Page 173 of Historical Hotties
Burle’s face was solemn; he could read her panic and he knew why. Since their trip into the town of Prudhoe that day, he had realized what Ryton had; there was something special between Lady Carington and Creed. And, of course, he was informed of the situation when Creed could not keep his excitement to himself as they rode to Hexham.
Burle had never seen the man so happy. It was a trust they had in each other in that the knowledge would go no further; they were old friends that way. That was why Burle had made it his duty upon returning to Prudhoe to seek out Lady Carington; he wanted to get to her before anyone else did. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards the stairs.
“Come with me, my lady,” he said softly.
“Sir Burle?” Kristina’s voice called out to him hesitantly. “May we come also?”
Burle paused and turned to see both Kristina and Julia standing in the doorway, apprehensive expressions on their faces. He held out a halting hand.
“Stay there,” he told the girls. “Remain until someone returns for you.”
Kristina wanted to press him further but refrained. The expression on his face told her not to. Puzzled, she and Julia watched Burle escort Lady Carington down the stairs and out of sight. Only then did Kristina close the door as requested. But she stood against it, tears welling, wondering where Burle was taking Carington and wondered if it was some place horrible as a result of the Scot raid. Perhaps he was taking her to punish her. She was, after all, a hostage. The tears finally fell. Julia watched her friend for a moment before returning, quite unemotionally, back to the window.
But tears were not something that Carington was thinking of at the moment. She was frankly too uneasy at the moment. Burle seemed so grim and that in and of itself scared her to death. She wondered what would make a battle-hardened knight ripe with gloom. When they reached the second floor of the keep and prepared to take the stairs into the inner bailey, Burle finally stopped and turned to her.
“I want to prepare you before we go any further, my lady,” he said quietly.
Carington’s composure took a direct hit. “Dear God,” she grasped at her chest, feeling her knees weaken. “Prepare me for what? What has happened?”
Burle sighed heavily. “We lost Ryton.”
She stared at him a moment before his words sank in. Then, the tears welled. “What happened?” she breathed painfully.
It was obvious that Burle was struggling. “Hexham was overrun when we arrived,” he explained quietly. “There were Scots everywhere. The bailey had been breached and they were in the process of compromising the keep. Ryton and Creed charged straight into the melee, killing many men. But we only brought three hundred men with us from Prudhoe and the Scots must have had a thousand. It was a brutal battle from the onset.”
By this time, Carington was weeping softly, her hands over her mouth and tears coursing down her face. “Is Creed all right?”
“He was not wounded.”
That brought more relief than she could comprehend. “Did… did ye recognize the Scots?”
Burle looked at her; it was clear that he did not want to answer the question. But he had no choice.
“Aye,” he muttered. “We did.”
“And?”
“Elliot, Graham and Kerr tartans.”
Carington’s eyes bulged and she pressed her hands against her mouth as if to hold back the scream. But it was not enough and she began sobbing loudly. She tried to turn away from Burle but he grabbed her firmly, forcing her to face him.
“Please, my lady,” he begged softly. “I know this is difficult, but you must get hold of yourself. Creed needs your comfort not your tears.”
She continued to sob painfully into her hands. “Creed…,” she wept. “Where is he?”
Burle’s expression took on a distant look as if recalling something of anguish. “He is with his brother. His death has left him devastated.”
Carington wept a moment longer before struggling to compose herself, wiping furiously at her eyes and swallowing her sobs. She pulled away from Burle.
“He will not want to see me,” she hissed. “He will hate me for this.”
Burle shook his head. “You did not lead the attack, my lady. Creed knows this.”
“But…,” she gasped, struggling to catch her breath. “But my kin did. It may as well have been me.”
Burle grabbed her by the arm, again forcing her to look at him. “But it was not you,” he insisted quietly. “We will deal withyour kin another time. Right now, Creed needs you. You must be strong, if only for him.”
Her tears faded as she looked at him, suddenly realizing that he was privy to their secret. His tone, his words, told her so. She wiped at her nose, eyeing him closely.
