‘Something like that, aye. And it is a secret. Tell no one. My life, and theirs, depends on it.’
‘Of course. You may rely on my discretion. What strange and troubled times we live in, where you and Jasper Glendenning are friends.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. When I suggested an alliance, I thought they’d laugh in my face, Glendenning especially, but they did not. Their situation must be as dire as mine if they need me. But at least I have a path to follow now.’
‘It must have taken a good deal of pride-swallowing on your part, Peyton, but it is a cunning move. Whatever gave you the idea?’
‘My betrothed. She said something about making a sacrifice for the sake of others when she accepted my proposal.’
‘Betrothed? Ah, such wonderful news. But I don’t think Lorna should view matrimony as a sacrifice.’
‘It’s not Lorna, I am marrying.’
The priest’s mouth fell open. ‘Then who?’
‘I will give you a clue. She’s achingly beautiful, and I rescued her from an evil Englishman.’
‘You cannot be in earnest. Not Cecily MacCreadie!’
Peyton felt suddenly unworthy, for he valued Father Luggan’s opinion more than most men’s, and the priest did not look pleased. ‘Why not Cecily MacCreadie?’ he said.
‘Because you all but kidnapped the poor lass and forced her back to Fellscarp. You killed her lover. And she had already been manhandled by that fiend Edmund Harclaw. The lass is in no state to make this kind of choice.’
‘I didn’t give her a choice.’
‘What wickedness has overtaken you, Peyton?’
‘None you cannot absolve me for.’ Peyton stared out over the rolling grey glens. ‘I like her, Father. And her situation is dire. She needs a safe haven, so I will give her one.’
‘Is that what you are telling yourself, my son?’
‘Let us make haste, and I will explain all at Fellscarp, out of this wind.’
Peyton kicked his horse in its flanks and set off along the road to Fellscarp with Father Luggan’s reproaches washing over him. He was eager to get home to Cecily. She would be his wife within days, and he had never wanted anything more in his life.
He smiled at the memory of taunting Jasper Glendenning at the Truce Day gathering about his search for a new wife. God knows, the man did not seem to mourn his recently departed one, though maybe that was the way of it with marriages built on money and land. How the man’s fierce blue eyes had cut into him. He had quite the glower, that one. Knowing he had Cecily, the lass that Jasper had wanted, gave Peyton great satisfaction.
His other reluctant ally, Caolan Bannerman, was a cold fish but clever, and you never knew what he was thinking. Having mutual enemies did not make either Bannerman or Glendenning friends. It just made them all stronger, for there was safety in being in a herd.
Storm clouds were gathering over Fellscarp as they raced across the causeway to beat the tide. Father Luggan rushed inside, declaring he would have ‘words’ with Cecily, which did not bode well. Peyton hurried to find Bertha and break the good news that she would have a wedding feast to serve as soon as may be.
He stopped dead, feeling an urge to go with Father Luggan and plead his case before Cecily, to insist there was no other course. But after what he’d done to the lass in his bed, the least he could do was give her some choice in the matter of matrimony.
***
Cecily heard footsteps on the stairs, so she smoothed her hair and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Was she pleased or terrified to see Peyton? It was hard to decide after their time in each other’s arms. She wanted to run from what that man made her feel, but part of her wanted him to drag her back into his bed and do all sorts of wicked things. She turned her back on the door to appear nonchalant, and when she heard him enter, she swung around, placing the sweetest, most seductive smile on her face.
‘I would have words with you about your future, child,’ said the priest, and Cecily’s smile faded. He had seen everything out on Crichton Moor – her shame and state of undress, the awful things Edmund had tried to do. He was an ally of Peyton’s, who would judge her ill. He was a man of God who would see her sin and folly all too clearly.
‘Do you remember me, lass?’ he said. ‘I am Father Luggan.’
‘How could I ever forget?’ she replied.
‘Indeed. We met in terrible circumstances. But it seems we are meeting in happier times now that you and Peyton are to marry.’
The disapproval in his sharp words was clear. Cecily could think of nothing to say.
‘May I sit?’ he continued. ‘I have had a long ride, and I am not the youngest of men. Aching old bones are my constant affliction.’ The priest took the chair nearest the fire and beckoned her over. When Cecily stood before him like a penitent, he grabbed her hands in his cold ones and looked into her eyes. ‘You have only to say the word, and I can get you out of Fellscarp. We will have to wait until the causeway clears, but then we can be away before anyone notices.’
