The Legend (48 page)

Peyton looked to her husband, who
reached out and took her hand, gently, from Edward's grasp. "My wife and I
would be delighted to escort you on a tour."

"Do you have to come?"
Edward cocked a disappointed eyebrow.

Alec chuckled, tucking Peyton's
hand into the crook of his elbow. "I am afraid so. My wife has a nasty
temper and I fear for your safety."

Edward shook his head reprovingly
at Alec, but Peyton was mortified at her husband's jest. Moving beyond the
insult dealt to Lady Summerlin, the king turned his attention to the elaborate
entryway and the strong smell of cedar. Alec was eager to show off his most
prized possession next to his wife.

As Alec took the king and his
retainers on an in-depth tour of the bottom floor of St. Cloven, Peyton clung
tightly to her husband, hardly daring to believe that the King of England was
treading the floors of their beloved home. Ivy and Ali followed at a distance,
as did the rest of Edward's retainers as Alec displayed his remarkable manse.
Edward seemed intent on questioning Peyton, who was gradually overcoming her
shock. Eventually, she took over the tour and presented a most charming,
intelligent picture of the perfect chatelaine, as befitting The Legend's wife.
Silently by her side, Alec couldn't remember ever being so proud.

A tour of the second floor
inevitably brought them to her painting room. Suddenly very self-conscious,
Peyton attempted to close the door and divert the king's attention, but he was
not so easily duped. He had caught a glimpse of color, wonderful color, before
Lady Summerlin had moved to shield his view. The tantalizing glance had been
enough to intrigue him.

"What is this magnificent
place?" he demanded softly, moving past Peyton and into the chamber.

"My painting room, Your
Grace," Peyton replied as Alec came up behind her. He patted her shoulders
gently as Edward milled about, studying the pieces of parchment with great
interest.

"Did you paint these?"
he asked seriously.

Before she could reply, Alec
spoke. "An extraordinary talent, would not you say?"

Edward was scrutinizing a
landscape scene. He raised his head to glance from the lancet window facing
east, and then returned his focus to the vellum. He shook his head in wonder.

"Magnificent," he
murmured. "You have captured the eastern horizon perfectly. The colors of
sunrise are masterful."

Embarrassed for an entirely new
reason, Peyton blushed faintly at his praise. Alec patted her shoulder proudly
as if to confirm that his same observations had not been merely those of a
loyal husband.

"Will you sell this to
me?" Edward focused on her, almost demandingly. "I must have this. In
fact, I see several paintings that I would like to purchase."

Peyton was stunned. She turned to
Alec helplessly, unsure of how she should answer. Certainly, she was flattered,
but there was tangible fear in having her personal paintings displayed at
Windsor for all to see. Her paintings were her release, emotions captured from
her soul. She did not want her soul displayed for public analysis.

Alec read her hesitation.
"We can certainly discuss the possibility, sire, although I must say that
I am uncertain as to whether I want my wife's talent exhibited publicly."

"God's Blood, why not?"
Edward demanded, looking to the half-finished sunflowers. "Alec, if my
wife had half the talent that your wife displays, I would exhibit her ability
all over the damn country. How can you be so selfish?"

Alec gripped Peyton's hand
gently. "For the simple reason that she is my wife and I do not wish to
share her with all of England. And the paintings are a part of her."

Edward raised a disapproving
eyebrow. "I choose to ignore you," he focused on Peyton, moving to
take her hand. Gently, he tore it from Alec's grasp and tucked it firmly into
the crook of his elbow. "You and I have much to discuss, Lady Summerlin. I
should be mightily proud to have your paintings exhibited at Windsor. Mayhap we
could add another legend to the House of Summerlin."

Peyton allowed the king to lead
her from the chamber, turning to glance at Alec, Ivy and Ali as they brought up
the rear.

"Another legend, sire?"
she inquired politely.

