Page 182 of Historical Hotties
Creed fixed on him. “If you believe me as you say you do, then you must help me,” he was nearly pleading. “I did nothing wrong.”
Massimo nodded, sighing as he did so. “I will do what I can,” he muttered. “I can promise you that much.”
“Then you have my thanks.”
With a lingering glance at the two men, Massimo quit the solar and headed to the outer bailey where his papal escort await. Creed and Richard fell silent a moment, each lost to their thoughts, until Richard finally stood up from his chair and made his way to Creed. He paused, putting a hand on the man’s massive shoulder.
“I have holdings in Ireland,” he said quietly. “If the king is truly after you, then you can take your wife and go there until this situation blows over. They will never find you in Ireland.”
Creed looked at him. “You have always been a good friend to me and my brother, my lord,” he replied sincerely. “There is no way I can ever repay you for the risks you have taken on my behalf.”
Richard snorted softly. “You and Ryton have repaid me many times over,” he said. “You have kept Prudhoe and my family safe. I would take such risks for you time and time again.” His expression softened as he looked at Creed. “I cannot tell you how your brother’s death has grieved me. I was up most of the night dwelling on it. First Lenox and now Ryton… I can never express my sorrow adequately. When do you plan to take him home?”
Creed had been trying not to think of his brother all morning but now found his attention focused on him. “That depends; when do you intend to tell Cari’s father about our marriage?”
Richard gave him a lop-sided smile. “I can wait until you return from burying Ryton if that is what you are concerned with.”
“That is exactly what I am concerned with. I do not need an irate Scotsman overrunning Prudhoe while I am gone.”
“I thought you said he would not dare attack Prudhoe because he would consider us kin?”
“You are asking me to anticipate a father who had no say in the marriage of his only daughter.”
Richard laughed softly. “Having no daughters myself, I can only imagine Laird Kerr’s reaction. Put yourself in Sian Kerr’s shoes.”
“I have,” Creed was thinking heavily on going to find something to eat. “If it were me, I would overrun Prudhoe and take great pleasure in it.”
“God help us, then. Let us hope you never have any daughters who marry without your permission.”
The very idea made Creed grin. “With my luck, I shall have eight of them, all with their mother’s disposition.”
Richard laughed out loud. “Now there is a happy thought.”
Creed was about to reply when an odd sound filtered in through the lancet window. It took them both a moment to realize it was screaming.
*
As she hadbeen instructed, Julia had run to tell Jory when Creed left his marriage chamber. She had been flushed and, Jory thought, weeping as she told him, but he had ignored her distress and ran from the knight’s quarters to the keep. It was not particularly busy at this time of the morning and the main entry door had been unmarred by servants or anyone else who might wonder why he was there. It was not normal for the knights to enter the keep. But Jory was on a mission.
It was quiet and dark as he made his way up to the third floor; he could hear Gilbert and Edward fighting in their bowerto his right and he quickly slipped up the stairs to the fourth floor before Lady Anne could come out of her chamber and scold the boys. He could already hear her voice as she lifted it, in conversation, behind their closed bedchamber door. Jory’s boots were silent upon the stone steps as he spiraled his way to the top of the structure.
His breathing was coming in heavy gasps by the time he came to the landing. Two small chambers were on this level; one to the right and one to the left. Carefully, he put his hand on the latch of the chamber to his right, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he slowly opened the door. One brown eye peered inside, long enough to note that it was cold and empty. Letting go of the latch, he moved to the chamber on his left.
He half expected to find the door bolted but was both surprised and relieved to find that it was not. He could not keep the smirk from his face as he carefully and silently lifted the latch, opening the door inch by inch, stopping abruptly when it began to squeak. He could see a portion of the chamber now, including the end of the bed. He waited to see if anything stirred. When all remained still, he continued.
The door opened enough for him to slip in without making any further noise. Jory ducked into the room, spying Carington fast asleep upon the bed. He shut the door behind him and bolted it.
He stood there a moment, his gaze lingering on her black head as she lay on her side, snuggled against the linen coverlet. There were flower petals on the floor and burned out tapers everywhere. A small fire burned in the hearth, kicking some smoke into the room. If he inhaled deeply, he could smell the sex that had taken place over the past several hours. He had no doubt that Creed had taken advantage of the lady all night. From the way she was sleeping, heavy and still, he could only imaginethe extent of their nocturnal activities. It excited him to think about it.
He thought a moment about his next move. Clearly, nothing gentle or quiet would work. The lady was a fighter and the moment she realized he was upon her, she would resist. It would be loud and violent. He therefore determined the best course of action would be the element of surprise and he intended to take full advantage of it. Ripping the coverlet off, he pounced; a hand went over the lady’s mouth and he pinned her small body down with his weight.
Startled out of a deep sleep, Carington’s eyes flew open in a panic, her emerald gaze immediately falling on Jory’s taut face. Without delay, she began to scream and kick, her cries muffled in his hand.
“If you fight me, I will kill you,” he hissed, feeling her naked body struggle beneath him. “Cooperate and you shall live. Those are the terms.”
Carington was almost incoherent with terror. She ignored his demands and managed to get a hand free, jabbing him in the eye as hard as she could. Jory howled and fell back, his hand coming free from her mouth. She screamed so loud that it echoed off the thick keep walls.
Jory fell off the bed, his hand on his eye, as Carington leapt up and grabbed the nearest thing she could find. It was a taper sconce, heavy and sharp. Though he was blind in one eye, Jory saw the iron looming over his head and he put an arm up to block what would have surly been a direct strike to his skull. As it was, the sconce hit his head anyway and the sharp edge gashed his forehead.
