That brought some soft laughter from around the chamber, from everyone but Payne and Sinclair. St. Sebastian, seeing the two brooders were not helping the situation, ushered them both out with the help of Kristian, who was Payne’s best friend. With the four of them out of the chamber, the tension eased a little and Creston returned his attention to St. Denis.
“Amir told me that you plan to send a message to Triton’s Hellions,” he said. “He has explained everything and I believe it is a solid plan. I want you to know that I will do my duty for Blackchurch, and in this mission, I will not fail. But I will also protect my wife, first and foremost. I understand that she is the most logical person not to raise suspicions of her grandfather, but I will be by her side the entire time. I hope you can understand that.”
“Of course, I can,” St. Denis said. “I would not expect you anywhere else, Creston.”
His words eased Creston a little, but there was still the nagging guilt he felt. None of this would have happened had he not married Ophelia. Even though it wasn’t his fault, he still felt responsible.
“I am ashamed that I have brought this bad fortune upon Blackchurch,” he said. “Without my marriage to Lia, it is possible that this would have never happened. But know that I will do everything in my power to ensure the situation is resolved. Now, it has become personal.”
Brenton, who had been standing by the hearth for the entire conversation, including Creston’s lunge at Myles, finally came forward to stand with his cousin. Truthfully, he and Creston didn’t grow up together. Their fathers weren’t that close, so he’d never spent a great deal of time around Creston enough to truly know the man. Moreover, Creston was older than he was by ten or twelve years. Almost a generation. But he knew, from what he’d seen since his arrival at Blackchurch, that he was watching the actions of a noble and decent man who wanted to do right by not only his wife, but his brethren.
That spoke of good character.
And he was very much loved here.
“I know what you teach,” he said, his eyes glimmering with mirth. “While you were out in the corridor having a tantrum, Lord Exmoor spoke of the skills you have brought to Blackchurch. How you teach torture and capture, and interrogation and underhanded dealings like assassination and damage to an enemy. I must say that I am deeply impressed, Creston, but I also know that you learned your skills under King John’s tutelage. You learned from the best how to do the very worst.”
Creston nodded, lifting his head to look at his cousin. “John cost me the woman I loved and the child she carried,” he said. “Mayhap that is why I am so rabid about protecting Lia. She is the woman I married, the woman I love, and she carries our child. I will not let anything, not Blackchurch nor the Executioner Knights nor cruel grandfathers, take that away from me. Not again. So you will forgive me if I am overly zealous about my wife’s safety. It has taken my entire life, and eons of healing, to come to this point, and I’ll not give it up.”
Brenton smiled faintly. “Understandable,” he said. “I do not think any of us likes the idea of a woman being involved in a mission like this, though the Executioner Knights has had its share of women agents over the years. In fact, Myles’ eldest sister was an excellent agent. But I know this—any woman you have married, Creston, must be a strong and intelligent lady, indeed. You clearly love her and respect her, and that tells me she will be more than up to the task of being part of this. I would wager to say that she is very strong.”
Creston cracked a smile. “You have never seen such a strong woman.”
“Then teach her correctly for this mission, teach her to keep her head, and she’ll be fine.”
Wise words, indeed. Creston dipped his head in understanding, truly resigning himself to the fact that this was going to be a situation that Ophelia would have to be involved in.
But he was going to make sure she survived it.
“She will,” he said after a moment. “If you have no further need of me, I will return to my wife. Brenton, you may sleep in my cottage if you wish. You and de Lohr.”
Brenton smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “Shall we come with you?”
“If there is no further business.”
There wasn’t. St. Denis shook his head, waving them on, and Creston headed out with Brenton and Myles on his heels. One by one, the Blackchurch trainers filtered out, heading back into the night with the burden of a future mission on their minds. That wasn’t usual for them. They taught, they trained, they made sure men and women were ready for this kind of thing.
They didn’t normally do it themselves.
But that was soon to change.
A storm was on the horizon.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ophelia awoke tothe news of visitors.
Creston had informed her that his cousin, Brenton, and a companion named Myles de Lohr would be staying with them for a short time. Myles was the son of the legendary Earl of Hereford and Worcester, Christopher de Lohr, and Ophelia was properly impressed. She knew that name and she knew the earl’s reputation. The men were already gone when she woke up, however, and the realization that she had unexpected guests threw Ophelia into a frenzy because she very much wanted to be a good hostess. She wanted to do Creston proud. He thought it was all rather sweet until she started talking about what to make them to eat.
Then he tried not to cringe.
Surely they were hungry, Ophelia said, and she had to make sure they ate something, so she quickly headed over to Blackchurch’s common kitchen to collect food from the cook. Creston had kindly suggested that she only collect that which had already been prepared, simply to make it easier for her, and he escorted her over to the kitchens, where they ran into Ming Tang, who was gathering bread and meat. As he was talking with Ming Tang about the messengers St. Denis was sending out totrack down St. Abelard, Ophelia collected what she needed and they headed back to the cottage.
That was when Creston discovered that she’d only collected ingredients.
She intended to cook.
God help them.
