Prologue

PROLOGUE

October, Year of Our Lord 1197

Nether Castle, Powys, Wales

T he blow to the jaw sent Gryffyn reeling.

Sprawled on the rough oak planks of the great hall, Gryffyn shook the stars from his eyes and looked up to see the big English knight moving in for another blow.

Keller had fists the size of a man's head, but Gryffyn was fast. He managed to roll out of the way and leapt to his feet although his balance was off and he ended up bashing into the corner of the hearth. But Keller was coming in for another blow and Gryffyn threw himself to his left, away from his sister's enraged husband. He knew, by the look in the man's eye, that he meant to kill him.

Gryffyn tried to lash out a fist at Keller, but the knight was just too fast and too strong. Keller grabbed Gryffyn's fist, twisted, and ended up snapping his wrist. Gryffyn fell to his knees, screaming in pain as Keller stood over him in a huffing and furious stance. His dusky eyes were smoldering with fury.

"So you have been hiding here all along, waiting for the proper moment to strike," Keller hissed. "You are a coward of a man, d'Einen– a wretched and vile coward. Now that I finally have you, I intend to do what should have been done long ago."

Holding his wrist, Gryffyn glared at Keller with eyes as dark as obsidian. "If I am a coward, then you are a fool," he growled. "You cannot stop me. Nether and everything in it belongs to me, including my sister!"

It was the wrong thing to say. Keller reached out and used his fist to hammer on Gryffyn's broken wrist, sending the man into howls of pain. But Keller was immune to it. His focus was both deadly and intense as he watched Gryffyn squirm.

"She is my wife now and I swear, by all that is holy, that you shall never lay another hand on her again," Keller rumbled. "I knew someone was beating her but she would not directly tell me who it was. For all of the pain and humiliation you have cast upon her, she still protected you. God knows why, but she did. How long was this going on before I came, d'Einen? How long have you been beating on helpless women to make you feel more like a man?"

Cradling his wrist against his chest, Gryffyn was in a world of hurt. "You bastard," he grunted. "You come to my castle in all of your haughty, conquering glory and married my sister because my weak and foolish father made a pact with the Devil."

Keller's eyes blazed. "William Marshal has nothing to do with you taking your fists to your sister."

"You only married her to gain a castle. Do not act as if she means something to you!"

"It does not matter if she means something to me." Keller was struggling not to wrap his hands around the man's neck, although he knew, eventually, that it would come to that. It was just a feeling he had. "She is my wife and I will protect her. I will tell you this now, Gryffyn d'Einen, so there is no misunderstanding. If you so much as look at her in a hostile manner again, I will run you through. Make no mistake. If you touch her again, I will kill you."

Gryffyn wasn't used to being questioned or disciplined. He had always done as he pleased. Deep down, he was a spoiled little boy with a spoiled little mind. With a growl, he propelled himself off the floor and charged Keller with all of his furious might. Keller easily reached out a massive fist and caught Gryffyn on the side of the head, knocking the man silly. Gryffyn fell on his bad wrist, collapsed in a heap, and began to bellow.

Keller gazed at the man, not at all sorry for the pain and suffering he was feeling. Had Keller possessed any less self-control, the man would be wallowing in a pool of his own blood. He deserved all of the justified agony and more. In fact, Keller was purposely making the man suffer. He wanted him to feel the pain he had inflicted upon Chrystobel, and upon his family, for untold years. He wanted Gryffyn to feel the humiliation and hurt. As Gryffyn writhed in agony, Keller turned to his wife.

Chrystobel had managed to crawl over to the hearth and now sat propped up against the wall, her dark eyes wide with shock. Keller's appearance at the most opportune time had been startling enough, but watching her husband pound her brother was a vision of violence and retribution that she never thought she would live to see. Gryffyn was finally subdued and Keller was the reason, protecting her as he had sworn to do. He was a man of his word, English or no. The realization was almost more than she could bear and she gazed at the man, seeing him through entirely new eyes.

This wasn't the same knight she had met the day before, the man who had shown little to no warmth. That Keller de Poyer was an efficient, humorless man who, she was sure, had viewed her just as he viewed Nether Castle; as an acquisition. The big knight with the wide shoulders and enormous hands hadn't treated her with anything more than polite respect until this moment in time. Having seen Gryffyn preparing to pounce on her was all Keller needed to unleash his fury against the man, as if Chrystobel meant something to him. As if he was protecting something dear. It had been a truly awesome sight to behold and she was still quite stunned by it all.

As his brother-in-law moaned on the floor several feet away, Keller had eyes only for Chrystobel. She was such a lovely creature. He'd known that from the moment he had first laid eyes on her. But the pain in his heart from a love lost had prevented him from seeing beyond his fear. Fear of feeling, fear of opening himself up again. Chrystobel was a beautiful angel he had never expected to know and now, he could feel himself relenting. He could feel himself warming, perhaps willing to open himself up again. The very moment he had saved her life was the moment he started to let himself feel something.

He crouched down beside her as she sat against the wall, his rugged face, worn by the years and the weather, creased with concern.

