Kathryn Le Veque (15 page)

Chrystobel screamed again, louder than before, and ran for the hall door, but Gryffyn was faster. He grabbed her before she could reach the exit, yanking her away from the panel so that she fell onto the floor. Once she was down, he kicked her in the leg just because he could. He wanted to see her cry.

“You little bitch,” he snarled, stalking her as she wept and struggled to crawl away. “You betrayed me! I told you what would happen if you betrayed me!”

Chrystobel was beyond panic. Her greatest fear was now a reality before her and she was nearly frozen with terror.

“Please, Gryffyn!” she cried. “Please do not kill me!”

Gryffyn was beyond fury. He was in the realm of madness as he watched his sister struggle across the wooden planks. When she tried to get to her feet, he hit her on the head, so hard that she fell back to the floor, only half-conscious. It pleased Gryffyn immensely. Now, she would make an easy target for him, easier than their father had made. He could hardly believe the luck of finding her without more than one escort. It had been a stupid thing for her to do, but he knew her to be stupid. As he gazed down at the struggling woman, the only thing he could feel was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction that he would have his way, one last time, as he pulled the sharp blade of his dirk across her tender throat.

“I told you what I would do if you did not prove your loyalty to me,” he rumbled. “You have always been foolish, Chrystobel. I tried to discipline you, to mold you, but you were stubborn.
Too
stubborn. Now see what it will cost you.”

Chrystobel was barely conscious, struggling to shake off the buzzing in her head, but she could hear him, somewhat. She was full of fear and sorrow.

“Nay,” she breathed, struggling to lift her head. “Gryffyn, you… you must not. Please do not.”

Gryffyn gazed unemotionally at the woman he had grown up with. She was his sister, that was true, but only by blood. She meant nothing to him, no more than the dogs in the great hall did. She was a possession and little else. He felt absolutely nothing as he listened to her plead for her life. In fact, he liked to hear her plead. It excited him.

“After I kill you, Izlyn is next,” he said, looking at the bloodied dirk in his hand. “She is a defective creature. She should have been drowned at birth.”

Chrystobel was in tears as she turned onto her belly and began clawing at the floor, dragging herself along as she tried to get away from him. The world was spinning and the floor rocking unsteadily, but she could not give up. She had to fight.

“God help me,” she gasped, clutching at the floor and breaking her nails down to the nub. “
God help me
!”

Gryffyn heard the pleas as she cried into the darkness, but her prayers were meaningless to him. All that mattered was that he accomplish his task and return to hiding, waiting for the opportunity to kill again. He watched his sister drag herself across the floor, passing through part of the bloody puddle as she went. It created dark streaks across the wood, dragged along by her heavy robe.

“That is Father’s blood, you know,” he said casually. “I told you I would kill him if you betrayed me and I did. How does it feel, Chrystobel, knowing that you killed your father? It is your fault I had to do it. If you had only killed de Poyer like I told you to, none of this would have happened.”

Chrystobel was sobbing openly now, grieved for their father and terrified that her life was coming to an end. There was so much she had yet to do and see. Her world had been relatively small, as she’d told Keller when she’d first met him. He had promised to take her to Paris and now that would never happen. Perhaps someday they might even grow fond of one another, or even have children, and now she wouldn’t know the joy of either event. She was so very crushed, knowing any dreams she ever had were about to come to an end.

Behind her, she could hear Gryffyn’s boot falls approaching. He was coming to kill her and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. The room was still swaying and she was struggling to get to her feet without success. But there was one thing she could do. She could scream as loud as she could and pray someone heard her. Pray someone heard her before Gryffyn slit her throat and she could scream no more.

The boot falls were coming closer.
Death
was coming closer. Chrystobel began screaming at the top of her lungs.



“Your wife is near the great hall,” William sounded breathless as he spoke. “She is looking for her father, Keller.”

