Damn him! She tossed one of her father’s tunics into a pile on the ground. Keller had made her believe that he was sympathetic to both her and Izlyn. Finally, a man who would show them both the kindness they’d so lacked in their young lives. But he hadn’t meant any of what he’d said. He’d been drunk and running off at the mouth. Hurt, angry, she continued to clean out her father’s chamber.
Her back was to the door when she heard boot falls and a soft knock on the panel. Turning around, she caught sight of Keller standing in the doorway in full armor. She looked at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, and couldn’t help but notice that he looked pale and bleary-eyed. But the moment their eyes met, she thought of him last night as he looked her in the eye and swore he would return to her, and she quickly returned to her project.
“Good morn to you, husband,” she said, her voice clipped.
Keller heard her tone. It was cold and angry, just as he knew it would be. He’d put off coming to see her for a solid hour because he was so afraid that she might be angry with him and he’d been correct. She was furious. From her stiff back to her curt words, she was bloody well furious.
“Good morn to you, Lady de Poyer,” he said timidly. “My lady… Chrystobel… I am truly sorry I did not return last night. I am sure you are….”
She cut him off, throwing more of her father’s items into a pile on the floor. “It does not matter in the least,” she said, pulling at a pair of ripped breeches. “I slept in my chamber with my sister and we were quite comfortable. In fact, I am cleaning out this chamber for you so that you may have it. It ‘tis a big chamber, and comfortable, and it should be very pleasant for you. I plan to have the servants pull the bed apart and re-stuff the mattress.”
Keller could see that she wasn’t going to forgive him easily. Why should she? He’d said many things last night, things he was still embarrassed over, and she’d had time to reflect on all he’d said. Perhaps she’d come to realize what an idiot she’d married. Perhaps it really didn’t matter to her that he’d not returned – more than likely, she was glad that he hadn’t. His heart sank as the nervous knuckle-cracking started.
“I thought this was going to be our chamber?” he asked softly, popping his joints.
Chrystobel laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh. It was an angry cackle. “Nay, my lord,” she said, gathering all of the things she had thrown on the floor and lifting them up onto the bed. “This will be the master’s chamber and you, after all, are the master. I will happily sleep across the hall with my sister so that you can summon me at will. No need for us to share a space.”
Keller was feeling worse and worse. “Chrystobel,” he said softly, firmly. “I am sorry I did not return last night. I went to see to my friends and ended up drinking more of that devil cider, and after that… I do not remember anything until I woke up this morning. I did not stay away intentionally.”
Chrystobel was a woman with no trust in men. She’d been lied to and abused her entire life, so forgiving an innocent like Keller, who truly meant what he said, was nearly impossible for her to comprehend. It was easier not to believe him than to forgive him. He’d already lied to her. In her mind, he’d destroyed her trust.
“You do not need to explain your whereabouts or your reasons,” she said, pausing in her task to look him in the eye. “This is a contract marriage and there are no expectations. You are lord and master of Nether and I will respect you as such. I will be at your call as you wish, but do not expect more than that. Do not tell me stories to garner my sympathy because I do not care. I do not care about anything!”
She ripped off the clothing pile and the top layer of linen on the bed to punctuate her angry sentence. Everything when sailing onto the floor. Keller stood there and watched her, feeling the familiar angst welling in his chest. Once, when he had been betrothed to the widow who broke his heart, he felt these same emotions when she callously dismissed him. The old, horrible feelings were sweeping him again. God, not again, he thought. Why do I bring these things down upon me? I cannot go through this again! He stopped popping his knuckles because he nearly broke a finger in his turmoil.
“I am sorry that I did not keep my promise to return,” he said, his voice soft and low. “I feel terrible about it. All I can tell you is that it was unintentional and that I am truly sorry.”
Chrystobel’s gaze lingered on him a moment before turning to the pile on the floor. “You need not apologize,” she said. “It is your right to do as you please.”
He sighed sharply. “Do you not believe a man when he says that he is sorry?”
Her head snapped up, the dark eyes fixed on him. “I believed him when he swore he would return last night. Mayhap it is the last time I shall believe anything he says.”
It was like a punch to his gut. Keller could tell just by the expression on her face that she was attacking his honor. After a moment, he simply shook his head. “What must I do to prove I am sincere, Chrystobel? I do not want to go the rest of my life at odds with you because of a mistake.”
She looked at him a moment, appraisingly, and he swore that he could see the turmoil in the big brown eyes. She was hurt and defensive, he could clearly see it. But she tore her gaze away after a moment and looked back at the pile and, as he watched, planted herself on the floor beside it. She began sifting through it.
“Go about your duties,” she told him. “I will make sure your chamber is prepared by tonight.”
It was evident she didn’t wish to speak to him about it. He groaned inwardly. “I am going into town to make arrangements with the priests for your father’s mass,” he said quietly. “I thought you wanted to go with me.”
Chrystobel shook her head, focused on her task. “You can make the arrangements quite adequately,” she said. “I do not need to go with you.”
There wasn’t any use arguing with her. He could see that plainly. She was essentially shutting him out and he felt horrible about it. But it was probably justified. He had promised to return last night. He didn’t blame her for thinking he was not a man of his word. With a lingering gaze at her blond head, he silently quit the chamber and shut the door behind him.
The landing was dimly lit and cold as he turned for the stairs. He had a knot in his stomach from his emotions, coupled with his pounding head. He deserved all of it, he told himself. Every misery he had, he deserved. As he began to descend the stairs, he glanced up and saw Izlyn standing in the doorway to the chamber she shared with her sister. Keller came to a halt.
Izlyn was dressed in a sweet pink-colored linen surcoat with an embroidered apron over it. Her pretty blond hair was pulled into two adorable braids draped over each shoulder. She looked clean, groomed, and well-rested. In fact, the child looked better than he’d ever seen her. He smiled weakly.
“I do not suppose you can tell me how to beg forgiveness from your sister,” he muttered wryly.
It had been a somewhat rhetorical question but, to his surprise, Izlyn nodded. Keller was about to continue down the steps but the child’s gesture had him pausing.