Chapter Four #3
He continued to gaze at her as she stared at the hands in her lap.
She had the most glorious beauty, something he was more intrigued with by the moment.
Her lashes were thick and feathery, sweeping against her cheeks when she blinked.
He noted the bruise on her cheek, her split lip, and he even saw blood on her scalp.
When he reached out to inspect the bloody spot on her blond hair, she flinched but he put a big hand on her arm to still her.
Carefully, he inspected the split on her scalp.
Then his eyes moved down to her ear and he could see a bit of dark blood in the canal.
Inspecting further, he noticed that her neck was bruised.
Chrystobel couldn’t see him but she could certainly feel and hear him.
She could feel his eyes upon her, inspecting every inch of her, knowing she was lying about what had happened.
She knew he would question her on it and she was terrified for that moment.
Still, she had to stay strong. She could not let him know the truth.
It was her shame alone to bear and she did not want her future husband judging her by such weaknesses, or by their dark family secrets.
She heard him sigh heavily. “Did you fall on your neck?” he asked quietly.
Chrystobel looked at him, confused and wary. “My… my lord?”
Keller lifted his chin in the direction of her neck. “Your neck is bruised.”
Her hands flew to her neck nervously as if to hide what he had already seen. “I must have hit it somehow,” she replied, her voice weak and soft. “I am sorry that my appearance has been so unsuitable. I will make all effort to make myself presentable.”
Keller suddenly grasped her by the chin and forced her to look at him.
When their eyes met, Chrystobel felt an exciting jolt, as if his eyes had somehow reached out to grab her.
It was like a lightning strike, quickly come, quickly gone.
Her breathing began to come in quick little gasps for reasons she could not understand.
“You will stop saying that,” he growled softly. “You are not unseemly nor are you unsuitable. You are the loveliest woman I have had the fortune to lay eyes upon so I do not want to hear those words from your lips again. But I would know why you feel it necessary to lie to me.”
She looked shocked, blinking rapidly and trying to pull away from him. But he would have no part of it. He grabbed her by the arms with those enormous hands and refused to let her move.
“I… I do not know what you mean,” she lied again, hating herself for it but unwilling to divulge the truth.
“Aye, you do,” he said calmly, watching her face flush pink. “Who did this to you? And do not tell me that you fell because I do not believe you.”
Chrystobel’s heart thumped painfully against her ribs, the strength from the man’s grip both terrifying and thrilling her. She struggled to pull away, bumping into Izlyn in the process. The youngest d’Einen sibling burst into tears.
Keller looked at the young girl, concerned. “Why is she weeping?” he asked.
Chrystobel craned her neck back to look at her sister, watching the girl put her hands over her face.
It was difficult to get a good look at her because Keller had her in an iron grip and she was unable to twist around sufficiently.
She tried to pull from his grasp but it was impossible. The man had hands of steel.
“Izlyn?” she asked softly. “Why are you weeping, sweetheart?”
The young girl didn’t answer her, bawling into her hands. Chrystobel turned back to Keller, her expression pleading.
“Please,” she begged softly. “Let me comfort her. She is frightened.”
“Of what?”
Chrystobel’s lovely brow rippled. “Of… of you, my lord. She is easily frightened.”
Keller gazed at her intently a moment longer before releasing her from his grasp. Chrystobel turned to her sister and put her arms around her, kissing her head.
“All is well, sweetheart,” she said softly. “You need not be afraid.”
The girl continued to cry and Chrystobel put her hands on the pretty young face, forcing Izlyn to look at her. She smiled encouragingly to the girl. “Look at me,” she commanded gently. “See that I am unharmed? Sir Keller has not harmed me. All is well, I promise. Stop weeping.”
Keller watched the exchange carefully. His detailed ear digested every sigh, every whisper, every expression and sound.
He had spent his life reading people and attempting to deduce their thoughts.
In his profession, it was mandatory if he wanted to live a long and healthy life.
He was coming to see that there was something beneath the surface of this family that he was not being told.
He could see it in their faces and in their actions.
Although he was coming to suspect what it was, still, he wanted to hear the truth from their lips.
“What did I do to frighten her?” he asked quietly.
Chrystobel turned to look at him. “It is difficult to know,” she said. “Izlyn is very delicate. She weeps often.”
“Why?”
Chrystobel shrugged, looking back to her little sister. “It is the only way she can communicate. She cannot speak, so she weeps.”
Keller watched as Chrystobel dried the last of her sister’s tears. He could see in those small actions that she was a very compassionate and caring individual. He could feel his interest in her deepening, unable to resist.
“Was she born mute?” he asked.