‘I mean no insult to your honour, and therein lies the problem. Peyton, you have too much of it. You are ill-suited to leadership and the corruption of the soul that comes with it - the degradation of morals, the relentless, back-stabbing cruelty of it. And you are still relatively young and not much tested in life.’
‘I have been fighting to hold onto what I have since I was a lad, and I can plot with the best of them.’
‘Brawling in the mud each time someone named you a bastard is one thing. I meant tested in terms of character. You have to slither on your belly with the snakes to triumph in the politics of the Marches, my son. There is too much honour in you, Peyton, too much loyalty.’ He sighed. ‘Your cousin has no such qualities and no scruples whatsoever.’
‘Black Eaden is a villain who spends most of his life running from a noose. He cannot be a laird. His crimes against the King’s law are too grievous – thievery, ravishment and murder.’
‘Money and power can erase the gravest of sins in time – even murder. Watch your back, Peyton. I fear there is a target on it.’
‘Are you not watching it for me, Father?’ said Peyton, smiling through a throbbing jaw.
‘For now, but soon, I must journey onwards to the East March. My flock need tending, and there is snow coming. I leave this afternoon before the roads get too bad.’
Peyton’s heart sank. He enjoyed Father Luggan’s company, for the man was wise and decent. Aside from his preaching, which could be a little tiresome, he had the stoutest of hearts. He also knew his way around a barrel of ale and was a tireless drinking companion. ‘Can you not stay and settle here, where you are needed, Father?’ he said.
‘Impossible. The lawlessness of you border reivers deters many priests from ministering to the spiritual needs of the people. You know the Church fears to reach out here.’
‘Having the bishops declare us ‘heathens damned for all time to the darkest pit of hell’ does not help.’
‘If you reivers ceased your feuding, stealing and arson, it might not be so, but you will not change. And I would stay and offer my support, but there are many souls who need succour.’
‘And with a paltry allowance from the church, you get little succour in return.’
‘My flock never see me go hungry. And you, dear boy, have fattened me like a Yuletide goose these last weeks, for which I thank you. Yet I must persist in my wandering, though it can be a little exhausting.’
‘And dangerous.’
‘I have my trusty dirk always to hand.’ Father Luggan smirked. ‘I may be a man of God, but I’ll not go down without a fight.’
‘Very well. But if you must go, I will accompany you to the limit of Strachan land.’
‘And will you visit a certain young lass on the way back?’
‘No, on the way there. Your godliness might give my heathen character a bit of a shine.’
Father Luggan regarded him steadily. ‘Lorna Gilpin might be fooled by that, but her father will not.’
Peyton watched the priest walk away with a stone in his heart. The man’s words were kindly meant, but they stung, as the truth always did. He was not worthy of Clan Strachan or Lorna, a lass he had set his sights on for two long years. He had no position, home or land to offer her before, but now, with the lairdship of Clan Strachan in his grasp, he could think of marriage and a woman of his own.
Lorna was the bonniest lass for miles around, from a prosperous farming family, and well-raised. But Peyton had no good name or wealth, having spent his life fighting for his laird. So he could not offer her much beyond his heart, and she had taken it. With her quiet beauty and gentle manner, Lorna could rise to the challenge of becoming Lady of Fellscarp and make his world softer and kinder.
Aye, he would visit Lorna, for he had neglected her lately due to all the distractions of fighting to keep hold of his clan. He must nurture their tentative understanding and gain her promise to be his wife.
Chapter Two
Cecily MacCreadie hurried along the track winding through Crichton Moor, her stomach fizzing with anticipation. She was about to escape her tedious existence, vexing family and marriage to a man old enough to be her grandfather. Despite the cold wind rushing over the gorse bushes, Cecily wore a triumphant smile. How she had tricked them all with her secret. She had nurtured it, kept it warm like a goose egg, taken it out and polished it in the darkness of night.
Her smile faded when she thought of her sister, Rowenna. She would be left to deal with her father’s temper and her brother’s drunken escapades, but Cecily was determined to send for her once she was settled.
The pang of guilt faded as quickly as it came when she caught sight of his fine horse in the distance, cropping the grass on a little rise of ground, which was the site of their secret trysts. All would be well once she was in Edmund’s arms. A new life was within reach, one of beauty, love, and wealth. No more grubbing in the dirt for a living in the squalor of Fallstairs. No more being sold to repulsive suitors like Wymon Carruthers to pay off her father’s debts.
It was a shame she had to leave with nothing, just the clothes on her back, but Edmund had insisted. ‘You don’t want to be found out and have your father drag you back to marry that old lecher, do you?’ he had said, and she trusted his wisdom.
Cecily’s breath caught as she saw him. She could not wait to fall into his arms. He would hold her and call her his beating heart, his reason to exist. She could have swooned with the romance of it all.
How could she have been so afraid when she had first encountered him on the moor? Edmund had burst out of nowhere one day while she was taking one of her long walks, and her urge was to flee from the stranger. But she thanked the heavens she had stood her ground when he asked her name because he was like no one she had ever met.
Edmund was courteous, well-spoken and devastatingly handsome. He had thick black hair, broad shoulders, and sparkling, devilish blue eyes. He rode a well-bred black stallion, dressed lavishly, and best of all, the wealthy merchant’s son had, within moments of laying eyes on Cecily, declared her the most stunning creature he had ever beheld.
