The Legend (8 page)

"It's not that easy, as you
well know," Alec hissed. "Would that have been enough to sustain your
marriage to mother? There must be more than physical appearance and I for one
refuse to spend the rest of my life with a woman who wants nothing to do with
me."

Brian did not waver. "The
decision has been made. Go and retrieve your betrothed and be quick about
it."

Alec clenched his teeth but
possessed enough sense not to respond. Anger flooded him, bitterness that his
father was so unbending. Why was it so damn important that he marry Lady
Peyton? Alec simply wasn't ready for a wife; at thirty-two years of age, he was
too young. He wasn't prepared for the restrictive life of a husband.

A deep resentment settled as he
thought on his father's words. He would not be penniless should Brian choose to
disown him; he had a small fortune of his own, certainly enough to establish
himself far from Blackstone. With his knowledge of horses and sheep rearing, he
could easily amass enough wealth to sustain him comfortably. He did not need
the damn Summerlin fortune.

Alec gazed at his father, angrier
than he had been in a long while. Mayhap he should simply leave to establish to
his father that he could not be manipulated, and prove moreover that he was
completely independent of the Summerlin wealth. He did not need it, he did not
want it, and he certainly did not welcome a wife.

If his father wanted to be
difficult and disown him, that was his choice. But Alec could not be threatened
or coerced into doing something against his will.

Without another word, he spun on
his heel and marched from the hall.

***

Dawn was an hour off as Peyton
and Ivy trudged down the road toward St. Cloven. They had been walking most of
the night, ducking into trees at any fleeting snap or rustle, giggling at their
own nervousness but continuing on. Peyton's head had started to ache again and
she was a bit unsteady on her feet, but she strove onward to reach the
welcoming halls of St. Cloven.

On foot, they were perhaps
another hour or two from home as the horizon pinkened, and Peyton was ready to
rest. She deposited herself on a rotten stump as Ivy planted herself on the
edge of the road, ears and eyes alert for any threats.

"Another hour or so,"
Peyton remarked wearily.

"Aye," Ivy gazed up at
two chattering bluebirds greeting the day. "Honestly, I shall be glad to
get back. I feel as if we are criminals, sneaking away as we did. Do you
suppose Lord Summerlin has discovered we are gone?"

"Undoubtedly. We were
supposed to attend the festivities, remember?"

Ivy nodded in recollection,
scanning the countryside nervously. "They'll come looking for us. They're
probably already on their way."

That thought prompted Peyton to
stand up and glance down the road. After a moment, she turned for the heavy
brush that flanked the thoroughfare. "Then we had better continue. We will
stay to the trees."

Ivy followed her sister into the
bramble. "You realize that this was foolhardy. It's not as if we can truly
escape Lord Summerlin."

"We can try," Peyton
said stubbornly. "Mayhap if he realizes how firm our resistance is, He
shall not be so demanding that we marry immediately. Mayhap He shall give us
more time."

"More time for what?"

Peyton did not have an answer,
aware that Ivy's reasoning was sound. Skipping, hopping, and walking quickly,
the two sisters progressed down the road as the sky grew lighter. The day was
coming alive and there were a few villiens along the path, passing startling
glances at the well-dressed women as they dashed by. Peyton was aware that the
villiens would identify them to the searching Summerlin soldiers, but she was
not familiar enough with this portion of the province to risk moving off the
established road. 'Twould not do to become lost before they were able to reach
their destination.

The second attempt to escape had
been foolish. She realized that but there was something deep inside her that
refused to give in so easily. Mayhap it was the spirit of James, demanding that
she resist another husband. For whatever the case, she was adamant in her
refusal to be wed. 

They were moving through a
clearing when the unmistakable rumble of hooves sounded in the distance,
carrying loudly on the damp dawn air. Peyton and Ivy stared to each other,
startled.

"Here they come," Ivy
strained to see their pursuers. "What now?"

Peyton glanced about nervously.
To the northwest was a large bank of forest. To the south, across the road, was
another block of trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. She thought
quickly.

"We part company. You go
south and stay to the trees. I shall go north and lose myself in the forest. I
shall meet you at home."

"That's madness! We will
become lost and...!"

"Would you rather return to
Blackstone? I, for one, would rather face the dark forest than Lord Summerlin's
wrath."

Ivy gave her sister a reluctant
look, turning once again to the sound of approaching chargers. "Very well.
I shall meet you in the ale storehouse."

"Good. Hurry, now; there is
no time to lose."

Ivy darted off across the road
and loped down the embankment. Peyton watched as the dark blue cloak faded into
a grove of trees before she turned for the northern route. Just as she entered
the canopy, the posse passed by and she cringed as the sounds of destriers
filled her ears.

The hooves faded and Peyton was
finally alone again. Glancing about to catch her bearings, she continued
northeast.

Unfortunately, the line of the
trees did not follow the road and as the sun rose, Peyton found herself lost.
She tried to ignore the growing apprehension and steer herself in the proper
direction, but it was growing increasingly apparent that she was only succeeding
in confusing herself further. Tired, head aching, she found a stump and planted
herself.

Above, the sky was brilliant and
the birds were singing loudly. Discouraged and frightened, Peyton verged on
tears as she pondered what to do. Knowing the sun moved from east to west, she
decided to wait and watch the direction of the sun. Then, mayhap, she could
regain her bearings.  A few feet away, a red-breasted bird landed on the grass
and watched her with beady black eyes. It screeched at her and she frowned.

"Be quiet, you. I do not
need your grief." The bird twittered again and Peyton threw a stick at it,
but the bird did not move. "I know I should not have come into the woods,
but I had no choice." The bird screamed and she shrugged. "Instead of
scolding me, you could help me find my way out."

