Chapter Sixteen #2
Richard joined her a few minutes later. He tried not to be too obvious about staring at her in the yellow wool dress; she had lost all of her pre-pregnancy weight but her engorged breasts gave her an hourglass figure the likes of which he had never seen.
If she had looked good before, she looked even better now.
It was difficult not to look at the woman and stare like a fool.
“You are looking well this day, Lady de Reyne,” he said truthfully.
“Thank ye, m’lord,” she replied.
“How is baby Emma?”
“She is growing quickly,” Carington told him, but her smile quickly faded. “I am afraid I have come to ye with a problem, m’lord. Creed always trusted ye with such matters and so will I. May we speak?”
His brow furrowed with concern. “Of course. What is the problem?”
Carington sighed faintly. “That knight – de La Londe – came to see me earlier. He told me that he sent a message to Creed with Massimo telling Creed that if he dinna return to Prudhoe, I would be taken back to London to stand trial in his stead.”
Richard nodded his head faintly, lifting a pensive eyebrow. “I know,” he said. “Massimo told me as much before he left for Scotland. I was hoping to spare you that little bit of information for a while, anyway. You have had a rough time of it.”
She lifted her shoulders in resignation. “Although it is kind of ye to want to protect me, I fear that the knight intends to follow through on his threat. What shall I do?”
Richard rubbed his chin in thought. Putting his hand on Carington’s elbow, he gently steered her into the small solar near the entry.
The truth was that he had been contemplating this very thing for weeks.
Now, he would have to make a decision. As bad as it would have been for de La Londe to capture Creed, it would be worse should he capture Carington.
“I have been attempting to figure out that problem myself,” he admitted. “It is only a matter of time before de La Londe reaches his limit of patience. While you were ill, it was not an issue, but now that you are recovered, there is no longer any excuse to prevent him from taking you.”
“I understand. Have ye figured anything out?”
He looked at her with a serious eye. “Aye,” he said quietly. “Remove you from Prudhoe and send you back to Wether Fair.”
She liked that idea. “We would have to be very careful,” she told him. “We wouldna want de La Londe following me. The path would take him straight to Creed.”
“Which is why leaving by darkness is our best option.”
“Who will take me?”
“Stanton. Burle should stay here in case de La Londe and his men decide to cause trouble.”
“When?”
Richard wriggled his eyebrows. “I suspect there is no time to delay. Do you feel strong enough to travel tonight?”
She nodded firmly. “I’ll be ready, my lord.”
“Good.” He turned her towards the entry. “In the meanwhile, bolt your door and try to stay away from de La Londe. I will do what I can to keep him away from you.”
She nodded, feeling confident now that a decision had been made. Moreover, she was excited at the prospect of seeing Creed again. With a smile at Lord Richard, she quit the keep with a sense of purpose. She would have to pack her necessities and then….
She suddenly came to a halt at the bottom of the steps.
What was she to do about Emma? True, the child was Stanton’s, but Carington had effectively been her mother for the past several days and they had bonded tremendously.
Carington was torn between knowing she should leave the infant with her father yet wanting very strongly to take the baby with her to Scotland.
Emma had helped heal so much in her that she could not bear the thought of leaving the baby behind.
She had to find Stanton and talk to the man; perhaps he would let her take the baby. At least, temporarily.
Carington crossed through the inner bailey, into the outer ward where most of the activity was happening on this cold, bright day.
Shading her eyes from the intense sunlight, her gaze moved over the battlements in search of Stanton.
She saw Steven, who now seemed to be a permanent fixture on the walls, and young James who, because he was so tall, looked older and more formidable than his years.
She waved to James when he looked down at her and he lifted a gloved hand in response.
Still, she did not see Stanton. Lowering her hand, she was preparing to head for Stanton’s cottage when someone suddenly grabbed her from behind.
Carington shrieked as her arms were wrenched behind her brutally and someone began to bind them.
She looked up, shocked, to see de La Londe’s face in profile as he concentrated on wrapping leather around her wrists.
At that moment, all rational thought ceased to exist; she turned into a screaming, kicking banshee that brought the entire castle running to her aid.
De La Londe had her strongly in his grip.
