Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Castell Mallwyd

Lair of Colvyn ap Gwynwynwyn

S ituated deep in Powys among some of the most dramatic scenery in all of Wales, Castell Mallwyd sat amongst a series of foothills, riding the crest of one of the tallest hills like a great figurehead at the bow of a mighty ship. It could be seen for miles, perched atop its towering hill, and the castle was difficult to reach even in the best of conditions. In winter, it was nearly impossible.

The castle belonged to Colvyn ap Gwynwynwyn, the illegitimate son of the last king of Powys, Gwynwynwyn ap Owain. His father had been very old when he had been conceived, his mother being the fourteen-year-old granddaughter of one of Gwynwynwyn's advisors. His mother had died in childbirth with him and in order to avoid a devastating and costly civil war within his kingdom, Gwynwynwyn had given the advisor a castle and lands of his own, property that now belonged to Colvyn.

But it was a dirty place, with crumbling stone, skinny dogs, and a great hall that could only contain twenty people at the most. A great pit in the middle of the dilapidated hall served as its fire pit, with smoke escaping through holes in a roof that needed to be repaired. Colvyn didn't spend much time in the hall. He preferred the gatehouse where he had a sturdy room with a good roof and a hearth, and a buxom servant woman to fill his bed. But on this late night in October, he found himself sitting in his hall, watching Gryffyn d'Einen slurp down a thin stew made from rabbits and field mice, and watered ale.

The man had come to Castell Mallwyd earlier in the day, exhausted and nearly hysterical. He rode a horse bearing English tack, which was puzzling to Colvyn until Gryffyn began spouting his story in between ravenous bites. Then, it all started to come out.

The English had taken over Nether Castle. Trevyn d'Einen had been killed in the battle and Gryffyn's sisters had been taken hostage, including Chrystobel, whom Colvyn had his eye on. It was disturbing news to say the least, and Colvyn sat and listened to Gryffyn, who seemed genuinely upset about the English onslaught. Gryffyn had barely escaped with his life, and was only able to do so after stealing an English soldier's horse. The more Gryffyn spoke, the more concerned– and doubtful– Colvyn became.

"Why Nether?" Colvyn demanded. "It is not as if the castle is in the marches and is of contention between the Welsh and the English. It is thirty bloody miles from the marches, so to attack Nether makes no sense at all."

Gryffyn slurped down the last of the watery stew. The flavor had been terrible but it was warm, and that was all that mattered. "William Marshal desires it," he told Colvyn. "The man desires a foothold in Powys and now he has it."

"A foothold for what?"

Gryffyn sucked the scraps of meat from his bowl and tossed it aside, watching the dogs fight each other for the privilege of licking it.

"Long have the Normans desired to conquer Wales," he said, eyeing the short, dark man across the table from him. "You know this. They have already conquered southern Wales and now they move north. Today it will be Nether; tomorrow, mayhap it will be Castell Mallwyd. You must send word to your teulu for more men so that we can take Nether back and vanquish the English from our region. If we do not strike now and strike fast, all will be lost."

It was an impassioned plea but Colvyn, unlike Gryffyn, was not quick to react. He was more methodical, and frankly, the story seemed a little far-fetched. He'd never heard of English attacking a fortress this deep into Wales, at least not without good reason. Conquest of the region, especially with winter bearing down on them, seemed odd. All skepticism aside, however, it was not an entire unlikely prospect. The English had been known to do stranger things. Torn between real possibilities and Gryffyn's dramatics, he sighed heavily.

"There is some truth in what you say," he replied. "I can think of no other reason for the Saesneg to attack Nether other than it must be a part of a greater plan. Mayhap of conquest, as you said. And you say your father was killed in the attack?"

Gryffyn nodded, appearing properly grieved. "The Saesneg warriors killed him because he resisted," he replied. "Then they took my sisters as a prize."

"But you escaped?"

"Only by the grace of God was I able to," Gryffyn said, sounding properly convincing. "They tried to restrain me but I was able to break free. See this broken wrist? This is proof of their brutality."

He was holding up his heavily bandaged wrist, one that Colvyn's soldiers had set because Colvyn didn't have a physic. His castle was too poor for that. Eyeing the wrist, Colvyn digested the story. He had known Gryffyn d'Einen for many years and they were friends, although Gryffyn at times had tested that friendship. He was a nasty man with a brutal streak and there were times that Colvyn had been disgusted by his actions.

