Carington tried to keep the horror from her face; she knew now what he was staring at. Swallowing hard, she slowly turned to see what he was seeing. Her gaze fell upon Ryton’s torso, his chest, finally his neck. Then she saw his face, which looked normal enough until she noticed that the entire right side of his helm was caved in. Blood and brain matter gathered on his neck and shoulder, pooling in the wagon bed beneath him.
With a groan, she covered her mouth and turned away. “Sweet Jesus,” she whispered, putting her other hand down to touch the Ryton’s boot at her feet. “God bless the man to not have suffered.”
Creed’s response was to hold her tighter. “First Lenox, now Ryton,” he muttered. “I have lost my brothers in foolish border skirmishes. Now I am alone.”
The tears were returning with a vengeance and Carington was struggling not to cry.
“Nay, English, ye are not alone,” she whispered fiercely. “Ye have me. Ye will always have me.”
He was transfixed on his brother’s corpse. Carington did not like the edgy blankness in his eyes that seemed to be growing worse by the second. She shifted so that her breasts were at his eye level, blocking his view of his brother. Taking his head in both of her small hands, she forced him to look up at her.
“Listen to me,” she whispered fervently. “Ye’re brother was a good and noble man. He was fair even during times when he could have easily been harsh, for I experienced his benevolence myself. ’Tis a call for help he answered and paid for that nobility with his life. Ye must not remember him as he is right now; ye must remember him as a powerful knight who followed the path of so many others. He will be remembered well.”
He stared up at her, the dusky blue eyes muddled with pain. After a moment, he simply closed his eyes and shoved his face deep into her breasts. Carington held him tightly against the swell of her bosom, her cheek against the top of his head. She did not know what else to say so perhaps it was best if she say nothing. Holding him, at the moment, was enough.
By this time, Burle and Galen were standing at the rear of the wagon, watching the emotional scene. It was heart-wrenching for all of them. Carington was rocking Creed gently, whispering soft words that the knights could not hear. Burle watched them from a distance, surprised at the tenderness the fiery little Scots was exhibiting. He was more than stunned with Creed’s reaction to her; he’d never known the man to be anything other than calm, stoic and composed. Moreover, he’d never even seen him truly excited about a woman. But at the moment, he looked like he was clinging to her as if she could save him. The bond of tenderness between Lady Carington and the English knight was truly something powerful to behold.
Burle was abruptly jolted from his thoughts when Stanton suddenly appeared at the side of the wagon.
“Lord Richard is coming along with that priest,” the young knight told them, eyeing Carington as she cradled Creed. “We should perhaps… well, you know….”
He gestured at Carington. Understanding the implication, Burle leapt onto the wagon bed and hovered over the pair.
“Creed,” he muttered. “Lord Richard approaches. He must not see Lady Carington in your embrace.”
Creed’s response was to hold on tighter. Carington put her hands on his head; his face was still buried in the valley between her breasts. She was trying to pry his head away from her bosom but was not doing a very good job; he held fast.
“English,” she tried to sound firm but gentle. “Let me go. I willna go far, I promise.”
After a split second delay, Creed came to his senses and released Carington. Burle lifted her over the side of the wagon and into Stanton’s waiting arms. The pale young knight took her by the elbow and led her a respectable distance away from the wagon; it would do no good to remove her completely for Lord Richard caught sight of her as he entered the outer ward. He was marching purposefully with the papal legate by his side. Stanton merely took her off to the side, hoping Lord Richard would not demand to know why she was there.
Unfortunately, Lord Richard moved right for her. He seemed completely oblivious to the sorrow happening in the wagon. His handsome face was lined with grief and anger as he focused on Carington.
“You,” he jabbed a finger at her. “Your father was a part of this… this murder raid. What do you know about it?”
He was practically yelling at her. His tone caused Creed’s head to snap up, his dusky blue eyes narrowing when he saw his liege moving for Carington in a threatening manner. Suddenly, he was vaulting over the side of the wagon, but Burle and Galen physically restrained him from going any further.
