Page 9 of Strachan (Hostage Brides #2)

Peyton dismounted wearily and regarded Fellscarp’s grim edifice with dismay. He felt grimy from the road and sleeping rough. He had been out for days searching for Lowri, to no avail. The abbess was no use. The old cow had declared, ‘Your sister is a lost cause. She will never find God or peace in this world. Hers is a restless soul and doomed to be a lonely one, for she will not countenance marriage and respectability. Do not spare the birch if you ever catch up with her.’

Why had he paid those nuns good money to mend his sister’s ways when Lowri seemed more rebellious and wild than ever?

Bertha met him at the door. ‘Thank heavens, you are back. That lass, Cecily, has been plaguing me day and night to set her free. Never stops with her wailing and moaning. And there’s talk.’

‘What kind of talk?’ he asked.

‘Aila called her a whore. She was a little wounded by it, I think.’

‘Aila has a sour temper and vicious nature. Ignore her.’

‘Aye, well, that’s as maybe, but this Cecily is far too well-bred to pass as a servant. If you let her mingle with the others, she will tell her tale, and they’d not welcome her anyway. The gossip has spread as to what she is to you, Peyton. I think it is about time you decided.’

‘I am thinking about it, Bertha.’

‘Well, think about it quickly. ‘Tis not fair to lock her up in that tower with only a bucket for her ablutions. She is but a wee lass and frightened. And you cannot have her family come looking and raising hell. You will have to put her somewhere safe. What about that abbey in the East March? It was good enough for Lowri.’

‘It was not, and I had harsh words with the abbess, so I doubt she’ll want to see my face again.’ He sighed. ‘I will go and deal with this lass once and for all.’

Peyton took the stairs upwards two at a time. Though she was a burden, part of him looked forward to sparring with Cecily MacCreadie, and the sight of her bonnie face wouldn’t go amiss either. He barged in, and she leapt from her perch by the window and glared at him.

‘What are you doing? What do you want?’ she said breathlessly.

‘We are taking a walk, and you will need this jacket,’ he said, shrugging off his old green jacket and holding it out. It was the best he could do. ‘And don’t try to run away, or I will catch you and punish you.’

The back of her hand came to her mouth. Was she dreading another kiss? Probably. By now, Peyton was pretty sure that he sickened Cecily MacCreadie.

She donned the jacket, and after holding its collar to her nose and sniffing it, she followed him downstairs passively enough and out into the yard. Aila and some of the other lasses glowered as they crossed the yard, so Peyton grabbed Cecily’s hand firmly enough that she could not recoil.

Outside the curtain wall, the wind was vicious despite a weak sun, and Cecily snuggled into the jacket. Peyton dragged her along in silence until they were well away from Fellscarp’s prying eyes and ears at the far end of a rocky promontory, which curved to form a bay at one end. They stood in awkward silence for a while, apart from the slap of water against the rocks.

‘Have you been well in my absence?’ he said, dropping Cecily’s hand and picking up a pebble.

‘As if you care.’

‘Your bruises are fading, and you’ve more colour in your cheeks.’

They reddened at his staring, and she looked away. Peyton skipped the pebble across the water and stole a glance. The jacket brought out the hint of green in her eyes, and he fought the urge to stare into them.

‘This loch is huge,’ she said, watching the pebble’s progress.

‘It’s no loch. It’s a tidal inlet, and it catches the wind sweeping off the estuary. Out there in the far distance is the gateway to the Solway Firth and beyond, the Irish Sea.’

‘I’ve never seen the sea.’

‘You should. It is quite a grand sight, stretching forever. It has a power and beauty of its own. But it does send a cold wind sweeping up the Firth, which is why your chamber, or your prison as you like to call it, is so cold.’

Cecily gave him a sharp look for mocking her. ‘Why build a home in such a windswept, damp place?’

‘Because my Strachan ancestors were fools.’

‘So is that your name - Peyton Strachan?’ she said, meeting his eye. The wind caught her hair and swept golden strands about her face. He could stare at Cecily for hours and not get enough of that face.

He smiled. ‘Aye, Peyton Ruari Strachan is my name, and I am Laird of Clan Strachan. I dream of building inland – a new home, grander, more defensible, but comfortable, away from the water. But that is a long way off, I think.’

‘Well, we all have dreams that lead us astray and come to nought,’ she said bitterly, biting her lip, and Peyton wished she would not, for that mouth was infinitely kissable. He didn’t need another reason to stare at it.

‘So, Cecily MacCreadie, what do you know of us Strachans?’

‘Not much. You were rarely spoken of at Fallstairs. But I heard there was a fight a while back with other clans and that you lost.’

Peyton bit back humiliation. ‘Is that it? How can you not know about your neighbours, lass?’

‘I was kept close at Fallstairs by my father. Rowenna got out, but she is bolder than I and not…well, she was not expected to…’

‘Rowenna?’

‘My sister. She was allowed to go to the market and ride around the countryside, but I was kept at home to tend my father.’

‘Does your father ail?’

