and he cursed himself for not being strong enough to confess, strong enough to confront her rejection.
As fall deepened, so did his adoration for his wife and there were several times when he had literally bitten his lip raw in an attempt to keep from admitting his feelings.
There were frequent moments when her gaze would scream of deeper emotion, a depth of caring he had never before witnessed, and he was quite content to believe that it was love. But he could not be sure.
Alec liked autumn. The days passed and he went about his usual duties, which now included shadowing the brewery steward to better understand his job.
Moving across the bailey with the servant on his heels, he passed a glance into the nearby cluster of woods and noticed that some of the leaves were the color of his wife’s hair.
His mind wandered to Peyton for the hundredth time that day as the brewery steward, a thin man with the unlikely name of Job, rattled on about a delinquent account.
Increasingly disinterested with the steward’s chatter, he began to seriously consider seeking out his wife for an afternoon encounter. But both men were abruptly cut short from their pressing thoughts when a shout erupted from the fortified wall.
Riders were approaching.
St. Cloven possessed no moat, nor portcullis within her broad walls, but the gate securing the complex was over a foot thick.
The two heavy slabs of oak were already closed per Alec’s command, since he did not feel comfortable with the bailey open and exposed, and he was therefore unconcerned with the manse’s safety as he mounted the ladder to the narrow battlement.
Joined by his sentries, he peered down the wooded road.
The south-facing thoroughfare was lined with brilliantly changing trees, but he could clearly make out one horse and two riders. It took Alec all of a split-second to recognize the charger; bounding from the wall, he sent a soldier running for Peyton.
Ali and Ivy were returned.
The heavy gates rolled open with a steady rhythm, yawning wide to greet her native daughter and new husband. Alec was standing at the gates as they rode in.
“Ali!” he shouted, motioning the gates closed before the destrier came to a halt. “You have returned!”
Ali brought his steed to a jerky stop, raising his visor with a dazzling smile. “My wife couldn’t stay away. She hated France.”
Alec put his arms up for Ivy, who slid into his brotherly embrace and pecked him dutifully on the cheek. She smiled brightly at him. “Where’s Peyton?”
“Probably breaking her neck on the stairs in her rushed attempt to greet you,” he said drolly, but he was smiling. “You look ravishing, love. I see that married life agrees with you.”
Ivy flushed prettily as Ali dismounted and put his arm around her affectionately. They gazed sweetly at each other. “She is my wife, Alec, in the eyes of God and England.”
Alec looked puzzled. “What…. what do you mean?”
Ali’s smile faded somewhat and he kissed Ivy on the forehead.
“My wife would not be satisfied with a common-law ceremony, so we sailed to Calais and were married in a small monastery. ’Twould seem the French are more apt to accept a man of my color.
They were more than happy to join us in matrimony. ”
Alec blinked, startled by the news. “You were married in a church?”
Ali looked a bit sheepish as Ivy gazed up at him in support.
“I was willing to overlook my hatred of the religion in order to please my wife. She wanted to be married in a church, and we searched until we found a priest who would agree to baptize me into the religion. Simply because God does not recognize me as an English knight does not mean that he cannot recognize me as a Catholic husband.”
A surprised pause was followed by a slow smile. Alec reached out and took Ali’s gloved hand into his own, a handshake of friendship and congratulations. “My best wishes, Ali. You cannot know how glad I am to hear this.”
Ali opened his mouth to reply but was thwarted when a loud shriek suddenly pierced the cool air of the bailey. Peyton, her red hair waving like a wild banner, raced from the manse like a madwoman.
Ali jumped back as she plowed into her sister, cries of welcome and grunts resulting from harsh embraces filling the air. Alec and Ali stood together, observing the touching scene between the two sisters.
“Christ, Peyton, do not break any bones,” Alec admonished softly, grinning. “Let the woman breathe.”
Peyton ignored him, but she did release her sister long enough to step back and take a good look at her. “You are back! Why have you returned so soon?”
Ivy thrust her left hand in Peyton’s face; a gold and garnet band glittered brightly on the third finger and Peyton studied the ring with pleasure.
“We were married by a priest in France,” Ivy said happily. “There was no reason to stay away. The Warringtons cannot dissolve a marriage performed by the church.”
Peyton’s mouth opened in surprise and glee. “You are truly married? How marvelous!” she hugged her sister tightly before turning to Ali.
The dark soldier was the recipient of a warm embrace from his redheaded sister-in-law. “Welcome home, Ali.”
Ali was truly touched. For a man who had known rejection his entire life, it was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Although their initial reaction to the dark warrior had been moderately resistant and hardly surprising, Ivy and Peyton had differed from the rest of the female populace in that they had been able to move beyond the aesthetics.
Never had he met women who judged him not by his appearance, but by what lay in his heart.
As if his dark skin did not matter. They came to understand that he was a man like all the rest and his thanks went beyond words.
“Thank you, Peyton,” he said softly.
Alec was smiling at his friend, knowing Ali’s feelings all too well.
As Ivy and Peyton had come to accept Ali, Alec had come to accept their approval without reservation.
Once he had been hesitant, reluctant to believe their sincerity.
But the hesitation was gone and he couldn’t remember feeling such relief on Ali’s behalf.
It was better than he could have ever hoped for.
Just as the moment grew overly warm, Alec suddenly looked stricken as if a terrible thought had just occurred to him.
“Christ!” he boomed. “I just realized that you are my legal brother.”
Ali mirrored his horrified look. “And you are mine. Alec, I do not know if I can show my face in public. I shall be the laughing stock.”
While Ivy and Peyton giggled, Alec scowled and put his hands on his hips. “You insolent whelp. Being related to me is the answer to your prayers.”
Ali snickered and put his arm around Ivy. “Sorry, Alec. My prayers have indeed been answered, but not by you.”