Once, on a visit to Nether, he caught Gryffyn slapping Chrystobel, but Gryffyn had come up with a very plausible and convenient excuse for the action, and Chrystobel had kept her mouth shut out of fear. She'd neither condemned nor defended her brother, but the incident had left a bad taste in Colvyn's mouth. Still, men had a right to discipline their women and Gryffyn was no exception. Colvyn gave him the courtesy of not questioning him further on the matter, even when he saw Chrystobel the next day with an eye swollen shut.

However, facts were facts– Gryffyn had never shown any real concern for his family, so his story of his family at the hands of the English seemed questionable. Colvyn had been listening to it for over an hour. With that in mind, Colvyn contemplated his next volley of questions.

"That may be true," he said. "They are a brutal race. But why have you come to me for help? You hold no real love or affection for your family, Gryffyn. Do you panic because the English seek to steal your legacy? Surely you do not wish for me to save your family from their clutches. They are probably better off with their Saesneg captors than they are with you."

As he laughed quietly into his cup, Gryffyn struggled not to become enraged. If he did, Colvyn would throw him out and he would have nowhere to go. More than that, if he offended the man, he would lose his only real ally. Therefore, it was imperative to convince Colvyn that the English were bent on conquest of the region. There was no other way to force Colvyn to rally his men and, consequently, his very large teulu . The Gwynwynwyn teulu had hundreds of members at the very least. With that in mind, he decided to go for the man's heart. It was the only way to get what he wanted and Gryffyn was a man who did not like to be denied his wants.

"They took Chrystobel," he said. "We have no way of knowing what they have done to her in the time I have been gone. Rape and brutality is commonplace with them. Will you leave her to their clutches or will you help her?"

Colvyn's general disinterest began to fracture. He was very fond of Chrystobel. He'd made no secret of that. He'd sent her gifts and messages for the past six months with the intention of asking for her hand in marriage at some point. The thought of the woman being a captive of Saesneg filth had his genuine concern.

"They have probably already marked her," he muttered. "Like the dogs they are, they have marked her as their own. She is too beautiful to be left untouched. As fond as I am of her, I will not accept Saesneg leavings."

Gryffyn appeared stricken. "Then you will not help her?"

Colvyn eyed the man. It was evident that he wanted help very badly but Colvyn wasn't apt to give it so readily. Unlike many of his fellow Welshmen, he wasn't particularly hot-headed. He was rather methodical and weighed all options before attacking. He set his cup aside, gazing intensely at Gryffyn.

"This is not my fight," he said. "If I help you, then the Saesneg might come after me, too. It is true that Castell Mallwyd is difficult to reach, but it is not impossible and this place could not stand a siege. It would fall, and I cannot say I am willing to risk that."

Gryffyn's first reaction was to scream at the man but he bit his tongue. He knew it would not do any good. He would be stupid to berate him. Taking a deep breath, he downed what was left of the watered ale in his cup, coughing up the dregs in the bottom that managed to make it into his throat. He had to make this worth Colvyn's time and effort ; think, man, think! He mulled over the man's response. Since playing on his sympathies as far as Chrystobel was concerned hadn't worked, he tried another tactic– a more profitable tactic.

"I understand," he finally muttered, moving to pour himself more wine with his awkward left hand. "If I were in your position, then I might say the same thing. But the fact remains that I need your help to oust the Saesneg and I will pay for the privilege. With my father gone, I am now in control of Nether's wealth and you know as well as I do that there is a good deal of it. I will pay you handsomely for your assistance in removing the Saesneg and if my sister is untouched by them, you can have her, too. Will you at least think on it?"

Colvyn had to admit that Gryffyn's proposal had his attention. Even if he was the bastard son of the last king of Powys, the truth was that any family fortune had gone to the legitimate offspring. All Colvyn had was a broken-down fortress and limited income. He mulled over the proposal. His conviction to not involve himself in Gryffyn's battle was fading at the lure of being paid for his manpower.

He knew Nether was very wealthy. It had herds of sheep, orchards, and coveted lands. Perhaps he should rethink his refusal to lend assistance. As much as he didn't want to, he found himself doing just that.