“Nay,” Burle hissed in his ear. “Hold fast, Creed. The lady can handle herself.”
Creed was an enormous man; they had all been privy to the damage he could do at one time or another when threatened or provoked. He had done a tremendous amount of damage in the battle at Hexham. It took both Galen and Burle to keep him at bay.
Creed’s face was tight with emotion. “I will not permit him to blame her for this.”
Burle shushed him as the scene before them began to unfold. “Wait,” he muttered. “Just wait and see what happens.”
As Richard yelled at her, Carington looked over his shoulder to see Creed literally fly out of the wagon. Burle and Galen were there to stop him, but it was clear that he was unsteady. It would not do for Creed to snap and strangle his liege, so she struggled to remain calm so that he, in turn, would stay calm.
“I am sure I know nothing about it, m’lord,” she replied evenly. “My father never did divulge his battle plans to me. I am as surprised and horrified as ye are and I would sincerely apologize for this havoc.”
Richard was furious; that much was clear. He scowled at her. “Your father pledged you as a hostage against his good behavior,” he snarled. “You have only been with us for a few days and already he breaks his word. Do you realize what that means? It means that I can do with you as I wish. I can throw you to the dogs if it pleases me.”
In the grip of Burle and Galen, Creed flinched and it took every ounce of strength the two knights possessed to hold him still. It was like trying to pin down a raging bull. But Carington, when faced with a very angry English lord, remained quite calm. Given her fiery nature, her cool demeanor was astonishing.
“Ye may indeed, m’lord,” she agreed. “But to do so would not only bring the wrath of my father, but of every other Scotsman from Carter’s Bar to Edinburgh. Would ye risk complete destruction to punish me for something ye know I had nothing to do with?”
By the time she was finished, her hands were on her hips and she was scolding him. Richard glared back at her, his mouth working angrily, but knowing in the midst of his fury that she was right. Still, Ryton’s death was a blow and he felt the need to blame someone. She happened to be a convenient target who, in fact, was not going to take his abuse.
With a growl, Richard turned away from her and moved to the wagon. He noticed that Burle and Galen were holding on to Creed but assumed it was because of his grief. He went to the knight and put his hands on his enormous shoulders.
“Creed,” he sounded strangely calm for a man who had been enraged not moments before. “I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot express what Ryton meant to me, to all of us. My heart aches for him as it would for a brother.”
Creed was still unsteady, still in the grip of Burle and Galen. But he forced himself to calm, shrugging off the hands that held him.
“I must take him home,” he said quietly. “My father will expect him to be buried at Throston Castle.”
“Of course,” Richard nodded, peering in the wagon and spying a very unsavory sight. His features twisted with disgust before turning back to Creed. “Go whenever you wish and take whatever resources you need. But hurry back; as callous as this may sound, you are now the commander of my army and I will require your services back at Prudhoe as soon as possible.”
Creed just stared at him, a thousand different responses rolling through his head. At the moment, he coul
d not comprehend taking over for his brother although he knew he was the logical choice. Still, it was the furthest thing from his mind. He only had two prevalent thoughts; the death of his brother and Carington. He could not think beyond that.
A small figure in brown robes suddenly passed into his line of sight, moving to the edge of the wagon. Creed recognized Massimo as the priest observed the dead knight and proceeded to make the sign of the cross over Ryton’s body. Then he began praying in Latin. Creed suddenly fell to his knees, Burle and Galen with him, as they bowed their heads in prayer. Richard followed shortly, as did Stanton and Carington. They all went to their knees as the papal legate began reciting prayers for the dead.
It was a dismal group that listened to Massimo’s prayers. Carington had no idea how long they were on their knees, praying for Ryton’s soul, when Creed suddenly stood up and walked in her direction. She barely had time to look up before he was pulling her to her feet and making his way back to Richard.
