Page 20 of Strachan (Hostage Brides #2)

The sun was setting, and the wood pile had grown, yet Peyton was still torn about what to do. Sweat cooled on his forehead as he leaned on the door jamb to take a breath. His skin cooled a little as the strong wind billowed under his shirt.

When thinking things through, he always needed a task to occupy him. Father Luggan had gone east at dawn, taking his wise counsel with him, not that he had anything to offer beyond entreaties that Peyton give Cecily the benefit of the doubt. ‘She is young, and maybe her vanity was pricked at Glendenning taking an interest. She would have read into it, making up girlish notions about him admiring her. Or her father put the notion in her head. Either way, from what she has told me, Cecily loathes that man.’

The priest’s word had done nothing to dispel Peyton’s anger, so he had avoided Cecily lest he lash out at her. He placed a lump of wood on the ground and was about to attack it with the axe when he heard a swish of skirts behind him.

Cecily stood there in a simple brown dress, the lowering sun leaving a halo of gold around her head. She had sought him out for some reason. A thud of desire went straight to Peyton’s loins, but he tried to banish it.

‘I did not lie to you about Jasper Glendenning,’ she said.

Peyton sighed. ‘Perhaps your vanity led you to believe he lusted after you. I don’t think you can conceive of a man not wanting you, Cecily.’

His words cut her, for she winced, and her hands shook a little. Peyton carried on heaving the axe against the wood, regretting his cruelty. His anger was fading, but he could not find a way back to kindness. The silence was suffocating until Cecily took a step closer.

‘Can you help Rowenna? Get her away from Jasper.’

‘She is at Kransmuir, in his bed, probably already carrying his bairn, if I know anything about Jasper Glendenning. He lives in a stronghold. What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t know. But I cannot stand by and let my sister suffer.’

‘As you suffer?’

Cecily said nothing, which was a wound in itself.

‘It is done, lass. She is lost. You should start worrying about your own situation, not hers.’

‘Why? Would you cast me off now my family is connected to the Glendennings?’ she asked in a small voice.

Peyton carried on chopping. How could she think him capable of that? ‘I made a promise before God, and I will keep it, lass.’

She chewed her lip and said, ‘Why chop your own firewood if you are a laird?’

‘Why are you asking? Do you want to do it for me?’ he snapped.

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you have to spit your anger at me? It was just a question. I will go if you are in a sour temper.’

He held out a hand to her. ‘No. Do not go, lass. I chop the wood so that it keeps me humble. I never want to forget where I came from, and trust me, it was not much. What about you? Do you want to forget Fallstairs?’

Cecily shrugged. ‘My father wanted to sell me to the highest bidder, and my brother only ever stole my things and bullied me.’

‘Yet you said you wanted to go home.’

She sighed. ‘I am beginning to think there is nothing back there for me now that Rowenna has gone. Yet I do not belong here.’

He sneered. ‘You still think yourself too good for Fellscarp?’

Cecily shook her head. ‘No, but I am stranded between my past and my future. Everything is so uncertain. I am surrounded by people who hate me. All I can see before me is misery.’

‘I don’t hate you, Cecily. I just don’t trust you. As to misery, did you hate lying with me? I want the truth.’

She reddened and looked down at her feet. ‘I owe you my life, so…’

Peyton’s stomach twisted in humiliation. ‘Did you let me take you out of gratitude? Is that it?’

‘No,’ she cried.

‘Forgive the bluntness of the question. I know you were innocent, Cecily. But I need to know. I have been telling myself that a laird cannot be timid, worrying about the opinions and feelings of others. But I cannot bear to lie with a woman who cannot bear to lie with me. So tell me. Was it gratitude, and did you hate it?’

She looked at him as the wind blew her hair across her face. ‘I am grateful for what you did, what you have risked for me, but that was not the reason I lay with you. And I did not hate it, though I suppose I should have. Everything happened so fast.’

‘Not that fast, I hope,’ he said, smiling a little, but she did not take his meaning.

‘Peyton, I had no idea what was expected of me.’

‘Nothing was expected, lass. Much was hoped for.’

