Guardian of Darkness (30 page)

“How do you know?”  He set his cup down heavily and lowered his voice. “Christ, Creed, is there something going on between you and the lady?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I can hear it in your voice.”

Creed held his gaze steady a moment. “Something, indeed,” he confessed quietly. “Something very unexpected.”

Ryton sat back in his seat, not at all sure he wanted to hear the truth. “My God,” he breathed. “Please tell me that you have not compromised her.”

Creed shook his head. “Nay,” he murmured. “But… I would be lying if I said I did not feel something for her. I cannot describe it more than that; all I know is that she fills me as no one else ever has.  She is becoming my sun, my moon and my stars. I cannot tell you how this has happened. All I know is that is has.”

“I knew it,” Ryton hissed, slamming his cup on the table. “When you came to tell me that she had locked herself in the chapel, I knew there was something more to it.  I could hear it in your tone.  Of all of my knights, you are the last one I would expect this to happen to. How could you do this?”

He was angry, which triggered Creed’s well-heeled temper.  He slammed his massive fists on the table, shaking the heavy furniture from end to end violently.

“Damnation, Ryton,” he fired back. “This is no fickle dalliance. Have you ever known me to show interest in a woman, least of all a charge?”

“Never!” Ryton roared.

“Then trust me when I tell you that this goes much deeper than a trite rendezvous.”

“Does it?” Ryton was flaming. “She was your ward. You crossed the line.”           

“I love her!”

The last two sentences were hotly spoken, overlapping. When Ryton heard his brother’s last sentence, his eyes widened and his fury was immediately doused.  Staring at his brother, wide-eyed, he plopped back down on the bench as if he suddenly lost all of his strength.

“Oh… Good Lord,” he muttered. “Are you serious?”

Creed looked back at him with equal astonishment.  He could hardly believe he said it, but on the other hand, he had never said anything more truthful in his life.  He could not have denied it in any case. 

“Aye,” he sighed heavily, regaining his own seat. “I do. She may be aggressive, disobedient and uncontrollable, but she is also the sweetest, most intelligent and compassionate lady I have ever met.  She makes me laugh. She makes me feel as if I am important.”

“You
are
important,” Ryton had no idea why he felt so ill; a mixture of delight and horror swirled in his chest. “You are the most powerful knight the realm has ever seen. The king himself recognized that until all of this madness with Isabella. You can have any woman you want but, instead, you choose a Scots. And not just any Scots; a laird’s daughter, a hostage for peace.  She is not meant for you, Creed. Do you not understand that?”

“She is meant for me and no other,” Creed’s dusky blue eyes were intense. “A marriage is a perfect way to cement an alliance with the Scots.”

“A marriage?” Ryton blurted.  “Do you mean to say that you intend to marry her?”

Creed really had not thought on that until he had said it.  Now he could think of nothing else. “I do,” he asserted. “I will go to her father and make an offer for her hand.”

Ryton could not help it; he put his hands to his face as if trying to hold his brains in. He simply could not believe what he was hearing from his stoic, emotionless brother.  His cup was next to him and he realized he needed more wine, but the cup did not hold enough so he drank it straight from the pitcher.

“You certainly do not make things easy for yourself, do you?” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just what do you plan to offer?”

“My inheritance.”

Ryton’s eyes flew open wide. “All of it?”

Creed shrugged. “When father passes on, you and I will split the Hartlepool baronetcy,” he said. “I will sell you my half for a trifle of what it is worth. Just enough to purchase a bride.”

Ryton stared at him as if he could hardly comprehend was he was hearing. “Nay,” he muttered. “I will not let you sell it.  We will combine our money if that is what it takes, but I will not let you give up your inheritance. It belongs to you as much as me.”

Their conversation fell silent as tempers calmed and they began to weigh the situation. Not only were the circumstances with the queen heating up, but with the added addition of Creed’s feelings for their hostage, everything surrounding the man was growing bigger than they could comprehend.   Ryton could not help it; he drained the pitcher until it was empty.

“So now what?” he muttered, glancing to his brother. “You can no longer guard the lady. Now what do we do?”

Creed shrugged faintly. “Give the duty to Burle,” he replied quietly. “I will see the lady on my own time.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would have a hard enough time with that statement. But given the discussion we have just had, do you think that is entirely wise?”

“Wise or not, those are my intentions.”

“Brother or not, I am still your captain.”

“Do you intend to keep me from her, then?”

‘”I will not let you hang yourself.”

Creed cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. His attention turned back to his cup, toying with it as his mind moved over the myriad of thoughts on his mind.  Ryton watched him.

