Page 17 of Strachan (Hostage Brides #2)

Peyton burst into his chamber to find Cecily with her shift pulled down to her waist, washing herself over a bowl of water. Now, there was a sight to take his mind off his troubles.

She shrieked and tugged up her shift when she saw him. ‘Don’t you knock?’

‘Don’t you know how to bar a door?’ he countered. Cecily wasn’t doing a good job of washing, as there was still a smear of dirt on her neck. Her muddy dress was in a heap on the floor, and her hair was damp, going fuzzy on the ends as it dried. The fact that she looked less like a lady and more like a poor peasant only served to heat his blood.

Peyton grabbed a blanket and put it around her shoulders. He took up a strand of her hair.

‘Bertha leant me over and tipped a bucket of cold water onto my head,’ she said.

‘That wasn’t very kind,’ he said as gently as possible. Cecily’s lip trembled as if she was on the verge of tears. ‘You missed a bit,’ said Peyton, licking his thumb and wiping away the dirt on her neck. She flinched but held her ground. ‘So, how do you like being my betrothed, lass?’

‘Not one bit. And I said I’ll not marry you, Peyton.’

‘Why not? I am young, in good health, and I can support a wife.’

‘I’m not suitable. Your sister says I should do it – sacrifice my happiness for the sake of others. Did you put her up to that?’

‘Ah, so you’ve met, and no, I didn’t.’ He cursed under his breath. ‘I might have known she would seek you out. Whatever Lowri said to you, ignore it.’

‘She knows all about my shame with Edmund and how it ended. Why did you have to tell her, Peyton? She thinks me a harlot. I saw the judgement on her face.’

‘That lass is in no position to school others on their behaviour. And I keep no secrets from my sister. I would trust her with my life.’

‘And mine, too. But it seems you’ve not told her everything.’ Cecily’s gaze slipped to the bed.

‘Aye, well, that was not well done by me, and there are some things a man keeps from his sister. Forgive me if her words were harsh, Cecily. That is just Lowri’s way with strangers.’

‘It doesn’t matter what Lowri or anyone says. I’ll not marry you, Peyton. You think I am ridiculous, you and all of Clan Strachan.’

Peyton chuckled. ‘Only when you are brawling with other lasses. And you think I am a mindless thug.’

‘You are.’

‘I can’t argue with that.’

‘Everyone is laughing at me for fighting with Lorna,’ she cried.

‘Aye, maybe a bit, but it makes you seem less haughty. The clan believes you are so hopelessly in love with me that you cannot help yourself. They think you are desperate to be Lady Strachan.’

‘I am not.’

‘Why not? Do you think I am beneath you, Cecily?’

‘I never said that. It’s just that with all my shortcomings, I don’t know how you would ever bear my company as your wife.’

‘Oh, I like your company well enough, lass. I know that much already,’ he said, glancing at the bed.

She noticed. ‘You are insufferable,’ she spat.

‘Aye, but I need an answer, lass. Marriage is the way out of our troubles. You disappeared at the same time as Edmund Harclaw, which might raise suspicions if he told anyone he was meeting you. But if you pretend it was me you were meeting in secret, and we eloped, then you are clear of suspicion.’

‘Folk know that I shared your bed before marriage, Peyton,’ she hissed. ‘I will seem like the most brazen slattern that ever there was.’

‘Aye, but no one will dare say it if I take you as a wife. And then the Warden can’t hang either of us for murder. I will trust you with our secret, and you will trust me. It’s not so bad, is it?’

She gave him an anguished look. ‘I never feel safe, Peyton. And I cannot trust in you.’

‘Trust in this, lass,’ he said, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her savagely. Cecily whimpered under his mouth, then pushed him away.

‘It is not how I imagined a proposal,’ she said sadly.

‘No. I suppose you want swooning and flowery words, but I can only offer this. I want you, lass. You are beautiful, strong and brave, and no matter what you say or do, I want to bed you. I am not going to stop wanting that any time soon. I swear that I will not forsake you for another. I will protect you with my last breath. This is the only way you can be safe, Cecily.’

She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. ‘I cannot keep acting like a child. It was my folly that put Fallstairs and Fellscarp in danger, and I must put it right. If I go home, I will just be married off anyway, to someone old, ugly or brutish.’

‘Aye. And I am young, handsome and vigorous, and a laird.’ He shrugged. ‘Even if that might not last.’

Cecily stared into his eyes. Was she looking for kindness, love or honesty? Did he have any of those qualities in him?

‘Peyton, if I have to do it, I will. It is time to swallow my pride and make a sacrifice for the sake of others.’

She was so earnest he almost burst out laughing. ‘Lass, you could not be more martyred if I tied you to a stake and set fire to you.’

‘I said, yes, didn’t I? Must you mock me for it?’

‘Forgive me.’ He was pathetically happy that she had agreed to be his bride. But Cecily’s words gave him pause. The poor lass was swallowing her pride. Perhaps he had to do the same. A dangerous thought occurred to him.

‘I must go,’ he said.

‘Now, amid all this strife?’ she cried.

Peyton nodded.

‘Where are you going? Don’t I have a right to know now that we are betrothed?’ she said archly.

‘I must think upon a serious matter and get out of temptation’s way.’

‘But that is no answer, and as to temptation, you said that we could be married in name only.’

Peyton put a finger to her lips. ‘I will not lay a hand on you again until you ask me to, lass. I have that much honour in me.’

‘Never mind your honour. Peyton. Do you care for me at all, or is it just lust you feel?’

‘If it was just lust, then there’s other lasses to take care of that,’ he laughed.

That earned him a thump on the arm. ‘Then go and marry them!’ she howled.

Peyton gathered her into his arms even though she wriggled away, pushing her little fists into his chest. ‘I should not tease you. And I do care for you, Cecily. So you need not fear me or feel unsafe.’

He would secure her as his bride and then worry about the rest. Peyton kissed Cecily on the forehead and chuckled. ‘If I am going to have my throat slit at Truce Day, at least I can die a happy man knowing I had that one night in your arms.’

She ignored the compliment. ‘Why would you come to harm at a Truce Day? Don’t the clans meet under a peace at those gatherings?’

‘Aye, so do not fash. All will be well. It is just that I have a plan to protect you and everyone under this roof, but it is risky.’ He swept a strand of golden hair off her face. ‘Actually, I have you to thank for it, lass.’

‘What plan?’

‘I have been looking at my dilemma from the wrong side. All that matters is the survival and prosperity of Clan Strachan. I have to turn our fortunes around.’

‘Are they so dire?’

‘Aye. And there will be time enough for you to know those bitter truths. But now, it is time for me to swallow some pride and join the winning side.’

Peyton planted the briefest of kisses on her lips and hurried away before he was tempted to kiss his prickly bride-to-be everywhere else as well, whether she asked him to or not.