"How much?" he finally asked.

Gryffyn grinned, knowing he had the man's interest and, with the right answer, his help. "Half of everything I have," he replied without hesitation.

Colvyn was stunned. " Half ?" he repeated. "Do you swear this to me?"

"I will write it in blood if I must."

Colvyn thought on that a moment, realizing with sickening certainty that he was about to involve himself in another man's fight because the lure of money was just too great. He found that he couldn't refuse.

"Not in blood," he said. "But I will have it in writing and I shall give the document to my kin. If I help you chase off the Saesneg and you fail to pay, they will bring everything they have down around Nether and take all of it. Is this in any way unclear?"

Gryffyn nodded his head slowly, his dark eyes glittering wickedly. "It is perfectly clear."

"And I will have Chrystobel, too."

"Aye… Chrystobel, too. You can even have Izlyn just for sport."

Colvyn simply sat and eyed the man. He was afraid to say anything more. He was afraid he'd said too much already, because it seemed as if he had indeed committed himself to Gryffyn's cause. For a price.

He wondered if that price would ultimately prove to be too high.

*

Nether Castle

Keller wasn't happy in the least. In fact, he was damn well furious. Standing in the solar in Nether's keep, the one with the door cut into the floor that led down into the storage area, he faced William, George, Aimery, and several senior sergeants. He had eleven men altogether, and all of them were in the chamber because all of them were, to varying degrees, responsible for a significant failure. They were all bracing themselves for de Poyer's rage.

"You let that bastard escape," Keller growled, eyeing the men around him. "One man against how many English? Is he really that cunning or are all of you really so bloody incompetent?"

William cleared his throat softly. "In fairness, d'Einen seems to be quite cunning," he said. "He escaped George and Aimery by throwing a large rock at George's head and nearly braining the man. George barely escaped unscathed, and Aimery was already injured at that point. It made it difficult to keep up with the man. By the time the horses were brought out, d'Einen was in hiding and he knocked one of the soldiers off his horse and stole the beast. After that, we gave chase but lost him in the mountains to the south. We could not risk pursuing him any further."

Keller's jaw was ticking as he listened to William. He had fallen asleep the day before and had slept all day and all night because Chrystobel wouldn't allow anyone to awaken him, not even when William came to tell him about Gryffyn's escape. Therefore, the man had been gone nearly an entire day by the time Keller awoke, refreshed and feeling very well indeed, until William told him what had happened. By then, Keller's legendary temper had been unleashed.

"Spare me your explanations," he snapped softly, holding up a hand to quiet William. "The fact remains that d'Einen escaped. Three hundred Englishmen could not capture one lone Welshmen and that is a shameful statistic. If the Marshal ever found out, we would all be consigned to scullery duty. This failure is inexcusable."

William glanced at the men who were stoically receiving their verbal beating. "In speaking with some of d'Einen's men, they have offered to assist us in locating him," he said. "But I would advise caution, my lord. These men are Welsh, and loyal to the House of d'Einen, so it would not be my inclination to trust them. I have already sent scouts to pick up Gryffyn's trail, so we should know something more by tonight."

Keller's expression was wrought with disgust. He was furious with their ineptitude and with the fact that he had slept through the crisis. Truth be told, he was perhaps more angry at himself than anything. He had allowed himself to be lulled into a deep and dreamless sleep. Never again, he vowed. I will never let myself be so at ease ever again . After a moment, he looked away from the men crowding the chamber.

"Get out of here," he told the group. "Go back to your duties and stay out of my way. All but my knights, you will remain."

The senior soldiers filed out silently, quitting the chamber and eventually the keep altogether. Keller waited until he heard the entry door shut before looking at his three knights.

"I am having a serious difficulty grasping this," he said, rubbing at his eyes in an exasperated gesture. "I cannot fathom how you let that man escape. Well? I am waiting for an explanation that makes sense because right now, all I can see is three massive failures standing before me. How on earth did you achieve your current posts when you were capable of such failure?"

Aimery, with a swollen nose and two black eyes, spoke softly. "It was inexcusable, my lord," he agreed. "I apologize for myself because I should not have let my injury slow me down as it did. I should have…."

