He wanted to. Christ, it was as if the sword had eyes, pleading with him to grip it once again and become whole. He could look deep into the eyes of the sword and see his greatest battle yet to come….sapphire-blue gems, like the sapphire blue eyes of his wife. He knew at that moment that the sapphires set deep into the hilt had been chosen sixteen years ago with a purpose. They were Peyton’s eyes, and he was hesitant no longer.
His massive hand shot out, snatching the blade from Brian. Immediately, he could feel the recognizable power of the sword filling him, the wordless welcome as weapon melded withmaster. Alec ran a finger along the razor-smooth edge of the blade, drawing blood and unaware of the injury. He saw blood, but it wasn’t his. It was Colin’s.
Warm beams of light from the rising sun filtered into the room, reflecting off the massive broadsword. Alec turned the blade back and forth in the light, watching it gleam, feeling the oneness between Legend and Sword. Knowing that between the two of them, Peyton was halfway home.
Naught else mattered at the moment; Edward, the Welsh, Blackstone, or St. Cloven. Alec realized that all of the battles he had ever fought in were a practice for the main event– the redemption of his soul, the reclamation of his wife. All else paled by association. There was nothing more important than the woman he loved.
Brian, driven to blinding tears by the sight of his son holding his sword once more, sniffled loudly and waved wearily to the populace of the room.
“Allow Alec to dress, if you would,” he began to herd them from the chamber. “The man has no time to waste.”
When the room was clear, only Ali and Toby remained to help Alec with his protection. Ali tried to take the sword from him so they could commence with the acquisition of armor, but Alec refused to let it go. He hadn’t held the weapon in so long that he was content to relish the feel of it in his hand.
Grinning, Ali began to help Toby with the leg plates and chain mail.
*
Colin knew thatPeyton was gravely injured. The blow to her head had split her scalp, and probably her skull. Leaving Thia for dead, he had pitched Peyton onto the back of a sturdy warmblood and squeezed out of the servant’s entrance built intothe outer wall of Blackstone, an exit he had become acquainted with during the weeks he had been a guest of Baron Rothwell. In the dark, his ride to freedom had been an easy one.
His initial destination had been Wisseyham. Although he knew it would be the first place Alec would come in search of his wife, he paused long enough at his ancestral home to gather some necessary items, including a secondary sword and pieces of armor to replace the newer items that had been left at Blackstone. He had no idea where he would be going and wanted to make sure he was prepared for any eventuality.
When he remounted his steed and set off again, Peyton had not yet regained consciousness. Riding north towards the coast and The Wash, he began to ponder in earnest where he should go to deposit her body. If the blow to the head did not kill her, he would surely slit her throat and be done with her in that manner. His sole purpose was to kill her; no ransom, no demands, no torture. As he had told Thia, his one and only desire was to see the heiress to St. Cloven dead. Generations of Warringtons demanded it.
He would kill her and throw her into The Wash. To the north of The Fens, it was a vast expanse of ocean that….suddenly, he recalled a story he had heard when he was a small lad. Thinking of The Fens had brought the tale to mind. ’Twas an old story of Wicken Fen, a place where Druids used to deposit their dead. It was a place where bodies were never recovered.
Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure that disposing of Peyton in The Wash was an intelligent idea. After all, sooner or later her body would wash up on shore. And with her obvious red hair, eventually, Alec would catch wind and identify her. He did not want the evidence of his murder turning up on the white sand shores of The Wash.
But in Wicken Fen, she would never be found. No evidence, no proof for her desperate husband to cling to. Without proof,Alec Summerlin would have no definitive reason to seek out Colin and dispense justice.
After all, with Thia dead, there was no one to confirm that Colin abducted Peyton. For all they would know, Colin had merely escaped his confinement and had ridden off into oblivion.
There was no definitive link between him and the fate of Thia and Peyton. After he disposed of Lady Summerlin, he would ride south to London and catch a barge to Calais. He could assume another identity in France, mayhap pose as a wealthy earl, and marry well. Summerlin would never find him.
With a sense of purpose, Colin turned his mount south for Wicken Fen.
*
Over three hundredpounds of flesh and metal entered the grand hall of Blackstone. Brian looked up from his porridge and his jaw dropped. The chalice in his hand clattered to the floor. He couldn’t ever remember seeing a more terrifying, omnipotent sight.
It was The Legend as if he had never left them. His armor and mail, polished to a high sheen, caught the weak torchlight and reflected the illumination like bolts from Heaven. All in the massive gallery were touched by the daggers of power, blinded by them, striking them speechless with awe. The Legend was in their midst.
Alec, ignorant of the reverence, raised the visor of his helm and focused on his father.
“I ride south to Wicken Fen,” he said in a commanding tone. Edward ran an approving eye over his warrior. “God’s Blood, Alec. I do not think I have ever seen anything quite so intimidating. Hell, man, I am frightened simply looking at you.”
Alec couldn’t muster the energy for their usual banter. His mind, his body, was focused on but one thought. “I am taking Ali and Toby with me, if for nothing more than to protect Peyton while I take care of Warrington. I would ask your permission to acquire their services.”
“By all means, Alec,” Brian swallowed the food in his mouth before he choked on it. “They belong to you. Sworn to me or not, they have always belonged to you.”
Flanking Alec on either side, Ali and Toby were dressed to the hilt in gleaming armor and mail. Ivy, seated beside her aunt, left her seat to go to her husband and brother-in-law. Alec glanced at the woman, his thinly-held control nearly crumbling when he saw the tears in her eyes.
“You will…. you will bring her back, won’t you? No matter how you find her?” she whispered, falling into Ali’s embrace.
Alec’s breathing quickened, but he forced himself to calm; he had only been able to maintain a handle on his emotions by convincing himself that his wife was still alive. He simply could not entertain the alternative.
“I shall return her, Ivy,” he said in a tone that warranted no contradiction. Then he turned to his father once more. “How is Thia?”
Brian swallowed hard, his expression washing with grief.
