Peyton advanced but Alec cleared his throat loudly and closed the gap between them. “Enough, ladies. This will not deteriorate further. Lady Ivy, your sister has not been captured. She is a willing party in this matter.”
Ivy glared at him. “Matter? What matter?”
“Returning to Blackstone, of course,” Alec replied. “You will accompany us as well.”
Ivy looked at her sister, trying to determine the situation for what it was. Was Peyton being forced? Ivy wasn’t completely convinced that her sister was willing to return to Blackstone in light of the events of the past day, and Peyton could read her doubt.
“Might I have a word with my sister alone, my lord?” she asked Alec.
“By all means,” Alec waved her off, his eyes roving the contents of the storehouse. “Take your time. ’Twill give me a chance to inspect my acquisition.”
Peyton winced as Ivy’s eyes opened wide. “What is he talking about?”
Peyton hastened to control the damage. “Calm yourself. Give me a moment and I shall tell you.”
“Peyton, what is he saying?” Ivy demanded loudly, ignoring her sister’s advice to relax. “What have you done?”
A flash of anger bolted through Peyton. “I haven’t done anything. Why must you always assume I have done something?”
So much for the private conversation. Ivy faced off against her sister angrily. “He called St. Cloven his acquisition. Did you sell it to him?”
Peyton was cornered, flushing with uncertainty. Her gaze flickered guiltily to Alec, who decided to take matters into his own hands.
“She did not sell St. Cloven, my lady,” he said quietly, meeting Ivy’s hostile gaze. “Your sister is my future wife; therefore, the keep will be mine.”
Ivy visibly paled. “No!” she gasped.
Ali moved to stand beside Alec in support of his friend’s claim. “Do not appear so shocked, demoiselle. Your sister is not the only de Fluornoy woman taking a husband.”
Ivy went from chalk white to sickly gray. “Oh, Christ.”
Peyton looked surprised, gazing at Ali’s helmed head. “What are you talking about? Sir Alec did not allude to a husband for Ivy.”
Alec and Ali looked at each other, silent words of approval passing between them. In Ali’s short, concise statement, he had obviously accepted the contract and Alec returned his gaze to the two women. “Did not I mention it? My apologies. I cannot imagine that I have become so forgetful,” he smiled humorlessly and gestured towards his armored friend with a gloved hand. “Ivy is to marry Ali.”
“No!” Peyton and Ivy gasped in unison.
“Yes,” Alec and Ali answered in equal synchronization.
Shock filled the storehouse as Peyton and Ivy stared at the two men as if they had suddenly lost their minds. “I am too young!” Ivy bemoaned. “I am only seventeen! I do not…!”
“God’s Blood, You are seventeen? You are an old maid, wench,” Ali turned to Alec. “I cannot marry her, Alec. She is far too old.”
“I am not,” Ivy retorted hotly in an abrupt turnabout. “I am only seventeen.”
Ali shook his head regretfully. “You should have been married at twelve. How is it that you are so old and unmarried?”
Ivy frowned terribly and Ali smiled beneath his lowered visor. He had decided the moment he saw the Lady Ivy wrestling with her sister that he would marry her, for she would bear him strong sons. Moreover, she was a very pretty girl with hair of spun gold and the body of a ripe goddess. Aye, a most pleasing wench for his taste and he was eager to learn of her reaction to his heritage. Without hesitation, he raised his faceplate.
Ivy’s scowl vanished with unnatural rapidity. Her blue eyes were riveted to him for several long moments, gazing at the smooth mahogany skin, the onyx eyes. Gone was her blatant defiance, her natural resistance. Her breathing began to come in labored drags as she stared at the man she was to marry with growing horror.
“No,” she gasped after a moment. Then louder: “You cannot be serious. I shall not…. I cannot marry you.”
Peyton eyed her sister distressfully. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with Ali’s dark appearance, either, and the fact that the man was to be Ivy’s husband came as a shock. But for Ivy’s sake, she struggled to maintain her composure.
“’Twill be all right, darling,” she said softly. “Do not work yourself into a frenzy over….”
Ivy whirled to her sister, grabbing her by the arms as if to use her as a shield between her and Ali. “No, Peyton, I shall not marry him. He is not like us at all. He….he is dark.”