He had most of his soldiers with him, men loyal to the king who began unsheathing their swords as Prudhoe soldiers and knights began running at them from all directions.
Steven practically jumped from the wall walk and James came flying down the ladder from the parapet so fast that he nearly lost his balance when he hit the dirt below.
Soldiers were swarming from their posts and the outer ward was soon in chaos.
The screaming, the fighting, had stirred up a hornet’s nest.
De La Londe could see what was happening; he had expected it. He also knew that he had the advantage as he withdrew a small dirk, pulled Lady de Reyne against him, and put the razor-sharp blade to her neck.
“Come any closer and she dies,” he bellowed.
The madness rushing at him came to an unsteady halt.
Men were breathing heavily, looking at each other with uncertainty, wondering what they should do.
Young Steven held de La Londe’s attention while James circled around behind to try and catch the king’s knight off guard, but the man was too seasoned.
He knew what they were doing and he retreated into the huddle of his soldiers for protection.
“James!” came a holler. “Steven, back away before he gores her!”
Burle had bellowed the command as he came upon the group, his blue eyes serious. Stanton was right next to him, who had less control over his expression and looked mad enough to kill. But Burle was collected, and without his sword, as he faced de La Londe.
“What is the meaning of this?” Burle asked, although he already knew the answer. “How dare you betray the hospitality of Prudhoe by assaulting one of our women.”
De La Londe was in no mood for games. He did not remove the dirk as he faced Burle.
“This lady’s husband is a fugitive from the king’s justice,” he said. “Since her husband is too cowardly to face justice, I am returning her to London to face justice in his stead.”
In de La Londe’s arms, Carington suddenly came alive. “I told ye not to call him a coward, ye stupid Sassenach,” she snarled. “If I get my hands free, ye’ll find yerself missing teeth.”
De La Londe squeezed her, hard, to still her.
Carington grunted with pain, grinding to a halt purely out of necessity.
He had squeezed the breath from her. Then she tried to kick him in the groin and he shifted his grip, grabbing her silky black hair close against her scalp where it was most painful.
She gasped with pain as he yanked her head back brutally.
When she attempted to stir again, all he had to do was pull and she immediately ceased. He had her effectively trapped.
“That will be enough of that,” de La Londe growled at her before turning to Burle again. “I will repeat my plans; I am taking the lady back with me to London. If you stand in my way, I will kill her.”
Burle was stone-faced. “If you kill her, you will never make it out of Prudhoe alive.”
There was something in Burle’s gaze that made de La Londe dare to glance around him; there was an implied threat in the knight’s voice that went beyond the normal rhetoric.
He caught a glimpse of archers on the parapets, their arrows aimed at him.
One word from Burle and they would unleash a rain of death.
But de La Londe remained cool; he knew he held the larger advantage and he intended to use it.
“Open the gates,” he ordered quietly. “We are leaving.”
Burle continued to meet his gaze. He was preparing to reply when Richard came rushing in from the inner bailey, his dark eyes wide with surprise and anger.
He pushed through the cluster of knights and soldiers, putting himself in between Burle and de La Londe.
He held up his hands in a quelling gesture.
“Gentlemen, I beg for calm,” he said quickly, looking at Carington in de La Londe’s cruel grasp. “Knight, what are you doing with the lady?”
De La Londe lifted an eyebrow. “I am taking her to London to stand trial for her husband’s crimes. This is the king’s command.”
Richard’s dark eyes morphed into cool, simmering intensity as he put his hands down, slowly. “This lady only gave birth less than a month ago and nearly died in the process. She is still recovering. You cannot risk her over hundreds of miles of open road.”
“I care not for her health, my lord.”
“You are a knight. It is within your code to protect the weak.”
“It is within my code to obey the king above all things.”
Richard cocked his head in disbelief. “Do you want a prisoner so badly that you would portray the actions of a dishonorable knight by savaging a lady? If taking a prisoner is so important, then go find her husband. He is your true target. Capturing a small, unhealthy woman is cowardly.”
Something menacing flickered in de La Londe’s expression but was quickly gone.
“Unlike you, my lord, I follow the king’s orders,” he rumbled. “I do not hide fugitives from the king’s justice.”