Page 199 of Historical Hotties
Sian scratched his dark head. “I have been fighting the Sassenach for many years and it never ceases to amaze me how the lot of ye will charge in tae a battle and hope that your strength will overcome. Sometimes it is not yer strength that will win but yer mind. Ye must be smarter than yer enemy.”
Creed turned to look at him, then. “I have been a knight for fourteen years and in all that time, I have never been accused of being foolish.”
Sian shook his head. “Not foolish, lad. Ye simply must think smarter than yer enemy.”
Creed gazed at him with his muddled eyes. “The king is my enemy.”
“I know.”
“You have been fighting the English for many years. What would you suggest?”
Sian cast a long glance at his men, standing around the room, some of them kicking away pieces of the broken table. Now, they were more than allies with Prudhoe; they were family. And family must help family, as Creed had always known. He, in fact, knew the Scots well in that regard.
“This will take more than the support of the Clan,” Sian said after a moment. “From what the priest has told me, ye have many friends willing to defend ye, including Laird Richard. He said that Laird Richard has been protecting ye since this madness with the queen started. And Laird Richard has allies that will come to your aid if he calls them.”
Creed was not thinking straight but he could grasp the general concept of what Sian was suggesting. “Call upon Prudhoe’s allies?”
Sian nodded as he looked at the priest. “How large is the king’s force that resides at Prudhoe?” he asked him.
Massimo lifted his slender shoulders. “Fifty men perhaps. They brought more of an escort than an army. They have the backing of the king, after all. They did not expect resistance.”
“A king who is hated by his barons,” Creed grumbled. “I can take on fifty men by myself.”
Sian patted his enormous arm. “Indeed ye can,” he humored him. “But yer focus will be on me daughter, not on fighting. Ye must have yer friends hold off the king’s men.”
“And do what?”
Sian’s vibrant blue eyes flashed in that insane expression that Creed was coming to associate with his father-in-law. “Send them back to the king with the message that Creed de Reyne isan innocent man and willna pay for crimes he dinna commit. If the king wants ye then he will have to fight the whole of Northumbria and Scotland to get ye.”
Creed was beginning to calm somewhat but he was still on edge. Odd how these men he had been fighting his entire life were suddenly on his side, men his brothers had died against. It was a very strange realization; he remembered telling Carington when Ryton died that he was all alone. Gazing into Sian’s face, he realized that he was not alone in the least. In many ways, he was richer than he had ever been.
“Then we ride tonight for Hexham,” he said quietly.
“Why Hexham?”
“Because Galen Burleson is there and he is a close friend. Hexham is also Prudhoe’s closest ally. If you want large numbers to stand against the king’s men, we must have Hexham.”
Sian lifted a dark eyebrow. “Ye’ve not yet seen large numbers until ye’ve seen the gathering of the Clans,” he nodded with confidence. “But ye will, lad. Ye will.”
Creed’s expression softened. “This is not for me, you understand,” he murmured. “It is for Cari.”
He heard his father-in-law sigh softly. For the first time since the delivery of the devastating news, his sorrow broke through. “Aye, lad,” he replied quietly. “For Cari.”
*
Carington was notsure how long she had been awake, but she thought it might have been for quite some time. She could hear soft voices around her, the whistling of the wind and the soft snap of the fire. It seemed to drone on for hours. When she tried to open her eyes, her lids felt like they weighed as much as a small child. She could not seem to raise them. So she drifted off to sleep again only to awaken and feel moderately alert.
Struggling, she finally opened her eyes to a dim room and a roaring fire. Turning slightly, she noticed that someone was sitting next to the bed but she could not see who it was. Turning her head further, or movement of any kind, was simply out of the question. But she apparently moved enough so that it was noticed.
“Carington?” It was Kristina sitting next to her, her pale blue eyes wide. “Cari, are you awake?”
Carington took a deep breath, struggling to keep her eyes open. “I… I suppose ye could call it that,” she murmured with thick lips. “What… what has…?”
“You have been unconscious for days,” Kristina was almost sobbing. “We thought you were dead.”
She did sob then and Carington blinked her eyes, struggling to focus on her young friend. “I’m not-a dead yet,” she whispered. “My bairn…?”
Kristina slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her weeping but she was not doing a very good job. “I am so sorry,” she wept softly. “She was so beautiful but she was too small to survive. Father Massimo said Mass for her.”
