“You did not even wait for me?” he asked, dejected. “How could you do that to me, Alec? It has been ages since we last fought together.”
Alec turned to his friend, not so much as a bead of sweat on his brow. “I tried to save one for you, but alas, I could not control myself. So sorry, old man.”
Peyton stood a few feet away, her hands over her mouth in shock. Initial shock fading, relief flooded her body and she began to tremble violently. She was dazed, angered, panicked; everything she could possibly feel. All she could imagine was Alec’s gored body lying on the floor, lifeless and pale.
Bile rose in her throat and she knew she was about to become ill; in a valiant effort to spare her dignity, she attempted to make her way to the privy. Two steps into her retreat, however, she realized her effort would be in vain; her weakened legs gave way and she stumbled to her knees, vomiting her dinner all over Simon’s dingy stone floor.
Alec was next to her instantly, pulling her hair away from her face and clasping her body firmly. She retched and retched until there was nothing left, and still she retched more. She fought to catch her breath as her vision dimmed momentarily.
“Easy, sweetheart, easy,” he whispered softly. “You are overwrought. Let me help you….”
“No!” she rasped, twisting away from him.
His eyes were wide with concern. She waved him off, attempting to retain her last scrap of decorum as she hastily mounted the stairs. He bound up the steps after her, leaving the clean-up to a still-disappointed Simon and his stunned employees.
Peyton stumbled into their room, bolting aimlessly to the opposite side of the chamber as Alec stormed after her. He reached for her once again, but she lurched out of his range.
“Nay!” she gasped, bumping into the wall. “Do not touch me!”
He was truly concerned for her. “You are exhausted, sweetheart. Come lie down.”
She shook her head vigorously, tears springing into her sapphire eyes. “How could you do that to me, Alec? How could you?”
He stopped trying to pursue her and paused, a puzzled look on his features. “Do what, love? I was merely protecting you from a band of ruffians.”
Tears spilled and a great, anguished choke bubbled up. “Did you really think I wanted to see you fight those men? Why do you think I was trying so desperately to calm them with reason? I did not want you to fight them!”
His brow furrowed slightly; he simply did not understand her trouble. “But…. I am unharmed. They could not have killed me.”
She began to sob; deep, angry, frightened sobs. “Do you think I wanted to see you gored like James, right before my eyes? How dare you fight in my presence when you know…. you know that….”
She trailed off, overcome with wracking sobs. His heart broke as he understood her terror and he cursed himself silently; of course it never occurred to him that a skirmish might upset her because she had seen her betrothed gored before her eyes and had been unable to prevent the event.
Indeed, she had made a strong attempt to calm the situation in the common room with reason and pacification. Although she’d had no control over the situation that had claimed Deveraux, she had grappled for command over a situation that could have just as easily claimed Alec. She simply couldn’t stand by as her worst nightmare was replayed before her disbelieving mind, and in his confidence he had worked against her.
Immediately, he went to her and she did not resist. Instead, she clutched him tightly as he lifted her off the ground and cradled her in his massive arms.
“I am sorry, sweetheart,” he kissed her red head. “I never thought…. forgive me, my sweet. I was horrible and inconsiderate.”
“Aye, you were,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I shall never forgive you if you do that again. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly, love.”
He carried her to the bed and sat down, rolling onto his back and taking her with him. She clung to him as if to never let him go and he held her tightly as the feathered mattress swallowed the both of them. Her sobs were muffled in the barrier of his leather overtunic, filling the heavy silence of the room as Alec listened, feeling like a fool for not being sensitive enough of his wife’s feelings.
But as he listened, the familiar jealousy began to creep into his chest; was she crying for James’ memory, or because she feared for Alec’s life? Certainly it wasn’t the time to question her, but he found the question weighing heavily on his heart. Why should he be comforting her if she was weeping for another?
“Do you weep because I frightened you?” he asked softly, feeling terribly selfish for voicing his thoughts.
“Of course!” she snapped, wiping at her nose. He released one arm from her and handed her a linen towel that was placed on the table beside the bed. She accepted the linen and blew her nose hard, wiping at her face.
“Then you do not weep for a memory?”
She eyed him, her lids red and swollen. “Wh-what memory?” she hiccupped.
He gazed up at her, thinking her to be terribly beautiful even when she cried. “James. Do you weep for your dead lover or for your husband’s life?”
Immediately, the tears stopped and she stared at him as if she could not comprehend his words. Slowly, her cheeks flushed an angry red and she shifted herself away from him.