‘Only from laziness and drink. He said I needed sheltering from the ills of the world as I was so precious. I mistook his words for love, but now I think it was just greed.’

‘How so?’

‘He hoped I would make a good marriage to repair our fortunes.’

‘I see. And is that what you were doing with Edmund?’

‘I do not want to talk about him. I would rather forget he ever existed,’ she said, and there was a stubborn tilt to her chin. Cecily pulled the jacket tighter around her.

‘Well, I need answers, and you will tell me, lass. Come on.’

She sighed. ‘Very well. I was walking one day. I did that often to escape from my tiresome family.’ Cecily swallowed hard. ‘Oh, but I miss them now.’

‘Go on.’

‘I met Edmund on Crichton Moor. He was just there one day, and at first, I was afraid. But he was so charming, well-spoken.’

‘And handsome,’ said Peyton, as a worm of jealousy uncoiled in his gut.

She looked at him angrily. ‘Aye, handsome, beautiful even.’

‘I thought that beauty was a woman’s preserve.’

Peyton Strachan’s tone was almost gentle, and Cecily needed to unburden herself of her anger and disappointment and make him understand why she had shamed herself.

‘There was no other word for him. He was perfect in every way, save for that little scar on his temple, which made him seem so heroic. The result of a fight, he said, but he was probably lying.’ She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘To think I was shocked that he wanted to be with me. I used to pinch myself in case I was dreaming. Edmund was not like other men. He talked of educated matters – politics, the King’s court, his travels in England and beyond, and he talked of love and a future together.’

‘Is this the future you hoped for, lass?’

‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘But Edmund was kind and talked to me like an equal. He swore he loved me to distraction and that I was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.’

Peyton frowned, and she could almost taste his disapproval. ‘So you fell for his flattery and pretty face,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘Why should I not? Do you know what it was like for me at Fallstairs? I was so suffocated by my dreary existence that with every dull day that passed, I could almost feel all my youth seeping away as if Fallstairs was leaching it from my very bones. When Edmund said we should run away together, I agreed. Better to take a chance on him than have all my gifts wasted on withered Wymon Carruthers or that brute Jasper Glendenning.’

Peyton just stared out over the water with an angry look on his face. He was as changeable as the wind and clearly thought her a fool.

‘You think ill of me for falling for Edmund, don’t you?’ she said.

‘Not my place to say.’

How could she make this brute understand love? ‘It was as if Edmund held a bright, shining future in his hand, full of love and happiness. Can you blame me for grabbing onto it?’

Peyton took hold of her arm. ‘Is this love?’ he said, pulling up her sleeve to reveal a purple bruise, yellowing at the edges.

She snatched her arm away.

‘Did you not question why he was riding around the West March, alone, if he was a merchant’s son?’

‘Why would he not?’

‘Because he is English, and the Marches are dangerous for travellers. Don’t you know anything?’

‘It doesn’t matter now, for he is dead. You saw to that.’

‘In defence of your virtue. You can’t still believe he was in love with you?’ he spat. ‘Tell me you do not grieve that bastard.’

‘No, I grieve the loss of my dreams, my hopes and a better future. Are you such a ruffian that you cannot understand that?’

He was silent for a while and then shrugged. ‘I suppose I can.’

Cecily bit her lip and said, ‘Thank you for rescuing me. I don’t think I would have enjoyed what Edmund was going to do to me.’

‘And do you know what that was?’ he said, his eyes probing hers.

‘Stop, please,’ she said, walking away from Peyton’s intensity to stand at the water’s edge.

‘I am sorry for what happened to you, lass, but I swear you will come to no harm by my hand.’

‘Forgive me if I don’t believe that.’

They both fell silent. Birds cawed and swept over the water as it licked the shingle. Cecily choked back tears. This man interrogating her was uncouth and fierce, but he had shown her more kindness and chivalry in his rough way than the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with.

‘You must think me the worst fool for agreeing to run away with Edmund.’

‘I’ve heard better plans, but you were na?ve and no fool. You are clever enough to try to worm your way out of your predicament. You have courage to spare, fighting him off where many a lass would have succumbed. You must have been frightened out of your wits.’

Cecily locked her gaze to his. ‘I don’t remember fear – just rage,’ she said. She put her hand to her face. ‘Oh, that is terrible, isn’t it?’

‘No. Rage is why you are still breathing, or at least still a virgin.’

Cecily looked away, blushing and wrapping her arms around her body. Peyton chided himself. Must he be so blunt all the time with his rough words and stare so long at her beauty. The lass was clearly frightened of him.

‘’Forgive me for speaking so plainly,’ Peyton continued. ‘I don’t suppose you know much about men, being sheltered by your father.’

‘No. I don’t,’ she said, and it would have hurt him if she’d said otherwise, for Cecily was so fair and delicate, he could not bear to think about another man laying hands on her.

Peyton took a breath. ‘What of Jasper Glendenning?’ Even the man’s name caused anger to choke his throat.

Cecily gave him a wary look.

