Page 190 of Historical Hotties
“I’ve married a very fine man,” she murmured, gazing up at him. “And I am giving ye a grandson. Is that not reason enough to be joyful?”
Sian sighed heavily, eventually patting her hand. “Give me time tae settle this in me own mind, lass,” he muttered. “Perhaps some ale would help.”
For the first time, Creed took his eyes off the man and noticed Richard standing several feet away. He was hovering with Anne, Edward, Gilbert, Julia, Kristina and Stanton’s young son, Henry. All of them were gazing at the Scots laird with some measure of curiosity and apprehension. But Richard had heard the man’s request; it would not go unsatisfied.
“My lord,” Richard stepped forward. “Perhaps you will come with me to the great hall where we may rejoice in our alliance.”
Sian recognized Richard; he had seen him those months ago when the terms of the treaty had been agreed upon. He nodded his head resignedly.
“So you would have one of yer knights marry me daughter, eh?” he made one last stand at being indignant. “I wasna aware that hostages were married off to their captors.”
Richard eyed Creed, then Carington. “Your daughter is most persuasive. I had no choice.”
Sian grunted. “Aye,” he shook his head wearily. “I know the feeling.”
Richard took them into the great hall, followed by his wife, Carington and the rest of the crowd. Creed kept glancing back to make sure his wife was within sight and she would smile at him on the arm of Lady Anne. Kristina, Gilbert and Edward were somewhere in the middle with Julia bringing up the rear with young Henry. Once inside, the women and children held back while the men seated themselves at the table and servants began to bring out food and drink.
Creed poured ale for his wife’s father first before pouring his own draught. Sian watched the man, more than curious about this man his daughter had fallen in love with. He was certainly a big one with enormous hands that gripped the cup.
Richard collected his own cup and held it aloft for a toast. “To our alliance,” he said.
Creed lifted his cup and looked Sian in the eye. “To family.”
Sian choked but managed to get the liquid down. As Creed sat, he extended his hand to Carington, still standing near the entry with Anne. Carington went to her husband and sat on his enormous knee as he wound his arm around her growing torso.
For a moment, no one said a word. They just stared at each other. Richard eyed Anne for moral support, who promptly joined her husband at the table. Gilbert and Edward followed their mother and climbed on the table, staring boldly at the Scots. Anne eyed her boys grimly but Richard seemed not to notice or care until Gilbert piped up.
“Is he our enemy, Papa?” he demanded.
Richard looked at his son as if fearful of what would come out of his mouth next. “Nay, boy,” he told him. “Laird Kerr is our neighbor and ally.”
“But he talks funny!” Edward chimed in. “He talks like her!”
He was pointing at Carington, who was gearing up to defend her father until Creed shook her gently. When their eyes met she backed down. Sian’s vibrant blue eyes were riveted to the boys.
“Yer sons, Laird Richard?” he asked.
Richard nodded proudly. “They are fine boys, curious and strong. They will make fine allies with the Kerrs someday.”
“He does not wear breeches,” Gilbert pointed out to his father. “Why do Scots wear skirts?”
“’Tis a kilt, lad,” Sian could not decide if he was impressed by their boldness or if they needed a whipping. “We wear it because it is our way.”
Gilbert frowned. “Englishmen do not wear kilts.”
“Nay, they dunna. That is the difference between us.”
Edward suddenly ducked under the table. They could hear the little boy scuttling around underneath until he suddenly crowed.
“He is not wearing anything underneath!” he screeched. “I can see his…!”
“Edward!” Anne cried, reaching under the table and grasping him by the arm. She practically twisted it off in her attempt to flush him out from underneath the table. “Go stand with Julia and Kristina. Go before I take a switch to you.”
She had nearly pulled his arm from its socket and he rubbed his shoulder as he did as he was told. Anne yanked Gilbert off the table and shooed him away with his brother. Meanwhile, Richard cleared his throat and prayed for a better subject.
“Did you have a pleasant trip to Prudhoe, my lord?” he asked.
Sian nodded. “Good weather,” he returned his attention to Carington, more interested in his daughter’s life since her arrival at Prudhoe than in rude English children. “Tell me, lass; when did ye marry Sir Creed?”
