The Legend (9 page)

"I was until he was killed
on the tournament circuit," her voice grew soft with grief. "There is
no one else for me."

Alec understood a great deal in
that brief explanation. She had lived through the death of a man she obviously
cared for and her wounds ran deep. Her prank, her desire to flee, made sense
and he could see that she wasn't running from marriage as an institution,
merely from the pain it provoked. He suddenly found himself wondering if he
could heal her pain.

He had no idea why he was even
considering approving the betrothal. He did not want to be married, either, but
as he gazed at the glorious red hair and creamy skin, marriage did not look so
terrible. With this exquisite creature on his arm, bearing his children, he
could redeem a measure of his lost pride. Pride dashed when he lay down his
arms and retreated to Blackstone like a coward.

Her pain touched his own. He was
intrigued and confused at the same time. The hands that gripped her arms began
to caress her of their own accord.

"You certainly do not want
to be alone for the rest of your life, do you?" he asked. "'Tis a
terrible thing to grow old alone."

"I would not be alone, I
would have Ivy," she insisted, his caresses causing her mind to scatter,
her thoughts to evaporate. The urge to pull away was greater than before; so
was the urge to stay.

"But what if Ivy marries and
leaves you? You would indeed be alone, all by yourself at St. Cloven."

She shrugged, attempting to shirk
the friction his caresses seemed to create. "I never said that I would
never be married. I simply do not wish to be married right now."

"Now, or in five years. What
difference does it make?"

She pulled herself free at that
moment, her manner laced with irritation. "It does, that's all. Why must I
explain this to you?"

He looked at her as she backed
away, scrutinizing the beautiful face. Far too beautiful to be alone. He almost
laughed at himself for being swayed by a pretty face; he thought himself quite
immune.

"Because I am the man you
are to marry."

Her eyes widened. "
You?
"
she gasped. "You.... why did not you tell me that before I made a fool of
myself and told you all of those.... Oh!" she suddenly slapped at him,
catching his arm. "How dare you not tell me that you were my intended from
the very beginning. You let me go on like an idiot and...!" she slapped
him again and again, angrily batting his arms and he fought off a laugh as he
snatched her hands.

"Do not hit me. I do not
like it," he growled.

She struggled ferociously against
his iron grasp. "If I had a dagger, I would do more than hit you! I would
slit your throat!"

"Temper, lady. No future
wife of mine will speak of slitting throats."

"Future wi....! I so not
want to marry you! Did you not understand one word I said? I Do not want
you!"

"And I do not particularly
want you, but my father is insistent that I marry. So it would seem that we are
stuck with one another."

"Never!" she roared.
"I refuse to marry you, Alec Summerlin. I hate you!"

"You do? How unfortunate for
you. I am rather fond of myself."

Her wrestling stopped and she
scowled. "You self-centered, pompous boor! Marry yourself, then. I shall
not be your wife, not ever!"

He still held her by the wrists,
amused at her display of temper. The more she raged, the cooler he became and
he could see that his calm infuriated her further. "Never is a long time,
my lady. You said yourself you were fearful of being forced to wed someone you
did not know. At least you know me."

"And I hate you!"

"Why?"

She paused in her rage, focusing
her sapphire blue eyes on him. "Because.... because you threatened me,
treated me with disrespect and humiliated me in front of my sister. And because
you completely disregarded my safety by allowing me to fall and strike my head,
and.... shall I go on?"

"Please."

She puckered her lips in an angry
pout. Why else
did
she hate him? Oh, yes. "And because you are far
too large. I do not like large men."

He raised his brows as if he
hadn't heard correctly. "I am too
large
? Christ, what does that
have to do with anything? Why should my size cause you this hatred? Moreover,
if we are going to sling personal insults, then you are too skinny. And I do
not like red hair."

Her eyes widened at the insult
and she succeeded in yanking her hands free of his grip. "And I hate
blonds. Why is it that you keep your hair so short? You look like a
thistle."

He folded his massive arms across
his chest. "At least my hair is kept and not looking like the tail of a
horse."

He almost laughed at the look of
extreme outrage on her face. Her pretty cheeks were flushing bright with anger
and he was expecting another barrage of slaps any moment. "You are a
giant, a misshapen beast. And you have the disposition of a swine."

"And you have the
disposition of an obnoxious chicken. In fact, you look like one, too. A
slovenly little bird with wild red plumage."

Her face was contorted with rage.
"Is that so?"

"Cluck, cluck, cluck."

Peyton's eyes widened and he was
quite positive that if the red mottling her cheeks further deepened, she would
explode.  She opened her mouth to forcefully return the insult, but suddenly
turned away from him and choked out a sob instead. "You are a hateful
monster, Alec Summerlin!"

He was immediately contrite. He
hadn't meant a word of what he said, dealing insult for insult. He'd only said
those things to put her in her place.

"I am sorry, Patton. I did
not mean it."

"Peyton!" she yelled.
"Are you dense as well as malformed? My name is Peyton! Pay-
tin
!"

"Peyton, Peyton," he
repeated quickly, softly. "I did not mean what I said, sweetheart.
Truly."

"Do not call me
'sweetheart'," she sobbed, wiping furiously at her eyes as she faced him.
"I have been up all night traipsing along these dirty roads and I haven't
eaten since yesterday at noon, and my head aches and I Do not need your
overbearing presence. Go away!"

He sighed. The situation was
certainly going from bad to worse and he did not like to see her cry.
Soundlessly, he rose from the tree stump and made his way through the bramble
back to his charger. Unloading a few items, he returned to the stump and
arranged them orderly.

