Page 37 of Strachan (Hostage Brides #2)

Griffin Macaulay stood at the gates of Fellscarp and did not mince his words. ‘You are a cur, a scum-sucking bottom feeder. You call yourself the head of Clan Strachan, but I see no laird before me. I see a low-born mongrel who cannot keep his promises. That is no laird.’

‘I never saw you keep a promise, Griffin,’ said Peyton. ‘And choose your words carefully when you are in my house.’

‘I will not. The dignity of my clan has been affronted. You offered for Catherine and then cast her aside and shamed her.’

‘No, you offered that lass to me. I pondered your offer and took a different path.’

‘You strung her along. All my lasses were flattered and charmed, so I would think you were taken with one of them. I gave you a choice of fine, sturdy women, and not one of them was deemed good enough. And all the time, you were already wed to a MacCreadie, who you paraded as your whore. Tell me again why I should not be insulted, whelp!’

Peyton grabbed the man by the jacket. ‘Name my wife a whore again, and you will lose your tongue. And if the MacCreadies are so offensive, perhaps you might tell Jasper Glendenning, as he also married one.’

Griffin shook him off. ‘More fool him, for Clan MacCreadie is nought but a nest of rats, and his wife is probably just as much of a conniving little bitch as yours.’

‘You should be careful how you insult his wife. Are you not joined with Glendenning through his sister’s recent marriage to your nephew?’

‘Aye, we are. He kept his side of the bargain on that matter, and it was well done.’

Peyton rolled his eyes. ‘It was not. Jasper Glendenning bought a husband for his sister in great haste. We both know the reason he was in a hurry. She is with child.’

‘So now you insult Glendenning,’ bellowed Griffin.

‘No, it seems to me that I am insulting his sister, and come on, Griffin, we both know how you and Jasper are joined. It is a weak alliance, at best, and it serves him better than you. So you can’t afford to make more enemies.’

‘I can’t afford to have false friends either.’ Griffin spat at Peyton’s feet. ‘You have no right to this clan, this house or any of it. You are no laird. You are a peasant, a bastard who has wormed his way to the top of the dung heap. Your mother was a whore, and you are the same - no loyalty or decency. Enjoy your ill-gotten gains and your little whore of a MacCreadie, while you can, for you have made a mortal enemy of the Macaulays. And mark me, you will pay for the insult to my lasses.’

Griffin stormed away and rode out of Fallstairs. ‘Good riddance,’ thought Peyton.

‘That man is furious.’ Lowri emerged from behind the curtain wall.

‘You were eavesdropping.’

‘I was. How dare that worm Macaulay insult you. You have more nobility in your little finger than he has in his whole body. You should have punished him for it.’

‘How? Did you want me to cut him down where he stood? The man is angry, but his anger will calm. I have stung his pride. It needs time to heal.’

‘But his threat, brother?’

‘An idle one, and I’ve made far worse enemies than him, and I’m still standing. What are you up to, lurking in the yard?’

Lowri shrugged. ‘Nothing. Where is Cecily?’

‘In our chamber. She is tired and complains of feeling sick.’

‘Oh. Perhaps she is worn out from your nightly activities.’

‘Aye, well, they have been few and far between of late.’ Peyton rubbed his temples with his fingers.

‘What is the matter?’

He sighed. ‘I won’t talk of this with you.’

‘You just did. So go on, out with it.’

He kicked the dirt with his foot, not meeting her eye. He needed a woman’s advice, and Bertha would tut and call him a fool in that affectionate but exasperated way.

‘Lowri, I think Cecily may be tiring of me as she is not as…well… she does not want me the same way these last few weeks.’

‘I see,’ said Lowri, smirking.

‘Do you think she ails or tires of me? Perhaps she is not as strong as she looks, or maybe she thinks me an unfeeling brute, and so…why are you smiling?’

‘Because you are such a fool, brother. Go and see your wife and ask her outright why she shuns you.’

He would have been better off with Bertha’s tutting. ‘Alright, I will,’ he snapped. ‘And what will you do? I saw you whispering earlier with those two ruffians, Donnan and Rory.’

‘And what of it? We are friends,’ said Lowri.

‘I’ve told you before. Those lads do not look on you as a friend.’

Lowri rolled her eyes, and Peyton sighed. His sister would not see what was plain to everyone at Fellscarp. She was slowly leaving behind the gangly awkwardness of a girl and had emerged into that perfect, fresh-minted glow of womanhood. Lowri had a beauty about her that was hard to ignore, and it made Peyton nervous. ‘Take care, Lowri,’ he said. ‘You heard of Maeve Glendenning’s patched-up marriage to a Macaulay. You can’t go roaming the glens doing whatever you please.’

