Chapter Four #6
The group again rode silently for several minutes until Ivy struck up another conversation, hoping to alleviate the somber mood that had been pervasive since they had left St. Cloven. She had no idea that she could not have selected a worse subject.
“Why is it that you do not wear armor, Sir Alec?” she asked the massive blond man. “You are a knight, are you not? And you are unarmed, too. Why?”
Alec passed a glance at her. “It is true that I am a knight, but I gave up warring long ago. I prefer less-violent pursuits.”
“Weren’t you any good?” Ivy asked, remembering what Jubil had said about him but wanting to hear an explanation from his own lips.
Ali laughed softly at the question. “There was none better than Alec. No better knight in the realm, I assure you.”
“But you gave it up?” Ivy was still focused on Alec.
Alec did not reply and Ali sought to change the subject. “I find this portion of the country lovely, much nicer than London. Have you ever been to London, Lady Ivy?”
The conversation took an immediate turn and Alec was grateful.
He had already alienated one lady this day and was close to distancing another had Ali not taken the helm.
With Ivy distracted, he was better able to focus on the events of the day that had led to this point in time.
What had started out as a most pleasant and promising day had decayed into a sullen, uncomfortable experience and he was aware that the change had taken place the moment he entered Peyton’s painting room.
He was puzzled but tried not to let Peyton’s attitude overly concern him.
It would blow over like a storm, he told himself.
Tomorrow she would forget all about whatever unpleasantries he managed to unearth.
Her hostilities stemmed from her painful memories, he was sure.
Mayhap in some way she blamed him, although he could not imagine why.
But the more he tried to pretend her animosity did not matter, the more he realized that it did.
She was so stiff and unmoving in his arms, not at all like the sweet, heated bit of flesh he had kissed that morn.
Every time he thought about the encounter his lips ached to kiss her again and his arms yearned to hold her, seeking the fire that she kindled within his soul.
She seemed to fit against him with odd familiarity and he wondered if the reaction would be the same when next he took her in his arms.
Distracted and silent, he found himself pondering that very question. He did not like the coldness between them.
Blackstone loomed into view not long thereafter, distracting the party from their moody thoughts. Black, haunting, strong, the edifice emerged in the distance like a great preying beast.
Ivy’s confusing behavior and her own resentment aside, Peyton found herself focusing on the massive black bastion with a good deal of apprehension.
With all of her other concerns, the impending wrath of Alec’s father did nothing to offset her turmoil.
She realized there was naught else to do but plead for the man’s mercy and pray his grace was infinite.
She was so consumed with her turbulent thoughts that she was startled when hot breath delicately caressed her ear.
“I shall handle my father,” Alec said softly. “Simply agree with everything I say.”
“What are you going to say?” she asked, feeling her cheeks flush as he purred against her ear.
“Trust me, my lady. I shall not say anything incriminating in the least. Besides, I suspect his anger will be immediately doused when he discovers we have come to our senses and agreed to a betrothal.”
For the first time during the entire journey, she turned to look at him. “That, my lord, is a matter of opinion.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that our decision was mutual.”
Her cheeks mottled a deeper red, remembering how, exactly, they came about that decision.
Noting the pink color to her porcelain cheeks, Alec smiled a brilliant, broad display.
He couldn’t help but laugh softly at her embarrassment, her bewilderment for a decision that was literally wrung out of her.
Even with the animosity, the anger, the reaction to Ali, he wasn’t sorry he had practically forced her into submission.
After pondering his thoughts the majority of the afternoon, he realized in spite of everything that he was quite pleased with the fire of the Lady Peyton de Fluornoy.
“There is no need for humiliation,” his voice was low, rumbling and warm. “I quite enjoyed our encounter in the forest.”
Peyton looked away from him, horrified with her scarlet cheeks.
Odd chills raced through her at his tone, her anger with him dampening somewhat.
Why was he so confusing? Cold and hard one moment, soothing and warm the next.
She couldn’t hate him when his mood was calm and his manner soft, and her heart swelled strangely when she remembered their brief rendezvous under the canopy of trees.
The strange swell against her ribs almost made her smile, but she fought it. She had no idea what she was possibly feeling, or why. She was so confused she was barely aware of anything anymore.