Toby appeared fatigued. “Upstairs, in his private sitting room,” in his hand he carried a tray with bread and watered berry juice. “I was bringing this to him.”
“What’s the matter? Why did not he greet us?”
Toby sighed wearily. “Lord Brian has been drunk since Paul’s body was discovered yesterday. Mother is beside herself dealing with your father’s sorrow and Lady Rachel’s grief.”
Alec relaxed slightly, closing his eyes briefly in a sorrowful gesture. “Where are the Warringtons?”
“In your father’s solar,” Toby said quietly, passing a glance in the general direction. “Nigel acts as if he owns the damn place.”
Alec expression turned menacing. “No longer,” he growled. “I have had enough of this. Put down that tray and come with me. I may require your strength.”
Toby followed his larger, stronger brother across the foyer. The two of them burst into the solar with the force of a gale storm, rattling the castle to its very foundation as they threw open the heavy oaken door.
Nigel was seated behind Brian’s desk, leisurely sampling a fine bottle of wine. Near the lancet windows, Colin slanted the two intruders an intolerant glance.
“Do you not know how to knock, Summerlin?” he demanded.
Alec was closer to losing his temper than he had come in a long time. He moved into the room, his handsome face tight with fury and his gaze hot enough to burn. An unfortunate chair happened to be in his way; he destroyed the furniture with a kick, tossing the shattered remains aside and nearly taking off Toby’s head in the process. His fury, his disgust, was palpable.
Nigel leapt to his feet. Even Colin’s arrogant expression faded; he knew firsthand that Alec’s strength could be devastating and had no desire to experience another round.
“What do you do, Alec?” Nigel demanded, giving the man a wide berth. “How dare you burst in here and…!”
“This is my father’s solar, to be mine when I inherit the barony, and I shall do anything I damn well please,” his voice was like thunder. “I have had enough of your presence at Blackstone. You have all but destroyed my family and I shall notstand for it any longer. Whether you leave this place by casket or by horse, ’tis all the same to me. But I want you out.”
Nigel stared at him. His face was pale, but his expression held. “Your father is the only one who can order us to leave. And he shall not do that, not until your sister weds my son.”
A second chair met with Alec’s furious fists in an obvious display of displeasure, sending both Colin and Nigel ducking for cover. “Your son will not wed my sister, foremostly because I refuse to allow her to marry a murderer. Tell me, Colin; what did Paul see or hear that caused you to take his life?”
Near the lancet windows of the small room, Colin’s eyes widened at Alec’s presumption. “You are mad, Summerlin!”
Alec clenched and unclenched his fists. “Not at all. You see, I know for a fact that Paul was terrified of horses. Never once have I seen him near the stables and considering you found the body, it would lead me to believe that perhaps you lured him there. Or placed him there after you killed him. What did he happen upon, Warrington? My patience wears thin.”
“I did not kill him,” Colin denied staunchly. “I was going for a ride when I happened to discover his body. I have no idea why he was in the stables.”
“You are lying,” Alec advanced on the man. “Shall I wring it from you?”
“You will not touch him!” Nigel threw himself in front of his son. “How dare you make threats!”
Alec raised a well-defined blond eyebrow. “I never threaten. As you can see, I fully intend to carry out a promise. Your son killed my brother and I will know why.”
“Alec!” came a great booming voice.
The occupants of the room turned abruptly to see Brian standing in the solar’s elaborate archway, his face pale and his body unkempt. Alec turned his full attention to his father, shocked at his appearance.
“Da?” he whispered. “You look terrible!”
Brian was beyond drunk; he was a living, breathing cask of liquor. He staggered in through the door, nearly tripping over his feet as he moved. Alec reached out to steady him, his face glazed with horror at his father’s demeanor. Brian clutched his son, his drunken face washing with a desperate expression.
“My only living son,” he murmured, touching Alec’s cheek. “My heir. Alec, my beloved boy, you have returned. I did not think you would.”
Alec was mortified, his carefully controlled facade crumbling. He managed a quivering smile as he attempted to guide his father to an unbroken chair. He knelt before Brian, his entire body awash with sorrow and remorse. All of the anger and confusion he had felt towards the man within the past several weeks was suddenly gone, the deep love he had always felt filling him tenfold.
“I am here, Da,” he said softly, his throat tight with emotion. “I shall not leave you again. I swear it.”
Brian stroked his son’s face as if rememorizing the features, never wanting to let him go. Tears were in the great brown eyes.
“Paul is dead, Alec. Peter is dead. There is only you. You are all I have.”