George cut his brother off. "He could hardly see, my lord," he told Keller, watching his brother's indignant expression. "He fell down twice running behind me and the third time, he was in the kitchen yard and slipped in the mud. He went right into the butcher block and knocked himself giddy. D'Einen had already passed through the postern gate at that point so I ordered several soldiers to pursue the man so that I could help my brother. The failure is all mine, as I should not have returned to aid my brother. I am willing to accept your punishment."

Aimery's mouth was hanging open in outrage as he glared at his brother. "It was my fault," he declared, turning to Keller. "You must punish me first ."

George scowled at his brother. "Shut your pie hole, you fool!" he hissed. "You were in no condition to capture d'Einen, so I am the one who must be punished! It was my fault!"

"It was my fault!"

William opened his mouth to shut them both up but Aimery threw a punch at his brother and they both went down, tumbling over a table and crashing to the ground. William began yelling at them, moving to pull them apart, as Keller just stood there and rolled his eyes. He realized, to his surprise, that he was very close to grinning at the foolery of the Ashby-Kidd brothers. He'd seen them pull this kind of idiocy before and he'd always yelled at them, frustrated at their behavior. But at this moment, all he could feel was amusement, especially when Wellesbourne began tossing them about.

"Enough!" William roared, grabbing George by the neck and throwing him off his brother. "Sweet Bleeding Christ, Aimery, get off the damn ground. What is the matter with you, behaving like that?"

Aimery was furious as William yanked him to his feet. "George only backed off the pursuit of d'Einen because of me," he insisted angrily. "It is not right for him to take the blame when it was clearly my fault."

Keller put up his hands. "Shut your mouths, all of you," he snapped. "God's Bloody Rood, what a stable of knights I have. Throwing punches and demanding to be blamed for a failure? I have half a mind to lash you to the vault and beat you all senseless. Yet as much as it would give me hours of endless joy to do that, I must refrain. The fact of the matter is now that d'Einen has escaped us, we must locate him. That is our task at hand."

George and Aimery managed to calm themselves, but it was a struggle. William slapped George on the head and directed the young man across the chamber, well away from his brother. When William was sure they weren't going to charge each other again, he turned to Keller.

"As I told you, I have sent scouts out to pick up d'Einen's trail," he said quietly. "But I must ask this question; do you truly care if the man is returned? If he is gone, then the trouble he creates is gone, including the threat to your wife and her sister. Nether will be a more peaceful place, one would hope."

Keller, too, was calming after his initial rage. The antics of the Ashby-Kidd brothers had managed to loosen him a bit. In fact, he was coming to appreciate these men who served under him. They were competent in spite of what he had said, and they were genuinely dedicated to his service. He'd spent the past two months trying not to get close to them, to let them into his world and into his thoughts, but he was coming to think that the wall he'd put up around himself to protect his damaged heart had been too big a wall. It was lonely being isolated like that. Chrystobel had already succeeded in knocking down some of that wall. Perhaps he needed to lower it further to include the men that served him. Especially Wellesbourne; he suspected the man would make a fine friend. With a heavy sigh, he turned away and sought out the nearest chair.

"And I would agree with you except for one thing," he said, easing his big body onto the oak frame chair with the rigid back. "It is my fear that d'Einen has gone off to rouse trouble against us. His father mentioned that he was friends with a local lord. What if he goes to that lord and manages to rouse the man against us? At least if he is locked up in the vault here at Nether, he cannot create trouble."

William agreed, somewhat. "I still say he's better off away from Nether," he said, scratching his blond head in a weary gesture. "But I will tell you what the scouts say when they return. Mayhap he has not gone too far and capturing him will not be an issue."

Keller sat back against the chair, shifting when the wound in his back pained him. He shifted around a few more times until he could find a comfortable position.

"Mayhap," he agreed softly as he moved around. Once he was comfortable, he cast William a long glance. "I understand that you tried to tell me of this situation last night but Lady de Poyer would not wake me. Is this true?"

William looked at him. "Who told you that?"

"I did," George said helpfully from the other side of the room.

William gave George a rather exasperated expression before returning his focus to Keller. He hadn't told Keller of Chrystobel's intercession when he had gone to rouse the man, fearful that her actions would bring her husband's anger against her.

"She said that you were injured and exhausted," he said. "I told her that it was an urgent matter but she said unless the Romans were pillaging the castle and murdering people in their beds, she was not going to wake you. She was very firm about it."

