The joy that infiltrated the room moved from person to person, each lost to their own fantasies of The Legend returned to life. It was a miraculous moment for all to witness.
But Edward wasn’t smiling like the rest of the group. He was still reeling with surprise. Anthony Bek rose slowly, the only occupant of the table seemingly immune to joyous shock.
“Twelve years of prayers have been answered, your grace,” he said to Edward. “The Legend still lives.”
As if realization suddenly dawned, Edward grinned. “Llewellyn doesn’t stand a chance. With his brother David siding with me, he is already at a distinct disadvantage. But with The Legend leading my armies, Wales shall be mine. I can taste victory already.”
Alec’s gaze was even. “I merely said I would consider it. I haven’t pledged my services yet.”
Edward slapped at the chair happily. “God’s Blood, Alec, you might as well have. A promise of consideration is as good as an agreement in my view,” he passed a joyful glance at Anthony and Gilbert de Clare. “I knew this trip would be fruitful. Did I not say that before we left Windsor? Did I not tell you that The Legend would return?”
Gilbert nodded slowly. “Aye, Your Grace, you did. But Alec is correct; he has not yet consented. As he said, he must ask his wife.”
All eyes suddenly riveted to Peyton and she felt the weighty stares as if she alone were to decide the fate of England. But her gaze, her adoration, shone only on Alec. She understood just how monumental his decision was and did not take it lightly.
“My lady?” Edward encouraged hopefully.
She smiled into Alec’s eyes, reaching out to trace a finger over his smooth, sensuous lower lip. “’Tis his decision, your grace. I cannot make it for him. But if he chooses to resume his knighthood, my support is with him.”And my love.
Across the table, Ali rose to his feet. “As I recount my oath of loyalty, as well. Where Alec goes, I go, be it at St. Cloven or the Welsh border.”
Alec heard Ali’s words, but he was far more caught up in Peyton’s sensual touch and loving gaze. Her fingertips were caressing his cheek, his chin, and he nearly forgot about the question looming over their heads. Every man and woman in the room was waiting for an answer, as if the entire future of the civilized world depended upon it.
Though consumed with his wife, he was not senseless. His mind was working furiously, weighing the possibilities, the liabilities, and the entire situation. His reasoning came to bear and the answer he sought emerged, like the brilliance of the sun released from the shielding clouds.
Alec knew that his destiny was at hand. As Peyton’s fingers moved over his lips, he kissed them sweetly and rose to his feet. Six and a half feet, two hundred forty pounds of English knight focused on his king. The power, the force radiating forth from the man, was beyond believing; as if, somehow, the man were myth and human combined. Strength bestowed by the gods filled his limbs, feeding credence to the reputation.
Time froze for a moment. Peyton felt it; they all did. The Legend was restored.
“I would be honored to return to your service, Sire,” Alec said unwaveringly. “But I would prefer not to lead your armies at the moment and, considering Llewellyn is not an impending threat at the moment, I do not see that my presence in London is imperative. I should like to remain at St. Cloven until the birth of my son, and then I shall be more than happy to join your army at Windsor.”
Edward had to sit down. Twelve years of pleading, begging andthreats had finally come to an end and he was weak with the overwhelming knowledge.
“You cannot possibly know how glad I am to hear you say that, Alec,” he said hoarsely. “God has answered my prayers.”
Alec glanced down at his wife. “And mine.”
The Legend had returned.
*
“Your son willnot be born until April or May,” cradled in Alec’s naked embrace, Peyton was nearly asleep.
Alec’s eyes were closed as well, the end result of a most strenuous love-making. “And I doubt Llewellyn will choose to revolt during the harsh winter months. By the time spring thaws the ground, my son will be in my arms and the Welsh prince will be planning his strategies. There is plenty of time yet.”
She snuggled closer, smiling sleepily. “Edward was surprised, wasn’t he? I thought he was going to swoon when you agreed to resume your knighthood.”
Alec turned on his side, capturing her in a tight embrace in preparation for slumber. “Did you see Ali’s face? I thought he was going to weep like a woman.”
She sighed deeply, relishing his warmth. “I am so proud of you, my Alec.”
He smiled into the darkness, yet in the same moment, a hint of uncertainly clawed at him, second-guessing his decision. But he knew, clearly, that he had made the correct choice. The doubts he felt were a natural part of a most enormous resolution.
Peyton’s supple, nude body was pressed against him as close as she could go. His heat was lulling her into a delightful slumber as she felt his massive hands drift over the swell of her white buttocks. Surely there was nothing more wonderful than her husband’s delicate touch, a gentleness she had experienced from the very first day he had held her in his arms. A power that filled her, a strength that possessed her soul.
A strength that would soon be leaving for a date with destiny. The Welsh border beckoned her husband and Peyton’s eyes lurched opened with that thought. As delighted as she was with the resumption of his knighthood, the heavier emotions of longing and fear began to plague her. The longer she lay enveloped in his massive arms, the more potent they became.
“What will I do when you are gone, my Alec?” she whispered, clutched against his magnificent chest. “Who will be here to hold me?”Who will be here to love me?
