Guardian of Darkness (20 page)

Somewhere in the tumult, he had bumped into a bed and stumbled back on it. Falling with Carington in his arms, she lay atop him as his mouth did wicked things to her.  His enormous hands were on her head, wrapped up in her hair, holding her tightly against him and she could hardly breathe through his tender force.  He stopped at one point, holding her head in his hands, staring at her perfect face with smoldering eyes.  She had gazed back, wide-eyed and flushed, wondering what he was thinking. But before she could ask, he rolled over and laid her upon the bed, his mouth descending on hers with far less frenzy and far more passion.  

He was sucking the life right out of her. Carington held him fast against her, feeling his massive arms wrap themselves around her small body and knowing there was nothing sweeter in this world than being enfolded in his enormous embrace.  The kiss that afternoon had only been a foretaste of the joy to come.  What Creed was doing now went beyond anything she could have possibly imagined.

Her surcoat was a very proper garment, high of neck and long of sleeve.  Creed wanted to taste more of her flesh in the worst possible way but the garment was restricting.  It was, however, quite clingy; her round, full breasts were outlined and enhanced by the cut of the coat.  He unwound one arm from her body, his big hand moving to her shoulder. As he kissed and nuzzled her, the hand moved down her arm, to her hand, and she clutched him fiercely.  They held hands a moment, becoming accustomed to the feel of one other, before he let his fingers drift across her flat abdomen.  Carington’s little hand followed his, fluttering atop his fingers, delighting in her first experience with a man.   When his warm palm moved up her torso and closed in around a full breast, she started at the sensation.

He stopped sucking her lower lip long enough to look at her. “Did I hurt you?”

She swallowed, trying to catch her breath. “Nay,” she whispered. “’Tis just… it was unexpected.…”

He removed his hand immediately. “I did not mean to frighten you,” he said, pausing to look at her lovely face, his wits returning now that the frantic kisses had eased. “You make me feel like a weak man, Cari. I am not weak by nature.”

She reached up, timidly touching his handsome, weary face. “I wouldna knowingly weaken ye, Creed. Not for anything. Ye’re the strongest man I’ve ever met.”

He smiled faintly. “For a Sassenach?”

She grinned, biting her kiss-chaffed lip. “For any man.”

They lay there a moment, smiling at each other. He loomed over her, studying the lines of her face, the gentle curve of her neck as it descended to her shoulder.  She was so flawless and perfect. And he was terrified.

“I really should get back to my post,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of black hair from her eyes.  “Will you be all right tonight?”

“I’d be better if ye stayed with me.”

He lifted an eyebrow, thinking of the deeper connotations of that.  He knew she had not suggested the more carnal expectations of the statement; still, what she was suggesting was improper.  On the road it was one thing to sleep in the same tent with her for protections’ sake, but now that they were at Prudhoe, there were no such allowances.

 “I cannot, honey,” he said quietly. “Already, my presence here is dangerous. Surely you know that.”

She averted her gaze, toying with the cleft in his chin. “Creed?”

He was aware she was ignoring his statement. “What?”

“Why are ye so cold to me at times and so… passionate at others?”

He sighed heavily, reaching out to touch her creamy cheek. It was as soft as an infant’s. “I am sorry if it seems that way. You must understand that there is a certain demeanor I must present when we are in the presence of others. I cannot act like a besotted fool every time I look at you. But in private moments like this, I am free to show how I feel. Does that make sense?”

She was still playing with his chin; her touch felt just like heaven to him. “Are ye?”

Again, she was evading his question. “Am I what?” he asked.

“Besotted?”

He emitted a long, heavy sigh that sounded suspiciously like a growl. It was evident that he was reluctant to answer her.  “What do you think?”

“If I knew, I wouldna have asked.”

The firey little personality in her flared up, like a blaze that suddenly rears and then just as quickly dies. He realized he liked that aspect of her very much. It was entertaining to watch her rise. Kissing her swiftly on the lips, he pushed himself off the bed and discreetly adjusted the bulge in his breeches.

“I think you already do.”

She stood up from the bed, a bit unsteadily, still flushed from their whirlwind encounter.  He could see the flame in her eye even though she was smiling. “Ye’re an evasive man, Creed de Reyne. When I ask a question, I expect the courtesy of an answer.”

His reply was to whip her into his arms and kiss her again, so strongly that she was gasping for air when he finally pulled away.  He grinned at her as she struggled.

“Was that enough of an answer?”

He was moving to the door, leaving her stunned and breathless.  When she did not reply to his question, he paused at the door, his hand on the latch.

“Now go to bed,” he ordered softly. “I will see you on the morrow.”

She swallowed, her wits making a slow return.  It was all she could do to nod her head like an idiot. The man possessed the power to still her tongue as well as flutter her heart.  When he winked at her and finally shut the door, she continued to stand there for an unknown amount of time, reliving their kiss over and over in her mind.