Carington was actually afraid as Creed practically dragged her across the dirt. She’d never known the man to be anything but gentle with her and his forceful manner was terrifying. But Creed was resolute as he faced his liege with Carington in hand.
“Since Laird Kerr saw fit to attack Hexham and I lost my brother as a result, I am laying claim to Kerr’s daughter,” he said. “I will not accept anything less.”
He said it in a tone that no one had ever heard from him before, especially Richard; the man’s eyes widened as he looked between an anxious Carington and a deeply serious Creed.
“What do you mean ‘lay claim’?” Richard asked.
Creed lifted a dark eyebrow. “She belongs to me. I intend to marry her.”
Richard blanched. “Marry her?” he repeated. “What madness is this, Creed? You cannot….”
Creed cut him off with a finger to the face. “You will not deny me,” he countered strongly. “Kerr took my brother and now I am taking his daughter.”
Richard stared at Creed, wide-eyed. “If you feel so strongly about it, I will make her your ward. You do not have to marry her.”
Creed’s stance softened somewhat, averting his gaze from his liege and focusing on Carington. She stared back at him, apprehensively. He realized how antagonistic he sounded and sought to calm himself. This grip on her arm turned gentle and he took her hand in his enormous palm, caressing it.
“Aye, I do,” he muttered. “I love her, my lord. I must marry her.”
Richard just stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Never more in my life.”
Richard thought on that statement a moment, mulling over the treaty with Kerr, the implication of Creed marrying a Scots hostage. He could tell by the man’s expression that there was no dissuading him and he was, frankly, stunned.
“Creed,” he said slowly. “I would never deny your heart’s desire, but we must look at this logically. Sian Kerr did not have a treaty with Hexham; he is within his rights to support an uprising against an establishment he does not have a treaty with. We hold his daughter as assurance that he will not move against Prudhoe; if you marry her, it could be seen as a breach of our honor.”
Creed shook his head. “Untrue. No Scots would dare attack their kin, which is what Prudhoe will become once I marry Carington. It would further cement the alliance.”
Richard gazed at him a moment longer before shaking his head. “You would complicate your life more than it already is? Good lord, man, think about what you are saying; you have issue enough with the queen and the church. Now you would complicate your life further by taking a hostage bride?”
Creed looked at Carington, noticing for the first time that she wore one of her new surcoats. It was the most pleasing thing he had ever seen and in spite of his grief, his turmoil, he was able to feel a measure of peace and comfort at the sight of her. She eased his heart in so many ways. It was something he desperately needed.
“I would marry her under any circumstances,” he murmured. “I want her, my lord. I need her.”
Richard knew a man in love when he saw one. It was more than a surprise; he would have never suspected it, especially from Creed. Richard had been honored enough to have seen service from all three de Reyne brothers. His association with then went back to the time before he was married to Anne when Ryton first came to Prudhoe as a newly ordained knight. Creed had followed shortly thereafter because the brothers had wished to serve together. Lenox had followed five years later and, for a short while, the three de Reyne brothers made the most powerful trio of knights on the border. But then Lenox fell away and now Ryton had followed. Creed was left alone, clearly the most physically powerful of the three but also strangely the most vulnerable.
Richard gazed at the man, knowing he was innocent in all things and glad, when he thought on it, that the man had actually found love. It was a rare thing. Moreover, considering he had just lost his one remaining brother, Richard was not about to deny him an affair of the heart. He could not.
“Very well,” Richard finally conceded, his expression one of resignation. “Marry her if you must. But at some point, I am going to have to tell the lady’s father.”
“You may announce a strong new alliance with Prudhoe,” Creed responded.
Richard cocked an eyebrow. “Somehow, I do not think he will see it that way.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I have a husband.