‘Go on. Tell me, lass.’

‘He came to Fallstairs demanding payment of a debt and talking about his dead wife and how he needed an heir. My father threw me at him. I think he intended us to be wed, especially after Wymon Carruthers took ill.’

‘Who is that?’

‘Some old lecher my father betrothed me to. But he caught an ague and was not such a good prospect.’

‘Good God, lass. How many suitors do you have?’

‘Do not say it like that. It is not my fault that I am bonnie.’

He laughed. ‘Aye, you are, even if you are not very humble about it.’

She blinked hard as if he had stung her. ‘Much good beauty or humility have done me. Look where I’ve ended up. Life gave me a choice between a brute, an old man and a lying Englishman. Perhaps I am prideful, but surely I do not deserve this harsh a punishment for it?’

‘So you were betrothed to a sick old man and then offered to Jasper Glendenning. I suppose you saw him as a much better choice.’

‘No, he wasn’t. I hated him. He was so fierce, and he kept staring at me with such anger.’

‘He looks at everyone like that. Believe me, lass, his glare is as vicious as his character.’

‘You know him?’

‘Aye. Glendenning is one of my bitterest enemies. I cannot stand the man.’

‘Finally, something we can agree on.’ She flashed a little smile like the sun bursting from a cloudy sky. ‘Why are you enemies?’ she said.

‘There was a fight, and he stole land from Clan Strachan, prime farming land at Liddesdale, up the glen not far from here. But that is not important now. So, Cecily, faced with the prospect of Glendenning, you decided to run away with Edmund to a new life as his wife.’

‘But then I got suspicious when he said we would not be married right away and needed to spend the night at Rascals Inn. I had heard of it and knew it was a place of ill repute. Do you know of it?’

‘I have visited from time to time, and it was no place for someone like you.’

‘Like me?’

‘Aye, you being delicately raised and such. So what happened when you refused to go there?’

‘Well, then he got nasty and started to hurt me, and he tried to make me…’ She looked down at her boots, and pity twisted his gut.

‘I have to tell you something that might wound you, lass, or help you,’ said Peyton. ‘Edmund lied.’

‘I know. He told me he couldn’t marry me, for he was already married.’ Cecily seemed to find her boots fascinating.

‘No, lass. It is worse. He was no merchant’s son. His name is, or was, Edmund Harclaw, son of Sir Henry Harclaw.’ Cecily’s head snapped up. ‘Lass, the man who tried to dishonour you was English nobility.’

She shook her head. ‘That cannot be.’

‘Did you not notice his fine clothes, the well-bred horse?’

‘He told me his father was rich.’ She swallowed back tears and twisted her hands together. ‘Are you saying he lied about everything, that he never had any regard for me at all?’ She gasped. ‘Could I have been more of a fool?’ Cecily began to shake. Peyton risked putting his hand upon hers, for he loathed what he was about to do, and in her distress, she let him.

‘I think he wanted you, Cecily, because you are so bonnie, but that was as far as his regard went. Now you must hear me, for we are in a good deal of trouble for despatching the evil Edmund.’

‘We?’

‘Aye. Eventually, Sir Henry will come looking for his lost son, and if he ever finds out what happened, we will both die for it.’

‘But I did nothing wrong.’

‘Nor did I. But lass, a woman can swing as high as a man on the gibbet, and what little I know of this Sir Henry, he is not a man to show mercy. It will be the end of both of us. Worse, he will wipe out Clan Strachan and Clan MacCreadie in a heartbeat.’

She stood. ‘But I am not part of this.’

‘The English will not see it that way. Aye, you tempted Edmund to meet you on the moor. You could have been laying a trap for him. They will paint a pretty picture, and the King’s justice will be swift and bloody. Sir Henry will have the magistrate in his pocket. So you see, lass, you’re in a world of trouble. It is best you stay lost.’

Cecily had thought her predicament was dire – being in the clutches of her rescuer, at the mercy of a ruffian. But now it was so much worse than she imagined. She hesitated to ask, but she had to know her fate.

‘Are you saying I can’t go home?’

‘Not now.’ Peyton shook his head, and sadness softened his eyes. ‘Perhaps never.’

‘But I have to. My family will be looking for me.’

‘Did you tell them that you were meeting Edmund?’

‘No. I told no one.’

‘Do you think he told anyone? The mongrel was likely to brag about the beauty he had on a hook. Tell me the truth. Your life depends on it.’

‘I clearly had no idea what he was thinking or what he might have said. It seems he was a stranger to me. If he was married, perhaps he kept it to himself, not wanting his wife to find out.’

‘He didn’t seem the type to care what his wife thought of him, or any woman for that matter.’

‘I have to get home, Peyton. My sister will be frantic. She will be searching for me.’

‘And it is best she doesn’t find you, even if it pains her. In time, she will get over your loss, and life will go on.’

‘My loss?’ she squeaked, her heart galloping. ‘What am I to do? Where am I to go?’

Peyton Strachan’s face was stony as he said, ‘You are not going anywhere.’