Ali hesitated a brief moment, gazing at his friend in the weak light. He had never known Alec to act rashly and was frankly astonished. Alec had said he needed the Lady Peyton; sincewhen did Alec need anyone? But he understood somewhat; after all, he himself was certainly beginning to need Ivy in an odd sort of way. Aye, he understood what it was to need someone.
“Alec,” he said softly. “Is she truly worth this trouble? Would it matter if she were to marry another? You would forget about her in time. After all, ’tis not as if you are in love with the woman.”
Alec’s head snapped to his ebony friend, his eyes glittering strangely. Ali could almost read the emotions in the sky-blue depths as Alec attempted to discern what, exactly, he might be feeling. He found that he could not adequately put his thoughts into words; he wasn’t even sure if the correct words existed. He wasn’t in love with her.
He couldn’t be.
After a moment, Alec simply turned his head away. “Nay, I am not in love with her. But I want her just the same.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Peyton was settledin an overstuffed chair, seated by the narrow windows of her bower as Ivy read from a book of poetry. Jubil, sleeping off her thorn apple trance, had been carried to the bed by servants and currently lay in boneless limbo. Lady Celine had left Peyton to rest some time ago and the room was still except for the drone of Ivy’s voice. But Peyton wasn’t listening; her thoughts were still on the events earlier that day.
Her wrapped hand reminded her of the injury dealt by Alec’s fury and her confusion was consuming; a deep ache in the pit of her belly told her that she was feeling far more than anger and fear at Alec’s actions. It told her that her injury went deeper than the cut to her hand.
Somehow, he had managed to injure her feelings as much as she tried to keep herself protected from him. Without realizing it, Alec had seeped into her emotions. With the damage dealt by the loss of James, her bewilderment was almost more than she could bear.
“What did you think of that prose?” Ivy broke into her thoughts.
Peyton was jolted from her stupor. “I am sorry, Ivy. What were you saying?”
Ivy lowered the book, compassion in her eyes. “Nothing, darling. How do you feel?”
“Well enough, I suppose,” Peyton said. “Why aren’t you with Ali? Surely he is missing you.”
“He shall survive,” Ivy said with a faint grin. “I thought you needed me more, but I suppose I was wrong.”
Peyton returned her sister’s smile. “I do too need you, you silly wench. But your reading is putting me to sleep.”
“So sorry.” Ivy slapped the book closed and tossed it onto the bed. She eyed her sister a moment. “Tell me how you truly feel, Peyton.”
Peyton shook her head faintly, toying with the material of her gown. “Angry. I want to go home.”
“Peyton…. he did not strike you, did he? Lord, He is such a large man he could easily….”
Peyton shook her head more firmly. “He never touched me. He did not have to.”
Ivy sighed with regret. “Ali says he has never known Alec to raise his voice much less display his fury. He is quite shocked by the whole event.”
Peyton refused to be pulled into the reasoning for Alec’s outburst. Her gaze lingered on her sister a moment, seeking to change the subject. “Are you planning to go through with this marriage to Ali?”
Ivy followed her sister’s lead, her expression turning soft. “He shall make a considerate, wise husband. And a fine father to our sons. I believe I am satisfied with the arrangement.”
Peyton nodded faintly. “You have accepted him completely, then?”
Ivy smiled. “I suppose I have. And I want you to accept him as well. It is extremely important to me, Peyton.”
Peyton held up a hand to silence Ivy’s plea. “Say no more, darling. My bout with ignorance was a short episode and I apologize for the hateful things I said about him. If you have accepted him, then I have, too,” she shifted in the chair, wincing when her bandaged hand brushed against the wood. “Then you and Ali are to be married tonight. What gown do you plan to wear?”
“The emerald silk,” Ivy’s gaze was on her sister’s linen-wrapped hand. “What are you going to wear?”
Peyton’s mood darkened as her gaze returned to the window. “Black.”
“Black is striking on you, darling, but I thought the ivory silk would be better with your hair,” Ivy’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “Besides, I should have thought….”
A sharp rap on the door disrupted her sentence. Ivy rose from her chair and threw open the door, not surprised to find Ali in the doorway. His ebony face tender on his future wife.
“Greetings, sweetling,” he said softly. “How is your sister faring?”