‘Is that really true?’ she replied with outraged glee. Like all women, his sister loved a juicy piece of gossip. ‘What an awful fate to be wed to a Macaulay. She can’t even know the man if she wed in such haste. Ugh. To be forced into a stranger’s bed with a swollen belly.’

‘Hush. No one dares say that aloud about the kin of Jasper Glendenning, but I suspect it is the case. And if you do not guard your virtue, sister, you will end up like her.’

‘Stop talking of such vile things. My virtue is quite safe as I’ve no time for preening men and all their foolishness.’

‘Keep it that way, Lowri,’ said Peyton sternly.

She bit back. ‘You’re a fine one to talk.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Go ask your wife,’ she said, stalking off with a smirk and an air of superiority.

***

Peyton headed up to his chamber, trying to calm himself. He needed Cecily’s soft, sweet beauty to take his mind off Griffin Macaulay’s insults. The man’s barbs about his character had hit home all too well, but he had a right to vent his anger, for he had rejected those lasses placed before him. Peyton had lied about being married to Cecily, and now the truth had come out, Griffin had gotten wind of it.

Everyone at Fellscarp now knew that Connie’s real name was Cecily MacCreadie and that she was his wife, not his mistress. Clan Strachan had swallowed the lie that Cecily had fled her disapproving father to be with Peyton, which was the reason for their secrecy. The mystery of Edmund Harclaw’s disappearance and their part in it would remain buried.

He hated lying to his clansmen, but Peyton had done worse things that would plague his conscience for the rest of his life. And he had done them for love and for the people who relied on him to keep them safe. He must banish this blight on his peace of mind before it drove him mad.

Cecily was abed when he strode in, with her hands clutched to her stomach. He threw himself onto the bed beside her and pulled her to him. She wriggled, and Peyton kissed her until she stopped.

‘What is wrong? Why are you not up yet?’ he said, stroking her face.

‘Because I feel unwell. I will get up in a little while. There was shouting. What happened?’

‘Nothing for you to worry about. Let us forget it and turn our mind to pleasure,’ he said, staring into her stunning blue-green eyes with burning desire.

‘Don’t give me that look, Peyton,’ she said.

‘What look?’ He tickled her, and she squirmed and giggled, which brought on a surge of lust. His hand slipped down her bodice and squeezed.

Cecily pulled back. ‘Stop that,’ she cried.

‘Do you really want me to stop?’ he said, praying she did not, for her breast lay heavy, warm and soft in his hand and was stirring all kinds of sin in his loins.

Cecily flashed a wicked grin. ‘No. Not especially’

‘Good, because I wasn’t going to, lass,’ he said as he began to stroke her nipple with his thumb.

‘Ow,’ she cried.

Peyton took his hand away. ‘My love, what is wrong? Am I too rough?’

‘No. It’s just that they are tender.’

‘I will kiss them better,’ he said, pulling down her bodice and freeing her bountiful breasts to his tongue.

She sighed. ‘Peyton, I am with child.’

He lifted his head. It was no jest. There was a pained look on Cecily’s face. ‘Are you in earnest?’ he said.

‘Aye. My courses have not come, and I asked Bertha what was wrong with me. She laughed and said I was a fool, and if I had shared your bed these last weeks, what did I think was wrong with me?’

His heart skipped a beat. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Aye. I am with child, and it is all your fault. You aren’t cross, are you?’

‘Cross,’ he said between a laugh and a gasp. ‘I think it is wonderful. Why would I be cross?

A scowl darkened her bonnie face. ‘Because I will get fat and take to waddling like an old goose, and you won’t want me.’

‘I will want you all the more, my love.’ Peyton kissed her thoroughly. ‘I am overjoyed. I cannot believe it. I love you, Cecily, and I will always love you, even if you are the fattest woman in all of Scotland.’

The scowl deepened.

‘You really are worried, aren’t you, lass?’

‘Aye.

‘Then let me show you how much you mean to me. If you want me to, that is.’

She bit her lip – so plump, pink and soft – and then smiled. ‘That would be nice, but be slow about it.’

Peyton made love to Cecily all morning.

Her breasts were heavier in his hands, her belly more rounded, her body eager under his tongue, and it made her even lovelier.

He kept his weight off her and was as gentle as he could be, and she took all of him inside and held him close, crying his name over and over.

And Peyton stopped thinking of the past.

There was just Cecily, his bairn growing inside her and a world of love between them.

And whatever challenges rose in the future, he was more than ready to face them head-on.