Guardian of Darkness (25 page)

“Lady Carington?” he did not want to draw attention and rattled the latch quietly. “Unlatch the door. What is wrong?”

Her response was to weep loudly. Puzzled, Creed began to grow concerned. “Cari, what’s happened?” he pounded on the door softly. “Open the door and let me in.”

Inside the brightly lit chapel with the sun streaming through its many-colored glass panes, Carington wept openly.  Her back was to the door; she could feel Creed rattling it.  She sank to her buttocks on the cold stone floor, her face in her hands, feeling days of confusion and anxiety gnaw at her. First she was forced to leave her home, then her beloved Bress was killed. Now Creed was apparently not the man of honor and chivalry that she believed him to be; she simply couldn’t take anymore.

Creed listened to her weep with deepening concern. She would not answer him and he truly could not fathom what the problem was. But women were confusing creatures he had never been able to decipher.  He may have been a stellar knight, but he was not a particularly good mind reader when it came to the opposite sex.  Strange thing was that he wanted to read Carington’s mind very much. She was upset and he had an overwhelming desire to know why.  But his hand remained on the door latch, uncertain what to do.

“Sir Creed?”

A soft female voice met his ears.  Creed looked over his shoulder, down the stone steps that led into the bailey, and saw Lady Kristina standing at the base.  Her pale face and big blue eyes were laced with apprehension. 

“My lady?” he stepped away from the door; he did not want her coming up the stairs and hearing the weeping. “How can I be of service?”

Kristina took the first two steps; Creed descended half the flight before she took another step to prevent her from ascending any further.

“I came to tell you…,” Kristina paused when she saw how close he had come; very properly, she traced her steps back down the stairs and stood at the bottom, putting distance between them. “I wanted to tell you that I fear our Lady Carington has heard… well, she has heard gossip and I thought to forewarn you.  Since you have been acting as her protector, you have a right to know.”

Creed’s expression did not change except to cock a dark eyebrow. “Know what?”

Kristina swallowed; Creed intimidated her even though he had never been anything other kind to her.  She began to wring her hands. “She… she has been told of your trip with Queen Isabella.  It may have frightened her.”

Suddenly, a great deal made sense; Creed glanced over his shoulder at the bolted chapel door before refocusing on Kristina. The girl was uneasy; he could read it in her face. But he had known her for several years and she was not the malicious type. Her companion, however, was.

He sighed heavily.  “Lady Julia.”

It was a statement, not a question. Kristina nodded reluctantly. “She told her. I tried to stop her, but she would not listen.” She took a step towards him, her blue eyes wide and honest. “We all know how Julia feels about you, Sir Creed. She is not threatened by me because she knows I am pledged to another, but Lady Carington is new and exciting and blindingly beautiful, and I can already see that Julia is sharpening her claws.”

Creed’s gaze was steady on her. “Then Lady Julia is in for a beating. Lady Carington will tear her down to size and never think twice about it. If I were you, I would warn your friend to retract her claws and her tongue before she finds herself in a dire predicament.”

Kristina lifted her slender shoulders. “She will not listen to me, my lord.”

“Then she will listen to me.”

Kristina shook her head vigorously. “Nay, my lord, please do not. If you do, she will know I have told you.  And I must live with her.”

Creed understood.  Though he felt nothing but irritation at the moment for what Lady Julia had done, he nonetheless forced a smile for Kristina’s sake. She was a good girl and tried to do the right thing.

“As you say, my lady,” he said quietly. “And thank you for telling me the truth.”

Kristina bobbed a curtsy and fled, her blond hair wagging in the breeze as she walked briskly in the direction of the keep.  Creed’s gaze lingered on her a moment before he made his way back up the steps to the chapel.  Putting his ear against the door, he could hear sniffling.

He did the only thing he could do.  He went for Ryton.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Damn that girl,” Ryton snarled as he pushed past his brother. “If I am not saddled enough with Jory’s antics, I have to also deal with a spoiled girl who cannot keep her mouth shut.”

Ryton had been seated at the worn table in the knight’s quarters, enjoying his first quiet meal in days. With his brother’s appearance and subsequent request, he found he’d lost his appetite. In the bright sun of the bailey, he paused long enough for Creed to catch up to him.

“What have you done to Jory and Julia in a past life that they would seek to make you so miserable?” he half-demanded, half-wondered. “Why on earth would she tell Lady Carington about the rumors?”

Creed sighed heavily; he had wished in the past that he’d never accepted the assignment to escort young Isabella to England, but now more than ever, he wished he had run at the first suggestion of such a mission. It was returning to haunt him in more ways than he could comprehend.

“You know why,” he said in a low voice. “She is not above such irresponsible behavior.”

Ryton nodded his head sharply; aye, he knew why. “That girl has had eyes for you for the past six months. Can she not get it through her thick skull that you are not the least bit interested in her?”

“Apparently not.”

“So now I must undo her viciousness.” Ryton turned the corner for the stairs that led up to the chapel. “Well? Have you even tried to talk to her?”

