The Legend (49 page)

Toby was closer to dying from
sheer ecstasy than he ever thought possible. Lust such as he had never known
bolted though his big body with aching force, weakening him to the point of
collapse.

"Christ!" he exclaimed
in a harsh gasp, feeling himself peaking. 

Her mouth still on his throbbing
organ, Jubil smiled. "Nay, sweetheart, not Christ. You may call my
Cybele."

***

Paul had been waiting and waiting
for Colin. He knew that Colin liked to take an afternoon ride, usually meeting
one of the serving wenches in the stables beforehand. But today Colin was late
and there was no wench waiting for him in the shadows of the livery. Paul stood
by a huge pile of straw, waiting still.

Just when he thought he might
have to seek Colin another time, a recognizable blond head caught his eye. Tall
and muscular, Colin made his way toward the stable dressed in heavy leather
garments. As he approached, Paul twitched nervously. He did not like the bad
man.

Colin did not say a word to Paul,
but passed him a curious glance as he headed for the stable. Paul, his palms
sweating, dashed to intercept him.

"I would speak with
you," Paul said quietly.

Colin stopped impatiently.
"Speak to me? About what? What could you possibly have to say to me,
simpleton?"

Paul did not react to the insult;
his diminished capacity afforded him little feeling in the area of humiliation.
Instead, he fought hard for much-needed bravery. "I heard you telling Thia
that you wanted to hurt Lady Peyton."

Colin's eyes widened immediately.
"You...." quickly, he glanced about. Grasping Paul by the sleeve, he
yanked him into the dim recesses of the stable.

Paul jerked himself free of the
iron grasp, stumbling over a stool and struggling to regain his footing.
"I heard you. If you hurt Lady Peyton, I shall tell my father."

Colin's reactive instinct was to
strike the man senseless, but he uneasily refrained. It would not do to strike
his future brother-in-law and, someday, his liege. Swallowing his shock, he struggled
to remain calm.

"I am not going to hurt
her," he said evenly, moving toward the dense man. "I simply.... I
want to surprise her, and I need Thia's help."

Paul shook his head hard, backing
away. "That's not what you said. I heard you tell my sister that you
wished to exact revenge."

Colin was advancing, slowly and
steadily. "You misunderstood, Paul. I would not hurt your brother's
wife."

Paul swallowed, back-stepping as
the taller man stalked him. He knocked over a bucket, tripping over the handle
and wildly kicking it away. He did not like the gleam in Colin's eye. "You
said you were going to kill her and I won't let you. She is too lovely and....
and I like her. She is kind."

"You won't let me?"
Colin raised his eyebrows. His footfalls were slow, deliberate. "And just
how do you plan to stop me?"

Paul was unaware that he was
backing himself into a dead end. Behind him, his father's massive charger was
tethered in his stall because the animal had a tendency to bite at everything
that moved. A black hood covered the horse from his ears to his nose, purposely
blinding him to the grooms who tended him.

"I told you," he said
in a thin voice, bumping into the wall of the stall as he continued to
backtrack. "I am going to tell my father what you said."

"Why haven't you told him
already?" Colin asked softly.

Paul swallowed hard; his terror
was gaining a handle on his composure and he gasped when he nearly tripped over
his own feet. Colin kept moving toward him and Paul was sure the man was going
to strike him, or kick him, or worse. Beads of sweat began to form on his oily
brow, realizing too late that confronting Colin Warrington with the information
had not been a wise decision.

"Why?"

Paul's eyes were wide at the
repeated question. "Because.... I wanted to exact your promise that you
would not harm her. I thought I could convince you to leave her alone."

"You intended to blackmail
me?" Colin cocked an eyebrow, a thin smile on his lips. "My, my,
Paul. How grown-up of you to resort to blackmail."

Paul knew vaguely what blackmail
meant and realized that, indeed, that was what he had meant to do. It wasn't
until this moment that he realized there was a word for what he was trying to
accomplish, and his bravery made a weak return.

"Then you had better promise
that you will not harm Lady Peyton," he said firmly. "'Else I shall
tell my father, and He shall be angry with you."

A few feet behind Paul, the
warhorse began to quiver. Colin could see over Paul's shoulder that the horse
smelled the men approaching. Silk-smooth nostrils flared and slender ears
piqued, listening. The closer Paul drew unknowingly, the more excited the horse
became.

