Page 202 of Historical Hotties
“Your husband is a fugitive, my lady,” he replied. “My message to him is simple; if he does not return to Prudhoe immediately, I will take you to London to stand trial in his stead.”
Carington’s heart began to pound and her pleasant mood evaporated. “How dare ye enter my home and threaten me,” she hissed. “Get out before I kick ye out.”
De La Londe was not moved in the least. “My lady, it is very simple,” he was matter-of-fact. “Your husband committed a crime. He must stand trial for that crime. Since he chose to flee like a coward, I plan to put you on trial in his stead. If he does not want this to happen, then he must return to Prudhoe and surrender.”
Carington just stared at him. Then, she silently stood with the baby still attached to her breast and disappeared into the bedchamber. De La Londe watched her go, listening to her rustling about in the chamber as she cooed gently to the infant. Impatiently, he shifted on his legs, eyeing the round woman with the frizzy red hair who was gazing at him harshly. His gaze moved around the room, growing more irritated with each passing moment, when the door to the chamber suddenly flew open and a fire poker came flying at his head.
He saw it in his peripheral vision but was not fast enough to duck it entirely; Lady de Reyne caught a portion of his helm and sent him reeling into the wall. Before he had a chance to gain his balance, she swung it again and clobbered him on the shoulder.
“Get out!” she screamed, wielding the poker in front of her. “Get out before I beat ye within an inch of yer life. How dare ye come into my home and slander my husband. I’ll kill ye the next time ye say such things about him!”
De La Londe leapt out of her way before she could swing the thing again. He glared at her viciously, his ears ringing from the blow to his head.
“That,” he snarled, “was unwise. I do not care who your husband is; attack me again and I will snap your neck.”
Carington was not entirely sure that he would not do as he threatened but she raised the poker again. “Get out,” she growled. “I’ll not tell ye again.”
De La Londe backed up to the door, opening the panel although his eyes never left the lady. After a moment, he simply nodded his head.
“I will go,” he muttered. “But rest assured, I will return. And when I do, it will be with shackles.”
Carington did not reply; she kept her eyes riveted to him and the poker raised. When he shut the door behind him, Friedarushed forward and threw the bolt. The women faced each other with shock and fear.
“Dear God,” Carington breathed as she lowered the iron poker. “I thought he was going to strike back at me. Thank God he dinna.”
Frieda rushed to her and put her fat arms around her. “You were so brave, my lady,” she said gently. “He will think twice before threatening you again.”
Carington let the woman hug her for a moment before gently pulling free and leaning the poker back against the wall.
“It isna me I’m worried about,” she said, suddenly weary; her strength still had not fully returned. “I worry for Creed. If I know the man, and I believe I do, he is on his way back to Prudhoe. He willna let these men take me to London to stand trial against his charges.”
“What will you do?” Frieda wanted to know.
Carington simply shook her head. “I must speak to Laird Richard,” she replied. “He will know what’s to be done. You’ll stay with the babe, won’t ye?”
Freida nodded fearfully, going to the door as Carington peered from the windows to see if de La Londe was still around. Not seeing his big blond form, she nodded to Frieda, who opened the door.
“Lock this door when I’ve gone,” she told the woman. “If I see Burle, I’ll send him to ye. He will protect ye and the babe from that awful knight.”
Carington bolted out of the door and into the bright, cold day. She heard Frieda throw the lock behind her as she made her way out into the slushy bailey. She was on edge as she scanned the bailey for signs of de La Londe but she saw none. She could, however, see his encampment on the western side of the inner bailey. She picked up the pace towards the keep.
The great keep was cold and dark as she entered. A servant was coming down the stairs as she closed the door behind her and she sent the man back up to Lord Richard’s chamber. As she waited, she kept wandering back to the door and peering out into the bailey, waiting for de La Londe to come charging in after her. She had remembered the man from when she had been in labor, how he had forcefully entered the room in spite of the protests of Lady Anne. She would not put it past him to do something bold and underhanded, like drag her off in chains. She would have to be on her guard.
Richard joined her a few minutes later. He tried not to be too obvious about staring at her in the yellow wool dress; she had lost all of her pre-pregnancy weight but her engorged breasts gave her an hourglass figure the likes of which he had never seen. If she had looked good before, she looked even better now. It was difficult not to look at the woman and stare like a fool.
“You are looking well this day, Lady de Reyne,” he said truthfully.
“Thank ye, m’lord,” she replied.
“How is baby Emma?”
“She is growing quickly,” Carington told him, but her smile quickly faded. “I am afraid I have come to ye with a problem, m’lord. Creed always trusted ye with such matters and so will I. May we speak?”
His brow furrowed with concern. “Of course. What is the problem?”
Carington sighed faintly. “That knight– de La Londe– came to see me earlier. He told me that he sent a message to Creed with Massimo telling Creed that if he dinna return to Prudhoe, I would be taken back to London to stand trial in his stead.”
Richard nodded his head faintly, lifting a pensive eyebrow. “I know,” he said. “Massimo told me as much before he left forScotland. I was hoping to spare you that little bit of information for a while, anyway. You have had a rough time of it.”
