‘I may as well be a corpse.’
‘Why?’ he frowned.
‘Because you are acting as if I do not exist, as if we are not married.’
‘Secrecy is for your protection, Cecily.’
‘Or is it for yours? I think you are ashamed of me.’
‘What the hell are you blathering about, woman?’
‘You married a strumpet of a MacCreadie, just like Jasper Glendenning did, and now you regret it.’ She pushed him off and wriggled away from him.
Peyton sighed and sat up. ‘Were you listening at doorways, Cecily?’
‘Just as well I did, for I heard what that mongrel said. I know you are going to deny this marriage and choose some bitch from his clan over me.’
‘No, I am not. You have it all wrong.’
‘Enlighten me then,’ she spat.
‘Griffin Macaulay may be repulsive, but he is not wrong. I need allies, and if I can string him along by making him think I will take one of his daughters, then that is what I will do.’
‘And what about me?’
‘You are my wife. We are joined before God, and we will stay that way.’
Cecily’s face had turned pink, which happened when she was aroused or angry, and Peyton feared it was the latter. ‘Now your blood is up, lass, but it needn’t be. I swear I have no intention of casting you off.’
She swept off the bed and hurled open the door. ‘I do not believe you, Peyton.’
‘Are you jealous, lass?’
‘Get out.’
Raging lust and anger at a tiresome day made him blunt. ‘It is my chamber, and I am going nowhere,’ he said.
‘Then I will leave.’
‘No, I forbid it.’
‘You can’t forbid anything.’
Peyton leapt out of bed and slammed the door shut. ‘Oh, aye, I can.’ They locked eyes for a moment. ‘Shall I show you how much I want you? Would that make you happy?’
‘No, and you have no idea how to make me happy, Peyton. Do not flatter yourself. And do not touch me ever again.’
‘I will touch you whenever I like, and we both know you want me to.’
Cecily glared at him. ‘I hate you, and I hate this cold, damp, miserable place.’
He hated the words coming out of her mouth – a sign of his failure as a laird, as a man. There was only one way to feel like a winner. He grabbed Cecily and crushed her mouth to his. There was a brief struggle, and then she bit his lip.
‘Don’t do that. Don’t you dare do that,’ he growled.
A bitter memory flashed before him – Elene Strachan, biting, hurting, mocking his manhood. Peyton kissed Cecily harder until she whimpered and surrendered, but not for long. She pushed him back and slapped his face.
He took hold of Cecily and flung her onto the bed, and in a frenzy of anger and passion, they clung to each other.