A flash of evil crossed Colin's
mind. It suddenly became clear how he could rid himself of the impending threat
without taking the blame. His lips creased with a sinister expression.

"I promise, Paul," he
said quietly, advancing still, maneuvering Paul towards the charger's stall.
"I swear that I shall not harm Lady Peyton."

Paul's sweaty face washed with
instant surprise. "Truly?"

Colin nodded slowly. "
Truly."

Paul stopped his back-peddling a
mere foot in front of the open stall, but Colin continued to advance. When he
was nearly upon the simple man, he smiled benevolently. "You and I are to
be brothers, are we not?"

Paul nodded eagerly. "We
are. I should like another brother since Alec has left."

A degree of hatred rippled across
Colin's face, but it was quickly gone. Instead, he held up his arms as if to
hug the smaller man. "I will be a better sibling, I promise. Embrace me,
brother."

Paul, eager and innocent and
trusting, put up his arms. Instead of drawing him into his embrace, Colin
planted his hands on Paul's shoulders. Instead of clasping him against his
breast, he shoved as hard as he could.

Instead of living to a ripe old
age, the heir to the House of Summerlin met his death beneath the hooves of a
startled destrier. Colin watched and smiled, unconcerned with the splatters of
blood that rained against the walls of the stall. When a massive hoof came down
on the weak human skull, Colin turned away and leisurely strolled from the
stable.

The heir was dead.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

"Alec, before we go any
further, I demand to know what this nonsense is regarding your sister's
wedding," Edward demanded, already into his fourth tankard of St. Cloven
hearty ale. "Why did I have to stop the wedding?"

Alec, beside Peyton, held his
wife's hand tightly. "For several reason I should be happy to explain,
Sire. But tell me; did you send word to my father instructing him to postpone the
wedding immediately, as I asked?"

Edward belched loudly. "I
did. I told him I wished to attend the ceremony and forbade him to commence
until I was able to travel to Blackstone. However, I never indicated when,
exactly, I would be available; therefore, I would assume plans are on hold
indefinitely."

Alec sighed with relief,
squeezing his wife's hand. "Thank you, your grace. I am grateful."

Edward grunted into his tankard.
"I do not know why I should do this for you when you have never done a
damn thing for me. You have repeated denied my requests to lead my army and I
have no idea why I should leap up to grant you a favor."

Alec grinned faintly as Peyton
leaned against his arm, her sapphire-blue eyes gazing at him adoringly.
"Then you shall not like to hear what I have to say. Mayhap we should
discuss it in the morning when you are sober, Sire. You never could hold your
liquor."

Edward raised his eyebrows at the
challenge. "Is that so? I shall have you know that I can drink you into
your grave any day of the week, Summerlin. How dare you insult me."

"'Twas no insult, Sire, but
a fact," Alec's grin broadened as he glanced at Anthony Bek's smirking
face.

"Insult me no more,"
Edward commanded. "Tell me why it was necessary to postpone your sister's
wedding."

Alec's smile froze, faded.
"Because I will not allow her to wed Colin Warrington. The contract must
be terminated because I plan to obliterate him."

Edward's jovial mood fled and he
fixed Alec with a questioning gaze. "Is that so? Why, may I ask?"

Alec's face was emotionless.
"Because the man and his father have been harassing my wife's family for
the better part of thirty years. They have seen fit to raid the small village
within the fiefdom, raping women and young girls, and murdering small children.
Their mere presence on this earth is an abomination to the human race and I,
for one, am anxious to be rid of them."

Edward was listening intently in
spite of his drunken haze.

"This has gone on for thirty
years? God's Blood, why haven't I heard of this Warrington clan?"

Peyton answered for her husband.
"'Tis a large country, your grace. You cannot be expected to know of every
feud and disagreement within her boundaries. The conflict between the
Warringtons and the de Fluornoys began thirty years ago when my grandfather
cleared several acres of forest in order to use the land for growing barley. It
was neglected land until my father and grandfather sought to make use of it.
When the Warringtons discovered that the de Fluornoys planned to make a profit
from the land, they rose to dispute the boundaries between St. Cloven and
Wisseyham Keep. Even though their records could not prove conclusively that the
disputed lands were within their territory, unfortunately, St. Cloven could not
prove that they held title, either."

