Page 195 of Historical Hotties
Massimo nodded submissively. “A difficult choice to make, Sir Creed. Even if I had diverted them, I could not take the chance that they would somehow wander into Prudhoe or Hexham and catch you unaware. You had to be warned.”
Creed sighed heavily, his mind whirling with the news. He resumed his walk towards the great hall. “Then it would seem my choice is to either hunker down at Prudhoe and expect a siege or flee. And I cannot flee.”
“Why not?” Massimo demanded. “You must leave right away if you are to have any chance of escaping them.”
Creed shook his head. “I cannot leave in any case.”
“Why not?” Massimo demanded again.
Creed looked at him, then. “Because my wife is with child. I cannot drag her out in this weather or travel with her in her current condition. Even in fine weather, I would be hesitant to take her into open country.”
Massimo stared at him in shock. After a moment, he let out a hissing whistle between his teeth and looked away. “Dear God,” he muttered. “I understand your reluctance, Creed, but you have no choice. If you stay, the king’s men will lay siege to Prudhoe and you jeopardize everyone here with your presence. Would you really risk so many men, women and children because you do not want to leave?”
They had reached the great hall and Creed turned to look at the priest with a great deal of pain on his face. The dusky blue eyes were full of it. After a moment, he averted his gaze and opened the door.
Hot air hit them in the face as they entered and Creed quickly closed the door behind them. When Creed looked up, he could already see Carington moving across the floor in their direction. Her lovely face was serene yet curious. Massimo unwound the woolen scarf from his head as she drew near.
“Lady de Reyne,” he greeted her, eyeing her round belly. “Your husband told me the happy news. Congratulations on your pending child.”
She dipped in curtsy. “Yer Grace,” she said. “Welcome to Prudhoe. My husband thought it might be ye but he could not be sure.”
Massimo forced a smile and took her hand gently. “It was me,” he nodded his head in the direction of the table. “May we sit and warm ourselves? I fear that I have barely escaped being turned into a pillar of ice.”
Carington smiled at him but her eyes moved to Creed as they made their way back to the well-scrubbed table. Creed simply winked at her, sending a servant for hot mulled wine and food. Then he joined them.
Carington did not mince words; she knew the priest was there for a reason and she would know what it was.
“To what do we owe the honor of your visit?” she asked the priest. “Surely it is not because ye enjoy traveling in the snow.”
Massimo smiled weakly. “Nay, my lady, I do not,” he cast a glance at Creed. “I have, in fact, come with some news.”
Creed made sure to sit beside her as she focused on the priest. “What news?” she asked.
Massimo chose his words carefully; he had caught glimpses of the lady’s high strung nature the last time he was at Prudhoe and did not imagine that pregnancy had stilled those tendencies. If anything, they were probably worse. He was very careful how he delivered the news.
“The queen gave birth to a stillborn son three months ago,” he said. “It was rumored that the child was the exact image of your husband. The king’s grief and fury knew no bounds and he put a price on your husband’s head. Even now, the king’s men have followed me to Prudhoe and cannot be more than a day’s ride behind me. I have been attempting to convince your husband to flee but he will not.”
In spite of the devastating news, Carington held her composure admirably. But it was very thinly held. She turned to Creed.
“He is right, English,” she said, although he could see her lips trembling. “Ye must flee. Go to Wether Fair and seek sanctuary from my father. Massimo will go with ye and explain the situation.”
His heart was breaking as he noted the quiver to her mouth, her pale features. He knew how upset she was. “I will not leave you,” he asserted softly, firmly. “I am not afraid to face the king with the church on my side.”
“I will go with you,” she suddenly bolted up as if she had a million things to do and only five minutes in which to complete them. “I shall pack lightly and we can ride to my father’s home. It shouldna take more than a couple of days.”
He grabbed her by the hands as she tried to get away. “In this weather?” he was trying to be gentle but he could see that she was beginning to panic. “I will not risk you over miles of open ground. It is foolish.”
She had a wild look to her eye as her alarm gained ground. “Then ye must go alone,” she insisted, yanking at his hands. “Ye must leave right away. Go to Wether Fair and I will send word to ye when it ’tis safe to return.”
He shook his head firmly. “I will not leave you, Cari. There is no telling how long we would be separated and I will not miss the birth of my son.”
Her panic broke through and her high-pitched voice began to quake. “Ye’ll miss his entire life if the king’s men murder ye,” she cried. “For the love of God, English, get out of here. Go before it ’tis too late!”
She was yanking fiercely at him and he threw his arms around her to stop the panic. She collapsed against him in terrified tears as he held her tightly.
“I will not run like a coward,” he murmured into her dark hair, listening to her weep harder. “I did nothing wrong. God will protect me.”
She was weeping pathetically. “Go, English,” she sobbed. “I am begging ye; for my sake, please go. I canna stand the strain of knowing ye risked yer life just to stay with me. Oh, please… go….”
