Chrystobel couldn’t help but notice he was not only being rather talkative, but rather loud. The entire time he had been speaking to Izlyn, he had been popping his knuckles which, she was coming to see, was a nervous habit of his. Now, he kept throwing peat into the fire, arranging it with a poker, and the blaze was starting to pick up.
“I can sew and I can paint, a little,” she said. “Though I have not painted in years. My mother had a small box of paints and when I used it up, I never had it replaced.”
Crouched by the fire, Keller was watching her as she spoke. “Why not?” he asked. “Do not tell me that your father would not buy you more paints?”
Chrystobel shook her head and moved away from the bed, going to sit on one of the two stiff-backed oak chairs that faced the hearth.
“My brother would not permit it,” she said softly. “Gryffyn felt that any money spent should be on him, as the heir. He spent the money on expensive horses. You can find them in our stables. He was fond of big-boned war horses from Flanders even though he’d hardly ever ridden to battle. He liked to collect them.”
Keller’s brow furrowed. “War horses are extremely expensive,” he said. “How many does he have?”
“There are thirteen.”
Keller was shocked. “Thirteen chargers?”
She shrugged. “I am not exactly sure how many chargers he has, or rounceys, or palfreys,” she said. “I believe he has one Spanish Jennet.”
Keller was still fairly astonished. “Only wealthy men have collections such as that,” he said. “But with your brother gone and with the fact that I am now lord of Nether, his collection now belongs to me and I will duly inspect the animals on the morrow. But we are off the subject. If painting is what you like to do, then when we are in town making arrangements for your father’s mass, we will purchase paint supplies for you. Would you like that?”
Chrystobel nodded hesitantly. “Aye,” she said. “As I said, I’ve not painted in years, but I would like to.”
Keller stood up from his crouched position and collected the chair next to hers, sitting heavily. Lashing out a big boot, he propped his foot up on the wall next to the hearth and, as he did so, let out a big burp. There was just too much alcohol in his system for him to do much else at this point. As he nearly rattled the walls with his deep belch, Izlyn began to giggle. Keller craned his neck back to look at her.
“So you think that humorous, do you?” he asked. Then, he swallowed air and emitted a massive belch while speaking the words: “You silly wench, do you think this funny, too?”
Izlyn giggled uncontrollably and even Chrystobel laughed. Keller, grinning, did it again, releasing such a loud belch that he nearly vomited. “Is this what I must do in order to keep you two entertained?” he gasped in a normal tone.
Izlyn was squealing with laughter as Chrystobel stifled her laugher behind her hands. Keller started coughing because the gas had irritated his throat, but he was pleased that the women found it so amusing. It was the first time he’d ever seen them laugh out loud.
“If I do that again, I shall surely spray the contents of my stomach out all over this wall,” he said, grinning. “But mayhap I shall give another try later if you both find it so amusing.”
Chrystobel waved him off. “I am sure that is not necessary,” she said. “But we thank you for your humorous attempts.”
Keller’s gaze lingered on her. In fact, he couldn’t stop staring at her. “You are very beautiful,” he said softly.
It was a swift turn of subjects and he was looking at her with a rather seductive smirk on his face. Chrystobel’s smile turned from one of genuine happiness to one of modest flattery. “Thank you, my lord.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “You are not permitted to call me that,” he said. “You are only permitted to call me by my name. But I prefer to be addressed as ‘husband’. That’s what I am, you know. I am your husband.”
Still smiling, she cocked her head. “I know.”
“I do not feel like a husband, however.”
Her smiled faded. “Why not?”
He shrugged, leaning forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees. “Because I was married yesterday and I still have not come to know my wife as a husband is entitled,” he said, eyeing Izlyn as she lay on the bed. “Does she sleep in here with you always?”
Chrystobel knew precisely what he meant and struggled not to become embarrassed or defensive about it. “She does,” she replied quietly. “But… but my father’s chamber is across the hall and it is bigger than this one. I assumed that we would eventually share that one and that chamber has much more room.”
Keller stood up and held out a hand to her. “I would see it now.”
Chrystobel appeared somewhat stricken, eyeing her sister on the bed. “Now?” she repeated, taking his hand simply because it was almost directly I her face. “Can… can we at least not wait until Izzie has gone to sleep?”
Keller looked over at the girl, who was wide awake, watching them. “Why?” he asked. “She looks comfortable enough.”
Chrystobel stood up, still holding his hand, and glanced at her sister. “Because she will cry if she is left alone,” she said softly. “She is afraid of being alone.”
Keller accepted that explanation and promptly sat back down. “I see,” he said. When Chrystobel went to reclaim her seat, he tugged on her hand. “Not there. Sit with me.”
“With you?”
“On my lap.”
Somewhat shocked by the suggestion, but also thrilled by it, she went to him and he took her by the waist and pulled her down onto his big thighs. His big arms went around her slender torso as he rested his cheek against her arm, gazing up into her lovely face. Chrystobel could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“So you would like to go to Paris, would you?” he asked.
Chrystobel rather liked being held by his strong arms, even though she was sure it was only the alcohol that had loosened his tongue and his manner. She’s never seen the man so unguarded.
