Guardian of Darkness Read Online Free Page A

Prudhoe.”
    Creed blinked slowly, without patience. “What do you want me to do about it?”
    Ryton shrugged, sitting heavily on the three legged stool that was shoved into the ground near the portable vizier.  A very small amount of warmth radiated from it and the man held up his hands a moment, attempting to warm them.
    “Let her ride with you, I suppose,” he said, running his fingers over his scalp and focusing on his brother. “But it was something we could have just as easily discussed tomorrow. You are supposed to be watching a hostage.”
    “I was.”
    “Who is with her now?”
    “Jory.”
    Ryton lifted an eyebrow. “Get back to her, Creed.”
    There was something in his tone. It suddenly occurred to Creed that perhaps Jory had given him the message to get him away from their hostage.  He could not believe the man was foolish enough to not only make an idiot out of him, but to attempt something against their valuable captive. 
    With a grunt of frustration, he marched from the tent and back across the camp.  His irritation towards Jory was growing every step of the way and he sincerely hoped the man was sitting quite patiently in a corner of the tent awaiting his return. Anything else would surely be met with hostility, especially after the parting words between them.
    He was still several yards away from the tent when he heard what he thought was a muffled cry.  Creed broke into a dead run.
     
    ***
     
    He had licked her face.
    He had licked her face and now he was in the process of making an attempt to grab a body part that was not his privilege to do so.  He was trying to kiss her, too, with his slobbering mouth and foul breath. Carington tried to scream but he kept putting his mouth over hers.   All that was coming out of her throat was muffled grunts.  He was not a big man, but he was strong. His dead weight upon her was rendering her helpless.
    Carington finally got a hand free and jabbed her finger into his eye.  Jory screamed but only partially rolled off of her.  She tried to flip over on her stomach, struggling to crawl away from him, but she was tangled in the tartan and could not get free quickly enough. Jory was back on her in a flash, pulling her long dark hair.   He yanked her head up, his face shoved into the side of her hair.
    “You will not do that again,” he grunted into her ear, listening to her cry softly when he ran a tongue along her earlobe. “Relax and stop fighting, my lady. I will not hurt you; I promise.”
    Carington was struggling not to succumb to hysterics. I would be so easy to burst into terrified sobs.  She swung a hand back, smacking him in the forehead but doing little damage.  The vizier was almost within arms length; she thought to grab it and throw it on him, not thinking that she might burn herself in the process. All she knew was that she had to fight. This man had foul intentions towards her and she was terrified.
    Her fingers grazed the leg of the vizier but she could not get close enough to grab it.  The knight had a hand underneath her, squeezing her breast. Suddenly, the weight on top of her was removed and she heard the knight shout in pain and, perhaps, fear.  Full of panic, she scrambled to her feet and grabbed the nearest weapon she could find, which happened to be a small iron bar that was used to stoke the vizier.  The tartan fell on the ground as she swung around to Jory, fully prepared to shove the bar right through his head.  But what she saw surprised her.
    Creed stood just inside the tent opening with Jory in his grasp.  But it was not any grasp; he had the younger knight around the neck, lifting him up off of the ground and squeezing the life from him.  Jory was trying to dislodge his grip, but it was like trying to move iron.  The man’s hands weren’t budging. 
    Seeing Jory subdued, Carington raced to the battling men and smacked Jory on the head hard enough to knock him senseless. As Jory went limp in his grasp,