Oblivious to the knight’s chagrin, Chrystobel peered at the puncture wound through the rather wide opening. “I believe so,” she said, crouching down beside him. “I will try to be as swift as possible.”
Relieved that he wasn’t going to have to remove his clothing in front of Lady de Poyer, Aimery sat perfectly still as she cleansed the puncture wound with wine. When she carefully threaded her needle with cat gut, she glanced over at her husband.
“Was the skirmish in town terrible?” she asked.
Keller, standing near the door, shook his head. “Nay.”
Chrystobel had expected more of an answer and she looked over at him as she poised over Aimery’s wound. “This is the only injury?”
“It is.”
“Who started the fight?”
Keller shook his head. “Not I, Lady de Poyer, I assure you,” he said. “We were attacked as we left. We assumed they were Welsh rebels of some kind.”
Chrystobel’s gaze lingered on him as she bent over and made the first stitch in Aimery’s leg. “It is possible but not likely,” she said thoughtfully, concentrating on her work. “There are no rebel strongholds in this region unless you include Colvyn ap Gwynwynwyn, but he is poorly supplied and poorly armed. The most he can claim is a strategic castle and an old family name.”
Keller thought on that. There was that name again – Gwynwynwyn. He’d heard it from the merchant in Machynlleth. Moreover, he’d heard it from Trevyn when the man listed an ally of Gryffyn. I find it strange that they happened upon you at that particular point in time. Wasn’t that what Gart had said? It was indeed strange, too strange. Was it possible that Gryffyn had been following his movements outside of Nether and was behind the attack? If that was true, then it meant Nether was being watched by Gryffyn and whoever he had managed to ally with. Perhaps they were being watched even now. It was an uneasy realization.
“Your father said that he is a friend of Gryffyn’s,” he said quietly.
She nodded as she placed the second quick stitch. “He is,” she concurred. “In fact, he somewhat courted me before my father arranged for a marriage with you.”
Keller was startled by the bolts of jealousy that rocketed through his body at that knowledge. The sensations were violent and harsh. But, in the same breath, he shouldn’t have been surprised by a courtship towards Chrystobel. She was a beautiful woman and, in truth, should have known many suitors before Keller came along. He found that he wanted to ask her many questions about ap Gwynwynwyn, and the courtship, but he kept his mouth shut as Chrystobel finished putting the remaining stitches in Aimery’s leg. He didn’t want the young knight hearing what would undoubtedly be a private conversation, so he bided his time until Aimery limped out of the chamber and down the stairs.
Closing the chamber door and bolting it as he heard the knight’s footfalls fade away, he turned to watch his wife as she put away her sewing kit. Then his gaze trailed to the saddlebags, laying on a big wooden chest over to his right, and thought on all of the wonderful things he’d brought Chrystobel. The storm outside caught his attention as lightning flashed and he was coming to think that this small, warm chamber was a much better place to be than the stuffy hall across the bailey. It was much more private. Aye, it was a better place, indeed.
“Tell me about Colvyn ap Gwynwynwyn,” he said as he began to remove his gloves. “So he courted you, did he?”
Chrystobel looked up from her sewing kit. “Aye,” she replied. “It was really only over the course of the past few months. He would send me little gifts such as a leather pouch filled with flower petals or a polished stone he had found and thought was rather pretty. Colvyn is a nice man, but he is rather grim and unexciting. I had no interest in him.”
Keller removed his helm, setting it down next to the door. “Then you harbor no feelings for the man?” he asked. “Our marriage did not interrupt a budding love with ap Gwynwynwyn?”
She looked at him, disgusted. “Never!” she hissed. “Colvyn is not someone I could have feelings for, not in the least.”
Keller felt markedly better to hear that. In fact, the declaration gave him an abundance of courage. “Am I someone you could have feelings for?” he asked softly.
Chrystobel appeared surprised by the question, but just as quickly, a bashful smile spread across her lips and she lowered her gaze so that he could not see her hot cheeks. Keller saw them, anyway.
“Mayhap,” she said coyly. “I have hardly known you enough to know for sure.”
That was true, but Keller was enchanted by her brightly blushing cheeks. “But you could at least have an inkling as to whether or not I am worthy.”
Chrystobel wouldn’t look at him. “It is too soon, I tell you.”
Keller grinned. “I believe you are someone I could have feelings for,” he said softly. “In fact, I am sure of it.”
Her head shot up, her dark eyes wide on him. She thought on the poem he’d had Izlyn write, one that spoke of new beginnings. Could it be true? Could he really have feelings for her? Gazing into his dusky blue eyes, she could see the sincerity and hope in them. She could see the man’s naked optimism for something he very much wanted to happen. The seed was there. She could feel it. It was a seed that had been planted over the course of the past couple of days, against all odds or expectations. Now, the seed needed to be nurtured.
“I’ve not yet thanked you for the poem you told Izlyn to write for me,” she said softly. “It is the most beautiful poem I have ever read.”
He smiled modestly. “I had hoped you would like it,” he said. Then, his gaze grew intense. “Chrystobel, I must again extend my deepest apologies for failing to keep my word to you last night. Please know that it was not intentional. I would never intentionally break my word to you. You are my wife and by that station alone you will always have my greatest respect. I would never intentionally do anything to harm or anger you. What I said in the poem was true. In you, I see the magic of a new beginning for us both.”
Chrystobel was caught up in the sweet lure of his statement. It was a thrilling and fulfilling thought, and the hurt and anger she had felt earlier in the day vanished like a puff of smoke. She couldn’t have remembered it if she tried.
“I… I think I do, too,” she said quietly. “Keller, I should not have dismissed you so harshly when you tried to explain what had happened. My sister finally told me. I should have guessed it was the cider that put you to sleep before you could return. I should not have assumed the worst.”
Keller rolled his eyes. “That damnable cider,” he grunted. “I have never in my life ingested anything so utterly devilish. I will never touch that drink again.”
Chrystobel grinned at his dramatic statement. “My father brought it out for only special occasions,” she said. “Otherwise, it has been left in stores to continue fermenting. I should have warned you.”