As Peyton sobbed, he built a fire
from dry wood and manure and set a pot on it. Into the pot he put a chunk of
dried beef stock and filled it half-full with water. When the water began to
steam and the stock began to dissolve, he turned to Peyton.

"Come here."

"No!" she snapped,
gaining control of her tears. Pulling her cloak tightly about her body, she
gazed up at the sun and then to the woods before her. "I am going home
now."

"Nay, lady, you are
not," Alec rose from his crouch by the fire. "You are going to stay
here with me."

Sapphire eyes flashed at him.
"No. I think we have said quite enough to one another."

He looked truly remorseful.
"I did not mean what I said, my lady. You are not too short, you Do not
resemble a chicken, and I think you have the most beautiful hair I have ever
seen. The color of liquid fire."

She sniffed, lowering her gaze
uncertainly in the face of his compliment. She did not know what to say for a
moment. "And how do you know what liquid fire looks like?"

Huge boots met with the damp
ground as he walked towards her. Peyton swore she could feel the heat from his
body as he closed in, stopping a mere foot or so away. She refused to meet his
gaze, still wiping at her eyes and nose, when an enormous hand reached out to
tenderly grasped a portion of her hair, fingering the silken strands.

"It looks like this,"
he whispered. "Red and golden and full of brilliance."

She allowed him to touch her hair
as the very air about them ceased to move. She was only aware of his huge body
before her and his fingers in her hair. She watched, transfixed, as the hand
fondling the strands moved to her head and she felt gentle fingers caress her
scalp. His other hand came up and Peyton's entire head was suddenly encompassed
in his great grasp, a grip of such warmth and tenderness that she felt weak with
the painful tingling it evoked.

Her eyes lifted, focusing on his
intense blue orbs. She couldn't have looked away if she tried. She did not want
to try.

Alec was going to kiss her. He'd
decided that some time back and this was the perfect opportunity. Her
peach-ripe lips beckoned him like the finest wine and he was determined to
taste her. Her hair and skin was silk underneath his inquisitive fingers and he
could smell the faint whisper of freesia emitting from her entire body. It
lured him until he was mindless. 

He lowered his head, inch by
inch, surprised when she did not yank away from him. The distance closed with
painful anticipation and when his lips slanted over hers timidly, he was aware
that he had never tasted anything so sweet in all his life. The gentle kiss
turned hungry.

Peyton couldn't move. Rooted to
the spot, her whole world revolved around the heated kiss Alec was delivering.
James had kissed her, always sweetly and occasionally lustily, but it had been
nothing compared to this. Alec's kiss was demanding, passionate, searing....
she was barely aware when her arms came up, timidly grasping the wrists that
held her head. When his tongue pried her lips open, she instinctively opened
wide to him and her nails dug crescent-shaped wounds into his flesh.

She mimicked his actions, licking
his mouth as he licked hers, tasting his male musk for the first time and
finding that it drove her wild. He dropped his hands from her head long enough
to wrap her torso in an iron embrace and Peyton wound her arms about his neck
as their mouths fused in a wonderful clash of awakening desire.

She couldn't breathe. She did not
want to. All she wanted was for Alec to continue kissing her until the end of
time. He suckled and licked until her lips were raw and swollen, tasting all
she had to offer and then some. His mind was inflamed with the feel of her, the
smell of her. She gasped as his mouth left her distended lips, suckling the
delicate line of her jaw and moving to the white flesh of her neck. Peyton
clung to him, incoherent, weak with the newly discovered heat of desire.

He tore away the cloak, revealing
the soft swell of her white bosom. He immediately plunged his face into the
creamy flesh and Peyton moaned, nearly swooning with the sensation. He ran his
tongue along the valley between her breasts, suckling the silky soft curves.
His close cropped hair acted like an erotic brush, stroking her neck and chin
seductively as his mouth worked eagerly towards the tender fruit of her
breasts.

But the bodice of her dress was
too snug and the material would not give, and all he could think of was
removing her from her gown. He tore his mouth away from her breast and fastened
them to her lips hungrily as his hands moved to the stays of her gown.

Peyton felt his hands, knowing he
intended to disrobe her but not particularly caring. The man inflamed such
passion in her that she found she would forget her modesty and innocence all
together if he would only continue to make her feel as if there was nothing
else on this earth as wonderful as his skilled touch. The virginity she had
kept so carefully guarded against James was dangerously close to being plucked.

As his lips nibbled her earlobe,
Peyton's last thought stuck with her and she felt herself descending slightly
from the lofty heights of desire. Fear suddenly clasped her and she pulled away
from him, her eyes wide. The gleam in his sky-blue orbs nearly drove her to her
knees, smoky and glazed with lust.

"No, Alec," she
whispered. "I cannot...."

His fingers stopped their
advance, but he continued to hold her tightly against him. "You can and
you will. Agree to the betrothal, Peyton."

She shook her head and his mouth
clamped down on her lips, draining her control. "Say you will marry
me," he demanded huskily.

"I...." she began and
he cut her off with another brutal kiss until she was gasping for air.

"Say it!" he ordered.

"Alec....!" she tried
to pull away from his consuming mouth but he would not allow her to.

"I shall have your agreement
if I have to kiss it out of you," he rasped, his tongue licking her mouth
indecently.

She moaned and responded to his
onslaught, but only momentarily before she returned to her slimly-held senses.
"I do not want to."

"But you will," he
suckled her lower lip furiously and her breathing came out in sharp little
pants. "Say it."

She gasped and his mouth closed
over her lips violently. She was only aware of Alec and his passion, of their
tongues tangling, of the feel of him against her. She could barely comprehend
her thoughts, but she knew clearly that she wanted more of him. For the first
time in her life, she gave into the wicked world of desire.