Creed’s moment of surprise quickly vanished when he realized the situation was plummeting. In truth, he was having a difficult time holding a straight face. Carington had said everything to Edward, Gilbert and the two haughty girls that he had always wanted to say but could not. It would not do to insult his liege’s children or wards, and he was especially unwilling to insult the man who risked his neck to remove him from the king’s wrath.
But he had to do something; Carington was all but threatening to throttle Richard’s boys. In fact, she was already up and putting her feet on the bench. He could easily picture her hurling herself over the table and tackling the children. Bolting to his feet, he grabbed Carington around the waist and hauled her away from the table.
“My lady is exhausted,” he said to Anne as he passed her with his snarling bundle. “Forgive her uncontrolled behavior. Please allow her to rest from this day.”
Anne was more concerned for Carington than she was for her boys at the moment. “Do not punish her, Creed,” she said as he walked towards the yawning exit. “She is simply overwrought. Please take her to the ladies’ chamber at the top of the stairs. We have prepared a bed for her.” The last words were shouted as he disappeared from sight.
The knights watched Creed carry her out. Ryton rose and followed. He caught his brother as the man crossed the bailey and was preparing to enter the three storied keep to the north of the hall.
“Creed,” he put his arm on his brother’s shoulder. “I shall take her. Return to the hall and finish your meal. I fear I have burdened you with an unwieldy task and you have more than performed your duties. I shall take the chore now.”
Creed knew his brother meant well. He could hear guilt in his voice. But he shook his head. “No need,” he replied. “I assumed this responsibility. I shall see it through. The best thing you can do is to go back and calm the throng so they do not form a lynch mob against the lady. I fear what Gilbert and Edward will do in retaliation.”
“Anne will control them,” he eyed Carington’s red face. “Are you sure you do not want me to take her?”
Creed shook his head as they entered the keep. There was a small spiral staircase off to the left and he half-carried her, half shoved her onto the first step. “Nay,” he grunted as she resisted his efforts. “I have grown accustomed to these little tantrums. I think I am better adept at handling them than you are.”
“Dunna speak of me as if I am not here,” Carington was trying to turn around to yell at them both. “And if ye expect me to apologize to those two spoiled bairns, then I can tell ye that I willna. They deserved everything I said!”
Creed cocked an eyebrow, turning her around and swatting her behind firmly when she resisted. “They may have deserved it, but you have a good deal to learn about decorum and tact.”
Carington yelped when he spanked her, a sharp sting. But it was enough to make her stop her struggles and glare at him. “Ye’ll teach me nothing, Sassenach. I’ll die first.”
Creed did not reply. The last Ryton saw of his brother and the lady, he had her under the arms and was lifting her up the stairs.
The smaller chamber that had been prepared for Carington was on the third floor of the massive keep. There were three rooms on the floor, two larger ones to the right and then a smaller one to the left. Creed all but dragged her inside one of the chambers and closed the door.
He released her once they were inside and she faced off against him like an angry wet hen. Before he could speak, she jabbed a finger at him.
“Ye’ll not throw me around like a roughhouse wench,” she scolded. “I dunna appreciate being tossed about for all to see.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do not act like a roughhouse wench and you shall not be treated like one. Your actions dictate mine, lady.”
She put her hands on her hips, her lovely face red with fury. “Those children were horrible. I had to defend myself.”
“Defend yourself against what?”
“Their slander.”
He opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it. She probably truly believed that they were slandering her for a darker, evil purpose. Her only history with the English was not a trusting and pleasant one. With a heavy sigh, for he was quite weary himself, he hunted down the nearest chair. Carington watched him closely, taking no notice of the decidedly feminine chamber around her. Creed seated himself in a simple oak chair that groaned under his substantial weight.
“Come here.” He motioned with a crooked finger.
She was defiant. “Why?”
“Just come here.”
“I’m not going to if ye’re planning on whacking my behind again.”
“If I have to stand up to get you then I will most certainly whack your behind.”
She pursed her lips, torn between anger and reluctance. But her resistance lasted only a split second before she wandered in his direction, coming to within arm’s length of the chair. She would obey, but certainly not willingly. Her little fists were still on her hips.
“Well?”
Quick as a flash, he reached out and snatched her. Before Carington could protest, she was seated upon his lap, snuggly secured by his enormous arms. His handsome face was a few inches from her and she went from furious to breathless in less than a second. Emerald eyes gazed with surprise at sensual, dusky blue. She struggled, though not with much effort.
“Now,” he voice was low and breathy. “There are a few things we are going to establish here and now. You will listen to me, you will comprehend, and you will obey. Is that clear?”
Her heart was doing that odd leaping thing again, only now it was so violent she could hardly take a breath. In fact, her entire body seemed to be quivering, a weird sort of heat flooding her limbs. It was not enough to dissolve her resistance entirely, but her struggles stopped.
“Ye’re not my master, Creed de Reyne,” she snapped, without force. “Ye canna command me about.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her, realizing above all else that she was too close, too tempting. What had started as a disciplinary move had turned into something else, something warm and inviting, and he struggled to stay on task.
