Her hands reached for him, timidly, feeling the naked flesh of his body for the first time. He was warm with a fine dark mat of hair that covered his arms and chest. She liked it very much. But as she moved to touch him, she ended up touching herself as well, which brought about an unexpected result. Her hand brushed against her left nipple, which was highly sensitive after Keller’s attention, and the moment she touched herself she could feel a wild explosion in her loins that caused her entire body to seize. Her limbs stiffened as ripple after pleasurable ripple radiated upwards from between her legs where Keller was impaling her on his manhood repeatedly. It was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life, causing her eyes to roll back in her head and her breathing to come in shrieking gasps. The more Keller pounded into her, the more heightened the exquisite sensation.
It seemed as if it went on forever when, in fact, it was only a few seconds because the moment Keller realized that she had found her release, there was nothing to hold back his own pleasure. Feeling her body draw at him, throb around him, brought about the greatest climax he had ever experienced. He spilled himself deep into her body, feeling his hot seed as it made her very slick and very wet. He liked the feel of what he had put inside her. In fact, he loved the feel of her altogether. His wife. It was the sweetest thing he had ever known.
When the tremors faded away and Keller lay on top of Chrystobel, his head on her breasts, it took very little time for the exhausted and satisfied knight to pass out from sheer contentment. Chrystobel realized it when he began snoring softly, his arms wrapped so tightly around her torso that when she tried to move, in his sleep, his hold on her tightened.
Grinning when she realized he wasn’t going to let her go, Chrystobel put her arms around the man’s head and shoulders, holding him close against her body and thinking that of all the things she had assumed about coupling, it had been nothing close to the reality of it. The reality had been passion and warmth beyond anything she could have imagined, all stemming from an English knight she had been forced to marry. Two days ago, she had been certain her life, such as it was, was about to take a turn for the worse. That fear couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I see the magic of a new beginning with you.
Chapter Sixteen
It was very late when Gart cleared the hall, making sure all of his men had found a place to sleep somewhere inside where it was warm. Rhys had volunteered to take the night watch, mounting the battlements with their spectacular views of the storm-whipped countryside, and William went with him. The Ashby-Kidd twins headed off to sleep off too much ale, leaving Gart the task of buttoning up the hall and keep for the night.
Keller had retired with his wife earlier in the evening and Gart knew he wouldn’t be seeing the man until morning. Not that he blamed him. Men with new wives often disappeared from time to time to seek out privacy with their ladies. As Gart strolled across the bailey, rain dripping off his lashes from the storm that was still pounding, he found his gaze wandering off towards the kitchen.
The cook had been killed earlier that day, accidently falling down a flight of stairs that were carved into the bedrock and led to a secret entrance into the castle from the gorge surrounding it. The old woman had been found at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck, but Gart was fairly convinced that the woman’s neck had been broken before she fell because he was certain he saw finger marks on her flesh.
By the time Keller, Rhys, and the other knights had returned, the finger marks were less visible and Rhys wasn’t sure he saw what Gart did. Keller had already retired by that time and hadn’t been aware of the woman’s death as far as Gart knew, unless Keller’s wife told him, but such things weren’t exactly pillow talk for newlyweds. Therefore, it was left to Gart to be suspicious of the circumstances. Something just didn’t sit right with him about it and that, in turn, made him suspicious of Nether in general. Something evil was afoot. He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he could feel it.
Pushing thoughts of the dead cook out of his mind, he took the steps to the keep entry two at a time, eager to get out of the rain. Once inside the keep, it was dark and cold and silent for the most part, the only sound being the rain outside the door. As he headed for the stairs that would take him to the top floor where a warm bed await him, he heard sniffles coming from the small hall directly in front of him.
Curious, Gart followed the sounds. The smaller hall was dark, with a cold and useless hearth. In the darkness he could hear more sniffling and he stepped into the room, eventually spying Izlyn sitting at the end of the small feasting table. She had her arms all wrapped up around her small body, shivering as she sniffled. Curious, and somewhat concerned, Gart moved in her direction.
“My lady?” he asked softly. “Is something amiss?”
Izlyn jumped at the sound of his voice, her dark eyes wide with fright. Gart put up his hands to ease her, seeing that he had succeeded in frightening her.
“I am sorry to startle you,” he said quietly. “Why are you weeping? Why aren’t you in bed?”
Izlyn looked at him, her lip moving into a pout. She looked both unhappy and angry at the same time. Gart knew from Keller that the girl was mute, so he wasn’t sure how to communicate with her any more than what he was already doing. It became a staring game until he finally held a hand out to her.
“May I escort you to your chamber, my lady?” he asked politely. “It is growing late and you should be asleep.”
Izlyn hesitantly unwound her arms from around her body and she looked rather uncertain about his question. Finally, she shook her head.
“Why not?” Gart asked. “Aren’t you weary?”
Izlyn nodded. Then, she slipped off the bench she had been sitting on and made her way to the darkened hearth. Gart stood a few feet away, watching her as she pulled a piece of kindling out of the woodbox. Taking the stick, she began to scratch around in the soot that was gathered in front of the hearth. Gart thought she might be drawing pictures, which seemed rather odd, but she suddenly stopped scratching and beckoned him closer. Gart took a few steps towards the hearth, looking to the soot because she was pointing insistently at it.
There was writing in the ashes. Bending over, he peered closer to the letters. He was frankly surprised that she could write. Being a woman, and being mute, the odds that she could communicate in any fashion were against her, but evidently she was educated. He squinted at the writing and realized it was in a language he could not read, more than likely Welsh.
“I am sorry,” he said, looking at her. “I cannot read this.”
Izlyn fell to her knees beside the soot and wiped it smooth. Then, she took a piece of kindling again and scratched out another message. This time, Gart could read it.
The door is locked.
After reading it, he looked at her. “What door?”
Izlyn smoothed out the ashes again and scratched another message as Gart stood over her shoulder and watched.
My chamber.
“Your chamber is locked?” he asked. “Who would lock it? Come with me and I will open the door. I shall kick it down if I have to.”
Izlyn shook her head frantically, reaching up to tug on the knee of his breeches before he could get away. Gart paused, watching, as she scratched out another message.
My sister and Sir Keller are inside.