Page 139 of Historical Hotties
“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 it?”
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 hisword, he brought her back a huge tray of supper and sat with her while she ate. This time, Ryton was with him andthe 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.
Ryton sat in a sturdy oak chair, still looking as if he’d been on the road for three days without reprieve, and watched his brother force feed their hostage. Not strangely, Creed had a manner about him that would soothe a savage beast, which was exactly what he had on his hands. Creed had always been a gentle giant, more apt to use understanding and communication before force. Carington was responding to him, but not happily. Had it been Ryton, he would have given up long ago. He simply did not have the patience that his brother did.
Halfway through the meal, the lady focused her emerald green eyes on Ryton. He was leaning back in the chair, arms crossed and feeling his exhaustion when she focused in on him. He noticed her intense stare and his guard went up.
“Why are ye here, Sir Ryton?” she half-asked, half-demanded. “Did ye come to make sure yer brother feeds me as he’s been ordered to?”
Ryton gazed back at her steadily. “I came to see how you were faring. You have been a handful for my brother and although the man has patience, he is not invincible.”
Carington seemed to back down, passing a long glance at Creed as he cut away a succulent piece of beef from the bone.
“I am sorry I have been difficult,” she said quietly. “It was never my intention to be burdensome.”
“You have not been.” Creed held the beef up to her on the knife and she shook her head. Patiently, he removed it from the sharp knife and held it out to her with his fingers. She just stared at him until he put the beef almost to her lips; only then did she open her mouth and he popped it in like a mother bird feeding a chick. He turned back to the beef. “You have had a most difficult few days and you would have to be either dead or stupid not to react in kind.”
Ryton scratched his head. “Creed, you are a saint,” he muttered. Then he looked back to the hostage. “Can I assume you are beyond any more escape attempts, then?”
She swallowed the beef in her mouth. “I have nowhere to go, Sir Ryton.”
“That is not an answer. Do you plan to escape again?”
She made a face at him, mockingly. “Nay, I dunna plan to escape again.”
Creed hid a smile at the way she snarled at his brother. He found her to be quite funny at times. But Ryton pursed his lips at her insolence.
“Very well,” he said. “Then I will place you in the wardship of Lady Anne and her majordomo. You will no longer have Creed to torment.”
Creed did not react; he was cutting another piece of beef. But Carington looked startled by the suggestion. “But… but I dunna know them. I dunna want anyone else to watch over me.”
