Chapter Eighteen
Nigel was under house arrest for having confessed to arranging the murder of James Deveraux.
Colin, recovering from a severe pounding at the hands of Alec and Toby, was confined to his rooms. Alec never did receive a straight answer from him regarding Paul’s death, but he had not given up hope.
There would be another time, another place.
Brian had recovered to the point where he was able to take sup with Edward and the rest of his family.
Peyton’s pregnancy was all he could speak of and he kissed his daughter-in-law affectionately with every opportunity, much to her delight.
All of the quarreling, the animosity, the anger that had constituted their lives since the day Peyton and Alec had been introduced was gone. She was part of their family.
It was hard not to celebrate their joyous reunion when, in fact, the very reason for their visit was a funeral.
Lady Rachel had not joined the meal, as was proper since she was in mourning, but Peyton could not help but think of the plain woman who had not only lost a child, but her husband as well.
Even though she did not know Rachel beyond a mere acquaintance, her grief on the woman’s behalf was nonetheless deep.
Pondering the subject of sisters-in-law, Peyton was fully aware that Thia had made herself scarce since their arrival.
Brian and Celine were so excited about her pregnancy and the visit of the king that they had not mentioned their daughter and Peyton hadn’t thought to ask.
Not that she particularly cared, but she was curious all the same.
“Would you look at Jubil?” Ivy, on her left, elbowed her sister in the ribs. “She and Toby haven’t taken their eyes off one another!”
Jolted from her thoughts, Peyton passed a casual glance at the older woman and her young knight. It was enough to set her to grinning. “I knew Toby was fascinated by her, but I had no idea he was interested in her,” she whispered in reply. “Jubil is forty-two years old!”
“And Toby is twenty-three,” an impish gleam suddenly appeared in Ivy’s eye. “I wonder if they’ve….”
“No more,” Peyton put her hand up sharply, distracting Alec from his conversation. She smiled sweetly at her husband until he returned to his attention to Edward. “Do not say anymore, Ivy. I cannot think of Jubil in those….terms.”
Ivy giggled. Ali, diverted with his wife’s snickers, broke off his conversation with Anthony Bek.
As Ali and Ivy lost themselves in private conversation, Peyton sank back in her chair with a chalice of boiled fruit juice in her hand.
She was far lighter of spirit than she had been in some time, immensely pleased that all had worked out to a joyful ending.
Nigel and Colin were defeated, Thia was scarce, Alec was now heir of Blackstone, and everyone was happy.
She sighed contentedly and Alec squeezed her knee, still conversing with Edward.
It was amazing how in-sync they were with one another; hearing only each other, sensing what others would miss.
He knew she loved him and he had seemed pleased with her admission, and although he had not responded in the like, his soft gaze and tender touch told her what his lips could not seem to form.
On Edward’s left, Brian was engaged in an intense conversation with his son and the king.
Peyton watched the man a moment, his color and vigor seemingly returned.
It occurred to her that, to her knowledge, her husband had not informed his father of his most monumental decision.
After all, the man had a right to know, did he not?
Setting the chalice to the table, her lovely hands clutched her husband’s massive arm as she politely invaded the men’s conversation.
“My most humble apologies for interrupting, my Alec,” she said softly, making sure she had Edward’s and Brian’s attention as well. When Alec smiled warmly at her, she returned the gesture. “Have you told your father of your future plans?”
A blond eyebrow raised and he seemed to falter slightly. “Nay, love, I have not had the opportunity as of yet.”
“Goodness, Alec, you should have shouted it to the rafters the moment you entered Blackstone,” she chided gently, fixing Edward with her sapphire gaze. “And you, Your Grace? You have not seen fit to inform Lord Brian of Alec’s decision?”
Edward grinned at her. “Nay, my lady, I have not. That is Alec’s privilege, although I am growing weary of waiting. I should like to declare my joy before I burst.”
“Joy?” Brian repeated, looking between the three of them. “I do not understand. What could possibly be more joyful than a new grandson?”
Peyton and Edward looked to Alec. After a moment’s pause, he smiled weakly and grasped his wife’s hand. “I have agreed to help Edward subdue Llewellyn.”
All of the color left Brian’s face. His mouth opened with shock, his brown eyes wide. “You…. you are to resume your service?”