When sleep finally claimed her, it was deep and dreamless.

***

“You know that under normal circumstances I would never bring an issue like this to your attention, but I feel that I must in this case. The man is a fool and a danger, and he seriously disrupts the harmony of my knights.”

Richard had been listening to Ryton for the better part of the hour.  In his private solar in Prudhoe’s thick keep, the focus of conversation was Jory d’Eneas, a sore subject for them both.  But it was also a very political subject and Richard sighed heavily to Ryton’s latest tale of brutality and poor judgment.  Though he was not surprised, he was nonetheless disheartened.

“What would you have me do?” Richard finally asked, weary and wanting for the comfort of his bed. “The man is the son of an ally and friend and I cannot cast him aside easily. You know this, Ryton.”

“I know it, my lord.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Send him back to his father. Let the earl deal with his ill-mannered bastard son, for he is only succeeding in upsetting the peace of Prudhoe.  I fear that one day he will go too far and have his neck snapped by a fellow knight.”

Richard eyed Ryton, hearing the ominous tone. “Is that what is happening within your ranks? Is that why his face is so bruised?”

Ryton nodded slowly. “He attacked the hostage on our trip south. Creed dealt him a harsh blow and so did Burle.”

“Then perhaps he has learned his lesson.”

Ryton’s impatience slipped through. “He has not learned it yet, my lord. In all of the years the man has served me, he has never shown hide nor hair of an ability to take heed of a lesson taught. I am not sure why the latest incident would weigh any differently on him.”

Richard’s gaze lingered on his captain. “Then I will repeat the question; short of sending him back to his father, what would you have me do?”

Ryton’s jaw ticked; he could see that ridding himself of Jory was out of the question.  It was not that his liege was weak; it was that he truly worried for the alliance implications of sending the disgraced knight home to his father.  Ryton understood very well his fears, but it did not make their issue with Jory any simpler to resolve. Still, he felt some disgust that Richard was unwilling to take the chance of upsetting an ally over the reality of upsetting his entire castle.

“Perhaps you should have a word with him, threaten him with returning him to his father at the very least,” Ryton said, a measure of defeat in his voice. “Even though you have no intention of doing so, perhaps the threat will be enough for him to amend his behavior.”

Richard nodded, toying with his chalice that was long since empty of wine.  Ryton watched his liege closely, for he could see that the man was thinking.

“The hostage,” Richard finally said, somewhat hesitantly. “She is something of a firebrand, is she not?”

Ryton could see their conversation about Jory was over. “She is spirited,” he sighed, knowing it would be of no use to try to continue with Jory’s punishment.

Richard stood up, stretching his lanky body. “I cannot imagine that Creed took the assignment to protect her willingly.”

“He did not. But he is the best one suited for the task. He is the only one of my knights I would trust with her.”  Ryton cast his liege a sidelong glance. “You should know that Jory seems particularly interested in her. It is my suggestion that we assign Creed to protect the lady even while she is here at Prudhoe. The last thing we need is for Jory to compromise her, or worse, and have the entire Clan Kerr down around our ears.”

Richard looked at him, a mixture of disgust and impatience on his face. “She is untouchable, Ryton. Jory must understand that. I will not suffer the wrath of the Kerrs because he cannot keep control of himself.”

Ryton merely lifted an eyebrow. “Then that directive should come from you, as his liege. Let him know that if he brings a war down upon us because of his lack of control, we will make sure the Clan Kerr knows him by name. I will not defend a man who would knowingly disrupt a peace accord.”

“I will speak to him,” Richard said firmly. “God help us all if that man harms one hair on her head.”

Ryton was both pleased and surprised that his liege had actually committed to speaking with Jory.  He almost always left it up to Ryton unless his captain pushed him into a corner.

“Then I will send him to you immediately,” Ryton was moving for the door, not waiting to be dismissed. “And I will make sure that Creed knows that he is permanently assigned to protect the lady for the duration of her stay.”

“Can Jory not wait until tomorrow?”

“Nay, my lord, he cannot.”

Richard nodded in resignation.  “Very well. Send him to me. But be quick about it. I should like to see my bed before the sun rises.”

So would I, Ryton thought dryly.  The meeting with his liege had left a foul taste in his mouth; he would have liked to see Richard take a more decisive stand against Jory. The knight was difficult enough to command without strong support from their lord. As Ryton crossed the darkened bailey towards the knight’s quarters, he could see the massive outline of his brother on the wall walk. 

He was a silent, deadly silhouette against the moonlit sky.  Creed had willingly taken the night watch as long as he could remember; even those many years ago when he was newly knighted, Creed would volunteer to take a post deep into the night.  Guardian of Darkness, the older knights used to call the powerful young knight with the intense disposition.  The man who would guard the night.

Ryton made the decision to deliver Jory his orders before moving on to his brother.  He could only imagine what his brother’s reaction would be.