“Alec!” she gasped, attempting to regain her senses from the throes of passion. “What are you doing?”
He grinned seductively. “What does it appear, my lady? The chair is most restrictive for our needs.”
Peyton did not wish to forfeit her virginity on the scratchy bed of a woolen rug and remembered well the time when James had tried to do just that. But if Alec tried to kiss her again, she was lost. The man had power over her that James never had; it had always been exceedingly easy to control James, to manipulate him, and she had taken great pleasure with the control she exerted over him. With Alec, it seemed as if the tables were turned and she was mindless, willing to do anything he asked. But with James….
James.
Guilt swept her. How could she allow herself to respond to Alec so freely, so wantonly, when she still loved James? Shewas betraying their love in the deepest sense by reacting to the passions of another man. Alec knew too well that he could incite her into a frenzy with his passionate touch and blazing mouth, and she was suddenly angry with him. How dare he force her to submit, to forget her loyalties!
But she knew as she gazed at him that he was to be her legal husband. James was gone, dead for nearly a year, and there was nothing she could do to alter the course her future had decided to take. Yet, a fighting spirit deep inside her could not give in. Not yet.
“You will not have me on the floor, Alec,” she said firmly, rolling away from him and rising to her knees.
He was lying on his side, gazing up at her. “I…. I apologize, then. My bedchamber is at the top of the stairs.”
She shook her head, her red hair wild and untamed and completely charming. Primly, she closed her robe from his scalding eyes. “I think it best if I return to my bedchamber, alone.”
He reached out and gently grasped her arm. “What have I done? If I have done something, then….”
“You haven’t done anything,” she assured him, rising to stand. “’Tis just that my head aches terribly and I want to sleep.”
“I see,” he said softly, but she could hear the disappointment in his tone. “I am sorry to have forced myself upon you when you are not feeling well. Would you allow me to escort you to your room, then?”
She almost refused, but his beautiful blue eyes were looking at her earnestly and she felt herself relenting. “Aye.”
He rose swiftly, entirely too swiftly for a man his size. He startled her with his rapid movements and she took a step back from the huge body that was suddenly standing in front of her. He smiled down at her and protectively pulled the top of her robe together, covering her white chest completely.
“I am sorry I tore your shift,” he said softly. “I…. well, I sort of lost myself….”
She put up a hand to silence him. “I let you. I should not have, but I did, so there is no one to blame. Jubil will fix it.”
“Jubil?” he looked puzzled. “Of course, your aunt. I understand she has been in some sort of fit since her arrival.”
Peyton gave him an embarrassed look and was about to provide him with an evasive reply, but she reconsidered her strategy. He was, after all, the next lord of St. Cloven and would find out about Jubil’s peculiarities soon enough. Better to forewarn him.
“She has not been in a fit. She has been…. having visions.”
“Visions? What sort of visions?”
Peyton sighed sheepishly. “Jubil believes herself to be a witch. She divines fortunes and foretells the future. Sometimes, anyway, depending on what potion she ingests. More often than not, however, the concoctions simply make her crazy.”
He grinned faintly. “A crazy witch, did you say? What an interesting family I am marrying into.”
She raised a droll eyebrow. “As if your family is any less peculiar. A belligerent sister you call Moppet, an older brother who is most strange, and a father who thinks I taste nice. Really, Alec, how can you accuse my family of being odd?”
“I never said odd, I said interesting,” he corrected her, taking her arm as they moved from the room. “And my father isn’t the only one who thinks you taste nice.”
She blushed to the roots of her hair and he laughed a soft, throaty rumble. “Your innocence is charming, for such a firebrand.”
She gasped in outrage, slapping his arm feebly. “Not another word, Alec.”
He snickered, enjoying her embarrassment. “Why not? Your response pleases me more than you can know. We will do well together, you and I.”
She did not want them to do well together. She wanted to continue to keep him at a distance, his wife in name only and in body only. She did not want him to become a part of her mind, as well. James had become an integral part of her soul and his death had caused her nothing but torture.
He sensed her brooding silence as he led her to the stairs. “Now why so quiet? You do not want us to do well together?”
“Nay,” she said before she could stop herself. “What I mean is….”
