Page 28 of Strachan (Hostage Brides #2)

Cecily paced back and forth across the yard. Peyton was talking to one of the stable lads. He caught her eye, smiled briefly, and then turned away. She felt sick. Worry ate her from the inside out because something was amiss with him.

Peyton had been preoccupied and distant for weeks now, ever since he had come back from England.

He refused to speak of his business there.

All he had said was, ‘I visited an old acquaintance,’ but the scowl on his face suggested the visit had not been a pleasant one.

There was something gnawing at him.

Peyton did not try to have her as often, even when she used all her charm and snuggled up to him on the colder nights.

It was as if he had been unmanned somehow. But just this morning, he had woken her at dawn with his touch and kissed her so deeply and tenderly that she wanted to cry.

‘Something has changed between us. What is wrong?’ she said.

‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘I have been a fool lately, but I have come to my senses now. Will you have me, Cecily?’ She nodded, and he eased his body over hers and took her gently. When it came, his release was almost pained, his expression tortured. Peyton held her in his arms afterwards, but Cecily was not content, even though he had made her feel beautiful.

Had he found another woman, a better one than her, someone strong on whom he could rely, not just an empty head and a bonnie face? She was unworthy, and perhaps he had begun to see that. Did Peyton just make love to her to compare his new love and his old? How could that be? She had been so sure of his growing affection.

A shout rang out. ‘Riders, Laird, coming across the causeway.’

‘Who is it?’ shouted Peyton.

The man frowned. ‘It’s Griffin Macaulay and his men. And, Laird, they have women with them.’

Peyton’s jaw clenched. ‘Damn the man.’ He rushed to her and said, ‘Cecily, you must go to our chamber at once. Do not come down to the hall.’

‘Why? What is going on?’

‘Griffin Macaulay has come to sell his wares,’ said Peyton, rolling his eyes.

***

Five Macaulay women hung before the fire, warming themselves and casting glances at Peyton, some wary, some wanton. He pitied them, being dragged out in filthy weather to be paraded before him like sows in a market.

Griffin showed no such scruples as he beckoned Bertha to refill his cup with ale. ‘Come forward and show yourselves off,’ he cried, waving the women over. ‘Get in a line so that Laird Strachan can take a good look at you.’

Peyton glanced at Bertha, who huffed and shook her head.

As the women shuffled forward, Griffin rose to the task of selling them. ‘A man needs to know what he is getting, eh,’ he said, slapping Peyton in the back. ‘As you did not yet reply to my invitation to visit my home, I thought I would come to you. The lasses are all shapes and sizes and very eager.’

‘I was worried I’d get my throat slit if I came to you,’ said Peyton.

‘Why? Are we not heading to an alliance through wedlock?’ said Griffin with a venomous sneer. ‘Tell me if I am wrong.’

‘No,’ said Peyton. ‘But I need to be sure I marry a woman I want. We will be joined forever, and that is a long time, is it not?’

Griffin gave a laugh with absolutely no sincerity in it. ‘If you are fussy, then take a good look at your leisure.’

Peyton turned a mortified gaze to the women. They were a plain lot, pale and mousy-haired, apart from one. She had a softly rounded figure, large blue eyes, and a bloom to her cheeks, and she could be called bonnie. His eye lingered on her because she met his gaze boldly, not because she inspired any lust.

‘Ah, I see my niece, Catherine, has caught your eye,’ said Griffin. ‘She is the bonniest - a strong, ripe lass with some flesh on her bones to cushion a man on cold nights. She will do very well. And she’s only eighteen.’

‘I will have to think about it. I’ve only just met the lass.’

‘Well, you can get to know her now. And you’d better be quick. There’s lots of lads sniffing after Catherine.’

‘Lads?’ said Peyton, feigning interest.

Griffin misunderstood him. ‘Oh, you needn’t worry on that score. A guaranteed virgin is Catherine, untouched by a man’s hands. If any of my lasses strayed, I would take the skin off their back.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

Catherine gave her uncle a vicious glare. Griffin ordered Catherine to sit beside Peyton. ‘Tell this fine man what you have to offer as a bride,’ he commanded.

‘I…I don’t know,’ she said, which earned her a clip around the ear from her uncle.

Peyton held out his hand. ‘Stop. We’ll have no more of that. If the lass is shy, that is a good thing. I don’t want a woman who talks my ears off.’

Griffin nudged Catherine in the ribs. ‘Tell him what I told you.’

Catherine’s eyes met Peyton’s. He was not attracted to her, but if he had not been married, he might have taken her just out of pity, for her predicament was so awful.

