The Legend (7 page)

Peyton and Ivy turned to their
aunt. The woman was staring at the wall, her blue eyes distant. They gazed at
her a moment without responding; they'd ceased responding to Jubil's ravings
long ago, but there was something in her tone that caused them to reconsider.
Mayhap it was their own paranoia insisting they listen to the crazy woman; for
whatever the reason, they were curious to know what she had to say.

"What do you see,
Jubil?" Ivy asked finally.

Jubil continued to stare, glassy
eyed. "I see you with a dark- haired babe, a beautiful son with onyx hair
and blue eyes. And I see Peyton carrying on the Summerlin line."

"Ridiculous!" Peyton
immediately scoffed. "Jubil, you are mad. Keep your visions to yourself."

The young women turned away from
their aunt, unnerved by the prediction and trying their best to ignore the
ramblings of a mad woman.   

Pauly, the castle surgeon,
arrived shortly thereafter and inspected the lump on the side of her head.
Thinking that mayhap she had cracked her skull, he demanded that she not sleep
for the rest of the night for fear that she might not awaken and proceeded to
give her a bitter-tasting willow brew for her aching head. When the surgeon
left, Peyton rose unsteadily from the bed to stretch her cramped body.

"Well, chicks, it looks as
if I am in for a long night," she said, not particularly grieved. In spite
of the headache, her fatigued was minimal. "How should I occupy
myself?"

"The party will be going on
all night," Ivy shrugged. "Why not enjoy it?"

"I am not exactly in a party
mood," she passed a glance at her sister. "Why do you not go?"

Ivy shrugged, inspecting a fine
rug at the foot of the bed. "The Summerlin's are wealthy, are they not? I
have seen rugs like this at the faire in Northampton, from the Holy Land they
say."

Peyton glanced at the rug
disinterestedly. "I think I would like to wash my hair of the blood and
dirt," she turned to their trunks. "Help me find the soap and
linens."

Trunks flew open and the women began
rummaging through, laying out gowns and removing possessions. Their moods
lightened as they worked and Peyton's aching head lessened somewhat, calming
her stomach. By the time her hair was washed and drying, she was feeling better
and even considered joining the festivities in the gallery. But Ivy was staunch
in her refusal to attend.

They could hear the music and
voices drifting upon the warm July air, tempting invitations for a night of
gaiety. Dogs barked in the bailey as soldiers made their rounds on the
battlements, illuminating the evening with their glowing torches as they
maintained vigilance for the celebration inside. Ivy parked herself by one of
the lancet windows, watching the activity in the bailey below and listening to
the sounds of revelry.  Beside her, Jubil continued to sit and stare as if she
were a world of her own. In truth, she was.

Peyton sat by the small fire,
brushing out her drying tresses and trying to not think of Lord Summerlin's
inevitable wrath. She could not anticipate how he was going to react to their
performance earlier in the day and she hoped he was not easily angered. Their
father, Albert, had been simple to manipulate and the two sisters never worried
about punishment no matter what the crime. But Peyton knew, somehow, that Lord
Summerlin would be different.

"There was a dark man in the
bailey when we rode in tonight," Ivy remarked, still gazing over the scene
below. "His skin was as black as coal. I have never seen anything like
it."

Peyton looked at her strangely.
"A black man? Are you sure?"

Ivy nodded, moving away from the
window. "As black as night. I remember father saying that Lord Summerlin
spent a great deal of time in the Holy Land. Do you think he brought the black
man back with him as a prisoner?"

"'Tis possible. Could the
black man speak? Are you sure he wasn't an animal of sorts?"

"He spoke very well, but his
accent was peculiar. I wonder who he is?"

Peyton shook her head.
"Sounds most curious. Mayhap we should attend the party simply to see if
we can catch a glimpse of him."

