The Legend (22 page)

"Fine, sweetling, fine,"
he grinned. "So she saw my mark, did she? Ah, well, next time I shall be
smarter and mark you where only I may see it."

Peyton shook her head at the
remark and Alec eyed her. "I was wise enough to mark her sister were it
could be easily covered," he said.

Peyton flushed bright red and
slapped his arm, much to the amusement of the two men. Ivy merely cast a
knowing gaze on her sister. "Peyton's is much darker than mine."

"It is? I must see!"
Ali demanded.

Alec put his thick arm between
Ali and Peyton to ward off his intentions. "You will not see anything,
whelp. Although I must say, I am rather proud of it. It will take weeks to heal
properly."

Peyton shook her head with
disgust. "You two are no better than dogs pissing on trees to mark their
territory. My sister and I are not trees to be scented."

"Nay, sweetheart, you are
property to be claimed," Alec put his big arms around her affectionately.
"I would announce to all of England that you are to be my wife."

He tried to kiss her but she
dodged him, struggling in his huge embrace. But it was not without humor.
"Release me, you brute. I shall not be fondled for all to see, especially
when your mother most likely believes ill of me."

"Why would you say
that?"

Peyton cast him a knowing,
intolerant glance. "My sister has a mark of desire in a rather intimate
place. I am sure she wonders if I bear a similar mark, being that you cannot
keep your hands to yourself."

He laughed a deep, throaty
chuckle. "She would not think ill of you in that case, but she would undoubtedly
think ill of me."

Ivy smiled at her sister, pleased
to see that her resistance to Alec was lessening. Mayhap she would heal from
the loss of James sooner than expected. "She defended Ali most admirably
against your mother's rantings when my, er, mark was discovered,” her eyes
twinkled at her sister. “She was magnificent."

"She was?" he gazed
fondly at the redhead clasped stiffly in his embrace. "How noble, my lady,
and we thank you."

"Do not bother. I was merely
defending my sister's virtue," Peyton managed to wrest herself free of
Alec's massive arms and straighten her gown irritably. "Now, my lord, will
you be so kind as to inform my sister and I of our immediate future? Your
mother mentioned that your father was making wedding plans."

"Indeed," Alec nodded,
still smiling at her. "He has been doing little else but make arrangements
for our vows come this eve after vespers. Coincidentally, since a few guests
still remain within Blackstone after the party two nights ago, it looks as if
we are in for another lavish celebration come tonight. Moreover, father has
sent invitations to a few other valuable allies. It should prove to be quite an
occasion."

Peyton raised her eyebrows at all
of the planning that had taken place in the past day. "He has indeed been
busy. What of Ivy and Ali's wedding?"

Alec took her arm and led her
toward the grand hall. Ali and Ivy followed several paces back, whispering
between themselves, and Peyton could almost hear them more prevalently over
Alec's beautiful voice. The familiar jealousy she had felt yesterday threatened
to return, but she firmly forced it away. She wanted Ivy to be happy, in spite
of the fact that she knew she herself could not be. But even as she thought on
her dismal future, she found herself riddled with doubt. Mayhap, in time, she
could be happy.

Alec broke into her thoughts.
"Father knows of a lawyer in Northampton who will be willing to perform a
civil ceremony for a fee."

Peyton passed a glance at her
sister, laughing softly with her husband-to-be. She sighed. "I suppose we
must be satisfied with that. But I...." she lowered her voice. The same
thoughts from the night before returned, stronger than before, and she felt the
need to voice her concerns. They were legitimate worries, she felt, and could
only pray that he would not become offended by her words. "I am distressed
that the church will not recognize this marriage, Alec. If the church does not
recognize it, then it does not exist and, technically, their children will be
bastards. Am I not right in this assumption?"

Alec paused, watching as Ali and
Ivy entered the grand hall. Peyton observed her sister with a guarded gaze as
she waited expectantly for Alec's reply.

"You are correct, but you
are thinking with your heart and not your head. Ivy is the second daughter of a
lesser noble and she is well past marriageable age. Although she has a good
dowry, she comes with no property and is not considered a viable prospect for
young noblemen or knights looking to acquire status through marriage. In fact,
her prospects are considerably unattractive when one contemplates the list to
include elderly widowers or men only interested in the money Ivy would bring
them. Ali is her very best hope for a husband who is interested in providing
her a stable life and children, even if their marriage will be considered
common law by the church. Hopefully, someday, that will change."

Peyton was listening seriously to
his explanation. "Did your father even try to find her a husband other
than Ali?” she asked. “Or was it simply a quick solution to a greater
problem?"

Alec raised an eyebrow slowly.
"Ali will probably never be married unless he marries Ivy. And considering
Ivy's dreary prospects, it was a logical solution to a great problem, my lady,
not a quick decision."

Peyton matched his cocked eyebrow
and countered. "Then you are telling me he did not even try. Ivy never had
a chance for a respectable marriage and your father chose the easy path by
betrothing her to a man that is considered sub-human by the Catholic Church."

He dropped his arm from her then
and Peyton saw a flame of rage ignite in the sky-blue orbs. She gazed at him, a
chill of apprehension running though her as his expression became one of such
deadly intensity that it actually frightened her.  She could literally see the
fury swelling within him and she realized that her prayers had not been heard;
she had indeed offended him. She began to wonder if he was intent on beating
her, for his huge body tensed as a snake does before it strikes.

"You will never describe him
in those terms again, Lady Peyton. Do you comprehend me?"

She understood his words and the
reasoning behind them. Rather than readily agree, as she should have, she was
eager to explain that she had meant no harm; she had merely meant to question his
father's motives.

"I meant nothing
contemptuous, Alec, truly. It's just that...."

