After William had found her in the mud by the stables, he had brought the dazed and bleeding woman to her bower. Young Izlyn tried her best to clean Chrystobel’s face, wiping the blood away from her lip and cleaning off the mud, and servants dashed in and out of the chamber with hot water and linens in an effort to help. Trevyn had disappeared, as had Gryffyn, and the more Keller watched the activity, the more suspicious he became. People were smacked around, disappearing even, and generally terrified. The situation was odd and growing more odd, and he eventually reached his limit of patience.
He finally ordered the servants out with a brusque command, looking to George and Aimery, just outside the door on the landing, to ensure that his command was carried out. William was stalking the castle, looking for both Trevyn and Gryffyn. Most of the family seemed to have vanished the moment Chrystobel was discovered. Keller doubted it was coincidence. When the servants scattered like frightened chickens, herded from the chamber by the Ashby-Kidd twins, Keller closed the door behind them.
It was oddly and suddenly quiet from the commotion as he faced Chrystobel and her wide-eyed sister. Both ladies were sitting on the bed, looking up at Keller as if he were the devil himself and preparing to demand their souls. Keller regarded the frightened women for a moment, eventually closing the distance between them. His gaze never left Chrystobel’s face. What he saw, and what he had observed initially, greatly disturbed him and he was attempting to determine how best to pursue the situation.
When he reached the bed, he sat down next to Chrystobel, his significant weight rocking the bed. Little Izlyn nearly slipped off, holding on to her sister for support. Silently, he held out a hand to Izlyn, who was still holding a rag and a small bowl of warm water. She looked at him with enormous eyes, having no idea what he meant, until he gently reached out and took the bowl from her. Collecting the rag, he dipped it into the warm water and carefully wiped away the blood from the cut on Chrystobel’s lip.
Chrystobel sat stock-still as he wiped away the remnants of the mess and inspected her cut at close range. Her sister had done a good job of cleaning off the majority of the blood and dirt, so Keller eventually set the bowl and rag aside. When his focus returned to her, his dark eyes were intense.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
His voice was deep, raspy, and strangely soothing. Chrystobel didn’t even know the man yet she sensed an innate gentleness from him, something buried deep and hidden. He had wiped her cut with the lightest of touches. A man with hands the size of his should not be so gentle or delicate. But he was. It was disarming, fascinating. Chrystobel met his gaze for a moment before averting her eyes.
“I… I slipped and fell, my lord,” she lied.
“You slipped?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“And fell on your face?”
“Aye, my lord.”
He continued to gaze at her as she stared at the hands in her lap. She had the most glorious beauty, something he was more intrigued with by the moment. Her lashes were thick and feathery, sweeping against her cheeks when she blinked. He noted the bruise on her cheek, her split lip, and he even saw blood on her scalp. When he reached out to inspect the bloody spot on her blond hair, she flinched but he put a big hand on her arm to still her. Carefully, he inspected the split on her scalp. Then his eyes moved down to her ear and he could see a bit of dark blood in the canal. Inspecting further, he noticed that her neck was bruised.
Chrystobel couldn’t see him but she could certainly feel and hear him. She could feel his eyes upon her, inspecting every inch of her, knowing she was lying about what had happened. She knew he would question her on it and she was terrified for that moment. Still, she had to stay strong. She could not let him know the truth. It was her shame alone to bear and she did not want her future husband judging her by such weaknesses or by dark family secrets.
She heard him sigh heavily. “Did you fall on your neck?” he asked quietly.
Chrystobel looked at him, confused and wary. “My… my lord?”
Keller lifted his chin in the direction of her neck. “Your neck is bruised.”
Her hands flew to her neck nervously as if to hide what he had already seen. “I must have hit it somehow,” she replied, her voice weak and soft. “I am sorry that my appearance has been so unsuitable. I will make all effort to make myself presentable.”
Keller suddenly grasped her by the chin and forced her to look at him. When their eyes met, Chrystobel felt an exciting jolt, as if his eyes had somehow reached out to grab her. It was like a lightning strike, quickly come, quickly gone. Her breathing began to come in quick little gasps for reasons she could not understand.
“You will stop saying that,” he growled softly. “You are not unseemly nor are you unsuitable. You are the loveliest woman I have had the fortune to lay eyes upon so I do not want to hear those words from your lips again. But I would know why you feel it necessary to lie to me.”
She looked shocked, blinking rapidly and trying to pull away from him. But he would have no part of it. He grabbed her by the arms with those enormous hands and refused to let her move.
“I… I do not know what you mean,” she lied again, hating herself for it but unwilling to divulge the truth.
“Aye, you do,” he said calmly, watching her face flush pink. “Who did this to you? And do not tell me that you fell because I do not believe you.”
Chrystobel’s heart thumped painfully against her ribs, the strength from the man’s grip both terrifying and thrilling her. She struggled to pull away, bumping into Izlyn in the process. The youngest d’Einen sibling burst into tears.
Keller looked at the young girl, concerned. “Why is she weeping?” he asked.
Chrystobel craned her neck back to look at her sister, watching the girl put her hands over her face. It was difficult to get a good look at her because Keller had her in an iron grip and she was unable to twist around sufficiently. She tried to pull from his grasp but it was impossible. The man had hands of steel.
“Izlyn?” she asked softly. “Why are you weeping, sweetheart?”
The young girl didn’t answer her, bawling into her hands. Chrystobel turned back to Keller, her expression pleading.
“Please,” she begged softly. “Let me comfort her. She is frightened.”
“Of what?”
Chrystobel’s lovely brow rippled. “Of… of you, my lord. She is easily frightened.”
Keller gazed at her intently a moment longer before releasing her from his grasp. Chrystobel turned to her sister and put her arms around her, kissing her head.
“All is well, sweetheart,” she said softly. “You need not be afraid.”
The girl continued to cry and Chrystobel put her hands on the pretty young face, forcing Izlyn to look at her. She smiled encouragingly to the girl. “Look at me,” she commanded gently. “See that I am unharmed? Sir Keller has not harmed me. All is well, I promise. Stop weeping.”