Free Guardian of Darkness by Kathryn Le Veque Page B

that is your most grave mistake.”
    With that, he turned on his heel and marched up on the men who were hauling Bress’ carcass.  After a few short orders, he had the men dropping the ropes and running for shovels. They would dig a pit to fire the carcass in and be done with it.  As the men began to shovel out a pit, Creed stood over the big blond animal, crossed himself, and muttered a prayer. He had, after all, promised.
    Jory watched the big knight move. He was indeed afraid of him and knew that the man would not hesitate to do as he threatened. Creed de Reyne had a strong standing reputation throughout England, and a flawless one, until six months ago. Now he was hiding from the crown until the issues involving him and the king’s betrothed cooled. Lord Richard and Ryton de Reyne were shielding him, protecting him like a coward. 
    Jory wiped at his nose, still glaring at Creed, thinking of ways he could get back at the man. He could turn him over the king’s guard, but he would need help with that and no one at Prudhoe would help him. He could go after the Scots bitch again because in doing so, he could show how ineffective Creed was in protecting her.  He would show everyone Creed’s weakness.  He would make him pay.
    Jory wiped his nose again, thinking hateful thoughts about Creed and concocting a thousand ways to discredit the man. If one failed, surely another would work.  De Reyne would suffer in the end.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
    It was not that she was frightened of them. On the contrary; she felt absolutely no fear. But Burle, later joined by Stanton, stood next to each other on the opposite side of the tent and just stared at her. Carington was beginning to feel as if they expected her to grow horns or burp thunder. The way they were looking at her was most strange and it was turning into a very odd stand off.
    She was supposed to be resting. But she could not sleep with Burle and Stanton watching every move she made. So they ended up playing a very odd staring game, with Carington watching them and the knights watching her. Had she not been so exhausted, she might have found it humorous.  But her tolerance was fading.
    “Sir Knight?” she was looking straight at Burle. “What is yer name? I have forgotten.”
    The big blond knight perked up from his post by the tent flap. “I am Burle, my lady.”
    “And yer skinny friend?”
    Burle and Stanton looked at each other. “His name is Stanton, my lady. You hit him in the face when you escaped the first time.”
    Carington’s dark green eyes moved over the slender, pale knight.  She was not sure if Burle’s comment was supposed to make her feel guilty, so she let it go without acknowledgement.
    “Yer not very old,” she said to Stanton. “How old are ye?”
    “I have seen twenty years and four, my lady,” he answered.
    “Are ye married?”
    “Aye, my lady.”
    “Are ye, now? How grand. Do ye have children?”
    “A son, my lady. And my wife is again expecting.”
    “I see,” she looked back at Burle. “And ye, Sir Burle? Are ye married?”
    The flabby knight nodded his head. “Aye, my lady.”
    “And do ye have children also?”
    “Aye, my lady. Three daughters.”
    “Marvelous,” Carington stood up from the small three-legged stool she had been seated on.  But her warm expression vanished and fire flashed in the green eyes as she planted her hands firmly on her slender hips. “Do ye think yer wife or daughters would appreciate a strange man staring at them as you have been staring at me? What kind of manners do ye have gawking at me as ye do?”
    Burle struggled not to appear off-guard by her sharp tone. “If it was for their own protection, I am sure they would understand. And we were not gawking.”
    “Not gawking?” She threw up her hands. “Then what do ye call it? Ye’re staring at me as if ye’ve never seen a woman before.”
    She was quite possibly yelling. Burle and Stanton were somewhat