Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(123)

“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.

Chrystobel shook her head. “Nay,” she looked at him. “As a baby, I remember her speaking a few words. Then, when she was about two years old, she simply stopped speaking. She has not uttered a word since.”

Keller didn’t know why he was beginning to feel some strange emotional pull towards these women. He shouldn’t have and he knew it. Perhaps it was because he would soon be related to them both or perhaps it was because they looked so pale and helpless at the moment. Perhaps it was because they now belonged to him, as did everything else at Nether. He watched them both with his intense dark eyes.

“Why did your brother put her in the vault?” he asked.

Chrystobel’s head snapped to him as if startled by the question. She looked back to Izlyn, almost fearfully, struggling over an answer. She wasn’t a particularly good liar and the truth, before she could stop it, came out in pieces.

“Because… because she will not speak to him,” she almost choked over the words, horrified that they came out but unable to stop them. “It frustrates him and he punishes her for her disobedience.”

Keller couldn’t help it. His brows drew together and he looked at the pair as if they had gone mad.

“Because she does not speak to him?” he repeated, his tone bordering on incredulous. “Is this the truth?”

Chrystobel’s gaze was on her sister. She could hear the outrage in Keller’s tone, afraid it was directed at her. “Aye, my lord,” she said, more hesitantly. “He feels that she is being stubborn and if he punishes her enough, then perhaps it will compel her to speak. He has told her that if she tells him that she does not wish to be put in the vault, he will not do it.”

Keller stood up, his sheer size and massive presence causing Izlyn to collapse into her sister’s embrace as the two sisters gazed up at him fearfully. His expression was calm although the dark eyes were glittering with something emotional, something deep. He began to pop his knuckles through his heavy leather gloves as if the process would help him think more clearly. It was obvious that he was pondering the situation. He looked from one fearful face to the other and back again.