Keller had been just inside the doorway of Tower Night, speaking with George and Aimery about the state of Nether’s armory, when William found him. He’d only meant to speak to the twins about the security of the fortress with Gryffyn on the loose but he had been distracted by the Welsh weaponry. It was rather impressive. But with William’s appearance, he was jolted back to the reality at hand and immediately craned his neck out of the doorway in search of Chrystobel. It was a bright day and he squinted in the light, searching for signs of his wife. But she was nowhere to be found and looked to William, puzzled.

“Where did you leave her?” he asked. “I do not see her.”

William, too, began searching the area for any sign of the petite woman with the long blond hair. “I told her to wait by the great hall,” he said, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. “I told her I would bring you to her.”

Keller came out of the tower, heading in the direction of the great hall. “You said that she asked for her father?” he asked William. “By God’s Bloody Rood… what a damnable mess this is. What did you tell her?”

William was marching along beside him. “She wanted to know if I had seen him,” he replied. “I was not going to tell her the truth. I told her to remain by the hall entry and that I would bring you to her.
You
can do the telling.”

Keller was still looking around even as he made his way to the great hall’s entry, a massive oak panel that was braced with a great iron cage for stability and protection. He was increasingly concerned that he couldn’t seem to locate her in the big expanse of the bailey.

“Do you suppose she went looking for Trevyn?” he wondered, turning to look at William. “You had him removed from the hall, didn’t you?”

William nodded. “I had some soldiers take him away,” he replied. “They said they would take him to the storage area near the stables until we could decide what to do with him.”

Keller sighed sharply. “I do not want her stumbling upon anyone who can tell her what happened,” he muttered. Then he hissed a curse. “I should have gone directly to her chamber when I left the hall but I paused to speak with George and Aimery. Then we started discussing the inventory in the armory. I sincerely hope my foolish delay does not cost me more than just the time spent.”

William was looking over to the keep, straining for a glimpse of a blond head. “She could not have gone far,” he said. “Do you suppose she went back to her chamber?”

Keller pointed in the direction of the keep. “Go and see,” he instructed. “I will see if she is in the hall. In fact….”

He was cut off by the faint sound of a scream. It was muted, and vague, and he came to an abrupt halt, looking around the bailey as if to discover the source.

“Did you hear that?” he asked William, curiously.

Wellesbourne nodded. He, too, was looking around the bailey for the origins of the distant scream. “I did,” he said. “It sounded like a woman.”

Keller was on edge. “Where did it come from?” he demanded. Then, he pushed William in the direction of the keep. “See if it came from the keep.
Run
.”

William was off, racing across the mucky bailey, as Keller turned in the direction of Tower Night. George and Aimery were still standing in the doorway and he motioned to them.

“Kidds!” he bellowed. “To me!”

The twins came running, their youthful energy cracking in the early morning air, the feisty young men looking for excitement. Keller opened his mouth to speak when another scream, this one very loud and frightening, pierced the air.

Keller whirled in the direction of the great hall. It seemed to come from there. He broke into a sprint, closing the distance to the great hall in a matter of seconds. The Ashby-Kidd twins were on his heels, all of them barreling into the great hall. George and Aimery were moving so fast that Aimery actually tripped over George and crashed to his knees. What they saw immediately upon entering the dark and smelly chamber shocked them all to the bone.

Keller was throwing himself at Gryffyn before he even realized he was moving.

                           

CHAPTER NINE

The blow to the jaw sent Gryffyn reeling.

Sprawled on the rough oak planks of the great hall, Gryffyn shook the stars from his eyes and looked up to see the big English knight moving in for another blow.

Keller had fists the size of a man’s head, but Gryffyn was fast. He managed to roll out of the way and leap to his feet although his balance was off and he ended up bashing into the corner of the hearth. But Keller was coming in for another blow and Gryffyn threw himself to his left, away from his sister’s enraged husband. He knew, by the look in the man’s eye, that he meant to kill him.