Edward rubbed his chin
thoughtfully. "So they took to harassment to force you to relinquish your
claim?"

Peyton nodded. "Thirty years
worth, your grace."

The king let out a slow, weary
sigh. Alec slanted Ali a gaze and silent words passed between the two. Edward
was generous, but he was not foolish. More than likely, he would play his
advantage and Alec cringed at the thought. Alec wanted something; so did the
king. He knew, without a doubt, what proviso Edward's reply would contain.

"And if I grant your
request, Alec, and arrest the Warringtons for crimes against England, do you
intend to annex all of their lands?"

That had been Alec's original
intention. But gazing into Ali's black eyes suddenly gave him an idea.
"Nay, Sire. I would have Ali assume the fiefdom of Wisseyham. He would be
an excellent lord and neighbor. Moreover, He is my brother-in-law and we would
forge a powerful alliance."

Both Ali and Ivy looked shocked
until Ivy turned to her husband with a hopeful grin. Edward watched them both, mulling
over the possibilities. It did not take him long to come to a conclusion.

"Agreed," he said
softly, turning to fix Alec in the eye.

"I will dissolve your
sister's betrothal and arrest the Warringtons as you ask, but with one
stipulation. That you return to my service and help me subdue Llewellyn ap
Gruffydd."

Alec did not react, but Peyton's
eyes widened. She did not dare look at her husband, surely knowing what his
answer would be. After a moment, Alec smiled thinly.

"Ever shrewd, Edward. You
stop the marriage between my sister and the Warrington bastard, turn their
confiscated lands over to Ali, and in turn you wish for me to help you defeat
the Welsh prince."

Edward, suddenly fully sober,
cocked an eyebrow. All of the humor had fled from the conversation, the comfort
and warmth. Abruptly, it was tense and uncomfortable, and no one dared to
twitch a muscle as Alec and Edward stared at each other.

Currents of emotions played upon
the warm, stale air, enveloping all present. Peyton felt the uncertainty and
squeezed Alec's hand encouragingly, distressed when he did not respond to her
gesture.

"You are fully aware of my
vow," Alec said in a low voice.

Edward was the first to avert his
gaze. "No one is more aware of it that I, Alec. But that was twelve years
ago. Surely you have resigned yourself to Peter's death by now. You must go
forward with your life," he suddenly slammed his tankard against the
table. "I have waited twelve damn years to come to grips with your mistake
and I refuse to wait any longer. You want something from me, Alec, and I want
something from you. Will you do this for your king, or will you continue to
live your life in self-pity? I have always believed you to be made of stronger
character than that."

Peyton's eyes were wide enough to
pop from her skull. She swallowed hard, her gaze between Edward and her
husband. Alec, however, hadn't changed expression. He was still smiling faintly
at his king, although it wasn't a humorous smile. Edward, irritated and full of
alcohol, rose unsteadily to his feet and jabbed a long finger at Alec.

"You would expect me to do
you a favor, yet you have no intention of reciprocating. God's Blood, Alec, I
won't lift a finger to grant you unless you agree to help me. I need you, Alec.
I need your sword!"

Alec's eyes glittered. "I
will have to discuss this with my wife."

Edward turned from the table,
throwing up his arms in a gesture of resignation. "By all means, Alec.
Discuss it with your beautiful wife and let me hear of your answer. I shall not
ask again. If you deny my request this time, then you can consider your ties to
the throne cut. You will no longer exist to me."

Tears welled in Peyton's eyes.
She refused to sit by while the drunken monarch humiliated her husband. She
leapt to her feet before she could control herself, fully prepared to defend
him against the king.

"You cannot speak to him in
such a manner," she sobbed. "His father has disinherited him, his
mother hates him, and still he is trying to do what is best for them by
eliminating the Warringtons. How dare you threaten to destroy your
friendship."

Alec reached up and grasped her
by the arms. "Sit down, love. It's all right."

She whirled to him angrily.
"Nay, it is not all right. You have given up everything and still the king
threatens to take away more," she refocused on Edward, her sobbing
lessened as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Wasn't Alec's strength
and reputation enough for you in the Holy Land? My God, he killed his own
brother trying to protect your approach to Acre. He is sacrificed everything in
the name of the crown and still you have the gall to berate him as a
weakling."

