“Molested?” she repeated with concern. “But you said he is harmless.”
“He is, truly. His extent of molesting would probably entail touching your hair or trying to kiss your hand. Anything else is beyond his scope of comprehension.”
She gazed back at him a moment. “What’s wrong with him? Did he suffer an accident or mishap?”
Alec shook his head. “He was born dull-witted, sweetheart. His mental intelligence is that of a young boy.”
“And he is your father’s heir? How…,” she suddenly stopped, peering at him. “What did you call me?”
“Call you?” he lifted an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Nothing…. oh, do you mean ‘sweetheart’? Forgive me, my lady, I forgot myself. You did, after all, ask me not to address you by that name.”
She was preparing to sharply agree, but her firm stance suddenly softened and she lowered her gaze. “Aye, I did.”
He shifted his grip on her, moving to wrap his other arm about her waist without even realizing it. In front of a room full of people, they were in a closely intimate position. A natural state. “Pray forgive me, my lady. I simply could not help myself,” he grinned.
She tried to maintain her unbending manner. She had asked him not to call her sweetheart for good reason; James had called her by the term. To hear it brought a myriad of aching memories; yet, somehow, hearing it from Alec’s lips seemed the most natural of things. She realized she wanted him to use the expression often.
She smiled weakly at his warm expression. “I suppose using my proper name all the time does seem rather formal.”
He smile broadened. “May I then call you sweetheart? Or any other term of endearment that comes to mind? Or, should the situation dictate, mayhap an expression of insult in self-defense?”
She tried not to smile at his gentle taunts, but it was difficult. Instead, she lifted her eyebrows haughtily. “I shall consider your requests, both of them. But until I can make my decision, I will expect to be addressed as Lady Summerlin.”
“I am to address my own wife as Lady Summerlin?” he repeated with a mock frown. “Very well. You must call me Sir Alec. Or My Lord Darling. Or My Most Auspicious Sweetling.”
The tone of the conversation had become light and enjoyable and Peyton completely forgot about the events during the day that had brought her to the unalterable conclusion that she hated him. When he gazed upon her as he was now, she was oblivious to everything but the heat on her cheeks and the expression on his face.
“As you say,” she shrugged. “At least you have not demanded that I prostrate myself in your presence.”
“Ah, but I shall,” he raised an arrogant eyebrow.
She matched his arrogance with a smile. “And I shall refuse, my lord.”
His grip on her waist tightened as he frowned disapprovingly. “You are an entirely disagreeable wench.”
She opened her mouth to reply when Brian suddenly intervened. Peyton realized Alec had been holding her tightly only when his massive arms were removed. She missed him already.
“Not here,” Brian admonished laughingly. “Can you not wait until the nuptials? I may have a grandson sooner than I hoped ifyour attentions toward each other are any indication of marital appetites.”
Peyton flushed furiously and lowered her gaze, embarrassed at Brian’s words and her own actions. Being enveloped in Alec’s arms was so natural that she hadn’t given it a thought. As Alec and his father chuckled over something Peyton did not quite hear, Ivy appeared at her sister’s side to divert her attention.
“Ali is taking me for a walk about the compound,” she said. “Why don’t you and Alec join us?”
“A walk?” Peyton repeated, embarrassment forgotten as she focused on her sister. Passing a glance at Brian and Alec as they huddled in private conversation, she grasped Ivy by the arm and escorted her into their own secluded huddle. Her manner was harsh as her chaotic thoughts demanded to be voiced; thoughts that had simmered in her mind for the length of the day. Now was the time to be heard.
“Good Lord, Ivy, you were ready to kill him earlier this day, and now you are allowing him to escort you on a walk without so much as a protest?”
Ivy’s cheeks mottled a faint red. How could she explain her feelings to Peyton when she herself did not fully understand? After a moment, she looked away uncomfortably. “We had a long conversation and I came to understand him somewhat. He…. He is very kind, Peyton, intelligent and considerate.”
“But he is black, for God’s sake!” Peyton hissed, making a valiant attempt to keep from being heard. “He is not like us. What did he say to convince you to accept him as easily as you have?”
The red in Ivy’s cheeks deepened. “I never said that I have accepted him. I have simply come to see things a bit more clearly, that’s all. I am coming to tolerate his company.”
Peyton shook her head in frustration. “You are acting like a fool. He is a lesser being, entitled to no more considerationor acceptance than those whom God has seen fit to create less fortunate than ourselves. He is not the equal you are suggesting.”
Ivy’s jaw quivered faintly. “He is a wise, chivalrous man and I shall not allow you to say such terrible things against him.”
Peyton stared at her sister, sensing the hostility and the confusion, but quite consumed with her own feelings of resentment and bafflement. She simply couldn’t deal rationally with Ivy at the moment and her demeanor hardened. “You are not going for a walk with him. After politely excusing ourselves, we will be retreating to our bedchamber. Alone.”