"And you naturally complied."

"I had little choice."

Keller suspected as much. He held William's gaze for a moment before exhaling heavily and looking away. "I suppose that if I am angry with anyone, it should be her," he muttered. "But I cannot bring myself to do it."

William could see that the man was calming and he was thankful. "She was only thinking of your health," he said. "You were injured and you had not slept in two days."

Keller pondered his wife's protective instinct. He'd never known anyone to be protective over him, ever, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He felt humbled, but he also felt suspicious. Why should someone care for him so much that they would be willing to protect him? He cleared his throat softly, uncomfortably.

"This is something very new for me," he admitted quietly. "Is this how a woman normally behaves? That is to say, are you sure she was only thinking of me?"

William fought off a grin. "Of course I am," he said. "She certainly wasn't doing it to be cruel."

Keller seemed rather perplexed by the thought. "Women can be domineering," he said. "I have seen it. Are you sure she wasn't trying to dominate me?"

William couldn't help the smile. "God's Bones, de Poyer, of course not," he said. "She was doing what you would have done in the same circumstance. Would you not have tried to protect the woman if she was lying there, injured and sleeping?"

"Of course I would have."

"Then you can understand what she was trying to accomplish. She was protecting her husband, and that happens to be you ."

It was a foreign concept. As he sat there and pondered the fact that his wife was evidently concerned for him, a soldier entered the solar. Keller, and the other knights, turned to focus on the man who was singularly fixed on Keller.

"What is it?" Keller asked.

"An army approaches, my lord," the soldier said.

Keller's brow furrowed as he stood up stiffly from his chair. "What army?" he asked. "Are they flying colors?"

The soldier nodded. "De Lohr pennants, my lord," he replied. "Blue and yellow."

Keller looked at William, satisfaction in his expression. "Our reinforcements are here," he said. William was already moving, shooing George and Aimery out of the solar as Keller followed, speaking to the soldier as he went. "Open the gates and send out riders to greet them."

The soldier fled as Keller continued on his normal pace, heading for the keep entry, but as he passed the stairs that led to the upper floor, he came to a stop. He looked at the stairs, narrow dark stone leading up a narrow dark passage, and thought of Chrystobel on the floor above him. As lady of the keep, it was her job to make arrangements for visitors, so Keller headed up the stairs to inform her of their arrival. By the time he reached the chamber door, he realized he was actually a little giddy at the thought of seeing her. He made sure to smooth at his hair, a weak attempt at grooming, before knocking on the door.

Rapping softly, he waited a few seconds before lifting the latch and opening the door. As the panel swung open, he immediately spied Chrystobel sitting by the hearth with some kind of sewing in her lap. Izlyn was sitting at her feet, playing with sticks from the kindling. It would seem that building with sticks was her favorite pastime, as Keller had seen her do it before. Chrystobel smiled brightly at him when their eyes met.

"Greetings, husband," she said. "Are you finished meeting with your men?"

Keller stepped into the room. "Aye," he replied, unwilling to elaborate on the subject he and his men had discussed. When he'd left his wife, he'd only told her that he was meeting with his men and nothing more. "We were interrupted by the announcement of approaching visitors. I've come to tell you to expect several more men for the evening's meal."

Chrystobel set her sewing aside and stood up. She was dressed in a surcoat of dark green wool that fit her delicious figure snuggly. In fact, she looked alluring and beautiful, and he couldn't take his eyes off her shapely torso and gently flaring hips as she approached him.

"Of course," she said seriously. "I will make sure there is enough food for all."

Keller's dusky gaze lingered on her. "Thank you," he said, his mind returning to what William had said as he looked at her. She was protecting you. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world but in the same breath, he couldn't believe that such a glorious creature could actually feel something for him. The thought only made him feel giddier. "I believe these visitors will be staying with us for some time. They are English knights, sent to reinforce my ranks, so if you could prepare a spot in the keep for them to sleep, I would be grateful."

Chrystobel smiled again, her expression open and friendly. "I will make sure they are comfortable," she said. "Is there anything else you wish?"

It was such a sweet question. Keller felt like an idiot because everything about her seemed to make him feel weak. The walls of defense he'd kept up, so practiced around him, had fallen and he could feel himself opening up again. It was terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.

