Chapter Ten #4
Keller watched her befuddled expression, daring to reach out and brush her fingers with his own.
The mere touch between them sent bolts of excitement racing through his big body and when she latched on to his fingers, holding them tightly, he actually thought he might swoon.
Everything in his chest welled up so that he could hardly breathe.
“It is real,” he replied. “You will never again have to fear the man so long as I am alive. If you want me to track him down and punish him for killing your father, I will. But if you simply want to let the man run off forever, out of your sight and out of your mind, then I understand. I will leave the choice to you.”
Chrystobel clutched his fingers with both hands, feeling his warmth and strength.
It was an overwhelming sensation, one that made her heart race with joy.
As she gazed up into the man’s dark blue eyes, all she could feel was pure and blissful attraction.
He may not have been the most handsome man she had ever seen, but he had a rugged beauty that was beyond compare.
She was so caught up in the soft pout of his smooth lips and the square cut of his jaw that she nearly forgot to reply to his statement.
“Punishing him will not bring my father back,” she whispered.
“I simply want him away, Keller. I never thought I would know this opportunity but now that it is here, I do not want to see him ever again and I do not want to think of him ever again. I want to erase him from my mind completely. If Gryffyn is running, let him run. Let him run forever as long as it is away from Nether.”
Keller nodded in agreement, lifting her hands to kiss them sweetly. “If that is your wish,” he said softly. “But if I ever see the man again, make no mistake. I will kill him. If he ever returns to Nether, he is a dead man.”
Chrystobel nodded, feeling warm and safe and protected by his declaration. “Of course, Keller,” she said. “I support whatever you will do to that regard.”
“I appreciate that.”
She was gazing up at him still but it was apparent there was much on her mind. “About my father,” she ventured, her expression gradually becoming distressed. “We must bury him. Where is he?”
Keller squeezed her hands gently. “We put took him to the stables yesterday but I do not know if he has been moved,” he said. “I will discover where he is and then we can plan his mass. Where would you bury him?”
Her eyes grew moist, thinking about her father, her regrets with him, her sorrows. “My mother is buried at St. Peter’s in Machynlleth,” she said. “It is a few miles to the west. I will send word to the priests to make arrangements for my father.”
“I will do it,” Keller replied. “I will ride into town on the morrow and make the arrangements, unless… unless you would like to accompany me?”
Chrystobel’s expression brightened. “Aye, I would like that,” she said. “Moreover, I think I should. You spoke excellent Welsh to me when we first met, but are you able to carry on a conversation with it?”
“Yr wyf yn,” he said in perfect Welsh. “Pam ydych chi’n gofyn?” I am. Why do you ask?
Chrystobel grinned. “Because I believe the priests only speak Welsh,” she said, cocking her head. “How is it that you speak my language so well?”
He shrugged. “I was the garrison commander at Pembroke Castle for many years,” he told her. “I learned Welsh long ago in order to effectively deal with the local chieftains. I can probably speak it better than you can.”
Chrystobel laughed. “I do not think so,” she said. “I learned it at birth. I did not learn English until I was six years old, when I went to foster at Chirk Castle. And then, I had to learn it quickly because the lord’s wife only spoke English.”
He was grinning at her. “I am sure you were a good student.”
Chrystobel smiled modestly, her hands still holding on to his fingers, feeling giddy and silly in his presence now.
The conversation was flowing so wonderfully, better than it ever had in spite of the subjects of her father and brother, and she was thrilled.
When Keller wasn’t being cold and distant, he had a hint of charm in his manner that was boyish and sweet.
“I tried,” she said, realizing the dialogue was coming to a close and not wanting it to.
But there were tasks to be accomplished and she gave his big hand a squeeze.
“I suppose I should go and make preparations for your visitors now. May I travel unescorted now that my brother is no longer a threat?”
Keller didn’t see any harm in it. “You and your sister may both travel unescorted,” he said. Then, his thoughts began to linger on the sister, the small and silent child who seemed so terrified of everything. “Tell me… how long did your brother lock her in the vault because she is mute?”
Chrystobel’s smile faded. “Years,” she said softly.
“My father did not send Izlyn to foster because she would not speak, so she has always lived here at Nether. I have educated her as best I can from what I was taught at Chirk, and my father educated her as well. She is an intelligent girl and can read and write Welsh, French, and English, but the fact that she was bright only fueled my brother’s rage towards her.
He was convinced that in her lack of speech, she was simply being stubborn.
She would spend days in the vault on end, at least until my father would release her, but Gryffyn would grow angry with her again and lock her back up.
She has been in and out of the vault weekly since she was eight years of age. ”
Keller was grim. “How old is she now?”
“She has seen twelve years as of last month.”
Keller breathed lightly. “Then she will benefit the most from your missing brother,” he said. “Mayhap she will finally begin to enjoy life a little, as a young girl should.”
Chrystobel thought of her little sister, of her horrific life up until that point, and her eyes grew moist. “I sincerely pray for that.”
“It is my intention to make sure you both enjoy life now that I am here.”
Chrystobel smiled gratefully and Keller kissed her hands again, but he didn’t stop there.
Her lips were soft and inviting, and he gently slanted his mouth over hers, suckling her lips gently.
Her response was timid at first, but very quickly, she gave in to his attention and the kisses became more powerful as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Keller pulled her against him, his torso against hers, as his kisses turned to fire.
She was incredibly soft and warm, and the feel of her in his arms roused him like nothing he had ever known.
He never realized a kiss was supposed to be this sweet or this alluring.
At this moment, it was the most powerful thing he had ever experienced.
She was the most powerful thing he had ever known.
But that blissful moment was cut short when the chamber door next to them rattled.
Suddenly, Keller was standing a few feet away from Chrystobel as the door opened and Izlyn stood in the doorway.
He didn’t even know how he got there. All he knew was that the door movement had startled him as if he had been a silly stable boy stealing a kiss from a serving maid, fearful he’d been caught doing something clandestine.
When he realized how he had reacted, he felt like a bloody idiot.
Keller looked over at Chrystobel, who seemed flushed and dazed as she took her sister by the hand and told the girl that they had visitors to prepare for.
She smiled at Keller as she disappeared into the lower levels to make arrangements for their guests, and Keller followed at a distance, his wits still not completely gathered.
Their kiss had left him scatterbrained to say the least, and it was a full minute before he even remembered the task that lay ahead of him.
He had visitors to greet, great knights from the stable of de Lohr.
Still lingering in the effects of that heated kiss, he headed out to meet them.