‘You are goading me, lass, and you had better not, or I will…’
‘Will what? Tell me what you will do,’ she spat.
‘Throw you over my lap and spank the life out of you,’ he snarled.
‘I hate you,’ she said, and Cecily’s temper broke. She slapped Peyton across the face. He barely flinched.
He pulled her closer, his face in hers. ‘If you do that again, I will punish you.’
Cecily could hardly breathe in her anger. She slapped Peyton again, harder. He put his hand on the back of her neck, forced her mouth to his and kissed her. The shock of it seemed to stop both of them in their tracks. She had a brief sensation of his beard prickling her face, and then it was over before it had begun, and he leapt back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if she was something vile.
‘Forgive me. I should not have done that, and I’ll not do it again. But at least I found a way to get you to shut up,’ he said.
How dare he mock her! Cecily scuttled back from him, heart pounding. ‘You are a brute and a fiend.’
‘And you are telling me lies. I want to know more about Edmund and Jasper Glendenning.’
‘I’ll tell you nothing.’
‘Then you’ll stay locked in this tower until I return.’
‘From where?’ she cried.
He stormed out, locking the door behind him.
Well, that did not go too well. She’d lost her temper, and Peyton had certainly lost his – hateful man. Cecily slumped on the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling, her face glowing with fury.
***
Hours later, Bertha bustled in. ‘I hear you are in want of a bath. Come with me.’
A small victory. Peyton had given in to her demand. Cecily followed her down the stairs and outside into the yard. As she picked her way across the muck and slush, old straw and horse droppings, a voice called out, ‘Whore.’
Cecily turned to see a group of lasses, roughly dressed. A skinny, red-haired one glowered, her lip curling into a sneer.
‘Don’t mind them, lass, and especially not Aila,’ said Bertha. ‘That one over there has a fancy for the Laird. Much good it will do her, as he only has eyes for Lorna.’
‘Lorna?’
‘Never you mind about her.’ Bertha seemed to have said too much. Cecily glowered back at the Aila lass, but a tug on her arm dragged her forward into what appeared to be a stable.
‘Here we are. Her Ladyship’s bath,’ declared Bertha, sweeping aside a sheet to reveal half an old barrel.
‘I am to bathe here, in that?’ said Cecily.
‘It’s that or nothing,’ said Bertha, handing Cecily a lump of soap. ‘I put some hot in it, but you’d better be quick before the lads get curious and try and have a peep. In you go.’
A little later, as Cecily shivered in the barrel trying to get the mud out of her hair, she wondered at any woman having a fancy for Peyton. She shuddered at the memory of his rough mouth claiming hers. She also wondered if the barrel was a kindness or a punishment as Bertha threw a bucket of freezing water over her to rinse off the soap.
Damn the man to hell. She would spy out the guards and the gates on the way back inside and search for a means of escape. By tomorrow, she would be out of this hellhole.
Chapter Nine
Peyton dismounted wearily and regarded Fellscarp’s grim edifice with dismay. He felt grimy from the road and sleeping rough. He had been out for days searching for Lowri, to no avail. The abbess was no use. The old cow had declared, ‘Your sister is a lost cause. She will never find God or peace in this world. Hers is a restless soul and doomed to be a lonely one, for she will not countenance marriage and respectability. Do not spare the birch if you ever catch up with her.’
Why had he paid those nuns good money to mend his sister’s ways when Lowri seemed more rebellious and wild than ever?
Bertha met him at the door. ‘Thank heavens, you are back. That lass, Cecily, has been plaguing me day and night to set her free. Never stops with her wailing and moaning. And there’s talk.’
