Guardian of Darkness (42 page)

So he waited by the portcullis, peering through the iron grate as the Scots drew closer.  Steven had been correct; they did not look like a war party.  Still, his heart was thumping with anticipation as the party paused just outside the tree line whereupon several men dismounted.  Creed watched as they drew closer, recognizing Sian Kerr right away.

Sian Magnus Kerr was not a large man but he was muscular and very youthful looking.  He had Carington’s dark hair and the shape of her eyes, but that was where the similarities ended.  Sian had vibrant blue eyes, now fixed on Creed as he drew near. He held out his hands as if to show he had no weapons.

“Knight,” he called. “I am Laird Kerr. I’ve come tae see me daughter.”

Oh God
, Creed thought.  He ordered the portcullis raised, standing in the middle of the gatehouse entry with his massive legs braced apart and his arms crossed.  It was a defensive stance.

 “I am Sir Creed de Reyne, commander of Prudhoe,” he responded. “If you truly wish to visit your daughter, then order your men to stand back. You will continue alone.”

Sian snapped a hand at the men behind him, burly men with beards and dirty tartans.  They came to a halt and Laird Kerr continued.  He came to within a few feet of Creed, inspecting him with his vibrant gaze.

Creed examined the man in return; he did not sense hostility but there was something wild and unpredictable in his gaze.  When Laird Kerr flashed him a rather big smile, Creed thought he appeared almost mad. It was a peculiar expression.  Creed found himself glad he was armed; he anticipated having to defend himself against this erratic bulldog of a man.

“I remember ye,” Sian eyed the big English knight. “Ye came tae escort me daughter tae Prudhoe.”

“Indeed I did, my lord.”

“Where is she? Take me tae her.”

Creed did not budge; he remained rooted to the spot. “We did not receive any word of your visit.”

“That is because I dinna send any,” Sian’s smile faded. “Where is me daughter?”

“In the keep,” Creed replied, thinking he had better say something before the man saw his daughter and realized she was with child. “Before I take you to her, there is something you and I must discuss.”

Sian’s smile vanished completely. “What could ye possible want tae discuss wi’ me?”

Creed thought it would be best to get him inside the compound where he could not signal his men to charge.  With a silent tilt of his head, they began to walk across the outer bailey as Creed ordered the portcullis lowered. He hoped Laird Kerr would not wonder why he was now effectively trapped inside the fortress but Sian was, if nothing else, extremely sharp.

“Ye would treat me as a prisoner, then?” he demanded. “Why do ye close the gate?”

Creed shook his head. “’Tis the way of things at Prudhoe,” he explained. “We always keep the fortress locked down. It is Lord d’Umfraville’s orders.”

Sian cast him a dubious expression but did not argue. “Is my daughter well, then?”

“Very well,” Creed replied, “and very happy.  But there is something you should be aware of.”

“What?”

Creed took a deep breath. “Your daughter has fallen in love,” he said softly, coming to a halt just as they reached the inner bailey. “The man she loves is English and of good character and noble birth.  He loves your daughter deeply; so much, in fact, that he has married her.”

Sian’s mouth popped open and the vibrant blue eyes breathed fire; Creed could see it.  Before he could work himself up into a substantial rage, however, the door to the keep suddenly opened and a woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Da!”

Both Sian and Creed turned to see Carington flying down the stairs from the second floor of the keep as fast as her legs would carry her.  When she hit the dusty bailey running, her swollen belly was evident and Sian’s astonishment overtook his rage for the moment.  As he stood there, dumbfounded, Carington hurled herself into her father’s arms.

She was alternately weeping and laughing, squeezing the man to death.  Sian embraced her tightly.

“Cari-lass,” he murmured into her dark hair. “’Tis heaven tae see ye, child.”

Carington pulled back to look at him, her lovely face alight with excitement. “I dinna know ye were coming,” she gasped. “I never heard a word from ye.”

Sian shook his head. “I dinna send any,” he said, his smile fading as his gaze moved to her belly. “I dinna want tae give advanced word because I wanted tae see how they are really takin’ care of ye. And now I see.”

The thrill on her face dampened, her gaze suddenly moving between her father and Creed.  She knew by the look in her father’s eye that something very bad was about to happen unless she threw out a block to stop it.  She spoke quickly.

“I am very happy here,” she said. “I have a wonderful husband and I could never have wished for such happiness as I have found here with my friends. Ye mustna be angry; there is no call. Ye should be happy that yer daughter is expecting a grandson.”

Sian’s jaw was ticking. “And ye never thought tae get my consent for this marriage?”

She tried to appear firm but her guilt was evident. “It happened rather quickly; there wasna time.”

Sian’s gaze was on her belly and he could not help the grunt of disgust that escaped his lips. “Good God, lass,” he muttered. “Dunna tell me… I raised you better than that, for God’s sake. Did ye let him take liberties with ye so that ye had tae marry him?”