It was all Carington could think of as she sat in the great hall, watching Creed give several coins to Massimo in payment for having performed the wedding mass. The priest had been initially reluctant to perform the ceremony but had proceeded with a good deal of convincing from both Creed and Lord Richard. Therefore, at dusk before Matins and in front of Lord and Lady d’Umfraville, Kristina and a devastated Julia, Galen, Burle, Stanton and Jory, the Lady Carington Kerr became the Lady Carington Kerr de Reyne in the lovely little chapel at Prudhoe. She still could not believe it.
Creed could hardly believe it, either, but he had never been so certain of anything in his life. In a day that had seen the pinnacle of highs and lows, it gave him comfort to find some joy in it. His grief for his brother was consuming but his delight in his new wife was overwhelming. He was struggling to keep a rein on his emotions, struggling to stay on an even keel. As he finished paying Massimo a goodly sum, he actually began to feel some relief in this most affecting day of days.
As a wedding gift, Lady Anne had given Carington a thin gold band that had belonged to her mother. Creed had placed it on his wife’s left hand, a lovely slender band for her lovely slender finger. Carington kept staring at it as she stood with Kristina and Lady Anne while Creed finished with the priest. The women made small talk but Carington’s attention was on her husband. He finally turned away from the priest, leaving him standing with Richard as he made his way over to his new wife. She smiled timidly when their eyes met, wondering if he was feeling as disoriented as she was.
“It seems that everything is in order,” he told her, then looked to Lady Anne. “I would again thank you for your graciousness in allowing us to be wed in your chapel. And your gift of the ring is priceless. We are deeply touched.”
Anne smiled, putting her hand on Creed’s enormous arm. “Having no daughters, there was no one to pass the ring on to,” she looked fondly at Carington. “I am sure she will take excellent care of it.”
Carington looked at her lovely ring again. “It is beautiful, m’lady,” she said. “I will always treasure it.”
“Of course you will,” she reached out and took her hand, giving it a warm squeeze. Then she turned back to Creed. “I am putting you and Carington in the smaller chamber on the fourth floor; you know the one. I will not allow your wife to sleep in the knight’s quarters. She belongs in the keep.”
Creed scratched his weary head. “Although I appreciate your kindness, my lady, may I point out that Burle and Stanton have their own homes in the outer bailey and that the arrangement has served them quite well. I do not in
tend that my wife and I should be a burden on your household.”
“Nonsense,” Anne shushed him. “Lady Carington is an honored guest and you are now commander of my husband’s army. ’Tis only right that you should be housed in the keep.”
Creed’s dusky blue eyes moved to Carington. “Perhaps my wife would like her own home, my lady.”
Anne looked stricken as her gaze moved to Carington. “How insensitive of me,” she exclaimed softly. Then she lifted her slender shoulders. “We shall discuss it later, then. For now, you will take the chamber on the fourth floor. And no argument.”
Before Creed could protest, Carington answered for him. “Ye’re most kind, m’lady. We are grateful.”
Anne smiled sweetly at Carington, patted her cheek, and went to find her husband. Kristina, seeing that she was now standing alone with a newly married couple, suddenly bolted away. Carington giggled as the girl practically tripped in her haste to give them privacy. Creed merely shook his head and scratched his scalp again. His gaze was warm on Carington.
“Are you hungry?” he asked softly. “Perhaps you would like to eat before retiring.”
She gazed up at him with her emerald eyes. “I am a bit hungry,” she admitted, yet her expression grew serious. “But what of ye? How are ye feeling?”
His warm expression faded somewhat. “I am weary,” he confessed. “And I have no great desire to share you with a room full of people.”
She went to him, wrapping her small hands around his great forearm. “That is not what I meant,” she said quietly. “I meant to ask how ye are feeling about yer brother. Surely he must be taken care of. I would help ye tend him if ye will allow me.”
He patted her hand. “’Tis sweet of you to offer, honey, but there is no need. He has been taken care of for now.”
“Are ye sure?”
He nodded. “Galen and Burle saw to it earlier.”
She studied his face closely, watching the flicker of grief in his eyes. “They are true friends to do that for ye,” she murmured. “They know how sad ye are.”
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