Creed cast him a long glance. “Of course I have. She will not talk to me. As I told you, I suspect the only person who has a moderate chance of reasoning with her is you.  And I would suspect she wants someone else to be her shadow from now on. I do not think she wants anything more to do with me.”

There was something in his tone that made Ryton look at him.  His dusky blue eyes studied his brother a moment. “What is her opinion to you?”

Creed met his brother’s gaze, suspecting that there must have been too much regret in his tone. He’d tried to keep it from the conversation. “Nothing, except she and I must cohabitate here at Prudhoe together for an unknown duration. I had built a trust with her. I am sorry to lose it, considering I worked hard to achieve it.”

Ryton’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer.  As they mounted the top of the steps near the old oak door, he focused on his brother. “True enough,” he replied. “You are the only one who can handle her.  If not you, then I must assign Burle and I told you my fears of him before. He will not be firm enough with her, not in the least.” 

Creed had nothing more to say to that. With an impatient sigh, Ryton moved towards the door as Creed hung back.  Ryton knocked softly on the old wood. 

“My lady?” he called. “It is Sir Ryton. I would like for you to open this door. I must speak with you.”

There was a long pause during which time Ryton knocked again.  When they heard her voice, it was muffled and dull.

 “What do ye wish, Sir Ryton?”

Ryton was trying to bank his irritation, knowing he must deal with the lady calmly.  He rattled the latch; it was still locked. “My lady, Lord Richard and his wife will be in need of their chapel shortly. They pray three times a day and their nooning prayer is fast approaching. You may not commandeer the chapel any longer. You must unlock the door.”

There was another long pause. “Sir Ryton, if I unlock this door, I would have yer oath that Sir Creed is not with ye.”

Ryton glanced at his brother, who was already descending the stairs. “He is not with me, my lady,” he said after a moment, allowing Creed enough time to put distance between them. “Would you open the door now, please?”

The lock slowly unlatched.  Ryton stood back as Carington pulled the door open, her red-rimmed eyes peering up at him.  He remained impassive as they studied one another.

“Now,” he said quietly. “What is the meaning of the locked door? You frightened Sir Creed with this behavior. He thought something was quite wrong.”

The door opened wider and she stepped out into the sun.  She brushed a stray lock from her face, her eyes never leaving Ryton’s face.

“I would ask ye a question, Sir Ryton, and I would have an honest answer,” she said.

“You have my vow.”

Her lovely face was pale, her eyes still moist from crying. But he saw her take a deep breath and a spark ignite in the emerald eyes. It put him on his guard.

“What kind of man is it that ye’ve saddled me with?” she demanded quietly.

He lifted an eyebrow at her tone. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly that,” she hissed, gaining steam. “Lady Julia told me of Sir Creed and his… his lust for the child queen. She says everyone knows of it. She said that Sir Creed begot Isabella with child and that the whole of England knows it. Is this the kind of man ye would have protect me? A man who would prey upon innocent young maidens?”

It was difficult for Ryton to stay neutral. “Lady,” he said slowly. “You seem to be quite willing to throw about accusations without seeking the truth of the matter. Would you truly be so foolish as to believe everything Lady Julia tells you?”

Some of Carington’s fire banked, but not entirely.  Ryton had a point but she was not yet willing to concede. “Then I would ask ye the truth,” she said. “However, being his brother, it is natural that ye would defend him, is it not?”

“Then who would you hear it from that you would believe?”

She was guarded, hesitant. In truth, she was not sure. Everyone at Prudhoe would defend Creed, she suspected, except for Lady Julia and perhaps that lout Jory.  Everyone had their opinion and their side to take. She began to cool.

“Who would be honest with me?” she asked.

Ryton was steady.  “I would, brother or no. As Captain of the Guard, it is my duty to be fair and honest with all despite family ties.”

Carington regarded him a moment. He had always tried to be fair with her, if she thought on it. No matter how she had behaved since they’d met, he had always tried to be even-handed and truthful. He had never been cruel. Sweet Jesus, how she wanted to believe the man if he countered everything Julia had told her about his brother. 

“Tell me, then,” she whispered. “And tell me the truth.”

For a split second, Ryton heard the same tone in her voice that he had heard earlier in Creed’s. There was a wistfulness that was difficult to put his finger on.   An inkling of an idea formed in his mind but he quickly chased it away. He had not the time to gracefully or rationally deal with it.

“Six months ago, my brother was in the service of the king,” he said in a low voice. “The king regarded him very well. So well, in fact, that he sent him as the head of a group of knights to escort the king’s bride from France.  As always, Creed performed his duties flawlessly.   But the child bride of the king took a liking to my brother and sought to make him a conquest. When he refused, she was grievously insulted and sought to destroy him.  She accused him of hideous things. But I can assure you, lady, that my brother is completely innocent of all slander charged against him. He is an honorable, trustworthy man and a fine knight.  I would not have him in my service if he was otherwise and I certainly would not have assigned him to guard you.”