Ivy opened her mouth to reply but
there was a soft rap at the door. Before Peyton could bade the caller enter,
the door opened and an extremely well dressed woman let herself in. Peyton and
Ivy studied her openly; tall and slender, she possessed a beautiful face with
sky-blue eyes. Her blond hair was pulled back severely and hidden beneath her
bejeweled wimple, and she smiled pleasantly at the three women.

"I am Lady Summerlin,"
she said. "Who is Lady Peyton?"

"I am, my lady," Peyton
rose and bobbed a curtsy.

Lady Summerlin focused on her and
Peyton could immediately see Alec's resemblance to his fair mother. "I
understand you were injured, dear. How is your head?"

"Much better, thank
you," Peyton replied. "Your surgeon gave me a remarkable medicine and
the ache is nearly gone."

"Excellent," Lady
Summerlin replied. "How misfortunate that you fell and struck your head.
Are you always so clumsy, dear?"

Peyton raised an eyebrow, hearing
Alec's version of the story in his mother's words. "I.... nay, my lady,
not usually."

Lady Summerlin nodded faintly,
her eyes roving over Peyton as she inspected her closely. Peyton was
self-conscious with the scrutiny and lowered her gaze, wondering what else Alec
had told his mother.

Inspection complete, Lady
Summerlin took a deep breath and put her bejeweled hands on her hips. "I
can see that you do not require any further attention from me. My husband
requested that I assist you, but you seem to be well enough," she gazed at
the gowns strewn across the bed. "I shall expect you ladies downstairs,
then. Alec and Ali will be up shortly to escort you."

Peyton and Ivy glanced at each
other. "We are not planning on attending the party, Lady Summerlin,"
Peyton said. "I.... I still do not feel well and my sister is..," she
looked to Ivy, "fatigued."

"Nonsense," Lady
Summerlin snapped gently. "I demand you show yourselves for a few moments.
Surely a bit of fine wine and music will not tax your overly."

Peyton grappled for words; she
did not want to offend Lady Summerlin, but she had no desire to attend her
gala. She looked to Ivy for help, but Ivy was at loss for words too. They both
watched impotently as Lady Summerlin shuffled through the gowns on the bed,
pausing a moment to hold up a brilliant red silk. She turned to Ivy.

"This would be perfect on
you, dear," she said firmly. "Put it on now or I shall do it for
you."

Mouth agape, Ivy kept silent for
once and did as she was told. And as her sister had little choice against Lady
Summerlin's directives, the same went double for Peyton.

Alec's mother quit the chamber to
seek escorts for her young guests. The two sisters gazed at each other with
great hesitation, primped and dressed and glittering with accessories. One
moment, they were preparing for a quiet evening in their chamber; in the very
next, a beautiful bully of a woman practically shoved them into their finest
garments.  Peyton was willing to attend the party for fear of Lady Summerlin's
wrath. Certainly, she did not want to pique the woman's anger as she had done
so well with the husband. She knew that Lady Summerlin's fury would be far
worse than Lord Brian's.

But the inherent stubbornness
still lingered. Once Lady Summerlin was gone, Peyton stared at her sister a
long while before speaking.

"Are you a brave girl,
Ivy?"

Ivy met her sister's sapphire
blue eyes, the familiar words ringing in her ears. "I knew you would not
disappoint, Peyton. What do you have in mind this time?"

A defiant smile creased the
peach-ripe lips.

***

Alec was enjoying his fourth
glass of wine when his mother brushed alongside him, her blue eyes drifting
appreciatively over her gay party.

"Go upstairs and escort Lady
Peyton to the party," she ordered quietly. "And find Ali. Her sister
will need as escort as well."

Alec swirled the wine in his
chalice. "I am sure Lady Peyton would rather be escorted by someone else,
and there is no love between Lady Ivy and Ali. They were fighting like rabid
dogs earlier today."

"That is not my
concern," Lady Celine replied steadily. "You will do as you are told.
Go and retrieve them."

Alec looked at his mother,
careful to remain expressionless. His mother was not beyond pinching him or
taking him by the ear in public. "I would rather not, Mother. Besides, I
promised Lady Caroline I would dance with her."