"Nay," he said, shaking his head. "I will be with our visitors, so please send a servant should you need me."

He turned for the door but Chrystobel put her hand on his arm, stopping him. "Wait, please," she said, smiling timidly when he turned to look at her. "I was wondering if I might speak with you for a moment. I will be brief, I promise."

Keller nodded. "Of course," he said. "What is your wish?"

Chrystobel cleared her throat softly, perhaps a bit nervously, and glanced at her sister before speaking. "My brother," she said, her tone very soft. "Has he been located? Is he finally locked up?"

Keller realized she didn't want to upset Izlyn with such talk, so he motioned for her to follow him out onto the landing. Once outside of the chamber on the dark and dank landing, he closed the door behind them quietly.

"Your brother escaped Nether yesterday," he said, his voice quiet. "I understand that Wellesbourne came to speak to me last night about it but that you sent him away."

Chrystobel nodded, trying not to appear too contrite. "I did," she said. "You were sleeping so soundly that I did not want to wake you. Did I do wrong?"

Keller smiled faintly, shaking his head. "You did not," he said. "Wellesbourne wanted to tell me about your brother escaping Nether. We have sent scouts to follow his trail."

Chrystobel looked at him, worried. "Will you bring him back?"

Keller shrugged. "William pointed out to me that to have him away from the castle means peace for us all," he said. "But there is a larger part of me that wants to bring him back to face justice for the murder of your father, among other things."

Chrystobel thought seriously on both points. In fact, she looked rather bewildered. "Away from Nether?" she murmured, more to herself than to him. "I… I have rarely known him to be away from Nether. He has always been here, lurking about."

Keller studied her intently, seeing both fear and relief in her expression. It occurred to him that she should have some say in all of this, considering how much of it directly affected her. For so long she'd had no control over her brother. Now, Keller would give her some of that control back.

"What would be your desire?" he asked softly. "Do you want me to bring him back here and punish him or do you want me to let him keep running, so long as he stays far away from here?"

Chrystobel looked at him, surprised he would ask her such a question. She took it very seriously. "I…I do not know," she said. "I never thought… that is to say, I never believed I would ever know a life without living in fear of my brother. It does not seem real."

Keller watched her befuddled expression, daring to reach out and brush her fingers with his own. The mere touch between them sent bolts of excitement racing through his big body and when she latched on to his fingers, holding them tightly, he actually thought he might swoon. Everything in his chest welled up so that he could hardly breathe.

"It is real," he replied. "You will never again have to fear the man so long as I am alive. If you want me to track him down and punish him for killing your father, I will. But if you simply want to let the man run off forever, out of your sight and out of your mind, then I understand. I will leave the choice to you."

Chrystobel clutched his fingers with both hands, feeling his warmth and strength. It was an overwhelming sensation, one that made her heart race with joy. As she gazed up into the man's dark blue eyes, all she could feel was pure and blissful attraction. He may not have been the most handsome man she had ever seen, but he had a rugged beauty that was beyond compare. She was so caught up in the soft pout of his smooth lips and the square cut of his jaw that she nearly forgot to reply to his statement.

"Punishing him will not bring my father back," she whispered. "I simply want him away, Keller. I never thought I would know this opportunity but now that it is here, I do not want to see him ever again and I do not want to think of him ever again. I want to erase him from my mind completely. If Gryffyn is running, let him run. Let him run forever as long as it is away from Nether."

Keller nodded in agreement, lifting her hands to kiss them sweetly. "If that is your wish," he said softly. "But if I ever see the man again, make no mistake. I will kill him. If he ever returns to Nether, he is a dead man."

Chrystobel nodded, feeling warm and safe and protected by his declaration. "Of course, Keller," she said. "I support whatever you will do to that regard."

"I appreciate that."

She was gazing up at him still but it was apparent there was much on her mind. "About my father," she ventured, her expression gradually becoming distressed. "We must bury him. Where is he?"

Keller squeezed her hands gently. "We put took him to the stables yesterday but I do not know if he has been moved," he said. "I will discover where he is and then we can plan his mass. Where would you bury him?"

Her eyes grew moist, thinking about her father, her regrets with him, her sorrows. "My mother is buried at St. Peter's in Machynlleth," she said. "It is a few miles to the west. I will send word to the priests to make arrangements for my father."

