Page 16 of Strachan (Hostage Brides #2)

Peyton rushed back to the house only to be confronted by Selby. ‘Trouble just turned up, and she’s in the hall and eager to speak to you,’ he said with a sheepish grin.

Laughter greeted him when he burst into the hall, and several servant girls scattered like a flock of hens, leaving a comely, black-haired lass nonchalantly swilling ale. She was dressed in braies and a jacket, mud-splattered, and there were bits of leaves in her hair.

‘Good God, look at the state of you,’ Peyton declared. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

‘Well, this is quite the welcome home, brother. Don’t fash, for I’m not staying. As to my appearance, the roads were dirty, and muck will wash off, whereas you look like a man covered in very bad judgment.’

‘I have been beside myself with worry, sending men out looking for you. Explain yourself, Lowri.’

‘I’m not the one who needs to explain myself. I have heard the most shocking gossip from the servants.’

Peyton said nothing, and she smirked.

‘Tight-lipped, as usual, brother.’ She gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘At least you cleaned yourself up, shaved off that blackberry bush of a beard. Who has shorn you like a sheep, I wonder?’

She picked up a strand of his hair, and he could feel ridicule about to descend. ‘You smell like a midden, Lowri.’

‘And you smell of desperate infatuation, brother.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Why didn’t you stay put at the abbey?’

‘I’ll no longer nest with those withered old crows,’ she cried. ‘By God, they are a miserable bunch, wallowing in their own piety. I think it is because they have never felt the touch of a man.’

‘Well, I hope you haven’t.’ Peyton picked some grass out of her hair, anger stirring.

‘Who is plotting against you? I’ve heard rumours.’

His sister was infuriating, as always. ‘Don’t change the subject, Lowri.’

‘Then, don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, brother. And don’t fash. I’ll not make that kind of mistake and end up with a brat clinging to my skirts, dragging me down. You may be assured of that. As to the touch of a man, the only one I got was Bishop Croucher pinching my bottom on his frequent visits to the abbey, the dirty old hypocrite. Does that count?’

‘I will take his head for such lechery.’

‘No, you won’t, and he did it to all the lasses. I wasn’t singled out for his special attention. And while we are on the subject of virtue, I don’t see you restraining yourself where that blonde lass is concerned. I saw you swallowing her whole down by the water. Poor lass, having to suffer that.

‘What do you know about her?’ said Peyton.

‘Oh, she’s quite the subject of gossip around Fellscarp. Rumour has it, she is a fallen woman you have taken as a mistress. I also passed Lorna Gilpin on the road here. I thought I had better stop and plead your virtues, as I know you have been following her around like a lovesick puppy, but she was in no mood for polite pleasantries. We only talked briefly. Let me recall her exact words. Ah, yes. ‘That brother of yours is a fiend and a lying rat of a man. May he burn in hell.’

‘I’ve been called worse,’ said Peyton.

‘Not by her. Why would she say that?’

Lowri leaned back on the table and hoisted her bottom up onto it. She swung her legs back and forth like a bairn. ‘Nothing to say? No matter, for I got an earful of gossip from Selby once I came in. His tongue is as slack as his fat belly. He told me about Lorna and that blonde one brawling in the yard. I am amazed Lorna had it in her. And then I sought out Bertha, and she told me about you sweeping in to rescue the beautiful Cecily MacCreadie from foul English ravishment.’

Peyton sighed. ‘So why the pretence, Lowri?’

‘I thought it might be more entertaining to hear you explain it all yourself, Peyton.’

‘Bertha should keep her mouth shut,’ said Peyton. ‘And you can’t say anything about Cecily’s real name. She is Connie to you.’

Lowri snorted in a most unladylike manner. ‘I am the soul of discretion. And Bertha knows by now that she can trust me. I am your sister.’

‘Half-sister,’ he corrected.

‘We don’t know that for certain, given our mother, God rest her soul.’ Lowri’s face softened to prettiness. ‘And you will never be a bastard in my eyes, Peyton.’

Her devotion and loyalty touched him, and he coughed to cover his emotions. ‘Well, whatever you have been told, that lass is not your concern, and you must not speak of her. Call her Connie so that we can keep her name a secret.’

‘Alright. How exciting that you rescued her from a fate worse than death. I would think it chivalrous of you had you not had your tongue in her mouth just now. Why not send her back to her family?’

‘She has secrets to spill that could send me to the gallows.’

‘What kind of secrets?

So, Bertha had not told Lowri everything. ‘Murder.’

Lowri’s face fell. ‘Well, I cannot tease you about that.’

‘It was not exactly murder, but I killed the son of a powerful man, and we are in dire peril if anyone finds out.’

Peyton sighed and retold his fatal encounter with Edmund Harclaw, the rumour of a new Warden, and the danger he was in.

‘So that is how Cecily ended up in my hands,’ he finished.

‘Quite literally,’ smirked Lowri. ‘So, are you seducing her to keep her on your side?’

‘No. I am seducing her because she….’ Peyton stopped himself at the amused expression on his sister’s face.

