Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(168)

“You are sure that Keller composed this?” she said, holding up the scrap. “This is your writing. Moreover, it is in English.”

Izlyn nodded frantically and made motions that would indicated someone had spoken the words to her and told her to write it. It took Chrystobel a minute or so to figure out what her sister was gesturing about. She looked back at the parchment again.

“These are beautiful words,” she admitted. “Truly, he told you to write this to me?”

Izlyn nodded firmly. When Chrystobel looked up at her, the girl grinned and wrapped her arms around her body as if demonstrating something very romantic. Izlyn hugged herself dramatically and Chrystobel grinned.

“You silly little goat,” she said. “You like him, don’t you?”

Again, Izlyn nodded and Chrystobel sighed heavily. Her face took on a distant expression as she stood up, moving pensively towards one of the three lancet windows in the room. Reaching the window, she leaned against the sill, noting the puffy clouds and damp wind. Thoughts of Keller were heavy on her mind.

“I like him, too,” she sighed. “I just wish he had not lied to me.”

Izlyn raced from the room. Chrystobel turned in time to see her sister disappear out into the landing. She could hear the girl across the hall in the other chamber, shuffling around. She had no idea what her sister was doing and returned her attention to the landscape beyond the window.

After her rage of the morning, she had calmed somewhat, wondering if perhaps she had been too hard on Keller. Unfortunately, trust was a powerful issue with her. She had so little of it and what little she did have, she had pinned on Keller, only to be disappointed. He’d tried to explain why he had not returned to her but she had been too angry and too stubborn to listen. She had been regretting her behavior somewhat when Izlyn presented her with what she said was a message from Keller. Now, Chrystobel was feeling especially bad for being so unkind to the man. She hoped he would be receptive to speaking with her when he returned from Machynlleth.

Behind her, Izlyn came rushing back into the room with her hands full of scraps of vellum. This was normal with her. Since she could not speak, she wrote her conversations, something that had infuriated Gryffyn because he figured if she could write, then she could speak. Izlyn scooted to her sister and handed her the first of several pieces of parchment in her hand, of all different shapes and sizes. Some even had previous conversations on them crossed out. Chrystobel read the note on the piece of vellum.

Mae’r seidr yn gwneud iddo gysgu. Yr oedd eich bai nad oedd yn dod yn ?l

The cider made him sleep. It was your fault he did not come back.

Chrystobel’s eyebrows rose as she finished reading the note and looked at her sister. “Did he tell you that?”

Izlyn nodded seriously. Then she rifled through the notes on in her hand before she came to the one she wanted and handed it to her sister. There were other notes on the scrap, crossed out, so it took her a moment to find the most current note.

Mae’n ddrwg iawn. Yr ydych yn gwneud iddo drist.

He is very sorry. You made him sad.

Chrystobel finished reading the note and looked to her sister with a good deal of remorse. “I was angry,” she said. Then she grew serious. “I… I suppose I did not want to know disappointment with Keller. Izzie, no man has ever been good to us. Father did what he could but it was a weak effort at best. Always weak. And Gryffyn… I swear to you that I will never mention his name again, not ever. You and I survived his torment and I swear that we will move on and have normal lives now. I believe Keller will make that so for us and… and when he promised he would return and then didn’t, I suppose I was horribly disappointed. We do not need yet another man to disappoint us and treat us with disrespect.”

Izlyn was watching her sister closely. She was an extremely sensitive girl, deep feeling and intuitive. Gryffyn had scarred her badly but he had not ruined her. Even being away from him for so short a time, just a few short hours, had seen her bounce back admirably. With the terror removed from her world, it had made all the difference. She was young and she was resilient. She also understood that her sister was feeling a good deal of turmoil and she wanted to help.

As Chrystobel struggled with her guilt and her burdens, Izlyn shuffled through the scraps of parchment in her hand and picked one, extending it to her sister. Chrystobel took the torn fragment of parchment and read the note.

Rwy’n credu y bydd yn dy garu di

I think he will love you.

Chrystobel shook her head quickly and averted her gaze. “Nay,” she muttered. “Please do not say that. It is foolish, do you hear?”

Izlyn smiled knowingly at her sister, suspecting that she had struck a nerve. She knew her sister was growing fond of her new husband. Love was a fool’s dream. It was every girl’s dream. She went over to Chrystobel and put her arms around her waist, hugging her. Softened, Chrystobel hugged her sister tightly for a moment before quickly pulling away.

“Look at your fingers,” she scolded gently. “All stained with ink. Go wash your hands.”

Izlyn simply grinned as Chrystobel pushed her away. She pretended to resist, feigning wiping her fingers on the stone walls. Chrystobel finally swatted her harmlessly on the arse.

“Go,” she insisted, pointing to the chamber across the hall where she knew there was some water and lumpy white soap. “Wash your hands off and then you can come back here and help me.”