Page 134 of Historical Hotties
Creed glanced down at her surcoat, his gaze inevitably falling on her delicious figure. The slender torso and full, succulent breasts caught his attention but when she looked up at him, she only noticed that he was looking her in the eye.
“You have been traveling,” he said. “They understand that there is some wear that goes along with that.”
“Do I have time to change?” she asked. “A few minutes are all it would take. And I would feel so much better.”
Creed did not see anything unreasonable with that request. He turned to his brother, up ahead of him. “Ryton,” he caught the man’s attention. “The lady wishes to change her coat. It will not take long. Would you inform Lord Richard and Lady Anne that the lady will greet them once she has cleaned up from her journey?”
Ryton’s gaze moved over the lady’s clothes; she was dusty and there were grass stains on her garment, but even so, she was still the loveliest thing he had ever seen. Besides that, they were already late and he hated not being punctual.
“No need,” he replied. “She is presentable.”
“It would be the polite thing to do.”
Ryton eyed his brother, a mixture of impatience and intolerance. “Nay, Creed,” he motioned towards the great halldead ahead. “Get her inside. They have been waiting overlong for her arrival.”
Creed did not look at her; he was busy glaring at his brother for denying a polite request. They closed in on the wide open door of Prudhoe’s great hall, a massively long structure that was built on the ground floor of the bailey. It was separate from the keep, unusual for an English bastion. Most great halls were part of the keep and well away from the open bailey.
Carington observed the carved doorway as they were swallowed up by the dark innards, descending into a place that smelled of must and rushes and smoke. It was eerie and unfamiliar, and Carington’s eyes widened at the sight.
Creed felt her hesitate. He looked down at her frightened expression, noticing that she had slowed considerably to the point of stopping. He patted the hand on his elbow.
“’Tis all right,” he assured her quietly. “These are kind people. You have nothing to fear.”
She gazed up at him, the emerald eyes full of anxiety. “Ye willna leave me?”
He shook his head, his gaze serious. “Nay. I will be with you the entire time.”
She smiled gratefully and he felt his heart skip a beat. Odd; he’d never experienced anything like that before and had no idea what to make of it. He gave her a wink and gently urged her forward.
The dark and musty foyer abruptly opened into a grand and warmly-lit hall. The ceilings were thirty feet high and a gallery spanned the upper circumference of the room. Tapestries hung on the north and south sides with a massive hearth along the western wall. Fresh rushes littered the floor and, amazingly, there were no dogs about. Carington had never seen anything so enormous and struggled not to gape like an idiot. Her eyesdarted about nervously, trying to keep her wits, as several people came into focus at the great long dining table beyond.
The party at the table rose as the knights and one small lady approached. Carington’s eyes fell on an older, well-dressed man, a slender well-dressed older woman, and several children. But she was not particularly interested in the children; she was focused on the adults. The man and woman drew closer to her and she could see they held non-hostile expressions. Not knowing what to think, she tried to maintain a neutral facade.
The man extended his hand. “Creed,” he did not take his eyes off of Carington as he spoke. “Will you introduce us to your charge?”
Creed took her hand off his elbow and placed it in the man’s outstretched palm. “Lord Richard d’Umfraville, meet the Lady Carington Kerr. Lady Carington, this is your liege.”
Richard was gallant without being extravagant. He placed his lips gently on her hand in a gesture of respect and, still holding her hand, turned to the lady beside him. “Lady Carington, my wife, the Lady Anne.”
Anne d’Umfraville was a dark-haired, dark-eyed lady with a handsome face. She smiled warmly at Carington and took her hand from her husband’s grip. “My lady,” she had a deep, husky voice. “Welcome to Prudhoe. We are happy to have you as our guest for a time.”
Even though Creed had told her they were kind people, still, she did not expect it. Off-guard, she dipped a brief curtsey for the lady. “My lady,” she looked at Richard. “My lord, I am pleased to be here. Thank ye for yer kind welcome.”
Over by the table, the children suddenly came alive. Carington looked over to see two young ladies and two small boys, all in varied degrees of giggles. The youngest boy crawled onto the bench, leapt up onto the table, and stomped is feet.
“Papa,” he pointed at Carington. “She talks funny!”
The children burst out into loud laughter and Carington’s cheeks flushed a dull red. Richard did not react, but Anne cast them all a nasty look.
“She is from Scotland, lad,” Richard said patiently. “All Scots talk this way.”
“But it’s funny!”
“It is their way and you will not laugh at her. Do you understand?”
The giggles muted but did not die altogether. Carington cast a sidelong glance at the little boy, who caught her eye and stuck his tongue out at her.
“That must be Edward,” she said quietly, though Richard and Anne heard her. When they turned to her curiously, she hastened to explain. “Sir Creed told me that ye had two sons and that the youngest was Edward.”