Carington shook her head so hard that her black hair snapped in her face. “Ye have no call to accuse me of wrong doing,” she glared at him. “Our son was conceived after we married, I’ll have ye know. He never touched me before we were properly wed.”

It was fairly personal information that she was spouting for all to hear but Creed did not care; he was watching Laird Kerr’s body language closely, wondering if he was going to have to protect his wife from the man. But Sian and Carington seemed oblivious to the host of English standing around, listening to them argue.

“Then who is this man who would demand ye marry him without the proper consent of yer father?” Sian demanded.

Carington cooled somewhat. “I love him, Da. He is yer son now and I forbid ye to punish him.”

Sian’s mouth popped open. “Ye forbid me?”

She was in his face. “Aye, I do. It was my decision to wed just as much as his. We love each other, Dada. Can ye not understand? He is the most compassionate, wise, gracious and powerful man in the world and I’ll not have ye scolding him.”

It was clear that her father was not pleased. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. “I can see he’s done nothin’ tae make ye more obedient. Well? Do ye run all over him as ye run all over me?”

Beside Sian, Creed cleared his throat softly. “Nay, my lord, she does not,” he said quietly. “But she is quite demanding, something I personally blame you for.”

Sian turned to look at Creed with eyes as wide as the sun. He just stared at him, the enormous English knight that was more than a head taller than he was. He could have taken his statement as a challenge but somehow, he knew it was not. He knew it was the truth.  But that did not stop his glare.

“And I will accept the blame, knight,” he said with certainty. “But ye still should have asked for my consent.”

Creed did not back down. “You are correct, my lord, but we wanted to be married right away.  To have sought your consent would have taken time and, quite possibly, you would have denied us.  In this case, we chose to marry anyway and beg for forgiveness after the fact.”

Sian lifted a disapproving eyebrow at him. “And so ye did. But did ye not stop to think if Cari was already betrothed?”

Creed did not hesitate. “I did not. But it would not have mattered; I love her more than words can express and would have killed anyone who stood in my way.”

Sian could see that he was serious.  It only made him realize that it was the truth; he could see, plainly, that this was no marriage of opportunity. It was a marriage of love.  His harsh stance began to waiver.

“Good God, girl,” his eyes moved to Carington. “What is it that ye’ve done?”

Carington could see her father was surrendering. She wrapped her small hands around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve married a very fine man,” she murmured, gazing up at him. “And I am giving ye a grandson. Is that not reason enough to be joyful?”

Sian sighed heavily, eventually patting her hand. “Give me time tae settle this in me own mind, lass,” he muttered. “Perhaps some ale would help.”

For the first time, Creed took his eyes off the man and noticed Richard standing several feet away. He was hovering with Anne, Edward, Gilbert, Julia, Kristina and Stanton’s young son, Henry.  All of them were gazing at the Scots laird with some measure of curiosity and apprehension.  But Richard had heard the man’s request; it would not go unsatisfied.

“My lord,” Richard stepped forward. “Perhaps you will come with me to the great hall where we may rejoice in our alliance.”

Sian recognized Richard; he had seen them those months ago when the terms of the treaty had been agreed upon. He nodded his head resignedly.

“So you would have one of yer knights marry me daughter, eh?” he made one last stand at being indignant. “I wasna aware that hostages were married off to their captors.”

Richard eyed Creed, then Carington. “Your daughter is most persuasive. I had no choice.”

Sian grunted. “Aye,” he shook his head wearily. “I know the feeling.”

Richard took them into the great hall, followed by his wife, Carington and the rest of the crowd.  Creed kept glancing back to make sure his wife was within sight and she would smile at him on the arm of Lady Anne. Kristina, Gilbert and Edward were somewhere in the middle with Julia bringing up the rear with young Henry. Once inside, the women and children held back while the men seated themselves at the table and servants began to bring out food and drink.

Creed poured ale for his wife’s father first before pouring his own draught.  Sian watched the man, more than curious about this man his daughter had fallen in love with.  He was certainly a big one with enormous hands that gripped the cup. 

Richard collected his own cup and held it aloft for a toast.  “To our alliance,” he said.

Creed lifted his cup and looked Sian in the eye. “To family.”

Sian choked but managed to get the liquid down.  As Creed sat, he extended his hand to Carington, still standing near the entry with Anne.  Carington went to her husband and sat on his enormous knee as he wound his arm around her growing torso.

For a moment, no one said a word. They just stared at each other. Richard eyed Anne for moral support, who promptly joined her husband at the table. Gilbert and Edward followed their mother and climbed on the table, staring boldly at the Scots. Anne eyed her boys grimly but Richard seemed not to notice or care until Gilbert piped up.

“Is he our enemy, Papa?” he demanded.

Richard looked at his son as if fearful of what would come out of his mouth next. “Nay, boy,” he told him. “Laird Kerr is our neighbor and ally.”

“But he talks funny!” Edward chimed in. “He talks like her!”