"I will do it," Keller replied. "I will ride into town on the morrow and make the arrangements, unless… unless you would like to accompany me?"

Chrystobel's expression brightened. "Aye, I would like that," she said. "Moreover, I think I should. You spoke excellent Welsh to me when we first met, but are you able to carry on a conversation with it?"

"Yr wyf yn," he said in perfect Welsh. "Pam ydych chi'n gofyn?" I am. Why do you ask?

Chrystobel grinned. "Because I believe the priests only speak Welsh," she said, cocking her head. "How is it that you speak my language so well?"

He shrugged. "I was the garrison commander at Pembroke Castle for many years," he told her. "I learned Welsh long ago in order to effectively deal with the local chieftains. I can probably speak it better than you can."

Chrystobel laughed. "I do not think so," she said. "I learned it at birth. I did not learn English until I was six years old, when I went to foster at Chirk Castle. And then, I had to learn it quickly because the lord's wife only spoke English."

He was grinning at her. "I am sure you were a good student."

Chrystobel smiled modestly, her hands still holding on to his fingers, feeling giddy and silly in his presence now. The conversation was flowing so wonderfully, better than it ever had in spite of the subjects of her father and brother, and she was thrilled. When Keller wasn't being cold and distant, he had a hint of charm in his manner that was boyish and sweet.

"I tried," she said, realizing the dialogue was coming to a close and not wanting it to. But there were tasks to be accomplished and she gave his big hand a squeeze. "I suppose I should go and make preparations for your visitors now. May I travel unescorted now that my brother is no longer a threat?"

Keller didn't see any harm in it. "You and your sister may both travel unescorted," he said. Then, his thoughts began to linger on the sister, the small and silent child who seemed so terrified of everything. "Tell me… how long did your brother lock her in the vault because she is mute?"

Chrystobel's smile faded. "Years," she said softly. "My father did not send Izlyn to foster because she would not speak, so she has always lived here at Nether. I have educated her as best I can from what I was taught at Chirk, and my father educated her as well. She is an intelligent girl and can read and write Welsh, French, and English, but the fact that she was bright only fueled my brother's rage towards her. He was convinced that in her lack of speech, she was simply being stubborn. She would spend days in the vault on end, at least until my father would release her, but Gryffyn would grow angry with her again and lock her back up. She has been in and out of the vault weekly since she was eight years of age."

Keller was grim. "How old is she now?"

"She has seen twelve years as of last month."

Keller breathed lightly. "Then she will benefit the most from your missing brother," he said. "Mayhap she will finally begin to enjoy life a little, as a young girl should."

Chrystobel thought of her little sister, of her horrific life up until that point, and her eyes grew moist. "I sincerely pray for that."

"It is my intention to make sure you both enjoy life now that I am here."

Chrystobel smiled gratefully and Keller kissed her hands again, but he didn't stop there. Her lips were soft and inviting, and he gently slanted his mouth over hers, suckling her lips gently. Her response was timid at first, but very quickly, she gave in to his attention and the kisses became more powerful as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Keller pulled her against him, his torso against hers, as his kisses turned to fire. She was incredibly soft and warm, and the feel of her in his arms roused him like nothing he had ever known. He never realized a kiss was supposed to be this sweet or this alluring. At this moment, it was the most powerful thing he had ever experienced. She was the most powerful thing he had ever known.

But that blissful moment was cut short when the chamber door next to them rattled. Suddenly, Keller was standing a few feet away from Chrystobel as the door opened and Izlyn stood in the doorway. He didn't even know how he got there. All he knew was that the door movement had startled him as if he had been a silly stable boy stealing a kiss from a serving maid, fearful he'd been caught doing something clandestine. When he realized how he had reacted, he felt like a bloody idiot.

Keller looked over at Chrystobel, who seemed flushed and dazed as she took her sister by the hand and told the girl that they had visitors to prepare for. She smiled at Keller as she disappeared into the lower levels to make arrangements for their guests, and Keller followed at a distance, his wits still not completely gathered. Their kiss had left him scatterbrained to say the least, and it was a full minute before he even remembered the task that lay ahead of him. He had visitors to greet, great knights from the stable of de Lohr.

Still lingering in the effects of that heated kiss, he headed out to meet them.