Edward stared at her as Alec
gently pulled her to sit. He tried to comfort her, but she would not let him.
She continued.  "Sire, Alec has nothing left but St. Cloven and a
bad-tempered wife. You have stripped him of his dignity by reaming him in front
of his colleagues and peers, and now you would destroy your friendship? I do
not know if I can respect a king who resorts to intimidation and threats to gain
his wants. I thought you loved Alec."

Edward did not reply for a
moment. His half-lidded gaze never left her. "My lady, your husband means
more to me than you can possibly know. There is not a fighting man in England
who has not heard of The Legend. What he has just heard from my lips is nothing
he hasn't heard before; in fact, I believe I say something similar every time
we meet. I have been threatening to disregard him for the past twelve years;
obviously, I have no intention of following through on my warning. I am sorry
to have upset you so."

Alec's smile returned as his gaze
moved between Peyton and the king. His massive arm was around her shoulders,
watching her expression as Edward explained his actions. He could see, however,
that she was not entirely convinced and he kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"Edward rants and raves
habitually, sweetheart," he murmured. "'Tis nothing new."

Peyton sniffled loudly, lowering
her gaze to wipe daintily at her dripping nose. As the realization of Edward's
words settled, she calmed somewhat. But she was still grossly upset with the
king for berating Alec for all to see.

"'Tis new to me, and I do
not think I like it," she sniffed again, wiping the remainder of her tears
away in a lady-like gesture. Her sapphire blue eyes found Edward once more.
"I would appreciate it, Sire, if you would ream my husband outside of my
presence. I shall not stand to see anyone browbeat Alec but me."

A flicker of a grin creased
Edward's lips. "Understood, my lady," he cocked an eyebrow at Alec.
"But my offer stands firm. Help me with Llewellyn and I shall rid you of
the Warringtons."

Alec sighed deeply, thoughtfully.
"I have not wielded a sword in twelve years. I would probably cut my head
off."

It was the first time since
Peter's death that Edward interpreted what he considered to be an affirmative
consideration to his pleadings. A response he never actually thought to
receive. His eyes widened and he actually gripped a chair for support.
"God's Blood, Alec.... do you mean you will consider it?"

Alec thought a moment. Then, he
looked to his wife's open expression. God, she was so beautiful, so
intelligent. Fiercely protective of him. For twenty-one years, he and Peter had
protected and defended each other. And then he had killed his brother.
Cancerous guilt had been a part of his daily life since that fateful event.

Until he had met his wife. She
absorbed the guilt, the pain, creating within him a healed wound that was
stronger than the wings of angels. It took him a moment to realize that the
guilt had left him the very moment he'd married her. Without the guilt, there
was no longer any reason to maintain his vow.

For the first time in twelve
years, he realized Peter's death was an accident. And for the first time in
twelve years, he understood what had happened and why. He suddenly found
himself missing the feel of a sword in his hand.

Peyton had done this for him. She
had healed him. Christ, how he loved the woman.

"I shall consider it,"
he whispered, still gazing into Peyton's eyes. Her instant smile warmed him
like a bolt from heaven.

Across the table, Ali dropped his
head and said a swift, silent prayer of thanks. When he looked to Alec again,
his smile lit up the room. Olphampa and Sula clutched each other thankfully,
never believing they would live to see the day when Alec Summerlin would again
bear a sword.

The joy that infiltrated the room
moved from person to person, each lost to their own fantasies of The Legend
returned to life. It was a miraculous moment for all to witness.

But Edward wasn't smiling like
the rest of the group. He was still reeling with surprise. Anthony Bek rose
slowly, the only occupant of the table seemingly immune to joyous shock.

"Twelve years of prayers
have been answered, your grace," he said to Edward. "The Legend still
lives."

As if realization suddenly
dawned, Edward grinned. "Llewellyn doesn't stand a chance. With his
brother David siding with me, he is already at a distinct disadvantage. But
with The Legend leading my armies, Wales shall be mine. I can taste victory
already."

Alec's gaze was even. "I
merely said I would consider it. I haven't pledged my services yet."

Edward slapped at the chair
happily. "God's Blood, Alec, you might as well have. A promise of
consideration is as good as an agreement in my view," he passed a joyful
glance at Anthony and Gilbert de Clare. "I knew this trip would be
fruitful. Did I not say that before we left Windsor? Did I not tell you that
The Legend would return?"