Peyton cocked an eyebrow, shooting Thia a most baleful glance before responding to Alec. “Then I shall answer you. I have been painting since I was old enough to hold a brush.”
Thia bristled at the open animosity. “Are you going to allow her to speak to you in such a manner?”
Alec would not be pulled into a confrontation and his expression remained calm as he turned to his sister. “What manner? She simply answered my question.”
Thia’s mouth opened in outrage. “Surely you are not that blind, Alec. ’Twould seem that your betrothed is somewhat of a disrespectful shrew. And you say you agreed to this arrangement?”
Peyton refused to be intimidated or insulted by Alec’s sister. She fixed her with a pointed look. “I would rather be a shrew than an ox. And furthermore, at least your brother has found a mate. I doubt the same can be said for you unless, of course, your father intends to raid the barnyards for a suitable consort.”
Alec’s eyes widened at the insult and he choked off a loud guffaw, coming out as a harsh series of coughs. Instead of being angry, he found he was actually proud of Peyton for refusing to allow Thia to belittle her. His sister could be a sweet woman with a heart of gold, but she had a sharp tongue and a bullying manner. He was immensely pleased to see that Peyton would not allow his sister to demean her and he stepped back, carefully observing the unfolding battle.
Thia’s eyes narrowed, surprised that the petite, fragile-looking lady was bold enough to return the insult. But Lady Peyton’s moxy only served to fuel her anger.
“You are an ill-bred little wench. How unfortunate that the Summerlins are to be saddled with your sickening presence,” she shook her head at Alec regretfully. “My sympathies, Alec. I sincerely hope St. Cloven is worth the asking price.”
Peyton stood up; she did not want Alec forced into taking sides, for he would undoubted ally with his sister and she did not need any more reason to loathe him. Instead of losing her control and raging at Thia as she did with Ivy, she smiled thinly.
“At least I have something attractive to offer a prospective husband, my lady,” she said. “I doubt the crown jewels would serve as enough bribery in your case. But try not to let your bitterness show; mayhap a blind man shall happen across your path someday who will be impervious to your appearance. One can always hope.”
Thia glared at her, seeing that Lady Peyton was able to match her insult for insult. Acid-tongued chit. Since her own venomous mouth was unsuccessful in humiliating Lady Peyton, she resorted to the next weapon in her arsenal. Her size.
“Do not make light of my appearance, my lady. What I lack in physical beauty I make up for in power. Any man at Blackstone can tell you that my strength is nearly equal their own. I would wager to say you would not last long in a challenge.”
Peyton couldn’t help it; she started to laugh. Loud, bright laughter pealed from her lips and Alec smiled simply because she was so beautiful when she laughed. And he was enjoying himself, too, oddly enough.
“A challenge?” Peyton repeated incredulously. “Surely you jest, Lady Thia. Only men issue challenges and only men fight them. But…. in that case, I suppose it is perfectly natural for you to propose a duel then, isn’t it?”
“’Twas no challenge I issued. Call it a promise.”
Peyton raised a well-arched brow, not the least bit intimidated. “And I promise you will regret it for, you see, I have a sister a sight larger than you. Were you to do me any harm, she would see to it that it would be your very last transgression. Callthata promise.”
Thia shrugged. “As you wish.”
Peyton regained her seat, still shaking her head with mirth. “I am weary of this conversation. Do you not have lambs to slaughter or peasants to terrorize?”
Alec could see that the next step in their argument would most likely entail a physical brawl. Choosing to intervene, he stepped forward and put his hand on Thia’s shoulder. “I am afraid you cannot bully my future wife as you do every other woman. Call a truce and I will hear no more hostile words between the two of you. Understood?”
Thia’s small blue eyes gazed at Peyton a moment longer. “Only for you, Alec. But I cannot guarantee future peace.”
“I realize that,” he said quietly. “Just as there are mere civilities between you and Rachel. It would seem, Moppet, that you are not destined to be chummy with either of your brother’s wives.”
Thia snorted and looked away. “Rachel is a stupid bitch. And it would seem that at least one of those terms describes Lady Peyton as well.”
Peyton had moved past anger and found a strange sense of satisfaction clashing with Thia. Mayhap in some way she was taking out her anger on the woman’s brother. But the fact that Alec had not taken sides made Thia’s attitude far easier to deal with, and she was furthermore pleased to demonstrate that she could not be harassed. She smiled genuinely at Thia.
“I will not dispute your opinion. But I would rather be a bitch than a bitter, empty spinster with only brothers for male companionship.”
Thia’s jaw twitched and Alec stepped in between the two to remind them that he had ordered their insults ended.
“Enough, both of you. If this is to be the extent of conversation between you, then I would prefer that you did not speak to one another at all. I shall not spend the rest of my life pulling my sister and wife apart.”
Brian returned to the room then, bearing two dark bottles of wine. His face was flushed with pleasure as he breezed across the room to where several pewter goblets were shelved. “Burgundy!” he announced, handing Alec a bottle to open. “The very finest! I have had it in storage for years simply waiting for the right opportunity to consume it.”
Alec drew out the cork and returned the bottle to Brian. As Thia moved to assist her father, Alec moved to Peyton and stood next to her chair. She sat stiffly, as if waiting for the next hostile barrage from the Summerlin sibling. He found himself gazing down at her, studying the myriad of colors in the magnificent red hair and amazed with the perfect beauty of his betrothed. It would seem that every moment, every hour brought about a new discovery, and he was intrigued.
Shortly, the room was filled with people. Olphampa and Sula, Ali and Ivy and Celine arrived in a cozy group and Peyton was amazed to find not one, but three black-skinned people living at Blackstone. Olphampa, a stocky little man nearly half the size of his massive son, seemed to be charming and his slight wife appeared very pleasant. And the two were warmly receptive to Ivy, who seemed to be warming to them in return.
In fact, Ivy seemed far more at ease than Peyton herself and Peyton was envious and baffled with her sister’s relaxed mannerisms. She found herself again wondering what Ali had said to Ivy to cause such alleviation, such approval within a woman who not hours earlier had been intent on accusing him of being a savage. The frustration, the pure puzzlement as she watched her only sibling converse with dark-skinned people left her speechless.
