Page 201 of Historical Hotties
Carington was saddened by Vivian’s death and by Stanton’s ensuing grief. He had been quite proud of his wife and family. The thought of nursing Stanton’s daughter did not distress her; in fact, it made her feel a little less devastated. Now, she had apurpose, small as that purpose was. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled back the coverlet and extended her arms.
“Give her to me,” she whispered.
The physic laid the baby beside her and Carington found herself gazing into big blue eyes; they were Stanton’s eyes. Her grief softened just a little more as she pulled back the neck of her shift, exposing a fully engorged left breast. As Lady Anne and the physic hovered over her to see if their little experiment would work, Carington offered her swollen nipple to the baby and was rewarded when the child quickly latched on to her. She latched on a little strongly, in fact, and Carington winced as the child suckled hungrily.
Lady Anne smiled gently at her, putting her soft hand against Carington’s forehead in a motherly gesture. “Stanton will be so happy,” she said softly. “He has worried greatly for his daughter since Vivian’s passing.”
Carington cradled the baby close, watching the little mouth work furiously. She touched the downy-blond head, imagining that it was her own daughter that she held. Somehow, it helped ease her heartache.
“What is her name?” she asked Lady Anne, still standing over her. “Vivian had not yet decided last I heard.”
Lady Anne’s gaze was soft on the blond haired infant. “As I recall, she liked Emma and Stanton wanted Mary,” she said. “I do not know what they decided.”
Carington looked back at the baby, now gazing up at her with her bottomless blue eyes. She stroked the blond head. “I like Emma,” she said, lifting a dark eyebrow at Lady Anne. “Tell Stanton that Vivian and I have named his daughter. If he has issue with that, then he can discuss it with me. But warn him that he’ll not like my response.”
Lady Anne laughed softly, watching the infant tug at Carington’s breast. “I doubt he will, my lady,” she said. “In fact, I am sure he will unquestionably agree with you.”
With a faint smile, Carington continued to nurse Emma until she fell asleep against her breast. When Lady Anne checked on the pair later that day, she found both Carington and the baby snuggled close in slumber.
The childless mother and the motherless child had found each other.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Five days afterCarington’s return from the dead, the skies cleared and all of the Northumberland was a brilliant winter wonderland. As far as the eye could see, a vibrant white blanket covered the landscape and the sky above was a magnificent shade of blue. It was cold and crisp and delightful.
Little Henry de Witt ran around the outer bailey and threw snow balls at his father and at Kristina, who had been hit a couple of times in the head. Henry had surprisingly good aim. But Kristina laughed it off, playing with the child who had so recently lost his mother. Stanton was still struggling with his grief but he was making a good effort at tending his son.
Inside the de Reyne cottage, Burle and his wife, a grossly rotund woman with a round head and frizzy red hair, helped Carington with baby Emma. Lady Anne had duties with her own boys who had been sorely neglected while women gave birth and babies died within the walls of Prudhoe. So Burle and Lady Frieda, having three grown daughters, lent a hand with Lady Carington who was only just now able to get out of bed. Frieda would fuss at her but Burle would encourage her. Then they would start bickering and Carington would find herself breaking up the fight. Like protective parents, they wanted to take care of her and she found it touching.
Business went on as usual now that things were settling somewhat. John’s men were still at Prudhoe, still housed in a corner of the outer bailey away from the rest of the life at the fortress. The knight in command, Denys de La Londe, stayed well clear of anyone at Prudhoe except for Burle and LordRichard. He did not deal with the rabble. And his impatience in Creed de Reyne’s return was increasing.
In Creed’s absence, Burle had been placed in charge. Since they only had two seasoned knights and one new knight for the whole of Prudhoe’s five hundred man army, Burle had knighted Creed’s squire, James, and now the tall blond lad had sentry duty along with his counterpart, Steven. They made a young and vigilant pair upon the battlements.
It was close to the nooning meal when there was a soft knock at Carington’s door. Burle had long since left her to go see how his two newest knights were progressing so it was just Carington and Lady Frieda in the warm little cottage. As Carington sat near the hearth and fed Emma, Frieda went to the door and irritably opened it; she had expected to see her husband. But a strange knight was standing there, his blue eyes piercing.
“I have been informed that Lady de Reyne is in better health,” he said. “I have come to speak with her.”
With Emma suckling hungrily at her breast, Carington could see de La Londe standing in her doorway. He, too, had caught a glimpse of her so there was no use in denying that she was well enough for visitors. With her luscious dark hair freshly washed and pulled away from her face and clad in the yellow lamb’s wool surcoat, she looked pale but healthy enough. Frieda was about to throw the knight out on his ear but Carington stopped her.
“Let him in, Frieda,” she instructed evenly, grasping the end of the infant’s blanket and discreetly covering her bosom. “I will speak with him.”
De La Londe was a big man. He entered the cottage, his blue eyes inspecting every shadow, every stone. Such were the senses of a trained knight and Carington remembered that her husband did exactly the same thing when entering new surroundings. Their movements bordered on suspicion as if waiting for a swordto come flying out at them. Carington ignored the wary stance and indicated the stool across from her for the knight to sit.
“How can I help ye, Sir Knight?” she asked politely.
De La Londe gazed down at her; he had no intention of sitting and he had no intention of engaging in idle chatter. He moved straight to the point. “We must discuss your husband, my lady.”
“What of him?”
“You are well aware that he is supposed to return to Prudhoe,” de La Londe lifted an eyebrow. “I sent the priest who has been protecting him with a message.”
Carington remained cool even though she did not like what the man seemed to be hinting at. “You did? I was not aware.”
“I know. You have been ill since my arrival.”
There was a strange rebuke in that statement but she ignored it. “What message did ye send?”
De La Londe did not mince words and he had no sympathy for the fact that the lady had delivered a dead infant three weeks earlier; he was only interested in finding de Reyne. The longer he was forced to wait, the more impatient he was becoming.
