“She hasn’t said anything– yet. When she comes toward me, I make haste and run the other way.”
Olphampa laughed deeply. “She shall box your ears when she catches you,” he turned his attention to his son. “Which brings me to the point, Ali. The de Fluornoy’s left a satchel in their rooms and it is full of belts and other valuable accessories. I suspect it will be sorely missed when discovered.”
“Indeed,” Ali agreed. “I suppose I should return it to them before the celebration begins.”
“Absolutely,” Alec agreed. “If you do not, they might be forced to turn about and seeing them within my beloved bailey one time was quite enough. I have no desire to experience a second encounter.”
Ali made a wry face. “Good lord, no. I shall return it right away.”
A figure in scarlet silk appeared in the castle entrance and Alec caught sight of his mother’s displeased face immediately. Rather than face her wrath as a result of his negligent host duties, he gave Ali a shove in the direction of the stables.
“I shall go with you,” he told his friend. When Ali looked puzzled, Alec gave him another shove. “For protection.”
Ali caught sight of Lady Celine and understood. “And in return, I shall protect you from your mother? Hardly a fair trade.”
Olphampa turned to see Lady Celine scowling at her son. “I shall retrieve the satchel and meet you at the gate!” he called to the retreating men. “Cowards,” he muttered as they fled.
Alec, mounted aboard his magnificent silver destrier, accompanied Ali and four soldiers down the road St. Cloven’s party had taken. The warmth of the weather brought out the fragrance of the summer flowers and they rode through heady pockets of jasmine and primrose. The ride to St. Cloven was at least three hours, but Alec estimated they would catch up within the hour for as slow as the party was traveling. A minor errand, and then a night filled with drinking and merriment to follow.
After only a half hour, St. Cloven’s group was sighted and Alec spurred his horse faster. The sooner they dealt with the unpleasantries of the de Fluornoy sisters, the sooner they could return. Ali shouted to the caravan and slowly, the wagon ground to a halt as the chargers closed in.
Alec reined his horse toward the wagon, his eyes finding the turquoise blue gown of the older sister. The woman that had once been considered to be a prospective wife until, thankfully, he and his father had been slapped to their senses. With a deep breath for courage, he reined his horse in the direction of the blue dress.
“My lady,” he began in his deep, melodious voice. “When you left Blackstone, this valuable bag was left behind and….”
His eyes came up reluctantly to meet her face and when their gazes locked, he almost choked on his tongue. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared into sapphire blue eyes of such intensity that they took his breath away.
But it wasn’t merely the eyes; the porcelain face of curvaceous lips and pinkened cheeks was utterly beautiful and he heard an appreciative sigh, unaware that it had come from his own throat. The woman before him possessed beauty only given credence to in myth; she certainly wasn’t the hideous hag that he had met up with at Blackstone. But he had been understandably lured by the blue dress…. the red hair…. Alec was suddenly very confused.
“I apologize, my lady,” his brow furrowed. “I was looking for St. Cloven’s party. Is this not…?” he glanced at the wagon; aye, it was the same wagon. And the soldiers were familiar, clad in fine tunics of St. Cloven gold and black. And the sister, dressed in yellow…. he observed a very pretty face of clear skin and blue eyes and was deeply puzzled. He found himself turning back to the woman in the turquoise gown, once again enraptured by her utterly divine features. “Is this not St. Cloven’s party?” he asked.
Peyton’s gaze was fastened to him firmly; she could not have torn her eyes away had she tried. Blond hair, a granite jaw and piercing sky-blue eyes left her gasping for every breath. Had he not been so tremendously large, she would have considered him extremely handsome. Masculine, powerful, virile…. everything a man should be. It was a magnificent combination and she would have been completely enchanted had she not been swept with darker, guiltier thoughts.
She couldn’t consider him handsome. Only James was handsome.
Peyton struggled against her bafflement to form a reply. “It is,” she responded as evenly as she could. “Where is our bag?”
Alec motioned lamely to Ali, who rode up beside the wagon and deposited the satchel neatly amongst the packs. Moving beyond puzzlement to suspicion, Alec returned his attention to Peyton.
“Whoareyou?”
She hesitated a moment. “You will tell me your name first, my lord. I do not speak with strangers.”
“Sir Alec Summerlin.”
Peyton’s eyes widened.Jubil’s Sir Alec!Good lord, their brilliant scheme would be ruined if she revealed her name! She could feel a nervous sweat glossing her back as she glanced to Ivy’s anxious face; even her sister knew there was no possibility out of their predicament. Being an intelligent man, he had most likely surmised his own answer and she suspected additional falsehoods would not be well received.
He heard her sigh heavily. “Lady Peyton de Fluornoy.”
Alec eyed her a moment before leaning against the pommel of his saddle, scratching his head with confusion. “But…. what in the hell was all of that back at Blackstone? The fighting, the grotesque appearance?” His confusion suddenly gave wayto annoyance and he cocked a stern eyebrow. “I would hear a plausible explanation, lady.”
Peyton’s nervousness moved to her hands and caused them to shake. “I….I know not what you mean, my lord.”
Alec’s irritation became full-blown with her evasive answer. In the blink of an eye, he dismounted his destrier and moved to Peyton’s small palfrey. In a great whoosh of turquoise silk, Peyton was removed from the animal and she yelped in surprise.
“Unhand me, beast!” she found herself in the most powerful grip she had ever experienced.
“Not until I have had an explanation,” his voice was calm and characteristically controlled.