Alec’s smile widened. “Edward demands that I lead his army or he shall throw me in irons,” he could read his father’s surprise and sought to explain his choice.
“I have so much in this life – beautiful wife, a profitable keep, my family and friends. What happened with Peter was…. an accident. I have never believed that until now, but now that I fully understand my mistake there is no longer any reason to waste the talent God has given me. My one regret is that it has taken me twelve years to realize it.”
Celine was listening. Seated next to Brian, it had not been difficult to hear her son’s softly spoken confession. Immediately, her eyes swam with tears and she clutched Brian’s hand tightly.
“My dear Alec,” she murmured tightly. “We have prayed for as many years that you would recover from your grief. Our joy is beyond what mere words can express.”
Brian was still staring at his son, but he had managed to close his startled mouth. “Are you serious, Alec? You have recanted your vow?”
“Aye,” Alec nodded sincerely. “Are you pleased?”
Brian put a disbelieving hand to his head, wiping at the sweat as he attempted to compose his thoughts. “My God, Alec, I have waited twelve years to hear you say that. I…. I simply cannot believe it.”
“Believe it,” Peyton lay her head on Alec’s arm affectionately. “The Legend has returned.”
“Here, here!” Edward suddenly boomed, raising his chalice high. Immediately, the entire table was silent and goblets were raised in response. “The Legend lives!”
The table repeated the shouted salute, congratulating Alec and Peyton, Brian and Celine. Edward grinned as Alec accepted the tribute with a degree of modesty.
Only Brian seemed overcome with the news.
Aye, he was joyful, but he was also remorseful.
He had lived the past twelve years waiting to hear those uttered words but, suddenly, he was sorry to hear them for purely selfish reasons; Alec was his only remaining son.
He couldn’t help but wonder if his heir would meet death on the Welsh border at the hands of the rebelling prince.
He did not want Alec to die. He almost wished he had never agreed to resume his knighthood. But he kept his feelings to himself and tried to show a measure of happiness, for Alec’s sake. Deep down, however, his heart ached for what the future might hold for the heir of Rothwell.
*
The door to Colin’s room swung open, spilling forth Thia. Colin eyed the woman as the door shut softly behind her.
“You summoned me?” Thia demanded.
“You took long enough. I take it you were in the grand hall, drinking yourself ill alongside our king?”
Thia cocked an eyebrow. “I was not. I have no use for Edward, and I have especially no use for the company he keeps.”
“Your beloved sister-in-law?” Colin smirked. “What about your brother?”
A flash of pain crossed Thia’s thick features. “He is busy with his wife at the moment. Mayhap I shall seek him later when he is alone. I have no desire to meet up with the bitch.”
Colin snorted, wincing when the pain in his face bloomed with the action. Instantly, his mood was darker.
“Your brother did this to me,” he growled. “All because of her. Do you realize that?”
“I do.”
Colin’s shadowed eyes glared daggers, slicing through Thia’s flesh, bone, soul. She could nearly feel the physical pain, like the ache left where her brother’s companionship used to be. All because of her.
Colin rose unsteadily. “I am, for all intent and purposes, a prisoner.”
“There is but one guard on your door, a household guard. He did not say you were a captive.”
Colin turned away thoughtfully. He paced the length of the small chamber, trying to ignore the ache of his head as he concentrated.
His father was a prisoner, most likely slated for execution in light of a murder confession.
He himself was very nearly a captive, his future unclear.
The grand plans that had been so carefully cultivated were spinning out of control, dissolving, as the Summerlins and the de Fluornoys triumphed once more.
Whether the dispute be over unsettled lands or questionable parentage, ’twould seem that the Warringtons always ended as the losers.
He wasn’t even sure if his betrothal to Thia was still viable. For that fact, he knew he needed to act quickly and decisively if he was going to accomplish the ultimate act of vengeance upon the Houses of Summerlin and de Fluornoy. Even if his father had failed, he himself would not.
He could devastate both families in one swift action, one swift death. The Warringtons would triumph in the end, as was their duty. But he had to act now.
He turned to Thia. “You will take me to the stables. Tell the guard that you are taking me downstairs to join the festivities; I care not the excuse used so long as he allows us to leave together.”
“To help you escape? Why in the hell should I do that?”