Chapter 17
Creagan’s Task
The door across the passage opened.
Creagan looked up from where he sat, sprawled comfortably in the chair, one ankle resting over the opposite knee. Torden stepped from the queen's solar and closed the door behind him.
Creagan's smile came easily. It always did.
Torden did not move.
Legion had left angry enough to walk straight past them without a word. Torden stood differently. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid, and there was something in his expression Creagan rarely saw.
Concern. Not annoyance, which was his usual expression, but concern.
Creagan lifted the decanter from the table and poured another measure of wine into a goblet.
“So,” he said. “I assume the queen has made another friend.”
Torden crossed the hall and entered the chamber.
Creagan raised the goblet toward him. “Wine?”
Torden shook his head.
“You may regret refusing it.”
Torden ignored the remark and stared at him.
Creagan took a swallow as the silence stretched between them. He knew Torden well enough not to fill it too quickly.
Finally, Torden said, “She wants you next.”
“Aye, who else could it be, since I am the last one left?” he said with a slight laugh.
“No time for humor,” Torden warned. You've seen Legion and now me.”
Creagan's smile widened. “Unfortunately.”
Torden gave him a look that would have unsettled most men.
Creagan raised the goblet as if in a salute and drank again.
“Whatever she commands,” Torden said, “don't underestimate her.”
“A foolish thing for any man to do. I, myself, never underestimate women.”
“This one you need to pay heed, extra heed,” Torden cautioned.
That caused Creagan to smile. “Now you're making her sound interesting.”
“She is in more ways than one, which can make her dangerous.”
“Now you really have me interested,” he said, his playful smile fading as he placed the goblet on a small table and stood with a stretch.
Torden watched him closely as his strong strides took him around the chair toward the door.
“What?” Creagan asked, catching his intense look.
“Nothing.”
“You've never been good at nothing, Torden.”
Torden gave the slightest shake of his head. “I have seen you walk into battles smiling.”
Creagan laughed. “I've walked out of them smiling as well.”
“That is true.”
“And yet,” Creagan encouraged.
Torden did not hesitate. “You look ready for battle.”
Creagan glanced toward the closed door across the passage. “Perhaps I am.”
“Keep your shield up,” Torden warned.
Creagan smiled. “I always do.”
He crossed the passage and knocked on the door.
Eudora's voice rang out. “Enter.”
Creagan opened the door and stepped inside.
The queen stood beside the table waiting for him.
The room felt warmer than the small chamber across the hall, though the hearth fire had burned lower.
Creagan closed the door behind him, his smile charming as ever. “Once again you summon me and I appear.”
“As is your obligation,” she said and walked away from the table.
There was a stiffness to her movements he hadn't noticed earlier.
He had watched Eudora in the Great Hall.
Seen her settle petty disputes, silence a room, embarrass foolish men, dismiss Wilford when he objected to being excluded, and then face three men she had summoned from legend without flinching.
Yet something troubled her now.
Creagan leaned one shoulder against the door and since she remained silent, he spoke. “Legion looked ready to tear your castle apart when he left.”
“He did not.”
“Torden looked as though he might help.”
“He did not,” she repeated.
He rubbed his chin. “Perhaps they're saving it for later.”
“Do you ever take anything seriously?”
The question came quickly and more sharply than he expected.
Creagan's smile remained, though his eyes narrowed slightly. “When necessary.”
“And who decides when something is necessary?”
“Well, of course, I do,” he said, as if it was obvious.
“Except, of course, now that you stand before me,” she corrected.
“Ahh, I see you wish to remind me of my place,” he said, his smile turning mischievous.
“When necessary.” She sighed lightly. “Which I believe will be often with you.”
He caught it then, barely but he saw it… unease.
“Something worries you,” he said, his smile faltering.
“I am queen. Worry is my steadfast companion.”
He shook his head. “That isn't what I meant.”
Her gaze met his and he caught it again…
concern. No matter how much she may try to deny it, he saw it.
And it made him wonder. Would his task prove more difficult than Legion's or Torden's?
Or perhaps more dangerous. Maybe she expected him to cross into another kingdom.
Maybe kill someone heavily guarded. Maybe strike against the very person behind the threat to her throne.
He found the possibilities mildly entertaining.
“Why do you need me?” he asked.
He hadn’t expected the question to startle her, but it did. Her eyes widened slightly and she took a step back. That intrigued him.