“I… I would like to see the city someday,” she said timidly. “But I know that it is far away and it is undoubtedly expensive to travel there. I am sure it would be too much trouble.”
Keller scowled. “It would not be too much trouble,” he said. “It is more than likely a few weeks’ journey, so it is not too far away. We will also stop in London for a few days so that you may see the sights and mayhap shop in some of their expensive shops.”
She looked at him with a measure of bewilderment. “But… but what would I buy?”
He shrugged. “Anything you wish,” he said. “You are my wife now and you shall never want for anything ever again. No matter how small or how large your desire, you may have it. I will see to it.”
Chrystobel was still looking at him with that same expression of bewilderment. “Large?” she repeated. “What could I want that would be large?”
He was enjoying her closeness. He turned his head slightly so that his nose was against her right arm. He could smell lavender.
“A summer home, a boat, a diamond and ruby necklace,” he murmured, his eyes closed as he inhaled the thoroughly alluring scent. “You can have anything you want.”
She was awed. “Anything?”
His eyes opened and he looked up at her. “Anything except another husband.”
Chrystobel giggled. “I think I shall keep the one I have,” she said. “But why would you buy me such riches? I do not need them.”
He closed his eyes again and smelled of her deeply, his arms tightening around her. “Need them or not, you shall have them,” he said. “If it is money you are worried about, then don’t. Nether is only a very small part of my fortune.”
“What do you mean?”
He opened his eyes and sighed contentedly, his head against her shoulder as he thought on her question.
“My family is very wealthy,” he said quietly. “We are originally from Tours, having come to England in the second wave right after
William of Normandy came ashore. I have an ancestor who distinguished himself at the Battle of Hastings and, consequently, was sent to Leicester in the name of the new king. My family has held the title High Sheriff of Leicester for over one hundred years, the station of which my father now holds. It will pass to me when he dies. As for the family’s wealth, it is rooted in livestock and yellow cheese. We produce and sell cheese all over England and France, and we have massive livestock holdings. I am the oldest of four children, and the only male, so everything will go to me. Therefore, you may have whatever you wish, whenever you wish. If you ask for the stars, I would be happy to negotiate a price for them.”
Chrystobel was truly astonished. “Yet you accepted a contract marriage for a Welshwoman who was not of your station?”
He looked at her. “You are of my station,” he said. “Nether is quite acceptable, as are you. Or haven’t you yet realized that I am rather pleased with this marriage?”
Chrystobel wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol fueling his words or if he truly meant them. “But, truly, it seems as if you could have commanded a much finer….”
He cut her off, his manner growing agitated. “I do not want a finer woman,” he snapped. “I was once betrothed to a very fine woman, a widow of a great and powerful knight, but she was cold and terrible, no matter what I did. I tried to woo her. God knows, I tried. And those two children she had, too. I managed to woo them quite nicely and the girl and I were good friends. But the woman… the harder I tried, the more she pushed me away. It was an exercise in utter futility. And then, do you know what happened? Her husband was not dead after all. He returned, took her and the children away, and left me with empty hands and broken dreams. And that was the end of it.”
He was speaking rather animatedly, chattering even, but Chrystobel didn’t miss the gist of his words. It began to occur to her now why the man had walled himself up, why he seemed so guarded. At least, he had seemed guarded until now. He’d had his heart broken. She began to feel very sorry for the man.
“That is a terrible story,” she said softly, looking upon him with pity. “I cannot imagine how it must have hurt to have someone you love taken away from you.”
He looked at her as if startled by the statement. “I did not love her,” he clarified. “She was lovely and high born, and she had moments of kindness, but I did not love her. The unfortunate part is that I allowed myself to get close to the children. When they left… well, that did pain me, just a little.”
Chrystobel felt a great deal of sympathy for him. Timidly, her hands found their way onto his big arm as it embraced her. She patted him gently.
“I am sorry for you,” she said gently. “I promise that I will never leave you. I have no husband to come back from the dead, and there are no children to take away.”
He looked at her a moment and the emotions across his face seemed to ripple. There was sadness there, and anger, and resignation. There was an entire gambit of emotion and he suddenly stood up, nearly dumping her onto the floor. Off balance by his swift movement, Chrystobel toppled into the nearest chair.
“Nay, you will not leave me, but there are all manner of terrible things that have happened here at Nether,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Your brother beat you silly and you would not tell me who did such terrible things to you. When I asked you, you lied to me repeatedly. And this same bastard brother has abused your sister so much that the child will probably never speak because that whoreskin scared the speech right out of her. And your father – by God’s Bloody Rood, do you know what he told me? He allowed your brother to abuse you all because he promised his wife he would never discipline him. Is this really true? Because if that is the case and your mother granted your brother privilege to do whatever he pleased, then I fear your mother was a fool of a woman and she took your father right down with her. How do you think I felt seeing the bruises on your face, knowing it was your brother’s doing but being helpless to protect you because you would not trust me? It was as horrible as that shrew of a woman I was betrothed to who scorned me as if I was the lowest form of life. She treated the servants better than she treated me. And now I come here, find a wife I could never have imagined, and it scares me to death to realize that I feel something for you. I feel….”
