Elene’s mouth fell open, and her chest heaved. ‘You killed Edmund?’
‘Did I not just say that? Open your ears, woman,’ he hissed as his rage spilt out.
She trembled. ‘Why tell me?’
Peyton shrugged. ‘Because you won’t be telling anyone, Elene.’
The colour drained from her face, but she gathered her courage like a mad dog that is cornered. He almost admired her for it.
‘Tis no matter to me.’ She smirked, and it was unnerving. ‘Edmund was no better than his father, in bed or out of it.’
‘By God, do you have no shame?’ sneered Peyton.
‘No, as it happens, I don’t. Oh, Peyton. You were always so serious. You have won the day. So why not take a drink with me, for old time’s sake?’
‘What is it seasoned with – nightshade, hemlock?’
She did not reply, but her eyes fell from his.
‘Elene, Sir Henry will not return. You must know that.’
‘I do not know that, and nor do you. So sit.’ She took the bottle and poured two glasses.
Peyton sat down opposite Elene. ‘You first,’ he said, pushing one glass at her. She did not take it. ‘Sir Henry has been delayed at court for a long time,’ he said. ‘Could it be that he is out of favour? I wonder that the King can suffer him, for he is such a loathsome man.’
‘I agree,’ said Elene. ‘One has to have a strong stomach to endure Sir Henry’s attentions. And I am not sorry that he is out of favour and will soon be replaced. The English court is a wolf den. When you turn away from it, your enemies stick a knife in your back. They whisper and plot. And kings are fickle. But you would not know that, being low born.’
‘Are you not afraid without your protector?’ he said.
‘Protector!’ She gave a laugh laced with bitterness. ‘I am safer without Sir Henry. If you strip me naked, you will see the marks of his affection.’
Peyton’s lip curled in distaste. ‘I will take your word for it. But now, we come to it. No one in my clan will be safe with you in the world. I know that you will endlessly threaten my sister, my wife and every soul in Fellscarp.’
‘Wife?’
Peyton sighed. ‘There is only one end to this, Elene.’
Her lip trembled. ‘I know how to die with honour, for I am no peasant. It will be hard for you, Peyton, to have that on your conscience because you have a woman’s soft heart.’
He looked her in the eye. ‘It has hardened since last we met.’
‘We are blood, Peyton. We share a father. Am I not as much of a sister to you as that ill-mannered Lowri?’
‘You never felt like a sister to me, Elene. The rumours were lies, and Laird Hew did not sire me.’
‘Calling your own mother a liar. How could you?’
‘I speak from my hardened heart.’
She gulped down her fear. ‘Please, Peyton. You know that I only wanted to take back what was mine. Clan Strachan is my birthright.’
‘You murdered your own father to get your hands on it, woman. And then you murdered your father’s cousin, Gilmour McColl, so that he could not challenge you.’
‘I did not murder that mean old bastard,’ she snapped.
‘No, your brother got a servant to poison him in his own keep, in his sick bed.’
‘Nought to do with me. Robert was his own man.’
