Page 177 of Historical Hotties
Creed’s dusky blue eyes moved to Carington. “Perhaps my wife would like her own home, my lady.”
Anne looked stricken as her gaze moved to Carington. “How insensitive of me,” she exclaimed softly. Then she lifted her slender shoulders. “We shall discuss it later, then. For now, you will take the chamber on the fourth floor. And no argument.”
Before Creed could protest, Carington answered for him. “Ye’re most kind, m’lady. We are grateful.”
Anne smiled sweetly at Carington, patted her cheek, and went to find her husband. Kristina, seeing that she was now standing alone with a newly married couple, suddenly bolted away. Carington giggled as the girl practically tripped in her haste to give them privacy. Creed merely shook his head and scratched his scalp again. His gaze was warm on Carington.
“Are you hungry?” he asked softly. “Perhaps you would like to eat before retiring.”
She gazed up at him with her emerald eyes. “I am a bit hungry,” she admitted, yet her expression grew serious. “But what of ye? How are ye feeling?”
His warm expression faded somewhat. “I am weary,” he confessed. “And I have no great desire to share you with a room full of people.”
She went to him, wrapping her small hands around his great forearm. “That is not what I meant,” she said quietly. “I meant to ask how ye are feeling about yer brother. Surely he must be taken care of. I would help ye tend him if ye will allow me.”
He patted her hand. “’Tis sweet of you to offer, honey, but there is no need. He has been taken care of for now.”
“Are ye sure?”
He nodded. “Galen and Burle saw to it earlier.”
She studied his face closely, watching the flicker of grief in his eyes. “They are true friends to do that for ye,” she murmured. “They know how sad ye are.”
He sighed heavily, thinking back to earlier that afternoon when Carington had returned to the keep to dress for their wedding. He had remained with Burle, Galen and Stanton next to the wagon containing his brother’s body, the four of them united in their grief for a fallen comrade and brother. It had been Creed who had lifted his brother’s battered body out of the wagon and carried it to Prudhoe’s gatehouse, where it had been placed in the lower level of the vault where it was very cold. Itwas the best place to store the remains until they were able to bury him.
Burle and Galen took over at that point, assuring Creed that they would tend his brother so that he could focus on his pending marriage. More than that, his friends wanted to help him through his grief, and tending his brother’s smashed head would not have been the best experience for him. Galen had accompanied them back to Prudhoe for just that reason; he had been there when Lenox fell and felt strongly that he needed to be with Creed for Ryton’s death as well. Creed was barely holding himself together as it was. So they put his focus onto Carington and the imminent wedding, and it had been enough to get him out of the gatehouse.
It was a gesture by true friends during a time when he needed it most. Creed was adrift in his reflections when Carington rubbed his arm gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Ye’re lost to me,” she murmured. “What are ye thinking?”
He gazed down at her, smiling weakly and caressing her soft fingers. “Of my friends,” he reached out and touched her cheek. “And I apologize for that. I should be thinking only of you.”
Her smiled faded as she gazed into his dusky eyes. “Then let us go to our chamber now,” she murmured. “I would rather spend the eve of our wedding alone with ye.”
“You are reading my mind,” he winked at her, turning to Richard and the priest, a few feet away. “My lord, if you will not be greatly offended, my wife and I will retire.”
Richard’s gaze passed between Creed and Carington; he still was not over his reserve about the situation but he nodded agreeably. “Understandable,” he waved them off. “We will see you in the morning.”
Creed started to move for the door but Massimo stepped forward. “I will be leaving in the morning, Sir Creed,” he reminded him. “I would speak with you before I go.”
Creed nodded to acknowledge him but said nothing more. When he and Carington were descending the chapel steps, she turned to him.
“What does he want to speak with ye about?” she asked softly.
Dusk had fallen and the torches had been lit, giving the outer bailey an unearthly glow. The peace of night seemed far removed from the chaos and horror the past day had seen. Creed’s dusky gaze moved across the darkened landscape.
“He simply wants to talk about my issues,” he tried to make it sound casual.
“He is concerned with our marriage.”
“Aye.”
She sighed faintly. “I knew it. I could tell. He is not happy in the least.”
His left hand clutched her fingers around his right elbow. “Nay, he is not, but that did not stop me. He does not control my life.”
Carington did not say any more as they crossed the outer ward and into the inner bailey. She knew that now was not the time. The tall cylindrical keep loomed ahead and her gaze trailed upward as if to see their destination at the top. Soft light was filtering from the lancet windows placed strategically around the keep, the gentle illumination beckoning them.