He suddenly stopped himself, looking at the expression on Chrystobel’s face. The look of shock, hope, and of deep sadness stopped him bluntly and Keller began to realize that he had let his emotions run rampant, spouting out of his mouth without a dam to stop them. He was too damn drunk to realize he was saying things he shouldn’t. He gazed back at her with more horror and regret than he had ever felt in his life.
“Oh… Chrystobel,” he breathed. “I did not mean what I said… please forgive me… I did not mean any of it. I do not know why I said anything at all except… except… except that I cared for a woman and children once, much like you and your sister, and it ended badly. If this ended badly, I am not entirely sure I would recover.”
Chrystobel was looking at him with the unguarded depths of sympathy. It came pouring out of her; her eyes, her expression… everything. Reaching out, she grasped his big hand.
“It will not end,” she promised softly. “I understand you have been hurt, but I promise I will do all in my power not to hurt you, ever. I… I am sorry I lied to you about Gryffyn, truly, but I did not know you. You were an outsider and what he did… it was so shameful. It was such a terrible thing to admit, even to you.”
Keller could feel her hand on his, her warm fingers caressing him, and he wanted so badly to give in to the comfort. Was it possible that she was able to give him comfort, to show him affection? He’d never known such a thing in his entire life. Was it really possible that this glorious creature could find it within her heart to tolerate him? Or, perhaps someday… more than tolerate? It was a terrifying, hopeful thought.
Looking into her beautiful face, he suddenly felt very embarrassed and very self-conscious about his outburst. He felt like a fool. Pulling away from her grasp, he headed for the door.
“I must go,” he muttered. “I must see to my guests.”
Chrystobel ran after him, grabbing him by the arm to stop him from leaving. “Wait,” she said. “Please do not leave.”
He tried to pull away from her, but not too hard. Not hard enough to really make a difference. “I must,” he said, refusing to look her in the eye. “I have not seen Rhys or Gart in over a year and there is much… we have much….”
“You will see them in the morning,” Chrystobel said firmly, cutting him off and putting herself between Keller and the door. “I did not see my husband last night and… you said yourself that we have not spent… well, spent time together. You slept through the night with your injury and your weariness. Will you be away from me this night, too?”
Keller was still having difficulty looking at her but, eventually, he had little choice other than looking her in the eye. When their gazes locked, Chrystobel smiled timidly and he could feel himself relent. But he was still horribly embarrassed for his outburst and he was having a difficult time overcoming that.
“Nay,” he murmured. “I will not be away this night, too.”
“Swear it?”
“I swear.”
Chrystobel smiled. “Then go and see your friends if you must, but you will return to me,” she said. “In fact, I will prepare my father’s chamber for us. We can sleep in there tonight.”
He eyed her. “Mayhap there is another chamber we can sleep in,” he tried to suggest kindly. “Mayhap it will be too difficult for you to sleep in your father’s chamber so soon after his passing.”
Chrystobel’s smile faded and she glanced over her shoulder at Izlyn to see if the girl was listening. Fortunately, Izlyn seemed to be dozing off. Chrystobel lowered her voice.
“I have had much to think about since my father’s death,” she said softly. “Although it is true that he is my father and for that reason alone I will mourn him, the truth is that he
was never much of a father to me or to Izlyn. He let Gryffyn beat us, hurt us, and he never did much to stop it. I often begged him to but he would never take action. Eventually, I stopped begging. It was of no use. Is… is it wicked of me to feel more resentment towards him than grief? I cannot seem to help it.”
Keller’s expression reflected her own. “If it is wicked, then we are sinning together,” he said with some regret. “I have harbored a great deal of disgust towards your father and his reasoning for why he did not prevent your brother from wreaking havoc. How does your sister feel about all of this? Have you been able to tell?”
Chrystobel glanced over her shoulder at her sister, back in the shadows of the room. “I believe she feels much the same way I do,” she said softly. “Whenever Gryffyn would throw her in the vault, or strike her, more often than not she would come to me for comfort. My father… he would release her from the vault only to stand by and do nothing when Gryffyn would put her back in again. Much like me, she learned not to depend on him. I am sure she feels grief, but I do not know to what extent.”
Keller pondered that. Both women with an ineffective father, struggling to come to terms with his death. He was their father, a fixture in their lives… but he was also a failure. It was difficult to know how to feel. After a moment, he let out a quiet breath.
“I suppose to your father, his reasons were sound for what he did,” he said. “Mayhap he ultimately feared your brother because your brother beat him as well. But I suppose we will never truly know why he let Gryffyn spread his terror as he did.”
Chrystobel shrugged vaguely, in agreement, trying not to linger over the anger she felt towards Trevyn now that he was gone. She was very torn between natural grief and bitterness. Taking a deep breath, perhaps to help her move past the memories, she looked up at Keller.
“Mayhap you are correct,” she agreed. “In any case, I will go and prepare his chamber for us now. I will expect you once you have seen to your guests.”
Dark Deceptions Page 49