“We have one final worry, you know,” he said softly.

Creed looked at him. “What is that?”

“Jory,” Ryton replied with some disgust in his tone. “He could cause problems. If he catches wind of a romance, he will pounce and you know it.”

Creed lifted an eyebrow, tensing. “If he as much as looks in Cari’s direction, I will kill him. I could not be in any more trouble than I am now.”

Ryton just looked at him; then, he gave him a crooked smile. “Cari, is it?”

Creed met his gaze a moment longer before his façade cracked.  He grinned sheepishly, looking back to his cup.

“Aye,” he whispered. “Cari.”

Further conversation was precluded by voices in the entry.  Both men turned to see Stanton enter the keep followed by Burle with Carington on his arm.  Ryton could not help it; he looked at his brother when the lady entered the hall and the expression that he envisioned did not surprise him.   If there had been any momentary doubt in Creed’s statement, it was all dashed at that moment.  The man was gazing at her as if the sun, the moon and the stars had just walked into the room.

He was a man in love.

CHAPTER NINE

The surcoat was a lovely shade of gold with a hint of green in it that picked up the color of her eyes.  Carington had changed in to the garment in the town so that the seamstress could alter it on her body.  A few stitches here and there and it fit like a glove. A link belt of copper with gold leaf hung about her slender hips and the seamstress had taken her lovely hair and caught it up in a golden net at the nape of her neck.  She looked elegant and delightful; absolutely stunning.

Carington headed back to Prudhoe with more new clothes and accessories than she had ever owned at any one time in her life. The seamstress included web-fine veils, hair combs, fragranced oils and a cake of hard white soap all the way from Castille.  It smelled of flowers after a rain. Carington was delighted with her booty and very eager to show it to Creed.

Burle and Stanton had proven to be pleasant companions on the ride back to Prudhoe. It was only the second time she had been alone with them and this time the situation had been far more pleasant. Burle had quiet a sense of humor whereas all Stanton wanted to speak of was his son.  He did, in fact, purchase a toy dog for the boy on their way out of town, but no convincing in the world could coerce Burle into purchasing finery for his daughters.  According to him, they had already put him into the poorhouse.  He was just waiting for the time when husbands would take them off his hands.  Then he tried to talk Stanton into a betrothal contract between his young son and Burle’s youngest daughter who, at twelve years of age, was seven years older than Stanton’s son.  Stanton did not believe the marriage to be a good idea.

It was a pleasant trip home, far more pleasant than the trip from Scotland.  Carington actually enjoyed herself.  But the moment the entered the great outer bailey of Prudhoe, she saw the wagons bearing the seal of the church and was curious. Great yellow crosses decorated the banners.  But that curiosity turned to confusion when she saw the expressions on Burle and Stanton’s faces.  They were apparently not pleased that someone from the church was in residence but she had no idea why.  She was, in truth, only thinking of finding Creed and showing him her new gown. 

She found him in the great hall with his brother.  She pranced into the room, spinning around a few times so both Ryton and Creed could get a good look at her new clothes.   With the first spin, the material clung indecently to her divine figure and all they could see was a body that was more feminine, more curvaceous, than anything either one of them had seen.   Ryton lowered his gaze uncomfortably, eyeing his brother as he did so and noting that the man was riveted to her. He did not blame him, though; she was spectacular.

“What do ye think?” Carington stopped spinning long enough to propose the question to Creed. “Rita made this for a lady who never paid her for the work. It fits me perfectly. What do ye think?”

Creed tore his eyes off her figure and fixed her in the eye.  He realized that he was well on his way to being drunk from all of the wine he had imbibed.  Too much drink usually made him emotional and it was a struggle not to give himself away.

“Who is Rita?” he asked.

She cocked her head, looking positively adorable with the gold netting on her hair. “The seamstress; the woman who put her hands all over me.”

She was waving her hands around for illustration and he nodded in understanding before the sentence was even out of her mouth.

 “Of course,” he said quickly. “She is correct; it fits you perfectly. You are a goddess divine.”

Carington grinned happily; she had a beautiful smile, something that Ryton was only now noticing. He’d never really paid any attention before but was now seeing the lady through entirely different eyes.  He’d only seen her fighting or weeping one way or the other.  It was rare when she was calm, even rarer when she smiled.  Looking at her at this moment, with her lovely face alight with a smile, he could hardly remember her any other way.  And she had his brother positively captivated.

“She gave me three more gowns,” Carington went on. “A yellow one, a pink one and a blue one with birds on it. And she gave me soap and oils, too.”

Creed was smiling faintly at her. “I am pleased that you are happy.”