‘Ah, so you are seducing her,’ she said, jabbing a finger at him.

‘Look. The lass has as much to lose as me by giving me away.’

‘If that is the case, why not pack her off to the abbey instead of me? That way, you are both out of temptation’s grasp. And they will lock her safely away from danger, apart from the Bishop’s fingers, that is.’

‘You got out of there.’

‘I had help.’

‘Aye, those dunderheads you ride with.’

‘I grew up with Donnan and Rory. I trust them.’

‘Aye, you grew up together. Donnan and Rory are now men, not lads. And you are a woman. They will be looking at you differently.’

‘As you look at Cecily?’ she said in a high, little voice. ‘You are keeping her because she is bonnie.’

‘No. I am keeping her so that she stays alive.’

‘Tell yourself that if it helps.’

Peyton said nothing. He was being an abject hypocrite lecturing Lowri on decorum and good morals, and he knew it. ‘Just be careful around Donnan and Rory, is all I am asking.’

‘They don’t see me as a woman, Peyton, so do not fash.’

‘Aye, they do, as have others before. He was here, you know, menacing as usual.’

Lowri swallowed hard. ‘That is all in the past, a youthful folly, and you are so cruel to bring up Eaden.’

‘Aye. Forgive me, sister. I know you did no wrong apart from offering your heart to a villain. But you must learn your lesson. You must understand that you are a woman, so men will have designs on you.’

‘Well, I do not have designs on Donnan and Rory, and if either of them lays a finger on me, I will cut it off. I wouldn’t succumb like your Cecily MacCreadie.’

Peyton brushed off her barb. ‘So, you toy with their regard instead and lead them into danger. They try to look manly and brave in front of you to impress you, Lowri. You could lead them to their deaths, you little fool.’

‘Don’t name me the fool. Are you ashamed of me, Peyton? Am I such a disgrace that I might scare away the fine Cecily? If she is so faint-hearted as to be afraid of a little scandal, she is not worth the winning.’

He raked his hands through his hair in frustration. It was always like this with his stubborn little sister. ‘I am not trying to win her, Lowri. I am trying to stay alive,’ he snarled.

‘I know. Forgive me,’ she said, and her look of contrition turned her into the grubby little girl who once followed him around like a shadow, always looking up to him, always adoring. In a rush of tenderness, Peyton took Lowri in his arms and hugged her. Amazingly, she let him, for she had grown gruff and hard and seldom welcomed his affection.

‘Where did those cattle come from?’ he said.

She pushed him off. ‘Better you don’t know. But I was clever, and I was not spotted.’

‘I want you to go south right away and sell them. Then stay there with our cousin Fergus.’

‘That miserly old grub? Why?’

‘Because it is dangerous here.’

‘Peyton, I can help.’

‘You can take yourself off so that I have one less burden to carry.’

‘Burden, is it?’

‘Worry is what I meant. I cannot have anything happen to you, Lowri. Despite your many faults, you are dear to me. I am in this fight, but you are not.’

She stared into his eyes like she did when she was a wee lass. ‘We are blood, you and me,’ she said. ‘We stand or fall together.

I will go south tomorrow and sell the cattle to ease your burden, and you may calm your ill temper by tupping that bonnie lass, for she is quite the sight and uncommonly lovely.’

‘There is no tupping, and don’t use that word.’

‘The nuns taught me that one,’ she said with a wicked grin as she rushed out of the hall, leaving havoc in her wake.

***

The pounding of her heart would not slow down, fired by a heady mix of outrage, fear and shame. Cecily felt she might die of it.

Marriage! To Peyton.

She could not countenance it without a shudder.

But it wasn’t revulsion.

She shut her eyes and recalled the feel of his hands all over her, the commanding yet gentle slide of his mouth on hers.

A throb of pleasure made her belly clench just at the memory.

If she really thought he was awful, why did she let him touch her, lay her down and then take her innocence? There was no going back now.

She had done that terrible thing with Peyton.

Did that make him her master now? When he gave her one of his hot, longing looks, it turned her resolve to dust and made her heart leap. Then she crumbled and did whatever he wanted. So, aye, he was her master.

Cecily bit her lip.

Oh, she was foolish and wanton, and it would all end badly.

Peyton was only offering marriage to shut her up.

It was not affection.

It was a trap.

She had to get back to Rowenna.

She could not be a slave to her passions.

That had already brought enough trouble for a lifetime.

‘Dreaming of Peyton?’

A striking, black-haired lass leant in the doorway. She was dressed like a man and a footpad at that. She had a dirty face yet possessed a rough kind of beauty.

Her disapproving gaze suggested she had crawled inside Cecily’s head and read every lusty thought in there.

‘Who are you?’ said Cecily.

‘I’m the person who would like to know why you were rubbing yourself against my brother down by the water.’

‘Your brother?’

‘Aye, did Peyton not mention me?’

‘No.’