“Aye, I can and I will,” he replied. “You will obey me or you will meet with many more whackings in addition to the one you just received. Is this in any way unclear?”
Her emerald eyes darkened. He could see that she very much wanted to refute him. But she nodded reluctantly and looked away. “What, then?”
He fought off a grin at her pouting face, which he found himself studying at very close range. She was magnificent.
“I warned you that Edward and Gilbert were a handful,” he said quietly. “They are young, spoiled lads and will do anything they can to get a rise out of you. And it is not just you; they do it to everyone. It is a game with them; the more you respond, the more insults they will hurl. They are looking for a physical altercation.”
She looked back at him, somewhat surprised. “But they’re so young. Why would they do this?”
Creed shook his head. “The baron has raised his sons to be fearless. But it has only bred confrontation. Lady Anne is probably the only one who can control them, but she cannot always. Know that these boys are beyond punishment and reproach, so you would do well to avoid them at all costs. However, if you cannot avoid them, you must at least keep your temper. Exploding at them as you did will only feed their frenzy.”
She looked at him as if he were insane. “Those little boys are monsters.”
“Aye, they are. Remember that.”
“So I will. And what of the girls? I saw no friendliness in them.”
He sighed, settling her in his lap and somehow pulling her closer. Carington ended up with one arm around his shoulder to support the angle at which she was sitting. They were, in fact, very close and enjoying the comfort without being wildly aware of it.
“Julia is the problem,” he said quietly. “She is spoiled and petty. Kristina can be sweet, but she becomes swept u
p in Julia’s demands. She is the weaker of the two. And you will be sharing this room with them so you must learn to deal politely with them.”
For the first time, Carington looked around, seeing the three beds in the chamber; two were tucked over against the western wall while the third, hers she assumed, was situated in an alcove directly below a large lancet window. Though there was an oilcloth covering, she could see that she would be subject to whatever weather blew in from the window. It was not the most desirable place in the room. She suspected her new roommates had put the bed there for a reason.
A great many things were coming clear to her. Monstrous children, conceited wards… and she was thrust into the middle of it. Closing her eyes briefly, all of the fight and resistance abruptly left her.
“Oh… English,” she sighed as if everything had just come crashing down on her. “What is it ye’ve brought me to?”
He could see the defeat in her face and he leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You are strong, Cari. I know you can deal with this. It will just take time. But please; as a personal favor to me, keep your tongue and your control. You are made of better things.”
She turned her head; he was so close that if she had stuck out her tongue, she would have licked him. Her heart thumped harder and faster, threatening to burst from her chest as she gazed into his dusky blue eyes with their fringe of thick dark lashes. The lightning bolts were still there but, this time, they were far tenderer and far less shocking.
“How would ye know what I am made of?” she asked.
“Because I can tell.”
She cocked her head. “Ye believe that I have strength?”
He smiled in reply, gazing into her lovely face, knowing that he was going to kiss her and there was not a damn thing he could do to stop himself. His grip tightened, pulling her cheek very close to his mouth, and his lips went to work. Very gently, his mouth moved across her cheek to her chin. As it did so, he felt her body quiver violently and it fed both his passion and his curiosity; he was wildly curious to taste her lips. He thought she tried to say something but he could not be sure; before she could get the words out, his lips slanted over hers and he fed his curiosity with her delicious flesh.
Clutched tightly against Creed’s chest, Carington knew she should, at the very least, be protesting his actions. She had tried, sort of, but his mouth had claimed her own and the protest died on her lips. Now she was experiencing the searing heat of his mouth, scorching her like nothing she had ever known to exist. She’d never been kissed by a man before and hardly knew what to expect, but Creed’s gentle lips wordlessly instructed her on how to respond. In a very short amount of time, she was aptly doing so. In fact, it was as if a flood gate suddenly opened and her passionate Scot nature exploded in ways she never knew it could.
Her small fingers found their way into his inky hair, gripping his head as he devoured her. His tongue licked at her lips, tenderly prying them open, and she gasped as he invaded her honeyed mouth. Carington savored the sensations, each one so new and exciting, feeling his flesh against hers, his massive arms around her slender body. There was such excitement and comfort and passion, sensations she had never felt before, and she mimicked his actions, matching him suckle for suckle because it seemed like the most natural thing to do. She could taste him, his distinct musk and saltiness, and it was exhilarating.
Creed was kissing her so lustfully that he nearly swallowed half her face. She was delectably sweet, like nothing he had ever sampled before, and the fact that she was responding eagerly to him only increased his fervor. She was so small that his arms encircled her torso and then some, and he could feel the swell of her left breast against the palm of his left hand. It was firm and warm. With the figure this woman had, curvaceous and slender in all the right places, having her in his arms only served to excite him more.
