Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(169)

Izlyn wasn’t in any hurry to do what she was told. There was a lightness in the air that hadn’t been there before, the joy of a positive future. Keller had done that for them. As she neared the chamber door, she abruptly came to a halt. Chrystobel was returning to her packing when she saw Izlyn jump up and down, pointing frantically to the landing outside. Curious, Chrystobel made her way over to see what had her sister so excited.

As soon as she neared the chamber door, she could hear it. Someone was calling her name, a respectful male voice floating up through the dim stairwell. Peering at Izlyn with some concern, as if the girl could tell her who it was that was summoning her, she exited the chamber and made her way down the steep, narrow steps to the first floor below.

It was a bit brighter on this level because the entry door was open, and George immediately came into view. He was standing near the open door, smiling politely at her, but he wasn’t alone. A massive knight with a bald head and enormous shoulders was standing with him. Chrystobel recognized Sir Gart Forbes, a man she had been introduced to the previous night, but she focused on George.

“Greetings, Sir George,” she said courteously. “Did you summon me?”

George nodded. “I did, Lady de Poyer,” he said. “I did not want to come up to the living level without having been invited, especially with Sir Keller away.”

Chrystobel nodded. “Of course,” she agreed with his sense of propriety. “What can I do for you?”

George indicated Gart. “You remember Sir Gart?”

Chrystobel nodded, locking gazes with the massive warrior. “Indeed,” she said. “Good day to you, Sir Gart.”

Gart nodded his head but remained silent. There was something extraordinarily intimidating about the man but she didn’t sense evil. She sensed a man who was simply no-nonsense and serious, a very big man with very big weapons. He was English to the core, much like her husband, men she had been taught to hate. Odd thing was, given her experiences with Gryffyn and Keller over the past couple of days, she was coming to see the English as far less dangerous than the Welsh. Still, Gart was a bit scary. She returned her attention to George.

“My husband has gone into town to make arrangements for my father’s funeral,” she said.

George nodded. “I am aware, Lady de Poyer,” he replied. “Before he left, Sir Keller asked me to come to you to seek what manner of coffin you wish for your father. He wants to know if there are any craftsmen at the castle who can make one.”

Chrystobel cocked her head in thought, coming off the stairs as she thought on her answer. As she moved towards George, Izlyn, who had been standing behind her on the stairs, also came off the steps. Instead of following her sister, however, she seemed very interested in Gart. As the big knight stood politely just inside the doorway, Izlyn walked up to him and inspected him with great interest.

“We have a carpenter who works in the stables,” Chrystobel said as Izlyn scrutinized Gart. “He repairs or builds things as needed. Shall I take you to him?”

George shook his head. “I would not want to trouble you, my lady.”

Chrystobel waved him off. “No trouble at all,” she said. Then she wriggled her eyebrows ironically. “Besides, the man does not speak any English, so I will have to translate unless you speak Welsh.”

George shook his head. “I do not, my lady.”

Gathering her skirts, Chrystobel preceded the two knights out of the keep, taking the stairs down to the bailey. The smell of rain was heavier in the air now and the wind was brisk. As she began walking across the ward towards the stables, George caught up to her.

“Your father has been stored in the stables, my lady,” he told her. “Mayhap… mayhap you should not enter the stalls. What is the name of this man so that I might seek him out?”

Chrystobel turned to look at him. “Wentzy” she said. “He is not difficult to locate. He is missing one eye.”

George’s eyebrows lifted curiously. “And he is a carpenter?”

“A very good carpenter.”

As George and Chrystobel discussed the skill of the one-eyed carpenter, Gart trailed several feet behind them, his hawk-like gaze roving the castle grounds. It was a big place with lots of places to hide, he thought. But as he perused the grounds, he couldn’t help notice that Lady de Poyer’s sister was walking beside him. He tried not to look at her. He hoped that she would go away if he just ignored her. If he spoke to her, surely it would be like feeding a stray animal and he would never be rid of her. Moreover, he had no idea what to say to the girl. He wasn’t very good with children. Therefore, Gart did what Gart did best – he ignored.

As they drew near the stables, however, he couldn’t help but notice that the girl was moving closer to him. In fact, she was nearly bumping into his right arm as they walked. He could feel her arm brushing against his, so he discreetly moved over to his left to put some distance between them. A few seconds later, he could feel the brushing again as Izlyn moved next to him again. Therefore, he slowed down. She slowed down. He sped up, she sped up. Finally, he stopped completely and folded his big arms over his chest, pretending to inspect something in the distance. He could see in his peripheral vision that the young girl had come to a halt, too. She was just standing there, hovering, like a gnat. He wanted to swat her.

Irritated and struggling not to show it, he turned to look at her. The moment he did, she smiled brightly at him and, like an idiot, he immediately folded. She was a cute little thing. He smiled back, patted her on the head, and continued towards the stables. He hoped that would satisfy her curiosity. But the girl scampered to catch up with him. Gart sighed heavily and shook his head. He’d managed to attract an admirer and he wasn’t too happy about it.