Chapter Eleven #4
Alec’s eyebrows furrowed and his hand left the door latch, instead, moving back into the room towards his father. “And what, may I ask, does this decision have to do with the Summerlins?”
Brian shook his head faintly and slouched against the chair. “More than you know, lad. You must trust me on this. Lady Ivy must marry Colin.”
Alec’s grand scheme to whisk Ivy away was suddenly in peril of being crushed. What in the world did his father mean? “What would happen if she did not?”
Brian closed his eyes, laboring for breath. “Catastrophic things, Alec. Please do not ask me anymore.”
Alec was by his father’s side, kneeling beside the bear of a man. His sky-blue eyes were questioning. “I must. Has Nigel threatened you? What has he done?”
Brian peeped an eye open and observed his proud, strong son.
The sight of Alec’s concerned face was almost the shove he needed to confess the sins of the past, but he stopped himself.
He simply couldn’t bring himself to admit to his son that the Summerlins were less than perfect. That he was less than perfect.
He closed his eye. “Nothing, lad. Get on with my request.”
Suddenly, Alec was greatly indecisive. Would spiriting Ivy away jeopardize some secret treaty that his father was struggling to conclude, something Alec was unaware of?
He had no idea what that could possibly be, but Brian seemed far more exhausted and serious than Alec had ever known him to be. And that deeply concerned him.
The longer he knelt next to his father, the more uncertain he became. Family came above all else, even Ali, and if Alec’s rash action would hazard Brian, then Alec would not be a party to it. No matter how deeply he felt to the contrary.
“Da,” he said softly. “Why won’t you tell me what Warrington said to make you change your mind? Do you not trust me?”
“With my life, Alec, as you well know,” Brian said quietly. “But, truthfully, I cannot tell you. You must trust me on this, lad. You simply must.”
“But….”
“No,” Brian held up his hand sharply, moving to grip Alec’s trencher-sized hand tightly. “No questions. You must trust me.”
Alec looked miserable and Brian felt the pain of his secret to his soul.
Deeper, in fact. He felt as if an unseen hand was wrenching his guts violently.
The look in Alec’s eyes was the force behind the unseen hand, Brian realized, and he closed his eyes against him.
He couldn’t stand to see the beseeching look on Alec’s face.
“Go,” he rasped.
Alec rose unsteadily, wanting to press his father for the answers he sought. But Brian was weak, as his heart condition often rendered him, and Alec would not harass him. His only hope was that the wedding could be delayed until some sense was pounded into Brian’s head.
It was his only hope and a weak one at that. As much as he wanted to take Ivy to Ali, he could not. His father had asked him to trust him, and trust him he would.
Alec opened the door to the small room in time to see Toby marching rapidly down the hall, heading straight toward him. Much to Alec’s concern, Toby appeared agitated.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded of the younger knight.
“Where’s Lord Brian?” Toby countered.
“Resting,” Alec passed a glance into the room. “What’s happened?”
Toby took a deep breath. “Lady Rachel delivered a dead son a few minutes ago. Lady Celine is with her now, but your wife was present at the birth and she is…. well, she is hysterical, Alec. I returned her to her chamber.”
“Christ,” Alec muttered, passing another long glance at his father.
Brian was looking at him, his pale face even more ashen.
Alec waited for his father to bound out of the chair and demand to see the dead infant, as he had with the other two children Rachel had delivered, but instead his turned his head away and Alec swore he saw the great shoulders heave in sorrow.
Swallowing his own grief, Alec softly closed the door. “You mentioned that mother is with Rachel?”
Toby nodded. “Aye.”
“Where is Paul?”
“Olphampa and Sula are comforting him.”
“What of Thia?”
“With Lady Celine.”
Alec nodded shortly, relieved that he was not given the duty of comforting his dim-witted brother.
Paul could barely comprehend what was transpiring and there was no talking sense into him.
Alec knew this for a fact; he had tried on two previous occasions to ease his brother’s grief, but it was beyond Paul’s capacity to accept consolation and move beyond his pain.
Alec had quite enough pain of his own at the moment.
“Tell Pauly my father is in need of a soothing potion for his heart when the circumstances allow,” he said quietly, already moving down the hall with Toby by his side.
“Furthermore, I want you to personally see to the containment of the Warringtons; they need watching. As for me, I am going to see my wife.”
The men split up at the top of the staircase.
Alec continued down the corridor, mentally bracing himself for the confrontation that was to come with Ivy and wondering in a moment of weakness if he should not simply follow through with his original plan.
After all, Ali and Ivy could be married and flee until such a time when it was safe to surface again.
Mayhap by that time, the Warringtons would forget about the de Fluornoys and time would have healed over any enmity.
Alec was terribly torn; his loyalty to Ali, his loyalty to his father.
He had already disobeyed his father’s wishes once regarding the de Fluornoys; were he to do it twice, he wondered if Brian would be so forgiving.
Right or wrong, Brian was still his father and as his son, he was obligated to obey.
He was met by Jubil at the door. Her eyebrows rose at the sight of him. “Do you know what your mother did? She forced Peyton to witness the birth of a dead child!”
Alec eyed the woman and pushed his way into the room, his gaze falling on the sleeping form of his wife. Gently, he sat on the edge of the bed and put a soothing hand to Peyton’s head, his face terribly tender.
“Jubil gave her a potion to soothe her nerves and it put her to sleep,” Ivy said softly.
Alec tore his eyes away from his wife long enough to look at the blond sister, seated in a chair by the bed. Out of guilt, he could not maintain his gaze and turned back to his wife.
“Her eyes are red,” he whispered.
“She was hysterical, Alec,” Ivy said quietly. “What did you expect? She has never attended a birth before.”
Alec stroked the red hair and Peyton sighed raggedly in her sleep.
He would have liked to have sat by her all afternoon, caressing her beautiful head, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Ivy and he knew he must deliver the news of her future.
The sooner the better, and considering Peyton was passed out like a drunkard, he would be better able to deal with Ivy alone.
Kissing the red head tenderly, he rose from the bed and motioned to Ivy.
“I have a need to speak with you,” he said softly.
Dutifully, Ivy rose and went to him, her pretty face expectant.
Jubil took her place next to Peyton and began singing a faint, sweet lullaby, and Alec recognized it as the same melody his wife had sang to him the previous night in the monastery.
The warmth of the memory filled him for a moment, a sweet flicker of time when he and Peyton had been closer emotionally than he had ever been to anyone.
But Ivy was waiting and Alec gazed into her blue eyes, faltered on his words, and tried again.