‘I am healthy and strong,’ she said. ‘I can work hard for your pleasure, Laird, and bear many fine sons to carry on your line.’ She glanced at Griffin, who nodded for her to continue. ‘I can run a household and keep your servants in line with a firm hand.’ She bit her lip. ‘Oh, and I come from a good family, and I think you are very handsome.’ Catherine smiled at the end of her speech, which Peyton was sure she had rehearsed many times.

***

Cecily paced in her chamber, fizzing with anger, her patience hanging by a thread. Bertha rushed in.

‘What is happening? Why is Griffin here with those women? I have been stuck up here for an age.’

‘You know why?’ said Bertha. ‘You are no fool. He has brought lasses for Peyton to choose as a bride. It is awful. He has them all displayed for your husband’s pleasure, like kittens given away to anyone. That Griffin Macaulay is a scoundrel, and Peyton should have nothing to do with this. If he were my son, I would box his ears, but he must have his reasons for stringing Macaulay along.’

‘To hell with his reasons. I’ll not stand for it. What should I do?’

‘Not for me to say,’ sniffed Bertha. Her eyes roamed over Cecily’s dress. ‘Why have you got that red dress on, well, half on, for your bannocks seem to be rising?’

Cecily glanced down to see her breasts almost bursting out of her bodice. She stuffed them back down as best she could. ‘Why should I not have a nice dress on?’ she said.

‘When I brought it out for airing the other day, you turned up your nose. You said only a slattern would wear something so daring. Too low in the bodice, you said.’

‘It suits me better now,’ said Cecily, tearing her hair from its bun and shaking it out.

‘What are you up to, lass?’

‘Nothing. Peyton should have sent the Macaulays packing by now. What is he doing down there all this time?’

‘Negotiating and talking to one of the lasses. I think Macaulay made him choose one he likes.’

Cecily’s mouth opened in outrage. ‘We’ll see about that. I am going down to the hall.’

Bertha scowled. ‘Not dressed like that, you won’t. And you cannot let on that you are married. Peyton said to keep it a secret.’

‘I know that,’ she spat. ‘I am no wife. I am nought but a mistress, or so everyone believes. I think it’s time I acted like one, don’t you?’

‘No, I don’t. You stay up here out of the way. Going down there will only put the cat among the pigeons.’

Cecily bit her lip. ‘I suppose you are right, and Peyton will be angry if I go down. It is just hard to bear, thinking of your man with another woman.’

‘He does not want another. Don’t fash.’

Cecily gave Bertha her sweetest smile. ‘Alright. Come and undo the stays on this dress. I think I pulled them too tight. And can you put another log on the fire? It is cold up here.’

‘Aye, lass,’ sighed Bertha, going over to the fire, and then Cecily made a run for it.

***

Peyton sighed. Surely he had placated Macaulay enough by now? Catherine was pleasant enough and had warmed to him a little, smiling along with everything he said, but she had no wit or interesting conversation, no fire in her at all.

Griffin pulled him aside. ‘Talk to all the other lasses in case Catherine is not to your taste,’ he whispered. Peyton wondered why he whispered, for he had shown scant concern for their feelings so far. Peyton was starting to feel a little hunted as the lasses quaffed ale after ale and began to get comfortable with throwing him seductive glances. They were getting louder, too, and gathered about him, all talking at once. It was like being assaulted by a flock of starlings.

Catherine tried to pull him away from the others. ‘Goodness, what big muscles you have,’ she said, squeezing his arm.

God forbid they all started pawing him at once. He would be torn apart. Peyton was saved by the sound of running feet and cursing. Cecily rushed into the hall in a blur of red silk and golden hair, followed closely by Bertha.

‘I could not stop her,’ Bertha mouthed at him as Cecily smoothed her hair and skirts, gave a little sigh, and glided forward.

She was a vision in her red dress, which showed off her lithe figure to perfection—cinched at her tiny waist, low enough for her pert breasts to overflow the bodice. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes bright with mischief. He had always thought Cecily had beauty, but now, he was almost drunk on it. Peyton’s breath caught, and his heart pounded.

Griffin Macaulay snorted when she approached him and said, ‘Welcome, Laird Macaulay. I am so pleased to see you again.’ Cecily bowed, giving Griffin an eyeful down her bodice, rose gracefully and smiled.

‘What are you doing in here?’ said Peyton. His words strangled his throat, but Cecily was the picture of composure.

‘Aye. You’ve no place here,’ said Griffin with no attempt at manners.

Cecily smiled sweetly at the lasses. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ladies. I am Peyton’s whore,’ she said as if those were the most ladylike words in the world.

The Macaulay lasses gasped in unison.

