Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(208)

“If the situation was reversed, I would have killed you by now.”

Gryffyn’s smile faded. “That was my first thought, also,” he said. “But I want something and I suspect I will not get it unless I use you as a bargaining tool.”

Keller didn’t even have to ask what Gryffyn wanted. That was abundantly clear. But he sought to distract the man, anything to help him gain the upper hand. Threatening d’Einen wouldn’t work because, clearly, the man had the advantage. Therefore, Keller had to resort to another tactic. He had to stall enough to disorient or confuse the man. Then, maybe he would have a chance to turn the tables. At the moment, he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“What is this obsession you have with your sisters?” Keller demanded. “By God’s Bloody Rood, d’Einen… what is this sick fixation you have for them? Why breach an entire castle to get to them?”

Gryffyn yanked on Keller’s dark hair. “Because they are mine,” he growled. “They belong to me, as does this castle. It all belongs to me and you stole it!”

“I saved it from you.”

“It is mine!” he shrieked. “You have no right to it!”

Keller could see that he had Gryffyn off-balance. He pushed. “With you here, Nether was indeed a living hell,” he said. “You made it a Netherworld in every sense of the word. This place is much better off without you and your brutal ways.”

Gryffyn growled, coming out something of a yell. He began to half-shove, half-drag Keller in the direction of the keep. As the rain pattered and the thunder rumbled, they made their way across the bailey but Keller wasn’t going willingly. He slipped more than once, purposely falling to his knees, buying time until one of his men could gain sight of him and figure out something was wrong. At one point he even fell to his belly and Gryffyn yanked viciously on his hair until he labored to his knees, standing wearily.

By that time, both the English and Welsh combatants were noticing that something was very, very wrong. The soldiers began shouting to Rhys and Gart, who emerged from the postern gate area to see Keller being dragged across the bailey by a man who had him by the hair, pointing a dagger at his throat. William, who had just finished off a particularly wily Welshman, saw what was happening. Rhys and Gart heard him hiss.

“That is d’Einen,” he said. “That is the man we hoped to kill tonight.”

Rhys sighed heavily. “And we will,” he said. “Spread out and approach him from the rear. He cannot fight off all of us at once.”

“He has a dagger at Keller’s neck,” William reminded him. “I have seen this man in action. He will not hesitate to use it.”

Rhys wriggled his dark eyebrows, watching Gryffyn as steadily as a cat tracking a mouse. “Then we must make sure he does not get the opportunity,” he said. “Find me a crossbow and I can take him from behind.”

William snapped quiet orders to the nearest soldier, who went on the run. Meanwhile, he moved into stalking position alongside Rhys and Gart, waiting for the right moment to strike. He prayed they could take Gryffyn down before the man had the chance to ram the dirk into Keller’s neck. He wasn’t so confident that they could, and that thought sickened him.

But Gryffyn wasn’t paying attention to the knight stalking him and even if he was, it wouldn’t have mattered. He had the advantage so the posturing knights had no power against him. Dragging Keller up the slippery steps of the old, gray keep where he was born, he began yelling to the occupants. He knew his sisters were inside. He continued to yell until he heard a shriek overhead.

Looking up into the dark sky as rain pelted his face, he could see Chrystobel’s head emerging from a lancet window on the second floor. But Keller spied her, too, and before Gryffyn could shout, Keller was bellowing at his wife.

“Do not open the door!” he boomed.

Frustrated, Keller kicked the man in the kidneys, listening to him grunt with pain. Then he returned his attention to his sister, glaring up at her through the inclement weather.

“If you want your husband to live, you will open the door,” he shouted. “Do you hear me? Open this door or your husband will die!”

Chrystobel’s head disappeared after that. Shortly afterwards, Izlyn appeared and both Keller and Gryffyn shouted at her, confusing the girl. Frustrated with Keller’s behavior, Gryffyn kicked Keller again and when the man bent over, he hit him on the head with the butt of the dirk, sending Keller to his knees.

As Keller saw stars and struggled not to pass out again, he began to hear sounds of fighting behind him. He could hear song of broadswords as they met with metal upon metal, and he knew there was no way he was going to allow Gryffyn into the keep or near his wife. He didn’t know where the dirk was that Gryffyn had been holding against him but at the moment, it didn’t matter. He was no longer willing to play the dazed victim.

Keller was unsteady, and his ears were ringing badly, but the time had come to fight back. When he caught a glimpse of Gryffyn’s legs off to his left, he lashed out a massive boot and swept the man’s legs out from under him.

Gryffyn hit hard on his back on the wet stone surface of the entry and the dagger in his hand went flying. Keller pounced on him, using his big fists to pummel the man’s head. The first blow shattered Gryffyn’s nose and the second blow dislodged six teeth. Gryffyn threw up his hands, trying to defend himself, but Keller was all over him, beating him senseless.