Creagan pushed away from the wall and moved toward her, taking his time.
He had known enough women to recognize when one was uncomfortable, interested, frightened, or trying desperately to hide what she felt.
Eudora was proving far more difficult to read, and he found himself enjoying the challenge.
She stood straight, too straight, her fingers curling slightly against the folds of her purple gown. Something about him troubled her. Or perhaps it was what she needed from him.
His gaze lingered on her face. She was a beautiful woman, though he suspected few men had the courage to tell her so.
Her violet eyes alone could hold a man's attention, or intimidate, and that long dark hair, intricately braided and secured at the back of her head, had already made him wonder how it would look falling loose around her.
He wondered again now.
Eudora caught him staring. “You have something to say?”
Creagan smiled. “Nay.”
“You're staring at me.”
“I've been told it's rude not to look at the queen when she speaks.”
“I wasn't speaking.”
“Then perhaps I was simply enjoying the view.”
She shook her head. “Do you ever stop?”
“Looking at beautiful women?” he asked with a smile that easily drew women to him.
“Flirting.”
“Not when I'm enjoying myself.”
“And are you?”
“Very much.”
She turned away from him, but not before he caught the faintest change in her expression.
He stepped closer. “You still haven't answered my question.”
“Which one? You've asked so many.”
“Why summon me?”
Her gaze returned to him, and this time he was certain he saw something there before she concealed it. Then she paused as if unsure if she should speak.
“Because I need you.”
The simple words affected him far more than they should have.
Women had wanted him. Many had told him so.
He'd enjoyed them and they'd enjoyed him, and neither expected anything once they parted.
But Eudora hadn't said she wanted him. She said she needed him and for some inexplicable reason, he liked hearing it.
His smile turned sinful. “Careful, my queen. A man could take those words the wrong way.”
Her cheeks colored ever so slightly.
Creagan stared. Queen Eudora, who could silence a Great Hall with a look, had actually blushed. His smile broadened.
“Be careful, Creagan,” she warned.
“I haven't said anything.”
“You don't need to. That ridiculous smile says enough.”
“I rather like my smile.”
“I imagine you do.”
“Women seem to like it as well.”
“Then perhaps you should go find one of them.”
“Is that a command?” he challenged.
“Nay,” she was quick to say.
“A pity.” He chuckled. “That one I would have enjoyed obeying.”
She shook her head again and walked toward the window.
Creagan watched her go, but his amusement slowly faded. The exchange had distracted him for a moment from what he had seen in her eyes.
Concern.
Whatever she wanted from him was troubling her deeply.
“Torden warned me not to underestimate you.”
“He was wise to do so.”
“He also said there was more to whatever you command than what you say.”
Eudora turned sharply. “Torden was told not to discuss his task.”
“He didn't. He simply told me what he observed.” Creagan paused. “And I observe far more than Torden does.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
“You shouldn't,” he cautioned and moved closer again, stopping a few feet from her. “Tell me what you need.”
Instead of answering, she surprised him with a question of her own.
“What do you need, Creagan?”
The answer should have come easily. Wine.
A comfortable bed. A willing woman. All things he had enjoyed and would happily enjoy again.
Instead, he thought of Fay and Tate. Their farm.
Their children running to greet him. He remembered holding Peter and Jennie when they were newborns, their tiny bodies fitting easily in arms strong enough to wield a sword.
And with the memory came the same realization he'd tried not to dwell upon since leaving them. He wanted that. A home that was his. A woman who waited for him there. Bairns who ran to him because he was their father and not merely a welcome visitor passing through.
The longing struck harder than it had before. Maybe because he did not want to admit that those things were not meant to be for him in this life.
Creagan glanced at Eudora and found her watching him, too closely.
He smiled. “I need very little.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I think you avoid the question.”
“I learned from you.”
“Nay.” She continued to study him. “You thought about your answer.”
That surprised him. Perhaps he wasn't the only one observing more than he let on.
“And what does that tell you?” he asked.
“That there is something you want very much and have no intention of telling me.”
His smile remained, but for once it took effort. “Perhaps I simply decided a man should keep some secrets.”
“And yet you expect me to reveal mine.”
“You summoned me. That gives me an unfair advantage.”
“I would say it gives me the advantage.”
He laughed. “There you are.”
“What does that mean?”
“The woman beneath the crown.”