He suddenly snatched her by the
arm, so brutally that she gasped with pain, and whirled her into the small
solar. The door slammed shut with such force that the table rattled and Peyton
backed away from him, her apprehension full blown. She had never seen him show
an abundance of emotion and to witness his fury, directed at her no less,
brought waves of terror.

When he turned to her, his neck
was mottled with flush but his expression was impassive. "I forbid you to
plead your innocence. If I ever hear another offensive word come forth from
your mouth regarding Ali, you will regret the day you were born. Is that
clear?"

Peyton stood against the wall by
the latticed windows, irritation replacing some of her fear. "Perfectly.
If you kindly allow me to explain myself before you tear my head off."

He was standing by a carved
cherrywood table, a sturdy piece of furniture that displayed a painted vase
from Egypt.  One moment the table and vase were whole; in the next they were
shattered, crushed by Alec's huge fist in his rage. He kicked the pieces aside,
his hands clenched into spheres the size of a child's head.

"You are just like the rest,
aren't you? A shallow bitch that cannot see beyond the color of a man's
skin," his voice was like shards of ice, cold and biting. "I thought
you to be different, Peyton. You nearly had me convinced of the fact. But the
truth comes forth and I realize now that you are not. Christ, I tried to stop
you from hanging yourself once. I did not want you to give me a reason to hate
you. But given enough rope, you are content to condemn yourself, aren't you? If
you wanted to ruin your chances for affection in this marriage, my lady, then
you have done just that."

She was shocked. Her mouth hung
agape at his words and she shook her head feebly. "Alec, can I not defend
myself before you denounce me?"

"There is nothing you can
possibly say in your defense," he said coldly. "I now see what I am
to receive in a wife and you cannot hide the fact."

Her irritation was blooming as
her fear somewhat cooled. "Hide what?" she demanded softly. "Why
are you so angry that I referred to Ali as sub-human? In fact, you...."

He exploded, hurling the heavy
hide-covered chair into the wall as if it were constructed of rotted wood.
Peyton's hands flew to her mouth and she ducked as a piece of the smashed
cherrywood table came sailing in her direction. Irritation dissolved, her fear
consumed her as she covered her head to protect herself from a portion of the
table that exploded against the stone wall behind her. A heavy splinter speared
her hand, sending rivers of bright red blood streaming down her arm and onto
her gown.

But she did not flinch from the
pain, only from the terror of Alec's rage. Shaken and verging on tears, she
opened her eyes to see Alec's boots directly in front of her.

Her ashen face turned upward.
Eyes glittering like the deadly reflection of a broadsword stared down at her
and she swallowed the dread that threatened. Even if he did not want to hear an
explanation, she was going to deliver one before he tore her in two. And she
was positive from the look in his eye that murder was on his mind.

Her voice was tight. "Was it
worse that I described him as sub-human when you yourself referred to him as
half-man and half-beast? I delivered the term as an interpretation of the
church's stance, not my personal opinion. I did not use the term to flagrantly
insult him, Alec."

He stared at her. Slowly, she saw
his expression loosen. The muscles suddenly went slack with understanding and
horror at what he had done, a man who took such pride in his self-control. He'd
never lost his composure as he had just done and he was mortified because he
believed her. It was simple, it was factual. Christ, he so desperately wanted
to believe her.

Peyton’s initial reaction had
been usual, though somewhat mild. Even Ali had alluded to the fact. And
watching Ivy's gradual acceptance of the ebony soldier had not been an easy
thing for Alec; he couldn't help but doubt her sincerity. He had seen her kind
of `acceptance` before; or so he thought, and he was unwilling for his friend
to be pitied by yet another woman. As the hours passed and Ivy grew more and
more comfortable with Ali’s appearance, Alec found himself growing more willing
to believe in spite of his natural reserve. More than anything he, like Ali,
wanted to believe. He realized that he did believe.

Gazing down at Peyton's pale face
and bloodied hand, he could only remember regretting one other incident with
greater sorrow; when he had mistakenly gored his brother. Although he had not
meant to hurt Peyton, he had nonetheless. Just as he had not meant to kill his
brother. 

Mayhap that was why Alec
maintained such classic composure in the face of almost anything; the few times
he had lost his control and acted rashly, the consequences had been severe.
Remorse and sorrow swept him.

"Oh, Peyton," he
whispered. "I.... oh, Christ," he sank to the floor in front of her,
his face etched with despair. "Forgive me. You are right, of course; I
should not have overreacted."

Peyton stared at him, her terror
replaced by a deeper sense of ache and offense. She was reduced to a huddled
ball by Alec's rage and as the fear died she could only gaze back at him with
disgust. Where she had once seen her death in his eyes, she now only saw the
greatest sorrow. Unable to respond to his apology, she turned her face to the
wall.

Alec was gripped with sadness as
she cowered from him. His chest was constricting so tightly that he could
barely breath, more anguish than he ever thought possible gripping him. He was
a man unused to such volatile emotions and he hated himself for terrorizing her
so.

"Peyton, sweet," he
said softly. "Get up and let me tend your hand. Come and sit...."

He touched her gently and she
lashed out at him, slapping his hand away and splattering him with her blood.
"Leave me alone! Go away and leave me alone!"

If he had possessed a dagger at
that moment, he would have turned it on himself; surely it would have been less
painful compared to the hurt he was experiencing. "Please, love. You can
never know how sorry I am for losing my temper, but...."

She kicked at him then,
scattering pieces of wood. Her movements were jerky, full of terror and anger. 
"Go away, you bastard. You will not touch me.”

He rose heavily, gazing down at
her beautiful red head. "Please, Peyton, do not.... please let me...."

She wrapped her arms over her
ears as if to block out his voice, pulling herself into a tight little ball.
Her body tensed so terribly that she looked ready to snap and he stepped back,
away from her, hoping she would calm were he not hovering over her.