‘I should hope so, lass,’ he said, his kisses gentler now that he was sated and the lust and anger had drained away.
She snuggled into his chest. ‘I wish you would not go out at night after night. Where do you go?’
‘Always, the questions, with you. Go back to sleep now.’
Cecily turned her back to him and hugged her pillow. Maybe he had wounded her feelings again, but there was nothing else for it. She would think less of him if she knew how he lowered himself and beggared his pride before less worthy men. And he could not bear that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The winter snow had turned to sleet, and the sky outside his chamber was leaden. Peyton snuggled into Cecily’s back, his body folded against hers. This was the best place to be on such a filthy day. He was just about to stroke his hand down her back to wake her up and have her when there was a heavy knock on the door. Peyton slid out of bed with a curse to find Bertha outside. He put a finger to his lips.
Bertha glanced at Cecily, rolled her eyes, and whispered, ‘This message came first thing, and its bearer said it was life and death urgent.’
When he opened the note, his heart sank. Caolan Bannerman had just poured cold water on his morning of cosy debauchery, damn his eyes.
By the time the sun was well up, Peyton was soaking wet and shivering in the cottage in Liddesdale, facing a grim Bannerman.
Caolan’s black eyes were flinty as he said, ‘I am under attack. One of my men went out carousing in a tavern two nights ago. He has not been seen or heard of since. I suspect his corpse will turn up once the snows melt. Fires burn on my farms, and more of my tenants’ homes have been put to the torch.’
‘Why should it concern me if one of your wastrels has run off?’ said Peyton.
‘Because I had set him to spy on Alec Carstairs.’
‘Is he not to wed Glendenning’s sister?’
‘Aye, but Carstairs is a turncoat, and my man sent word that there is a plot afoot to kill Glendenning at his sister’s nuptials. And if he takes his new wife, Rowenna, on the road with him, she could die alongside him.’
‘So?’
‘So, I doubt you will want to see any harm befall your mistress’s sister. You call her Connie, though her name is Cecily MacCreadie.’
There was no point in denying it. ‘How do you know this?’ said Peyton.
‘How do I know anything? I keep my ear to the ground.’
‘If that is so, why have you not told Glendenning that I have his wife’s sister?’
‘Quite literally, or so I hear,’ said Caolan with a rare smile. ‘I have kept my counsel because I like to hold my secrets close and use them when they give me the greatest advantage.’
Caolan Bannerman was a sly one, and his dark eyes held a fierce intelligence. He was also ruthless and not to be wholly trusted. ‘And is this news not to your advantage?’ said Peyton. ‘If Glendenning dies, then don’t you have one less rival?’
‘And one less ally.’
‘But you clearly do not trust Glendenning.’
Caolan scowled. ‘Only a fool would do that, and I trust him no more than I trust you.’
‘Then why are we here?’ spat Peyton.
‘Because we may be strange bedfellows, the three of us, but I made a pledge to ally with you, Strachan, and I will stick to it. If I do not, and we become divided, we will all be picked off by the Warden, one by one.’
Peyton sighed and gathered himself. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘What I am doing - sending you to warn Jasper.’
Peyton laughed, but Caolan’s inscrutable eyes held no mirth. ‘I am in earnest.’
‘Bannerman, it is your secret, your spy. You warn him.’
