Alec had not the chance to respond as Ivy brought up a balled fist and tried to wreak havoc on Ali’s face. The warrior, however, was quick as lightning and effectively halted her assault. “Resistance is futile, demoiselle. Kindly walk with me or I shall take you over my shoulder.”
Ivy’s struggles increased. “You would not dare, you barbarian!”
Without hesitation, Ali bent at the waist and tossed the woman over his shoulder. As Ivy kicked and twisted, Ali carted her quite effortlessly from the storehouse.
Peyton was left staring at the open door, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. In her shock, she had nearly forgotten about Alec’s presence until he shifted behind her, brushing against her back. Swallowing hard, she turned to him. With one last valiant effort, she attempted to protest Ivy’s betrothal.
“Why…. why did not you tell me my sister was intended for him?”
His gaze was even, although she could detect an underlying hint of disturbance. “Does it matter? Her fate was decided along with yours, and there is nothing either of you can do about it.”
Her eyes clouded with uncertainty, distress. “But he is not like us, Sir Alec. He is obviously different. How could you allow….?”
Alec knew what she was going to say before the words spilled forth from her delicious lips. Aye, he knew what she was going to say and he would not hear it. He would not allow her to voice what she was thinking, rekindling the blaze of anger that had so recently abated against Ivy. Once the blaze escalated, it was extremely difficult to douse and could quickly grow out of control. Sharply, he held up a warning finger to prevent any further slander from being cast.
“Not a word, my lady,” his voice was low. “It is no longer your concern and I shall not hear another word. Do you understand me?”
Peyton read the fluctuating emotions in his eyes and a spark of fear ignited deep within her heart. It was obvious that Alec was deeply protective of the black man and she resisted the urge to defy him, to speak her mind. Instead, she lowered her gazeand nodded faintly. Head-strong and vocal though she might be, she was not daft.
“Excellent,” he whispered, his tone laced with sincerity. He was glad to see that she was obedient when it was truly required of her. After a moment, he sighed. “As they are becoming better acquainted, so shall you and I. You will show me my new keep.”
Hiskeep. It had an alien ring to it. Resignation in her expression, Peyton forced herself into compliance. “What do you wish to see first, my lord?”
His gaze lingered on her red head. Thank God she hadn’t given him a reason to despise her. He was so coming to enjoy her spirit, her fire, her unearthly beauty. He was coming to enjoy her, more than he realized.
“We will start with the manse.”
*
Ali had noidea where he was going. Ivy was an armful in every sense of the term, kicking and hollering over his shoulder as if he was causing her great torment. But he ignored her shouts, her demands and rude comments as he continued to march purposefully toward the manse. As the wide door of the massive structure beckoned him wordlessly into the cavernous rooms beyond, he found himself strolling into the foyer.
He glanced about the elaborate entry as Ivy attempted to dislodge herself. Slapping her sharply on the buttocks, he grinned when she cursed him soundly for his brutal manners and sought to locate a more private chamber where he and the lady would be uninterrupted. What he intended to accomplish with his future wife would take time, patience and privacy. Although he could not vouch for the first two requirements, he intended to have the third.
Truthfully, he did not understand his own motives. He could not comprehend why it was so important that he force this woman to understand that he was not different than she was, but that he possessed the finer qualities sought in a husband. He did not understand why he was so determined to waste his time; only that he had to try.
He had to make her understand.
There was a dim corridor under the winding stairs. Thinking it to be a rather logical place to start, he entered the hall with Ivy still squirming against him. He passed a curious glance at the first two rooms he came to, unsatisfied until he came to a third such chamber. Moving into the lightly furnished room, he closed the door and bolted it before setting Ivy to her feet.
Ivy’s face was flushed with anger and apprehension as she faced off against the tall ebony warrior. Although her first instinct was to charge at him and push her fist into his eye, she resisted the urge and, instead, took several steps away from him.
“How dare you handle me like a common wench,” she snarled.
He crossed his thick arms. “Your actions dictate mine, demoiselle. If you had not acted like a common wench, I would not have treated you as one.”
She was shaking with emotion, more fury and confusion than she could grasp. “Let me out of here. I told you once that I have nothing to say to you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “But I have a great deal to say to you.” When she clenched her jaw and looked away, he pondered her lovely profile a moment before moving to dislodge his gauntlets. The mood between them settled into one of brittle tension. After a moment, he spoke. “Do you truly find my black color appalling?”
Her gaze averted, Ivy rolled her eyes with frustration and bewilderment. “You are not English.”
He peered at her curiously, loosening a glove. “Define this statement to me.”
Her brows drew together and she cast him a sidelong glance. “What is to define? You are not from England.”
“I was born in England. Does that not make me English?”
She exhaled sharply in exasperation. “But you are black.”