The kiss was growing more heated. A bevy of unexpected emotions and sensations were beginning to crop up, seeds of obsession and intimate curiosity that he could not seem to control. Creed was suckling gently on her tongue when a soft knock sounded at the chamber door. Startled, his head came up and they both stared at the door a moment as if unsure they had heard anything at all. But a second knock came shortly thereafter, stronger than the first, and Creed lifted her up and set her on her feet as if she weighed no more than a child. Carington wobbled, giggled, and he smiled in response, putting a finger over his lips to indicate silence. He noticed her face was rather red, her lips glossy-wet from his kiss, and he gently wiped his hand over the lower half of her face to remove all traces of his loss of control. Carington wiped her face with her own hands just to make sure. He could see that her hands were shaking.
“Stay here,” he commanded softly.
She remained still, her emerald eyes following him as he moved across the floor and opened the door. The Lady Anne entered immediately, her eyes wide between Creed and Carington.
“I came to see how our guest is faring,” she said hesitantly to Creed. Then she looked at Carington. “Are you feeling better, my lady?”
Carington nodded slowly. “Aye, m’lady,” she could hardly speak, still reeling from Creed’s wicked mouth. She glanced at him before continuing. “Forgive me for ruining yer sup. I… I dunno what came over me.”
She said the last part purely for Creed’s sake. She really was not sorry and she was fully aware of what came over her. Yet she realized that she wanted to please Creed. But his face was emotionless as Anne moved towards her.
“You are simply exhausted,” Anne said, studying her closely as if to gain a better, more in-depth view of her new charge. “I will put Julia and Kristina in another chamber for tonight. I am sure you will want to rest alone.”
“I dunna wish to displace them, m’lady.”
Anne smiled. “You are not. Enjoy your rest, then.”
Carington nodded, somewhat humbled and uncertain. “Thank ye, m’lady.”
Anne’s dark eyes lingered on her a moment before turning for the chamber door. She was almost out of the room when she paused, turning to Creed as he still stood by the chamber door.
“You did not punish her, did you?”
“Nay, my lady.”
“Good. Go and get her some food and then leave her to rest.”
Creed nodded obediently and watched as Lady Anne swept out into the hall and down the steps. His gaze moved back to Carington, still standing where he had left her. She had not moved.
“What would you like to eat?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head. “Send a servant with it, Creed. Ye need not cater to me.”
“I do not intend to. But I will bring you the meal you were denied.”
Again, she shook her head, moving towards him. “I am not particularly hungry.”
“You have not eaten all day. I would see you eat something before you retire. Please.”
His softly uttered plea cut off her refusal. A faint smile creased her lips as she gazed up at him. “Why are ye so kind to me?”
They were standing a few feet apart but he could feel her heat from where he stood. He found himself staring at her mouth, remembering how her lips tasted. It was horribly unhealthy and he knew it, but at the moment, he did not particularly care.
“Because you warrant it.”
She laughed softly, her teeth straight and white in her bow-shaped mouth. “I’ve done nothing but fight ye all the way back from Scotland. How can ye say I deserve anything kind from ye?”
His dusky blue eyes glittered at her. “Because you do.”
She regarded him a moment. “May I ask ye something?”
“You may.”
“What possessed ye to kiss me?”
He stared at her; he was wondering about that very thing and had no clear cut answer. He honestly did not know what had possessed him other than an overwhelming feeling. After a moment, he lifted his big shoulders.
“I do not know. It seemed like a good idea.”
“Was i
t?”
He grinned, a coy gesture, as if he did not want her to see just how he really felt about it. “Aye,” he muttered. “But it is not something that should become public knowledge. I am in a position of trust and what I did could be considered a violation of that trust.”
She looked serious. “I would never betray ye, Creed. And if I hadna wanted ye to do it, I would have whacked ye.”
A smile flickered across his lips, but he did not know what to say to that. It was obvious she had responded to him as readily as he had to her, an attachment between them that was deepening by the hour. He was terrified, sickened, and thrilled by it all at the same time. He did to Carington exactly what Isabella had accused him of doing to her, only this time, he was truly guilty. He had kissed the little firebrand and was not the least bit sorry about it. So he had to leave the room, if for no other reason than to clear his head. The mission to collect sup was a convenient excuse.
Creed quit the chamber in silence, leaving Carington standing there, heart fluttering against her ribs and the flavor of him still on her lips.
True to his word, he brought her back a huge tray of supper and sat with her while she ate. This time, Ryton was with him and the two of them sat her down at the small table in the ladies’ chamber. It was the first time she had seen Ryton without his helm and she was not surprised to note that he looked a good deal like his younger brother; with the exception of very short, light-brown hair, they had similar facial features. But Creed’s features were more solid and masculine. In her view, Creed was most definitely the beauty of the family.
He was also the more persuasive of the two. The men discovered early on that Carington was a picky eater, and not a particularly big eater, so after the third bite of bread with butter and honey she acted as if they were torturing her. Creed took the bread from her plate and fed her as if she were an infant. As long as he was holding the bread, she would eat it. But if he put it down, she would make no move to feed herself.
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