Peyton leant forward. ‘Robert was an arrogant, pitiless worm of a man.’
‘Don’t you dare talk of my brother,’ she shouted in a snake’s hiss, spittle flying. ‘Keep his name from your filthy mouth.’
‘His name is tarnished beyond redemption. The man rots at the bottom of the river, poisoning the fish. It was all folly and pride, this grab for power, this cruelty you two visited on your clansman and others.’
‘Did I not face cruelty?’ she cried. ‘Aye, it shaped me as it shaped you. Men, using me, hurting me, treating me as an object to be bartered with. Even my own father tried to sell me in marriage to men I loathed.’ She flinched like a martyr going to the stake, but Peyton was not fooled.
‘You’ve willingly sold yourself, many times over, to get your own way, Elene.’
‘Are you hurt because I didn’t sell myself to you? Is your manhood pricked because your kiss did not make me weak at the knees?’
‘I was blind to who you were back then, but you’ve no power to hurt me now.’
She scoffed and waved a hand at him. ‘You could never afford me anyway.’
Silence fell between them, and Peyton longed to escape her malice.
‘Tell me something, Peyton,’ she said lightly. ‘Does a high-born lady face God for her sins in the same way as a peasant? Do you think I will be judged for the murder of one of God’s own?’
‘God’s own?’
‘Aye, the good Father Luggan. He should not have chosen sides and spied for you.’ She leant over the table, the better to see his pain, and Peyton wanted to slam her face into it.
‘You lie,’ he snarled.
‘Not this time. That one burns, doesn’t it?’
His breath came fast. Peyton tried to control his rage as his hand went to his knife. ‘You could not.’
‘I could, and I did.’
‘He was an innocent man. He never did anything to you. Why kill him?’
‘You killed him the moment you set him as your friend and sent him about the West March to suck up all the gossip.’
Tears came to his eyes. ‘Did Eaden do it for you?’
She just smiled, for she knew it mattered to him. Peyton banged his fist down on the table so hard that it bounced off the floor, and Elene flinched away from his towering rage.
‘You should not have murdered a good man,’ he hissed.
She came back at him like the cornered bitch. ‘He danced so prettily at the end of that rope. Such a strong neck on him. It took him an age to die. You can find him swinging in the wind on Crichton Moor.’
A storm raged in his heart, sweeping away honour and decency. Peyton had always protected women. It was a deep urge within him, but suddenly, he felt murderous. ‘I’ll see you in hell for this, Elene.’
‘Save your preaching and get to the point. What are you going to do with me? Lock me up, kill me or something else.’ She giggled and put her fingers to her lips in false modesty. ‘Your blood is up, and there is a more pleasant way I can make amends?’
How could she think he would want her? Had her spite finally curdled to madness? ‘Do you think I could bear to touch you, Elene? You are vile.’
‘Since when were you so fastidious? I hear your mistress has opened her legs to half the West March.’
He shook his head. ‘God help me. If Father Luggan were here now, he would tell me to forgive your sins.’
‘But his tongue is swollen and black, so he cannot,’ she spat. ‘I have wounded you, and you have wounded me, so we are even. And you must know. It was never personal. I always liked you, Peyton.’
‘Spare me.’
‘It was Robert who made me wound you. He was so jealous of any handsome man around. He was so cruel, as was my father.’
