Page 191 of Historical Hotties
Carington’s smile faded, remembering that May night when Ryton had been killed. “The night after the Scots attacked Hexham Castle.”
Sian’s expression did not change; his eyes were riveted to his only child. “When was this?”
“In May.”
He scratched his chin and averted his gaze. “I dinna know of this. Attacked Hexham, you say?”
Creed just looked to his cup but he could feel Carington tensing beneath his arm. “How can ye say that?” she hissed at her father. “There were Kerr tartans among those of Eliot and Graham.”
Sian lifted an eyebrow. “Kerr, ye say? If that is true, it was not by me own command.”
“Do ye not know where yer men are?”
“Of course I do. But we have a large clan, lass. There are those who act on their own with the right persuasion.”
Carington knew it was the truth; men from the clan could be bought or coerced by other clans. That was not an unusual happenstance. But this was different; this act of betrayal hadresulted in horrific results on someone she had once considered the enemy.
“Creed lost his brother in that raid, Da,” she said seriously. “Killed with a morning star to the head; I saw it myself. Do you mean to tell me you have no control over yer men?”
His vibrant blue eyes were piercing on her. “I have no control over me own daughter, ’tis a fact.”
She sat back against Creed, as if her father had struck her with his words. He was attempting to unbalance her and had managed to do so. After a moment, she looked at her husband and put an arm around his neck. Her gaze went from hard to soft in an instant as she beheld his face.
“Then what good is a peace treaty if no one but the hostage honors it?” she smiled sadly at her husband as they gazed into each other’s eyes. “Although I am deeply sorry for Ryton’s death, I am not sorry that I was pledged to Prudhoe for harmony’s sake.”
Sian watched his daughter’s expression as she looked at her husband, the gentleness of it. It was something he had never seen before. Somewhere in the past several months, his daughter had grown up. She had moved from a spirited young girl to a spirited young woman. More than that, there was something in her manner that Creed seemed to bring to it; there was deep compassion and tenderness. She seemed settled and calm. Sian could see it quite clearly. And at that moment, he began to gain some respect for the English warrior. If Carington thought so much of him, then perhaps there was something there.
“Well,” Sian turned back to his cup, pouring himself more wine. “I dinna hear anything about the raid on Hexham. If my men were a part of it, they kept it well hidden from me.”
“Perhaps because they knew it was in violation of your peace with Prudhoe,” Carington tore her eyes away from Creed andlooked at her father. “Perhaps they did it behind yer back. That smells of betrayal to me.”
Sian lifted an eyebrow at her. “Still yer tongue, girl. I will get tae the bottom of this and find out what my men had tae do wi’ it.”
“I willna still my tongue,” she fired back. “Creed’s brother died in that raid and I would know who has betrayed our peace.”
“And do what?”
“Punish them!” Carington stood up, agitation in her manner. “I would know who did this to my husband’s brother. He was a good man, a fair man, and he dinna deserve for his skull to be smashed by dishonorable savages.”
Sian’s temper flared and Creed could see, in that brief moment, where his wife got her temper. “I’ll not have ye callin’ yer kin dishonorable when ye dunna know the entire story,” he threw up his hands. “Ye dunna even know who killed the man. It could have been anyone!”
She scowled angrily. “Ye defend men who would go to battle without yer blessing? Since when are ye so ignorant?”
Creed removed her, then. He stood up, pushing her gently away from her father and putting a barrier between them should her father decide to physically demonstrate his fury. Sian leapt to his feet behind Creed.
“Since when do ye speak tae yer father wi’ such disrespect?” he bellowed.
Although Creed had her around the shoulders, Carington strained to get a glimpse of her father.
“Since my father is apparently such an idiot,” she bellowed in return. “Creed’s brother was killed when there was supposed to be peace; killed by Scots, some of whom wore Kerr tartan!”
It was turning into a shouting match. Creed gently but firmly pushed his wife away from the table, attempting to calm her.There was chaos building, so much so that they were all startled when Julia suddenly spoke up from the shadow.
“The Scots did not kill Ryton,” she said calmly.
Creed and Carington looked sharply at her; she stood near the hearth, her hands folded primly and appearing calm. She had been, in fact, extraordinarily quiet since the night of Creed’s wedding. She had been withdrawn and odd and most attributed it to the fact that the man she had been longing after had taken a wife. Carington, in fact, had barely heard two words from her during all that time and was understandably surprised to hear her voice in the midst of a family argument.
Lady Anne was the first one to speak. “Julia, now is not the time,” she said quietly, firmly. “Please take the boys back to the keep. Kristina, go with her.”
