Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(110)

Keller gazed at the man, not at all sorry for the pain and suffering he was feeling. Had Keller possessed any less self-control, the man would be wallowing in a pool of his own blood. He deserved all of the justified agony and more. In fact, Keller was purposely making the man suffer. He wanted him to feel the pain he had inflicted upon Chrystobel, and upon his family, for untold years. He wanted Gryffyn to feel the humiliation and hurt. As Gryffyn writhed in agony, Keller turned to his wife.

Chrystobel had managed to crawl over to the hearth and now sat propped up against the wall, her dark eyes wide with shock. Keller’s appearance at the most opportune time had been startling enough, but watching her husband pound her brother was a vision of violence and retribution that she never thought she would live to see. Gryffyn was finally subdued and Keller was the reason, protecting her as he had sworn to do. He was a man of his word, English or no. The realization was almost more than she could bear and she gazed at the man, seeing him through entirely new eyes.

This wasn’t the same knight she had met the day before, the man who had shown little to no warmth. That Keller de Poyer was an efficient, humorless man who, she was sure, had viewed her just as he viewed Nether Castle; as an acquisition. The big knight with the wide shoulders and enormous hands hadn’t treated her with anything more than polite respect until this moment in time. Having seen Gryffyn preparing to pounce on her was all Keller needed to unleash his fury against the man, as if Chrystobel meant something to him. As if he was protecting something dear. It had been a truly awesome sight to behold and she was still quite stunned by it all.

As his brother-in-law moaned on the floor several feet away, Keller had eyes only for Chrystobel. She was such a lovely creature. He’d known that from the moment he had first laid eyes on her. But the pain in his heart from a love lost had prevented him from seeing beyond his fear. Fear of feeling, fear of opening himself up again. Chrystobel was a beautiful angel he had never expected to know and now, he could feel himself relenting. He could feel himself warming, perhaps willing to open himself up again. The very moment he had saved her life was the moment he started to let himself feel something.

He crouched down beside her as she sat against the wall, his rugged face, worn by the years and the weather, creased with concern.

“Are you badly injured?” he asked softly.

The buzzing in Chrystobel’s head had eased considerably. “Nay,” she said softly, gazing into his eyes and feeling hope and relief in her chest such as she had never before experienced. “I am well enough.”

Keller’s gaze drifted over her head, her face, as if he didn’t believe her. “Are you certain?” he asked quietly. “I can send for a physic.”

Chrystobel smiled faintly, reaching out to put a hand on his arm in a reassuring gesture. “That is not necessary,” she said, sighing quietly. “I will admit that my head does ache a bit, but food and rest will cure me, I am sure.”

He stared at her a moment before lifting his enormous hands and gently cupped her face. As Chrystobel looked into his eyes, her heart thumping madly against her ribs, she could feel the emotion pouring from the man. It was as if a dam had burst and everything that had been held back was finally gushing out. Sir Keller de Poyer was cold no more, and it was an astonishing realization.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I am sorry you had to endure what your brother did to you. But I swear, with God as my witness, that he will never touch you again.”

Chrystobel was at a loss for words, her breathing unsteady as his thumbs began to stroke her silken skin. It was the first time he had touched her and her senses were understandably overwhelmed.

“It was simply the way of things, my lord,” she murmured. “It has been going on so long that I have known little else.”

Keller’s face hardened. “No more,” he rumbled. “He is a dead man if he so much as looks at you in a way I do not like. Do you believe me?”

Chrystobel nodded, though she hardly dared to truly believe. “Aye.”

His gentle smile returned. “Good.” He fought off the sudden urge to kiss her, not wanting the first genuine kiss between them to be a public spectacle. He was rather shy and conservative that way. Moreover, there was something more she needed to know, something very serious. He braced himself.

“I must also apologize for something else,” he said hesitantly. “Your father….”

Chrystobel cut him off by a nod of the head, tears popping to her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “Gryffyn told me.”

“He admitted to killing him?”

“Aye,” she confirmed. “The blood on the floor… is it his?”

Keller nodded, watching her sorrowful expression. “Aye,” he said quietly. “I am so sorry that I was unable to prevent it.”

Chrystobel struggled to control her tears, thinking on her father, the man who was supposed to protect her but never did. Although she was sorry for his loss, she couldn’t seem to muster true grief for his passing. Had the man ever prevented Gryffyn from having his own way in all things, perhaps she would have felt differently, but at the moment she felt somewhat guilty that she wasn’t more distraught.

“You are not responsible,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “You did what you could. You saved me, in fact, and I thank you for that.”

Keller’s dusky eyes glimmered. “It is one of the better things that I have done in my life.”