"Indeed, my lady. The legend
of your magnificent artwork," he gazed at her. "Haven't you heard of
your husband's own legend?"

She nodded faintly. "A
little. He is quite modest."

Edward laughed loudly as they
reached the stairs. "Then he has changed a good deal."

***

Peyton sat through a wonderful
meal. Alec introduced her to the small group of men who had accompanied Edward;
Anthony Bek, the king's secretary, Robert Burnell, his chancellor, and the Earl
of Gloucester, Gilbert de Clare.  Peyton was overwhelmed once again to be in
the presence of such powerful men, but she soon calmed with their easy manner.
In fact, as awed as she was of them, they seemed even more impressed with Alec.

The earl was determined to occupy
all of Alec's time, grilling him endlessly on his life for the past twelve
years.  He appeared to be a nice enough man, but Peyton rapidly grew impatient
at his attempts to monopolize Alec. Across from her, the king and his
chancellor were focused on tasting a new ale Alec himself had devised a recipe
for.

He had yet to come up with a name
for the nearly-black liquid, but the general opinion seemed to be one of
approval. Peyton hadn't tasted it yet; for the past week, any attempt to taste
ale had led to gagging, which left Ivy, Ali and Alec in the delightful position
as official tasters. She trusted Ivy far more than her male counterparts; if it
was good enough to get drunk by, it met with their endorsement.

Olphampa and Sula had kept a
discreet distance since Edward's arrival. Even though they sat at the same
table with the king, they took seats at the far end and seemed more intent to
serve than to enjoy the company.  Ali had to continuously insist his parents
sit and enjoy their meal, going so far as to become angry with his mother when she
tried to pour him more ale. Ivy, playing the mediator, bade her husband to be
silent and allow his parents to assist if they were more comfortable doing so.

The one person who had been
conspicuously absent from the beginning had been Jubil. Peyton and Ivy had been
too caught up in the king's arrival to lay search for their aunt, and a servant
had returned shortly after the meal had commenced to inform Peyton that Jubil
was not in her rooms. Puzzled but unconcerned, Peyton continued to enjoy the
evening.

Until Jubil showed herself. One
look at her aunt told Peyton that she was flying again and she cast a panicked
glance at Alec as the woman entered the room. Jubil's face was slack, her eyes
bright, as she made her way toward the table.

"Christ," Alec muttered,
leaping to his feet.

Swiftly, he moved to intercept
the older woman, who merely smiled at him dreamily. "Sweet, sweet
Alec," she murmured. "Peyton's Alec."

Alec smiled weakly and turned the
woman around. But not before Edward caught sight of her.

"A relative, Alec?" he
asked casually.

Alec paused, Jubil clutched in
his grip. "This is the Lady Jubil de Fluornoy, my wife's aunt. She is....
not feeling well."

Edward, half-drunk with fine ale,
eyed her. "She appears well enough. Bade her join us."

Seated down from the king, Peyton
shook her head faintly, fearfully. Alec caught her silent pleas.

"I am afraid not, sire. Lady
Jubil should not exert herself."

Edward shrugged, not particularly
caring if the woman joined their meal or not. Thankfully, Alec quickly hustled
the woman to the door.

"Do you know the story of
the Trojan horse, Alec?" Jubil whispered.

"Aye," he said shortly,
interested in returning the woman to her chamber.

Jubil was nearly dead weight in
his arms, leaning against him. "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. Beware of
the threat from within."

Alec heard her words, but he
wasn't listening. He half-carried her up the stairs, only to be met by Toby.
The young knight, having recently returned from seeing to the king's troops,
had just finished changing into a clean tunic to join the festivities.

But Alec had other plans for his
brother. He thrust Jubil at him. "Take her. Return her to her chamber and
post a guard. I do not want her near the dining hall in her condition."

Toby took the woman upon him and,
as always, was awed by the woman's mysterious powers. He gazed at her, the
delicate face and faded blue eyes, as she smiled up at him.

