Guardian of Darkness (53 page)

Authors: Kathryn Le Veque

BOOK: Guardian of Darkness

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Creed just looked at her and shook his head. “Marion de Witt is betrothed to Rory Burleson from Hexham because they are close neighbors. And I promise that you will not be an old maid.”

Gaira came back out of the chamber she shared with her five other sisters, sneering as she fussed with the blue cloak on her shoulders. “And Romney Burleson has his sights set on Emma,” she taunted her sister. “She has the breasts of a woman and you are as flat as a board.”

Cora turned red-faced. “I have so got breasts!” she thrust out her flat chest. “See? They are growing larger every day.”

Creed put his hands over his ears. “Stop!” he roared, scaring the girls into silence. When he saw their wide-eyed expressions, he quickly regrouped. “Downstairs, ladies,” he said calmly. “Now, if you please.”

“Dada, do you think I am as flat as a board?” Cora asked.

Creed whistled loudly, pretending not to hear her. Receiving no answer from her father, Cora resumed sticking her tongue out at her sister but dutifully descended the stairs. Emma was right behind the battling pair while Moira, the five year old, was still fussing inside the large chamber. Creed stood in the door of the big, cluttered bower, watching his black-haired, blue-eyed daughter dig under her bed.

“Moira, my love, we must go,” he hissed gently. “What are you doing?”

Moira’s head came up. “My poppet, Dada. I cannot find her!”

Creed set down the bags and cloaks in his arms and found himself on the floor, in full armor, searching under the bed for a doll.

“If you cleaned some of the clutter out from under here, you might be able to find her more easily,” he told her.

“Please, Dada!”

Creed grunted as he was forced to stand up and move the bed aside in order to retrieve the doll. But Moira’s happy face soothed any irritation. He cupped her little head in his massive hands and kissed her cheek.

“Happy?” he asked.

She nodded. “Thank you, Dada,” she said sincerely.

With his child in tow, Creed picked up the bags and cloaks once more and descended the stairs only to find the entry hall at the bottom empty. Holding Moira’s hand, he quit the keep and descended the exterior stairs into the bailey. There was an entire entourage of de Reyne soldiers waiting to escort the baron and his family to the nuptials of Sir Gilbert d’Umfraville. Oddly enough, the spoiled young lad had grown into a rather calm and handsome young man, so the nuptials were something of a joyous occasion.

A soldier came running to him as he neared the entourage, taking the baggage from his arms and going to load it on one of the pack wagons. Creed approached the carriage that held his five daughters, two sons and two nurses and lifted Moira up into the cab. Making sure everyone was properly settled, he looked at Carington as she stood next to the carriage. Their eyes met and he smiled.

“Ready?” he blew out his cheeks in a heavy sigh.

She nodded wearily. “Finally.”

“Do you want to ride with me for a little way?”

She looked into the cab, already seeing that Cora and Gaira were not getting along. They tended to be the most aggressive pair and she shook her head sadly.

“I’d better not,” she said. “I canna leave the wolf pack alone for too long. They might eat each other.”

“Can I at least take Rossalyn? She loves to ride with me.”

Carington shook her head. “She stays with her sisters. I dunna like her on that snappish charger and ye know it. ‘Tis no place for a young lady.”

His looked disappointed, yet resigned, as he pulled her into his arms. His dusky blue eyes were soft on her. At thirty-one years of age, she had hardly a line on her face. She was still as beautiful as she had been when he had first met her at nineteen and there were no words strong enough to describe his adoration for her. He worshipped her.

“I have said it before and I will say it again; the girls act just like you,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her tenderly. “You only have yourself to blame for their wild streak.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body filled with the fluid warmth she associated with her husband. Something about the man filled her, comforted her, like nothing else. He was her rock.

“Then it is my duty to ride in the cab and keep the beasts at bay,” she murmured. “I’ll not be far away if ye need me.”

His lips were on her ear. “I always need you.”

She smiled, feeling him kiss her ear, her cheek. “Which is why we’ve had seven children in twelve years.”

He pulled back, grinning, and released her. “Complaining?”

She shook her head slowly, her emerald eyes filled with reverence. “Never.”

He began to close up his helm in preparation for mounting his warhorse. Carington watched him proudly, gradually distracted by the squabbling in the cab. Forced to look away from her beloved husband, she glared at her tussling daughters.

“Cora,” she snapped. “I am going to sit in that cab between ye and Gaira for the entire ride to Prudhoe and so help me, if either one of ye utter a harsh word, I’ll tan yer hides.”

Cora and Gaira immediately shut their mouths, their eyes wide at both their mother and father. That lasted about two seconds until Moira decided she was chilly and yanked the traveling blanket off of Gaira. That started the avalanche all over again and Creed stuck his head into the cab.

“Ladies, please,” he said softly, reaching out a massive mitt to still the tussling hands. “If you behave yourselves, I promise that when we arrive at Prudhoe, I will take you into town and buy you all something very pretty.”

The girls squealed with excitement. “Me, too, Dada?” Annabella wanted to know. Being the only obedient girl in the bunch, she didn’t want to be left out of the bribe.

He reached out and touched her dark head. “Of course, honey. All of you.” He looked back at the three squabblers. “Agreed?”

“Agreed, Dada.” They said in unison.

Creed stood back from the cab and winked at his wife. He was not sure if he believed the girls but he had to try; he hated to see their mother punish them and he knew from experience that she would. Carington just pursed her lips at him in disapproval.

“Ye spoil them, Creed,” she admonished softly.

He took her elbow and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I treat them like I treat you.”

Carington had no snappy reply to that. She allowed her husband to help her into the cab, receiving a tender kiss from him as he departed. The last she saw of her husband was as he made his way back towards the head of the escort.

Creed was smiling as he made his way to his warhorse. Life was good and there was no reason not to smile. Furthermore, he was thinking of Ryton this day, so many years after the man’s death at Hexham. Every time he returned to Prudhoe, he thought of his brother. He wished the man could see him now.

A conversation lingered in his mind, one he had reviewed many times over the years as one daughter after another was born. He could just see Ryton’s reaction to six daughters; the mere thought always made him laugh. He knew what Ryton would have said.

Creed, you’re a saint.

He was not a saint. But he had certainly found heaven.