‘So now you insult Glendenning,’ bellowed Griffin.
‘No, it seems to me that I am insulting his sister, and come on, Griffin, we both know how you and Jasper are joined. It is a weak alliance, at best, and it serves him better than you. So you can’t afford to make more enemies.’
‘I can’t afford to have false friends either.’ Griffin spat at Peyton’s feet. ‘You have no right to this clan, this house or any of it. You are no laird. You are a peasant, a bastard who has wormed his way to the top of the dung heap. Your mother was a whore, and you are the same - no loyalty or decency. Enjoy your ill-gotten gains and your little whore of a MacCreadie, while you can, for you have made a mortal enemy of the Macaulays. And mark me, you will pay for the insult to my lasses.’
Griffin stormed away and rode out of Fallstairs. ‘Good riddance,’ thought Peyton.
‘That man is furious.’ Lowri emerged from behind the curtain wall.
‘You were eavesdropping.’
‘I was. How dare that worm Macaulay insult you. You have more nobility in your little finger than he has in his whole body. You should have punished him for it.’
‘How? Did you want me to cut him down where he stood? The man is angry, but his anger will calm. I have stung his pride. It needs time to heal.’
‘But his threat, brother?’
‘An idle one, and I’ve made far worse enemies than him, and I’m still standing. What are you up to, lurking in the yard?’
Lowri shrugged. ‘Nothing. Where is Cecily?’
‘In our chamber. She is tired and complains of feeling sick.’
‘Oh. Perhaps she is worn out from your nightly activities.’
‘Aye, well, they have been few and far between of late.’ Peyton rubbed his temples with his fingers.
‘What is the matter?’
He sighed. ‘I won’t talk of this with you.’
‘You just did. So go on, out with it.’
He kicked the dirt with his foot, not meeting her eye. He needed a woman’s advice, and Bertha would tut and call him a fool in that affectionate but exasperated way.
‘Lowri, I think Cecily may be tiring of me as she is not as…well… she does not want me the same way these last few weeks.’
‘I see,’ said Lowri, smirking.
‘Do you think she ails or tires of me? Perhaps she is not as strong as she looks, or maybe she thinks me an unfeeling brute, and so…why are you smiling?’
‘Because you are such a fool, brother. Go and see your wife and ask her outright why she shuns you.’
He would have been better off with Bertha’s tutting. ‘Alright, I will,’ he snapped. ‘And what will you do? I saw you whispering earlier with those two ruffians, Donnan and Rory.’
‘And what of it? We are friends,’ said Lowri.
‘I’ve told you before. Those lads do not look on you as a friend.’
Lowri rolled her eyes, and Peyton sighed. His sister would not see what was plain to everyone at Fellscarp. She was slowly leaving behind the gangly awkwardness of a girl and had emerged into that perfect, fresh-minted glow of womanhood. Lowri had a beauty about her that was hard to ignore, and it made Peyton nervous. ‘Take care, Lowri,’ he said. ‘You heard of Maeve Glendenning’s patched-up marriage to a Macaulay. You can’t go roaming the glens doing whatever you please.’
‘Is that really true?’ she replied with outraged glee. Like all women, his sister loved a juicy piece of gossip. ‘What an awful fate to be wed to a Macaulay. She can’t even know the man if she wed in such haste. Ugh. To be forced into a stranger’s bed with a swollen belly.’
‘Hush. No one dares say that aloud about the kin of Jasper Glendenning, but I suspect it is the case. And if you do not guard your virtue, sister, you will end up like her.’
‘Stop talking of such vile things. My virtue is quite safe as I’ve no time for preening men and all their foolishness.’
‘Keep it that way, Lowri,’ said Peyton sternly.