The lass shrugged. ‘Too busy kissing your face off, I suppose. I am his sister, Lowri. As I hear it, you have been sharing his bed, and Lorna Gilpin took offence and ended up brawling in the muck with you.’

‘Whatever you may have heard, I…’

‘It is of no matter.’ Lowri came closer and looked Cecily over from head to toe. Then she said, ‘I never much liked Lorna. She always looked down her nose at my brother, even though he was steadfast and true. And she has strung him along quite enough for my liking.’

Cecily stared unflinchingly into Lowri Strachan’s fierce brown eyes. ‘I didn’t care much for her either.’

‘My brother is too good for her,’ said Lowri.

‘I cannot speak to that.’

‘Is he too good for you, I wonder? I know it all, Cecily MacCreadie, or Connie, as I should call you. I know what Peyton did for you, killing your lover, and the danger that puts him in.’

What awful things had Peyton told his sister? ‘If you are here to tell me what a whore and a fool I am for falling for an Englishman’s lies, don’t waste your time, for your brother has already done that.’

She frowned. ‘No. I am here to get the measure of you. Peyton seems rather smitten, you see. I would hate for him to be spurned again. Tell me, what is your arrangement with my brother?’

‘He says we should marry to save me from disgrace. Everyone at Fellscarp thinks I am his mistress, to my eternal shame.’

‘And did you accept him?’

‘No. I will marry when I have a choice in the matter. No man is going to tell me what to do.’

Lowri laughed. ‘If you think that, then you are a fool. All men ever do is order us around. But think about this. Your folly has brought danger down on every man, woman and child in Clan Strachan. Have you not heard of how the King is scouring the Marches with his wrath? On my travels, I have heard tales of forced evictions from land held for hundreds of years, on the whim of the King. What do you think the King’s man, Sir Henry Harclaw, will do if he finds out you had anything to do with his son’s death?’

Cecily had no answer to that.

Lowri’s bonnie face was grave as she said, ‘I love my brother and would protect him with my life. Can you not sacrifice your girlish notions of love and marriage and make the sensible choice? Sacrifice your happiness to keep all these souls at Fellscarp safe, your family safe.’

The lass was right. Did she really have a choice?

‘If you do wed Peyton, you’d better treat him right, or you’ll have me to deal with, said Lowri.

With a last withering look, Lowri departed. Her words had stung Cecily, but did she not deserve them? She had to do the right thing for once in her life. She had to grit her teeth and marry Peyton Ruari Strachan.

***

Peyton went down to the stables. Brothers Donnan and Rory Boyd were dozing in the hay but scrambled up when they saw him. Donnan, the older brother, was tall, mousy-haired and brawny, swelling with muscle as young men do, as if he would burst out of his skin. He was handsome, save for a pimply face and ears that stuck out of his thatch of hair, but he would grow into them. He would appeal to the lasses, which irritated Peyton. Rory was not so blessed, being but fifteen, gangly and skinny. He was no threat to Lowri’s honour.

Both lads quaked under his scrutiny. ‘I know you two helped get my sister out of that abbey,’ he said.

‘Aye, Laird, because she wrote saying that she was in dire straits and that we had to come to her aid,’ said Donnan boldly.

‘Silence, fool.’ Peyton put up a hand, and Donnan closed his mouth.

Rory wasn’t the cleverer of the two. ‘We would never let down a friend in danger. Lowri is…she is dear to us and…’

‘Friend, is it?’ snapped Peyton. ‘It had better stay that way. I have just this to say to you, lads. If Lowri comes to any harm, or if either one of you so much as looks at her in a lustful way, you will be squatting like a lass to pee for the rest of your miserable lives. Am I heard?’

They both nodded.

‘Take those damned cattle south with Lowri tomorrow. Be swift and secret about it, and do as Lowri tells you.’

‘Aye, Laird,’ said Donnan.

He was about to walk away when a thought occurred to him. ‘Whose cattle are they?’ he asked.

The brothers exchanged glances, then chorused, ‘Jasper Glendenning’s.’

Peyton walked away quickly lest they see the smile on his face. It broadened as he mounted the stairs to his chamber. It was time to, once more, lock horns with his wife-to-be. Cecily’s stubborn nature was about to crash into his. He had decided to take her as a wife and would not be turned from his purpose. The remembered softness of her body underneath him brought a rush of heat to his face.

Selby came rushing up the stairs behind him and doused cold water over it in a heartbeat. ‘Word has come. There is a Truce Day gathering two days hence. The clans are meeting at the Gunn stronghold.’

‘Why there? It’s always out in the open at market day.’

‘It does not bode well, not well at all.’

Peyton waved Selby away and stood on the stairs for the longest time as the day wore on, enveloped in a feeling of doom. Murtaugh Dunn was a slimy cur whose loyalty was for sale. The man was ever sniffing after coin and advantage. There was every chance that those who conspired against Peyton would slit his throat when he got inside the Dunn castle.

The sun was lowering. The day gave way to night early in a Scottish winter. He could toss and turn all night contemplating that fate or find something to take his mind off his mounting troubles.