She bit back. ‘You’re a fine one to talk.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Go ask your wife,’ she said, stalking off with a smirk and an air of superiority.
***
Peyton headed up to his chamber, trying to calm himself. He needed Cecily’s soft, sweet beauty to take his mind off Griffin Macaulay’s insults. The man’s barbs about his character had hit home all too well, but he had a right to vent his anger, for he had rejected those lasses placed before him. Peyton had lied about being married to Cecily, and now the truth had come out, Griffin had gotten wind of it.
Everyone at Fellscarp now knew that Connie’s real name was Cecily MacCreadie and that she was his wife, not his mistress. Clan Strachan had swallowed the lie that Cecily had fled her disapproving father to be with Peyton, which was the reason for their secrecy. The mystery of Edmund Harclaw’s disappearance and their part in it would remain buried.
He hated lying to his clansmen, but Peyton had done worse things that would plague his conscience for the rest of his life. And he had done them for love and for the people who relied on him to keep them safe. He must banish this blight on his peace of mind before it drove him mad.
Cecily was abed when he strode in, with her hands clutched to her stomach. He threw himself onto the bed beside her and pulled her to him. She wriggled, and Peyton kissed her until she stopped.
‘What is wrong? Why are you not up yet?’ he said, stroking her face.
‘Because I feel unwell. I will get up in a little while. There was shouting. What happened?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about. Let us forget it and turn our mind to pleasure,’ he said, staring into her stunning blue-green eyes with burning desire.
‘Don’t give me that look, Peyton,’ she said.
‘What look?’ He tickled her, and she squirmed and giggled, which brought on a surge of lust. His hand slipped down her bodice and squeezed.
Cecily pulled back. ‘Stop that,’ she cried.
‘Do you really want me to stop?’ he said, praying she did not, for her breast lay heavy, warm and soft in his hand and was stirring all kinds of sin in his loins.
Cecily flashed a wicked grin. ‘No. Not especially’
‘Good, because I wasn’t going to, lass,’ he said as he began to stroke her nipple with his thumb.
‘Ow,’ she cried.
Peyton took his hand away. ‘My love, what is wrong? Am I too rough?’
‘No. It’s just that they are tender.’
‘I will kiss them better,’ he said, pulling down her bodice and freeing her bountiful breasts to his tongue.
She sighed. ‘Peyton, I am with child.’
He lifted his head. It was no jest. There was a pained look on Cecily’s face. ‘Are you in earnest?’ he said.
‘Aye. My courses have not come, and I asked Bertha what was wrong with me. She laughed and said I was a fool, and if I had shared your bed these last weeks, what did I think was wrong with me?’
His heart skipped a beat. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Aye. I am with child, and it is all your fault. You aren’t cross, are you?’
‘Cross,’ he said between a laugh and a gasp. ‘I think it is wonderful. Why would I be cross?
A scowl darkened her bonnie face. ‘Because I will get fat and take to waddling like an old goose, and you won’t want me.’
‘I will want you all the more, my love.’ Peyton kissed her thoroughly. ‘I am overjoyed. I cannot believe it. I love you, Cecily, and I will always love you, even if you are the fattest woman in all of Scotland.’
The scowl deepened.