"Are you badly injured?" he asked softly.

The buzzing in Chrystobel's head had eased considerably. "Nay," she said softly, gazing into his eyes and feeling hope and relief in her chest such as she had never before experienced. "I am well enough."

Keller's gaze drifted over her head, her face, as if he didn't believe her. "Are you certain?" he asked quietly. "I can send for a physic."

Chrystobel smiled faintly, reaching out to put a hand on his arm in a reassuring gesture. "That is not necessary," she said, sighing quietly. "I will admit that my head does ache a bit, but food and rest will cure me, I am sure."

He stared at her a moment before lifting his enormous hands and gently cupped her face. As Chrystobel looked into his eyes, her heart thumping madly against her ribs, she could feel the emotion pouring from the man. It was as if a dam had burst and everything that had been held back was finally gushing out. Sir Keller de Poyer was cold no more, and it was an astonishing realization.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I am sorry you had to endure what your brother did to you. But I swear, with God as my witness, that he will never touch you again."

Chrystobel was at a loss for words, her breathing unsteady as his thumbs began to stroke her silken skin. It was the first time he had touched her and her senses were understandably overwhelmed.

"It was simply the way of things, my lord," she murmured. "It has been going on so long that I have known little else."

Keller's face hardened. "No more," he rumbled. "He is a dead man if he so much as looks at you in a way I do not like. Do you believe me?"

Chrystobel nodded, though she hardly dared to truly believe. "Aye."

His gentle smile returned. "Good." He fought off the sudden urge to kiss her, not wanting the first genuine kiss between them to be a public spectacle. He was rather shy and conservative that way. Moreover, there was something more she needed to know, something very serious. He braced himself.

"I must also apologize for something else," he said hesitantly. "Your father…."

Chrystobel cut him off by a nod of the head, tears popping to her eyes. "I know," she whispered. "Gryffyn told me."

"He admitted to killing him?"

"Aye," she confirmed. "The blood on the floor… is it his?"

Keller nodded, watching her sorrowful expression. "Aye," he said quietly. "I am so sorry that I was unable to prevent it."

Chrystobel struggled to control her tears, thinking on her father, the man who was supposed to protect her but never did. Although she was sorry for his loss, she couldn't seem to muster true grief for his passing. Had the man ever prevented Gryffyn from having his own way in all things, perhaps she would have felt differently, but at the moment she felt somewhat guilty that she wasn't more distraught.

"You are not responsible," she said, wiping at her eyes. "You did what you could. You saved me, in fact, and I thank you for that."

Keller's dusky eyes glimmered. "It is one of the better things that I have done in my life."

She smiled at the first truly warm moment between them. "I am particularly grateful for your keen sense of timing," she said. "A few seconds later and I might not have been so grateful. Or alive."

He winked at her and dropped his hands from her face, moving to take her two small hands within his big palms. He kissed them both sweetly, tenderly, as a promise of things to come. Now, it would be different between them. Gryffyn had, if nothing else, accomplished that.

"If you can stand, mayhap we should go and check on your sister," Keller said. "I am sure you are anxious to see her."

Chrystobel nodded, glancing at Gryffyn as the man sat up with the Ashby-Kidd twins standing several feet away from him, watching every move the man made.

"I am," she said, eyeing her brother warily. "What are you going to do with him?"

The warmth in Keller's eyes faded as he looked over his shoulder at the Welshman, who was holding his broken wrist awkwardly against his torso. His expression suggested anger, defeat, and defiance. Even with the broken wrist, Keller could still see fight in the man. After a moment, he returned his gaze to Chrystobel.

"Lock him in the vault," he said. "The man has much to atone for so I hope you will trust me to make the appropriate judgment."

"Of course, my lord."

His gaze lingered on her a moment, thoughts turning from Gryffyn back to her. He liked thinking of her much better. "You will call me Keller," he said quietly. "Or husband. I will answer to whatever you choose to call me."

A beautiful smile spread across her face. She had a delightful grin with straight, white teeth and slightly prominent canines. "I would be honored to call you Keller," she said sincerely.

He was just about to release her hands but thought better of it as she spoke. The glimmer returned to his eyes.

"I like hearing you say my name," he said honestly.

Her smile broadened even more, if such a thing was possible. "Then I shall say it again," she whispered. "Keller."

He kissed her hand again, smiling when she giggled. In the midst of this hellish situation, it was a tender moment that saw something of a relationship between them take hold. A spark had ignited, and Keller was again thinking on kissing her lips, privacy be damned, when he heard scuffling behind him. Before he could turn around, something violent and painful rammed into the right side of his torso.

He pitched forward as Chrystobel screamed, struggling to keep him from falling even as he collapsed onto his bum. Horrified, they could both see the dagger jutting from his right side, about a foot below his armpit. And there was a hand on it.

Gryffyn stood behind Keller, his good hand on the hilt of the dirk as he crammed it into the man's flesh. Ripping it from Keller's body, he pushed the man aside and aimed for his sister with the blade held high.