Cecily frowned. ‘Such as?’

‘Passion, tenderness, affection. I would like you to want me, lass. I need you to enjoy what I do with you abed. But I am trapped in a prison of my own making. I have forced you to stay here. Perhaps you let me lie with you because you are afraid of me and because you have no choice.’

‘I am not afraid of you, Peyton. I am afraid of what you make me feel.’

He swallowed down the hope that rose in his chest and took her in his arms. ‘And what is that?’

‘Confused, sinful, yet happy, and that is the truth.’ She chewed on her lip again. ‘But I don’t deserve to be happy, and I am uncertain around you. I must mend my ways, for I have been selfish and foolish.’

‘Stop saying that.’

She picked wood chips off his shirt absentmindedly. Up close, Cecily smelled of sweetness and warmth.

‘I do not want to be a slave to you or to my worst impulses,’ she said.

‘I have great admiration for your worst impulses, lass.’

He kissed her because how could he not? Peyton met no resistance, and Cecily’s lips yielded to his so sweetly that his heart ached a little. ‘Was that alright?’ he said.

‘It was nice. I suppose you may do it again,’ she said, so he did.

‘What else did you like?’ he murmured against her lips.

Cecily put her head down to his chest. ‘I like it when you touch me, all gentle and slow, and when your mouth goes to my…. Oh, I cannot say.’

Lust consumed him, but left just enough room for jealousy. If Cecily had ever wanted Jasper Glendenning, he could not bear it. He would pound that bastard out of her, make her want him instead, and salve his bruised pride. Why not succumb to his baser urges? Peyton crushed Cecily to his chest and kissed the life out of her.

Cecily felt a worm of desire uncoil deep in her belly. Peyton’s iron-hard arms around her felt safe. His body was hot where it pressed against her chest. His kiss was different - more savage, hungry. A wild abandon came over Cecily.

‘Come inside out of the wind, lass,’ Peyton breathed against her mouth. He tugged on her hand, pulling her inside the wood store, but she hesitated.

‘What are you asking me, Peyton?’

‘You know full well what I am asking you, Cecily,’ he said, and his eyes were hot with desire.

Cecily hesitated. She was at a crossroads with him. The weight of Peyton’s need pressed on her, but she had a need of her own, so she let him lead her inside. He shut the door and barred it. Dusk glowed through gaps in the door, sending tiny shafts of light around, but Cecily wished it was darker. Peyton pushed her gently up against the wall and kissed his way down her chest to the swell of her breasts.

‘You are so soft and beautiful,’ he whispered as he slid down her bodice, and her breasts sprang free to meet his hot mouth. He licked and sucked for the longest time, and she was lost in his touch. He was so gentle, so teasing, that Cecily’s legs softened, and if not for his strong arms pinning her, she would have sunk to the ground. She thrust her fingers into Peyton’s hair. It was thick and softer than she had imagined. She dug in her nails, letting a little moan of pleasure escape her lips.

Peyton growled, and his mouth found her lips again, his breath coming fast and hard. He kissed her gently enough to make her swoon, his stubble scratchy against her skin, his taste delicious, and then he quickly pulled away. His hand came to her cheek, hot, like a brand on her skin. ‘Do you fear me, lass? Do you fear my anger if you want to stop?’

‘No,’ she breathed.

He freed himself, guiding her hand down.

Cecily risked a glance at his manhood and gasped. ‘I am afraid of that,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘It is like a horse’s.’

He gave her something between a kiss and a laugh as he pressed her hand to it. ‘Be careful, else my head swells as big as my cock.’

When she frowned at him, he growled, ‘Say you want me, Cecily.’

His manhood lay thick and heavy in her palm. She tried to find her words but could not. He gave her a little shake by the shoulder. ‘Say it!’ His voice had turned dark with lust and power, sending a heavy thud of desire to her loins. Cecily nodded, and in a flurry of skirts, he hoisted her up so that her legs were around his waist, her back pinned to the wall.

Peyton slid inside her more easily than the first time, for she was slick with desire. It was so shameful that Cecily buried her head in his neck, waiting for the pain to come as punishment. But it did not. Instead, he slowly filled her, sending shoots of pleasure up into her belly. He began to rock against her ever so slowly.