"I do not think the bird can
help you," came a deep voice.

Peyton jumped off the stump,
tripping over her own feet and crashing to her bottom.    As her initial terror
subsided, her mouth went agape with surprise. Alec gazed down at her, sitting
on her rump, and lifted an eyebrow.

"I will not ask what you are
doing out here in the middle of the woods, for I have a rough idea. Where is
your sister?"

Peyton struggled to her feet,
brushing off her gown. "I am not going back. I.... I shall kill myself
first!"

He continued to gaze at her and
Peyton noticed he was not wearing armor, or a sword, and there weren't any
soldiers with him. His destrier, several yards away, was loaded with satchels
and other equipment. Alec wore thick breeches and boots that ended just above
the knee, a thick tunic and leather overtunic made from strips of fine hide
sewn together. His monstrous hands were covered by heavy leather gloves and she
was suddenly puzzled. He appeared to be dressed for travel.

"Killing yourself seems
rather severe to me," he said.

She took a step back, trying to
maintain her courage in the face of his massive presence. "It is not when
one considers the alternative."

"You would kill yourself
rather than marry? 'Tis not only severe, but foolish. Why do you have such an
adverse opinion of marriage?"

She eyed him. If he was going to
return her, then why hadn't he moved against her? He stood talking as if they
had all the time in the world. Her eyes roved to the destrier and its burden.

"Are you going
somewhere?"

He passed a glance at his charger
and cleared his throat, his commanding manner faltering slightly. "We were
speaking of you. You have yet to tell me why you are so opposed to
marriage."

"Where are you going?" Intuitively,
Peyton could sense his evasiveness and her anxiety faded somewhat. He, on the
other hand, appeared somewhat unnerved.

"Stop evading my
question."

"I shall answer yours if you
answer mine."

"I did answer your
question."

"Nay, you did not," she
moved toward him, gesturing to his destrier. "You are loaded for travel,
Sir Alec. Are you going on a journey?"

He sighed heavily and moved for
the stump Peyton had occupied. Gracefully, he lowered his huge frame upon it.
Peyton was a mere foot of so in front of him, a curious twinkle in her eye. He
met her gaze, thinking her to be an incredibly lovely creature.

"Aye, I was traveling. A
short respite. Now…."

"Where were you going?"

His brow furrowed. "Are you
always so prying?"

"Always. Tell me or I shall
haunt you forever."

He made a wry face. "God
help me, I believe you. Very well, then. I was traveling north to visit
relatives."

"Is that so?" she
looked interested. "Where north?"

He shook his head at her nosy
nature. "North. North of Durham, to a keep called Northwood. 'Tis where I
fostered. Now answer my question or I shall take you over my knee."

To his surprise, she smiled. He
was absolutely enchanted; straight white teeth, slightly prominent canines, set
in a bow-shaped mouth. Aye, she was utterly beautiful when she smiled and he
felt a strange warmth settle in his limbs.

"Did not your father send
you and the soldiers to find me?"

"And I thought those
soldiers were looking for me," he muttered to himself, and then turned to
Peyton with a raised brow. "'Twas unwise to run away, my lady. You only
delay the inevitable and risk provoking my father's wrath."

"Who says I ran?" she
said innocently. "Who is to say that I wasn't simply out walking, enjoying
the morning, and got lost?"

"You are nearly to St.
Cloven.  A most exhausting morning constitutional."

"I like to walk," she
insisted, averting her gaze coyly. "I could walk all the way to London if
I so choose."

He absorbed the flirtatious
lowering of lashes, smiling faintly in spite of himself. "That may be. But
you put me in a most awkward position. I was not planning on returning to
Blackstone, yet I cannot leave you out here on your own."

"Surely you can, my
lord," she insisted. "Simply point me out of these hellish woods and I
shall be on my way."

"I think not," he reached
out and grabbed her arm, whipping into a most intimate position between his
thick legs. Standing her full height, she was exactly level with him where he
sat. Their eyes, sapphire blue flame to smoldering white-blue, riveted to each
other as if somehow physically attached.

Peyton knew she should pull away
from him but she couldn't seem to manage the effort. His huge hands, gripping
her arms, scalded her tender. His touch was vibrant, his gaze consuming, and a
strange liquid heat flooded her limbs. She could feel his hot breath on her
face.

"Tell me why you hate
marriage so and I will take it into consideration when I decide what to do with
you," his voice was oddly hoarse.

She swallowed, feeling as if his
eyes were somehow molesting her. "What to
do
with me? What do
you..?

He shook her gently, stopping her
words. "Tell me."

"But...."

"Tell me!"

She had no choice and found
herself choking on her answer. "I do not hate marriage. I just.... that is
to say, I simply do not wish to be married yet. I have no desire for a husband
at the moment."

She felt his grip relax. "So
you do not hate marriage in general, but you feel that you are not ready for a
husband. Is that correct?"

She shrugged uncertainly.
"Aye, sort of.... and not knowing who your father has in mind as my
prospective husband, I am intent on discouraging him as long as I can."

Alec's grip relaxed further but
he did not let her go. He rather liked the feel of her. "And you are
frightened?"

She let out a long, harsh sigh.
How could she explain it to him? It wasn't any of his affair yet she felt
herself confessing nonetheless. "The only man I wish to marry is dead and
I do not want anyone else. Aye, I am frightened. I am frightened of spending
the rest of my life with someone I do not know."

Alec studied the fine features,
seeing her sorrow. This woman knew the pain of death as he did and he somehow
felt kindred with her in that respect. "Were you betrothed to this
man?"