‘We are joined, so we are in danger together, are we not?’ She crossed her arms. ‘Or is it because you do not trust me?’
‘Don’t be foolish, Cecily.’
‘Ah, so I am foolish now.’
‘No.’
‘Useless, then? Good for bedding and nothing more.’
‘Must you pick at me endlessly, woman!’ he shouted.
She flinched, and Peyton regretted his words. He pulled her close. ‘Forgive me. I am in a rotten temper this morning, and my troubles are not your fault, well, not all of them anyway.’
‘I made your life more dangerous when I crossed your path,’ she said, biting her lip, eyes welling. ‘I know that much.’
‘Aye, you did, but you have made me happy these last weeks, more than I have ever been.’ He kissed the top of Cecily’s head. ‘And you are right, lass. I have not trusted you, but maybe I should start. So, I will tell you this much. My tenants are angry, and rightly so. They look to me to end the thievery and raiding, and so far, I cannot. I have enemies I can see and some I cannot. I know the Warden wants to stamp out reiving in the West March, and he is a dangerous and unpredictable foe. His wrath seems to fall on Strachan lands more than others. I do not know why, and it troubles me endlessly.’
‘Oh.’ Cecily’s bright eyes widened.
‘Lass, I have taken control of Clan Strachan, yet I constantly worry that I am not worthy to name myself laird of anything. I am most likely a bastard, as my mother was free with her favours. I could have been sired by old Laird Hew, yet he never acknowledged me as his son. I am a nobody who has come from nothing, and so will I ever be. So there, Cecily, now you have the truth about the man you were forced to marry.’
‘I wasn’t forced,’ she said quietly. Cecily regarded him with a steady gaze – no pity, no alarm. ‘Alright. Now I understand you better. I will do anything to help you. And if you come upstairs with me, Peyton, I will let you do that thing with your mouth that you did last night. Then, at least, for a little while, you can forget your worries.’
Peyton was about to give in to the sweet oblivion of sinking his head between Cecily’s thighs when Bertha came huffing into the hall.
‘Griffin Macaulay is lurking in the yard like a footpad,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘He says he has urgent business with you.’
God’s teeth, could the day get any more frustrating? ‘Very well,’ said Peyton. ‘I will see him, but let him cool his heels for a while before you send him in.’
‘Shall I go?’ said Cecily.
‘Aye. Best make yourself scarce, lass.’
But before she could leave, Griffin Macaulay burst in. ‘I’ll not be kept waiting in cold weather like a bloody merchant,’ he declared before coming to an abrupt halt in front of Cecily and lashing her with an admiring look. His mouth hung open. ‘When I heard you had taken a mistress, Strachan, I had no idea she was this bonnie,’ he said, walking closer to Cecily. ‘Is she not a little refined for your tastes?’
Cecily frowned but wisely kept her mouth shut.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ said Peyton.
‘I’ll get to that.’ Griffin smiled at Cecily. ‘Well, aren’t you a sight to warm a man’s balls?’ he said, trying to take her hand, but she took a step backwards. ‘Fussy are we? When Strachan grows tired of you, lass, and you are in need of a protector, you might be more friendly.’
‘As you are in my keep, a little respect would be nice,’ snarled Peyton.
‘As I hear it, this lass is bought and paid for, so why do I need respect?’ said Griffin with an arrogant shrug. ‘Now, it’s best you send the lass away. She may be easy on the eye, but I have matters to discuss that lie between men, not empty-headed women.’
Peyton nodded for her to go and got a filthy look in return. Cecily’s pride would sting at being all but called a whore, but it was best he not defend her honour by saying he’d married her.
Griffin sat his mangy rump upon a stool before the fire, spreading calloused palms to the flames. ‘I have come with a proposition, and I’ll get right to it. That one might have to be shuffled off out of the way for the time being if you are in agreement. I have lasses who are in need of a husband, and you need an alliance, friends to have your back.’
‘I protect my own and care nought for your proposition.’
‘Hear me out, Strachan. I offer a hand of friendship in these troubled times.’
‘We have never been friends, Griffin.’
‘That can change along with the times. An ill wind blows across the West March with this new Warden. Sir Henry is harrying us constantly. Someone is behind our livestock being stolen, women carried off, burnings, lootings. We’ve scarce enough to get through winter without all the thieving, too. It’s not me doing it, and I don’t believe it’s you, as you are barely clinging on. So who else?’
‘Glendenning perhaps?’ said Peyton, fisting his hands.