Dust motes floated from the walls and danced in and out of the dusk light spearing the woodshed. The tang of pine filled her nostrils, and his smell—warm flesh, sweat, and soap in his hair. His lips tasted spicy, like whisky. Peyton was delicious, and she wanted to eat him up.

Cecily’s breath caught. She clung to Peyton’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him against the soft, secret part of her that seemed to swell and cry out for him as he ground his hips against her again and again. Her nipples tingled where they rubbed against his shirt, clenching, tight with pleasure.

‘Do you like that, lass?’ he cried, his broad hands gripping her bottom.

‘Aye. Oh, I like it, I do.’

That seemed to excite him, for he turned to steel inside her. ‘Tell me, you will have me. Say you will be mine, Cecily.’

‘I will. I am yours.’

He snarled into her neck, ‘You will have no other man. Say it.’

‘I will have no other man. Oh, don’t stop. You cannot stop.’

She was on the edge of an abyss of feeling, about to fall over, all her senses screaming for a release she did not understand.

Voices sounded outside, carried across the yard in the wind, and Peyton paused just as she was on the brink of something wonderful. Cecily wriggled against his manhood, and a terrible pulsing shudder ripped through her, and she cried out. His hand covered her mouth. The pleasure was almost pain. It was too much. All she could do was squeal into his palm as he stiffened and groaned into her hair, little spurts of his own pleasure bursting inside her and then fading away to nothing.

They hung together, breathing heavily, as the voices faded away, leaving only the howl of the wind rattling the door. Peyton slid out of her body in a warm rush, still holding her tight. Her feet found the floor, but she was still floating.

Peyton looked into her eyes with a burning intensity and panted, ‘I think we should go inside. There is a storm coming.’

‘There was a storm in here, too,’ she said, and he gave her such a happy grin that her heart pounded at how handsome Peyton looked. Why had she not thought him so before? And he had the power to make her feel such sublime happiness that Cecily was suddenly overcome with slavish gratitude. She would do anything Peyton Strachan told her to because she was his fool.

So, when he said, ‘No more objections to becoming Lady Strachan and wedding me,’ she could only reply, ‘No.’

He pulled down her skirts and rearranged his braies. Then Peyton took her hand, and they walked across the yard, the cold wind tearing away the heat of what she had just done. But his palm was warm where it pressed to hers. When they got to Peyton’s chamber, he gently took hold of Cecily and laid her on the bed. He pulled her close, throwing his leg over hers so her face was nestled against his neck.

‘This is what I should have done the first time I took you,’ he sighed. ‘I should have held you in my arms afterwards.’

‘Peyton I…’

‘What?’ He kissed the top of her head.

‘I liked what we did.’

‘I know you did, and so did I.’

‘I feel strange – happy inside, but I think I might cry. What is wrong with me?’

‘Absolutely nothing, lass. You are perfect.’

‘Then you don’t think I am a liar?’

‘Even if you are, it doesn’t matter any more. I still want you.’

She looked up and turned his face down to hers. ‘That is no kind of answer. Will God punish us for what we just did?’

‘No. Fornicating is encouraged within marriage. Hush now. Sleep, or I might have to do it again. You are safe, Cecily.’

Was she safe? She wanted to talk to him, to understand the beauty and brutality of what they had just shared, but she could not find the words, and she was not sure enough of Peyton to say them. She was full of sin, and yet exhilarated, a deep joy in her belly undercut with a yearning so great that she had to bite her lip to quell the urge to reach up and drag his mouth onto hers again. Her thoughts and her heart were a muddle.

She wanted to ask Peyton all kinds of questions, but her eyelids were like lead, and her limbs were languid. The bed was warm, quiet, and cosy. His gruff voice was strangely soothing as it washed over her. The last thing she heard him say was, ‘Sleep now. Rest. No harm will come to you when you are with me.’

But that wasn’t true. She had just torn off a piece of her heart and given it to Peyton Ruari Strachan, and she would never get it back.