‘Go to your chamber at once,’ shouted Peyton, widening his eyes at her in a warning.

‘What, now, my Laird? ‘Tis the middle of the day. What will your guests think of us?’ As he tried to sputter a retort, Cecily turned to the lasses and said, ‘Men have such appetites. It is so hard to keep up. You will need all your stamina when one of you becomes his bride.’

‘And when I do, where will you be?’ cried Catherine.

‘Oh, I don’t think Peyton has decided yet. But I don’t mind sharing,’ she said with a wicked grin.

Peyton took her arm and dragged her from the hall as Cecily waved back at the Macaulays, crying, ‘Have another drink. We might be some time.’

Peyton hauled her up the stairs, threw her into their chamber, banged the door shut and hastened downstairs lest he do something he regretted. And that would be throwing Cecily onto the bed and having his savage way with her, or laying her over his knee and spanking the life out of her. Both, preferably.

When he got back downstairs, Griffin and his harem of relations had mounted their horses. ‘You need to keep that bitch in line,’ snapped Griffin. ‘A fine-looking lass, to be sure. Can’t say as I blame you for keeping her.’

‘Forgive any offence to your honour or that of the lasses. Erm…Connie drinks too much, and her mouth runs away with her.’

‘I’ll wager it does,’ leered Griffin with a wink. ‘I don’t mind that you have your little vices, and very comely ones they are too. You can keep a hundred whores, as long as you do right by my Catherine.’ He leant down to Peyton. ‘She is quite taken with you, Strachan. You worked your charm, alright. So, we are agreed?’

Griffin did not wait for an answer. He kicked his horse, and they all galloped out of Fellscarp, with Catherine waving goodbye.

When Peyton turned around, Cecily was leaning in the doorway, drawing stares from the men in the yard. ‘Go inside,’ he shouted.

She turned and stormed inside. Peyton followed her up the winding stairs.

Cecily swirled to face him in a fair temper. ‘How could you?’

‘Lass, I didn’t expect Griffin to just turn up with those women.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I have to keep him on my side, and encouraging his offer will do that,’ he shouted.

‘Well, you didn’t have to encourage him quite so much. It was awful. Those poor lasses. They must have been so humiliated, laid out for you to choose like chattel.’

‘I didn’t like it either.’

‘Are you sure? You seemed to like that plump one.’

Peyton frowned. ‘Would you say that Catherine was plump? I think voluptuous is more the word.’

‘Is it now?’ she hissed through gritted teeth. ‘You were flirting with her. She had her hands on you.’ Cecily carried on upwards.

They reached a little landing where the stairs widened out. Peyton grabbed her hand. ‘I very much like your red dress,’ he smirked.

‘I don’t care.’

He took her around the waist and silenced her jealousy with a hard kiss. She pushed him off. Peyton’s anger had already softened to desire. ‘If you want to keep my affection, you will have to try harder than that, lass.’

‘Keep your affection!’ Cecily grabbed him firmly between the legs, making his breath catch. ‘I don’t have to try at all,’ she said, smiling and squeezing to the edge of pain.

Peyton bit his lip. ‘Alright, I give in. Forgive my teasing and come to bed.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, walking away with a shrug.

He took hold of her. ‘You know you were jealous, and you know you want to lie with me.’

‘No, I’m not, and no, I don’t.’ Her burning cheeks told a different story. She often had that blush when she wanted him and didn’t want to show it.

‘Liar,’ he said. ‘You were down in that hall to mark your territory. You wanted me to see you. Well, I have seen you, lass, and you have awakened a fearsome need in me. Come to bed, Cecily. I promise to make amends.’

‘I will not crawl into your bed, Peyton. I am too angry.’

‘In that case, I will just have to make amends here,’ he said.

She managed a ‘no’ before he pushed her back into a little storeroom off the landing. He slammed the door shut, trapping her.

‘I want nothing to do with you, Peyton Strachan,’ she cried.

He got to his knees.

‘If you think a grovelling apology will see you forgiven, you are wrong,’ she spat.

‘What about this?’ he said, raising her skirt with one hand and letting the other slide up her rough wool stockings until he encountered the creamy smoothness of her thighs. Cecily let out a little gasp, which he hoped was pleasure.

‘I want no one but you, lass, and you know it.’

Peyton stroked his fingers down her centre, and she sank her hands into his hair. When he put his mouth where his fingers had been, Cecily gasped again, but she did not stop him. And when he put his cock where his mouth had been and took her passionately up against the door, she cried his name and held him close, and Peyton knew he was forgiven.

His own release came soon after, and Peyton decided he liked making love to his wife when she was in a fit of jealousy. It made her surrender that much sweeter.