‘What are we to do, Laird?’
‘You two can cut them down and give them a decent burial.’
‘Tis winter and the ground is hard.’
‘Would you leave them twisting in the wind until spring? Cut them down, I say,’ bellowed Peyton. ‘I don’t care if it takes you until summer. Dig a hole deep enough and put them in it with all due respect, and fetch a priest to say some words over them. And send to Fellscarp for grain and whatever food we can spare to get their families through the winter. I’ll not see them starve.’
‘Aye, Laird.’
‘After you have done that, go back to Fellscarp and guard it with your life until I return.’
‘From where, Laird,’ said Selby nervously.
‘I have to find a way to stamp out the vermin who did this to us.’
***
Peyton fidgeted in the saddle. He could have been in a warm bed and Cecily’s even warmer body. Instead, he was out on a filthy dark night, being insulted. He struggled to control his ire as Jasper Glendenning baited him about being on Liddesdale land. It had once been Strachan land, but now it had been taken.
He had no time for these petty barbs. There were dead men to avenge, but Peyton resolved to take Liddesdale back once he was strong enough. For now, he had to swallow his pride and endure this unholy alliance. It was proving harder than he had imagined.
‘I hear that you were visited by the Macaulays,’ said Jasper.
Ah, here was an opportunity to bait the bastard. ‘Griffin Macaulay wants me for one of his daughters,’ said Peyton, watching Jasper’s face sour at the thought of a Strachan and Macaulay alliance.
‘That might raise you up in the world,’ snarled Jasper, and Peyton had the satisfaction of knowing something Jasper did not. He had a beautiful wife, snug and warm and curled up in his bed. He needed no other.
‘I declined as my inclination lies elsewhere,’ he said.
Caolan Bannerman then stoked Jasper’s ire by suggesting the man marry his pinched-faced sister Glenna off for a similar alliance. Peyton was not sure whether Caolan did this because it was a good idea or because he liked to irritate Jasper. They were none of them friends, nor did they have any illusions.
Jasper glowered at his company. For a man recently married, he did not seem very happy. Perhaps Rowenna MacCreadie was not too fond of her new husband, so Jasper already found his marriage bed cold. But his was not, and Peyton longed to get back to Fellscarp and Cecily’s fiery embrace.
So, after much bad-tempered muttering, it was agreed that Peyton encourage the Macaulays’ overtures of friendship through marriage, and Jasper was to throw the offer of his sister’s hand at the Irvine and Beattie clans. And all this scheming was in the name of an alliance Peyton could not trust, which put his life in danger.
After a long ride home in the dead of night, Peyton clattered into the yard. The sentry came running, and he handed off his horse. Climbing the stairs to his chamber, he hoped the stench of treachery did not cling to him as his mind whirled with schemes and worries. The thought of the two dead farmers, grotesque and swollen like ripe fruit, seeped into his mind. He had to banish that nightmare.
Cecily was fast asleep, her back to the door, when he crept into his chamber. The fire was burned low, and the room was chilly. Her hair glowed pale in the murk. Peyton gently unfastened his sword, laid it down, and tore off his braies and plaid. He rubbed his hands together to thaw them out and slid into bed beside her. She moaned in her sleep and wriggled against him. His cock stiffened against her warm buttocks as a rush of tenderness choked his throat.
When he slid a cold hand down her shift to her breast, Cecily woke with a little yelp. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she cried. ‘Your hands are cold.’
‘Every part of me is cold.’
She reached back her hand and cupped his balls. ‘Not these,’ she laughed.
‘Will you warm me up? Will you have me, lass?’
She turned her head to kiss him. ‘Do I have a choice?’ she breathed against his mouth.
‘No,’ he whispered. Peyton pulled her shift up to her waist and slid his hand lower. She gasped and squirmed deliciously against his fingers, slick and eager, her bottom rubbing his cock.
‘Where have you been?’ she said, beginning to turn around, but he lay over her back and opened her legs with his knee.
‘No,’ he said gently, silencing her. ‘I want it like this.’ Peyton nuzzled her neck, making her purr like a cat. She pushed back as he surged inside her over and over, as his hand worked her to a frenzy, and she begged him not to stop, clawing his hair. They reached a peak at the same time, and it was as if their bodies melded together to become one.
‘You have such passion, Cecily,’ he breathed.
‘Only for you.’