Celine passed a glance at Lady
Caroline Morford. "Lady Caroline has no shortage of suitors. And no
shortage of bed partners either, I am told. I am sure she shall find another to
keep her company while you are occupied."

Alec's mouth twisted wryly for a
split second as he prepared another refusal, but his father's rapid approached
saved him from his mother's wrath.

"Did you see to Lady
Peyton?" he asked his wife. "How does she fare?"

"Well enough," Celine
replied, eyeing her stubborn son. "A beautiful girl, truly. I had the
privilege of helping her dress for the party and found her to be delightful. A
most attractive figure. I do not believe I have ever seen a woman more
perfectly formed than she."

"I am glad to hear she is
not seriously injured," Brian answered, seeing that Celine was attempting
to interest Alec. His son remained as impassive as always, his blue eyes
focused on the activities of the room. Stubborn man that he was, he would need
more than simple words to interest him. He needed a kick in the arse. 
"Well, Alec? Are you going to retrieve your betrothed and introduce her to
our guests?"

Alec did not react for a moment.
Then, slowly, he turned to his parents. "My betrothed?"

Alec met his gaze firmly. "I
suggest you do it soon before everyone drinks themselves into oblivion. We want
them to remember the proclamation."

Alec's eyes were like ice. "We
have had this discussion, Da. The purpose of this celebration was for me to
inspect Lady Peyton. I have yet to approve the betrothal."

"There is nothing to approve
or disapprove, Alec. I have made up my mind and you will marry Lady
Peyton."

Alec's jaw tightened; both of his
parents saw the muscles contract and they were mildly surprised. Alec was
always controlled and emotionless, and the faint gesture was disturbing. Celine
could see a grand argument coming on and she put herself between her husband
and son.

"Alec, is there some reason
why you do not wish to marry Lady Peyton?  Is she somehow unacceptable?"

Alec looked at his mother. "I
am not interested in marriage, mother. I have nothing against Lady Peyton
personally."

"But you must marry! You
must carry on the Summerlin legacy and perpetuate the family. Lady Peyton is
certainly lovely and charming enough for the duty as your wife."

Alec could see that his mother
was very eager for him to accept Lady Peyton and he felt himself losing the
battle already. With his mother and father against him, there was naught he
could do but concede defeat. Yet Alec did not give in to defeat so easily.

"No," he turned back to
the party. "I do not wish to marry and I will not be forced."

Celine began to bristle, but
Brian quieted her. "Would you be so kind as to bring me a goblet of wine,
love? I would speak to Alec alone."

Celine, glaring at her son, did
as she was asked. When she moved out of earshot, Brian took a step closer to
Alec and lowered his voice. His tone was quiet and pleasant, but there was no
mistaking the seriousness. "Alec, you will listen to me and listen well.
You will indeed marry Lady Peyton and administrate St. Cloven, or I shall
disown you. No more money, no more advantages. Nothing. You will be on your own
without a mark to your name. This I vow."

Alec remained stoic. "I am
your only son left. You would do this over a mere betrothal?"

"I still have Paul. He is my
heir and I do not need you. You will do as I say for once, without questions.
Your stolid stubbornness grows tiresome and I have had enough. I am your
father, Alec. I brought you into this world and you will obey my wishes."

The conversation was no longer
pleasant. It had grown deadly serious and Alec was surprised; his father was an
amiable man and he had never known him to use threats. But there was also
another Summerlin characteristic that Brian possessed; he was true to his word.
Alec knew without a doubt that his father meant what he said.

Slowly, he turned to his father.
"She has no desire to marry, either. Do you realize you are condemning
both of us to a hellish existence? We will only grow to hate and resent one
another and that is no way live."

"It will be what you make of
it," Brian responded quietly. "She is a beautiful woman, Alec. Surely
on that basis you can make an attempt at a workable marriage."