"Darling Toby. You love your
brothers terribly, all but one. You hate him with a vengeance."

Toby's brow furrowed as Alec
waved his hand at the two of them as if to resign Jubil to the care of the
angels; he had no time or desire to deal with her. As his brother retreated
down the stairs, Toby assisted Jubil back to her chamber. The older woman kept
her empty gaze on him, making him nervous and curious at the same time.

"'Tis a terrible thing to be
a bastard," Jubil whispered as Toby dumped her onto the mattress.
"How fortunate that Lord Brian should accept you so."

Toby did not reply. He did not
like to be reminded of his roots and he moved for the door, trying his best to
ignore the woman who held such a peculiar fascination for him.

"Do you hate your natural
father as well as his son?" she asked, her eyes half-lidded.

Toby stopped, his irritation
rising. "I do not know my natural father. Go to sleep, my lady."

Jubil's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Have you no clues as to who has fathered you?"

There was something in her voice
that made Toby nervous. He paused in the half-open door, eyeing Jubil as if she
were about to spout forth curses damning him to eternal hell. His common sense
told him to leave before it was too late, but the urge of a fatherless boy
demanded to hear her through.

"What is it that you
know?"

Jubil propped herself up on an
elbow, her gaze clouded. "Have you never asked your mother,
sweetheart?"

Toby shook his head, his only
answer. Jubil smiled a drug-relaxed gesture and patted the bed beside her,
motioning for him to sit. With the greatest hesitation, he did as he was asked.

"Your mother loves
you," she said softly, running a finger up his broad arm seductively.
"So does Lord Brian, in spite of your shaming circumstances. Look into
your heart, sweet Toby. Do you truly have no clue as to who your natural father
is?"

Toby gazed at her with veiled
terror. Slowly, he shook his head. Jubil smiled faintly, her warm hand
caressing his shoulder. "So strong. So young. So unlike your cursed family
roots."

Toby felt the heat from her
massaging hand like a roaring blaze. He wanted to pull away, but it was as if
he lacked the strength. He could do naught but sit and stare at the woman. His
mouth worked nervously as he tried to respond and when he spoke, it was forced
and breathless.

"Who, Jubil? Damnation, tell
me what you know!"

Jubil tore her gaze away from his
powerful young body and fixed him in the eye. "Give me what I want and you
shall have your answer."

His eyes widened as he realized
what she meant. He swallowed hard, his gaze unsteadily raking over her body.
Although she was old enough to be his mother, she did not lack for physical
beauty and the prospect, strangely, did not disgust him. In fact, if he thought
about it, his ideals had not been much different since the day they'd met. He'd
always held an unusual interest for the sorceress.

His gaze returned to Jubil's pale
blue orbs. Without a word, he began to remove his clothing. Jubil watched,
biting her tongue between her teeth, as he stripped off his tunic to reveal a
magnificently trim torso. Before he could move to his breeches, she leapt up
from the bed with a cry of passion and sank her teeth deep into the flesh of
his abdomen.

Toby grunted with the pain and
surprise, knowing that the woman had drawn blood. His first reaction was to
pull away from her, but the very moment his hands touched her silken blond hair
he found himself pressing her face against his flesh. The harder he pressed,
the harder she bit.

"Christ," he gasped,
more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life.

Jubil grinned, pulling her mouth
away from the swollen bite. Breathing heavily, Toby watched as she licked the
wound, lapping up the pin-points of blood that her teeth had created.

Gazing into Toby's astonished,
flushed face, her soft hands moved for his breeches.

"You will not forget
tonight, sweet Toby," she rasped, freeing his thick manroot with a crow of
delight.

"I expect I won't,
Jubil," he replied raggedly.

One hand cupped his testicles
reverently while the fingers of her other hand embedded themselves in the cleft
between his buttocks. He grunted with fevered pleasure as her hot mouth closed
over the crown of his manhood.