Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(160)

Chrystobel hung her head. “I know,” she said. “But I could not let him frighten my sister.”

Keller gazed at her a moment before turning his attention to Izlyn. The girl was gazing up at him without a hint of fear. In fact, she was looking at him quite openly and he swore he could see the thoughts rolling through her young mind. He put his hands on his hips as he focused on her.

“Lady Izlyn,” he addressed her politely. “Can you understand me?”

The girl appeared surprised by the question and immediately looked to her sister for support. When Chrystobel smiled encouragingly, Izlyn’s gaze returned to Keller and she nodded her head. Keller continued.

“The young knight who had you by the arm is named Sir George,” he said, his hands coming off his hips as he began to pop his knuckles, that habit he seemed to have, which only happened when he was in an uncertain position. “He did not mean any harm. He likes to dance and play, and he wanted to dance and play with you. I realize you have known little comfort from any man other than your father, but I assure you that George and his brother, Aimery, would never hurt you. They would sooner frolic through a field of flowers with you, chasing frogs, than they would harm you. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

Izlyn was gazing back at him with her big, brown eyes. Again, she nodded slowly, and Keller dipped his head in return to acknowledge the fact that they understood one another.

“Then you must never fear them, or any of my knights,” he told her. “I am sworn to protect you and so are they. Is that clear?”

Izlyn blinked as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond but eventually, she nodded yet again. She continued to stare up at Keller as the man gazed down upon her. His expression had grown rather gentle.

“Would you like to chase frogs tomorrow?” he asked her. “George and Aimery would be happy to accompany you. Or mayhap you would like to chase birds? Have you ever been out of this castle simply to walk the land?”

Izlyn looked at him as if she had no perception of what he was saying. She looked at Chrystobel as if the woman could clarify his question, and Keller found himself looking at Chrystobel, too.

“She has no concept of what I am asking, does she?” Keller asked softly.

Chrystobel was gazing sadly at her sister. “Nay,” she said. “She has never known things such as that.”

Keller’s gaze returned to the girl on the bed. In her shift, wrapped in linen coverlets upon a mattress stuffed with a mixture of feathers and dried grass, she looked well cared for and content. But that had been far from the truth up until yesterday. Keller’s drunken state was making him somewhat emotional about a young girl who had had been locked in the vault by her evil brother and had known little happiness in her short life.

“Things will change,” he said, turning away from the bed and moving towards the hearth. It didn’t appear nearly stoked enough for him so he took chunks of peat from the iron cage-like container next to the hearth and started throwing the pieces into the fire. “Now that I am here, much will change. I will make sure that Lady Izlyn is allowed to chase birds or frogs, and that you… what is it that you like to do, Chrystobel? Do you have any skills or pursuits?”

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.