Peyton smiled. “The Lady Peyton de Fluornoy Summerlin.”
Ivy managed a weak smile before her eyes fell on Alec, tall and strong, as he handed her the chalice of ale. “Thank you, dear brother. I do apologize for whacking your wife.”
He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching. “We would duel come the dusk were I not so afraid that you would best me.”
“Coward,” Peyton muttered.
“Indeed,” Alec grasped her chin gently and studied the red welt on the creamy skin, almost a perfect handprint.
Ivy swallowed, embarrassed as Alec observed her handiwork on Peyton’s face. She thought it best to change the subject before he changed his mind and decided to call her out. “How is Ali faring? I have not seen him since early this morn.”
“He is exhausted but well, considering,” Alec replied, seating his large frame on the edge of the bed. “I am positive at this moment he is riding like the wind to reach Northampton. Hell, the horse probably isn’t fast enough and he is racing on foot.”
Ivy giggled, relieved, feeling a good deal of comfort and satisfaction. A most pleasurable end to a most horrible night, an end she thought never to see. “What made your father change his mind, Alec?”
Alec glanced at his flame-haired wife. “A close relative was most persuasive on your behalf.”
Ivy gave her sister a long look. “I am afraid to ask. Did you attempt to garrote your father-in-law? Or was it the threat of skinning him alive that caused him to change his mind?”
Peyton gave her sister an irritable look and moved toward Alec. “Nothing of the kind. I simply told him of the Warrington’s true nature and it was enough to convince him.”
The humor faded from Ivy’s expression. “That was my biggest fear, you know. Being thrown into the den of debauchers, alone.”
Peyton’s humor vanished as well. “Worry no more, darling. Lord Brian is a wise and sensible man.”
Alec’s thick arm snaked out and grasped her around the waist, pulling her onto his lap. “Only last night he was Lucifer incarnate. My father seems to be a great many things to a great many people.”
Ivy watched her sister and her new husband, marveling at how well they were getting on. Their beginning had been so terribly rocky that she never truly thought she would see this level of fondness between them. It was readily apparent that there was a great deal of affection and she sincerely hoped that somehow Peyton had been able to put James out of her mind. From the way she was looking at Alec, it would seem so.
“When will we return to St. Cloven?” she asked after a moment.
Alec turned his attention to her briefly before returning to Peyton. “Tomorrow, most likely. Ali and I must pack our possessions and then we may leave.”
“We do need to return as soon as possible,” Peyton said, her arms wound around her husband’s neck affectionately. “We have an entire lot of pale ale that should be ready for sale. I must get back and determine its readiness.”
“Do you not have a master brewer to attend to that?” he asked.
“Of course. But I have the final decision.”
He almost added that her duty was past tense, at least until he learned the intricacies of ale making, but he bit his tongue. It occurred to him that his wife was intelligent enough to continue her position as master ale administrator without his interference. After all, she had been born into it, as he had not been, and knew the details and workings far better than he. Moreover, the reputation of St. Cloven’s ale had not suffered in the least since Albert’s death; if anything, it had increased in quality.
Aye, he decided firmly, the best thing would be for him to allow his wife to continue with her duties. He was smart enough to know wherein her strengths lay.
“Then we shall leave tomorrow,” he said decisively. “As it is, I want to make sure St. Cloven’s stables are well equipped to handle my brood of horses before I transfer them from Blackstone.”
“Horses? What horses?” Peyton asked.
“My Saracens,” he replied. “I collected three mares and a stallion when I was in the Holy Land. I have been breeding the mares to the destriers and have developed several incredibly strong and swift animals. I have already sold two of them to the king for his private stable at a considerable price, and in turn I have several nobles breathing down my neck to purchase my next crop of foals.”
“Horses and ale. What a smelly combination,” Ivy snorted. “You two will certainly be a pair, one reeking of manure and the other of liquor.”
Peyton shot her sister a hostile glare, though exaggerated, before refocusing on her husband. “You never told me that you bred Saracens.”
“Not exactly bedchamber talk, darling,” Ivy said before Alec could answer. “I doubt that was foremost on his mind when he took you to bed last night.”
Alec actually grinned. “Your sister’s right, of course, and it never came up in casual conversation.”
Peyton shrugged in agreement, hearing her sister snickering over her shoulder. With a sly glance, she looked to Ivy. “You are in no position to laugh at me for not knowing everything about my husband, considering the fact that you are unwed and no longer a maiden. I do not suppose you and Ali have done much talking, either.”
