Peyton’s supple, nude body was pressed against him as close as she could go. His heat was lulling her into a delightful slumber as she felt his massive hands drift over the swell of her white buttocks. Surely there was nothing more wonderful than her husband’s delicate touch, a gentleness she had experienced from the very first day he had held her in his arms. A power that filled her, a strength that possessed her soul.
A strength that would soon be leaving for a date with destiny. The Welsh border beckoned her husband and Peyton’s eyes lurched opened with that thought. As delighted as she was with the resumption of his knighthood, the heavier emotions of longing and fear began to plague her. The longer she lay enveloped in his massive arms, the more potent they became.
“What will I do when you are gone, my Alec?” she whispered, clutched against his magnificent chest. “Who will be here to hold me?”Who will be here to love me?
She had told him once that she would never love him and he had acted indifferently to the suggestion. Now, more than ever, she wanted to declare her feelings, but knowing he cared not for her love prevented her from hazarding the venture. She would not tell him what he was unwilling to hear. But, Good Lord, how she ached with the want to tell him everything. Especially now.
Alec’s held her tightly, staring off across the darkened room. “You will have my son to hold,” he said after a moment. “Moreover, you are entirely selfish in your thinking. What am I going to do without you to quarrel with or make love to? I shall be entirely lonely.”
“You will have Ali.”
“Somehow, it’s not the same.”
She giggled. “Nor will it be for me. Your son and Ivy simply cannot fill the void.”
He put his hand under her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his serious gaze. “Do you not want me to go? I will not leave if you do not want me to.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course you must go! Never imagine for one moment that I do not want you to fight for Edward. I am so proud of you, my Alec. I never thought that you would lift a sword again.”
He touched her cheek gently. “Nor did I. Since I have met you, I have done a great many things that I never thought to do.”
She looked at him a moment. “Do you plan to tell your father of your decision?”
He averted his gaze, studying her hair, the sweet curve of her face. “Someday. Mayhap the same day I tell him of his grandson.”
“You plan to wait that long? Truly, Alec, do you not think your father will want to know this most incredible turn of events?”
He shrugged faintly, his eyes on the swell of her breasts.
“He shall want to know. But I am not sure when I plan to tell him. Mayhap tomorrow. Mayhap in ten years. I simply do not know.”
He was still aching with the estrangement and she did not push him. As much as he tried to pretend that she and St. Cloven were his life, she knew he was still hurting a great deal.
Seeking to lighten the dampening mood, she cocked an auburn eyebrow tauntingly. “Any regrets, my Alec?”
He looked entirely serious. “Christ, where to begin?”
She pinched him lightly and he laughed, pulling her close. As she burrowed against him in preparation for sleep, his smile faded. Any regrets? Only one. That he would be separated from her for an indeterminate amount of time when he joined Edward’s cause. Already, he knew the isolation would drive him insane. Christ, he loved her so. He cursed himself yet again for being too weak to tell her.
Peyton had fallen asleep when sentries sounded the alarm from the battlements. With nearly four hundred crown soldiers housed within the grounds of the fortified manor, Alec was unconcerned as he carefully disengaged himself from his wife and went to the lancet window, peeling back the oiled cloth to gaze over the compound. Below, there was a heightened level of activity, but nothing that warranted panic. One of the gateshad been opened and he could see a single horse and rider surrounded by his own elite guard in the center of the bailey.
Moving from the window, Alec donned his clothing and was in the process of pulling on his boots when a faint knock rattled his door.
Toby stood in the archway, half-dressed in a disheveled tunic, hose and boots. “A lone rider, Alec. From Blackstone.”
Alec’s eyebrows rose faintly. “Blackstone? Christ, what’s he doing here at this time of night?” Suddenly, his face paled and his eyes widened. “Oh, Christ…. my father. Something has happened to my father.”
Toby could read the panic in Alec’s face and quickly sought to calm him. “The rider says that your father sent him, Alec. Nothing has happened to Lord Brian.”
Alec visibly relaxed. “Thank God,” giving his sleeping wife a final glance, he moved into the corridor and closed the door softly. He found himself passing a second glance at Toby’s unkempt appearance, uncommon for the usually-polished knight. “What in the hell happened to you?”
Toby looked as if he did not understand his meaning. Then, he glanced down at himself and noticed faint blood spots staining the midsection of his tunic. He ran his finger over the area. “Oh…. I guess I cut myself.”
Alec frowned and attempted to lift the garment. Toby protested weakly and tried to move away, but Alec was far superior in strength and ended up in a wrestling match with his younger brother.
“Damnation, Toby, hold still!” he snapped, shoving the man against the wall. “Let me see what you have done!”
“’Tis nothing, I tell you,” Toby tried to yank the tunic free from Alec’s grasp.