Gryffyn tried to lash out a fist at Keller, but the knight was just too fast and too strong. Keller grabbed Gryffyn’s fist, twisted, and ended up snapping his wrist. Gryffyn fell to his knees, screaming in pain as Keller stood over him in a huffing and furious stance. His dusky eyes were smoldering with fury.

“So you have been hiding here all along, waiting for the proper moment to strike,” Keller hissed. “You are a coward of a man, d’Einen - a wretched and vile coward. Now that I finally have you, I intend to do what should have been done long ago.”

Holding his wrist, Gryffyn glared at Keller with eyes as dark as obsidian. “If I am a coward, then you are a fool,” he growled. “You cannot stop me. Nether and everything in it belongs to me, including my sister!”

It was the wrong thing to say. Keller reached out and used his fist to hammer on Gryffyn’s broken wrist, sending the man into howls of pain. But Keller was immune to it. His focus was both deadly and intense as he watched Gryffyn squirm.

“She is my wife now and I swear, by all that is holy, that you shall never lay another hand on her again,” Keller rumbled. “I knew someone was beating her but she would not directly tell me who it was. For all of the pain and humiliation you have cast upon her, she still protected you. God knows why, but she did. How long was this going on before I came, d’Einen? How long have you been beating on helpless women to make you feel more like a man?”

Cradling his wrist against his chest, Gryffyn was in a world of hurt. “You bastard,” he grunted. “You come to my castle in all of your haughty, conquering glory and marry my sister because my weak and foolish father made a pact with the Devil.”

Keller’s eyes blazed. “William Marshal has nothing to do with you taking your fists to your sister.”

“You only married her to gain a castle. Do not act as if she means something to you!”

“It does not matter if she means something to me,” Keller was struggling not to wrap his hands around the man’s neck, although he knew, eventually, that it would come to that. It was just a feeling he had. “She is my wife and I will protect her. I will tell you this now, Gryffyn d’Einen, so there is no misunderstanding. If you so much as look at her in a hostile manner again, I will run you through. Make no mistake. If you touch her again, I will kill you.”

Gryffyn wasn’t used to being questioned or disciplined. He had always done as he pleased. Deep down, he was a spoiled little boy with a spoiled little mind. With a growl, he propelled himself off the floor and charged Keller with all of his furious might. Keller easily reached out a massive fist and caught Gryffyn on the side of the head, knocking the man silly. Gryffyn fell on his bad wrist, collapsed in a heap, and began to bellow.

Keller gazed at the man, not at all sorry for the pain and suffering he was feeling. Had Keller possessed any less self-control, the man would be wallowing in a pool of his own blood. He deserved all of the justified agony and more. In fact, Keller was purposely making the man suffer. He wanted him to feel the pain he had inflicted upon Chrystobel, and upon his family, for untold years. He wanted Gryffyn to feel the humiliation and hurt. As Gryffyn writhed in agony, Keller turned to his wife.

Chrystobel had managed to crawl over to the hearth and now sat propped up against the wall, her dark eyes wide with shock. Keller’s appearance at the most opportune time had been startling enough, but watching her husband pound her brother was a vision of violence and retribution that she never thought she would live to see. Gryffyn was finally subdued and Keller was the reason, protecting her as he had sworn to do. He was a man of his word, English or no. The realization was almost more than she could bear and she gazed at the man, seeing him through entirely new eyes.

This wasn’t the same knight she had met the day before, the man who had shown little to no warmth. That Keller de Poyer was an efficient, humorless man who, she was sure, had viewed her just as he viewed Nether Castle; as an acquisition. The big knight with the wide shoulders and enormous hands hadn’t treated her with anything more than polite respect until this moment in time. Having seen Gryffyn preparing to pounce on her was all Keller needed to unleash his fury against the man, as if Chrystobel meant something to him. As if he was protecting something dear. It had been a truly awesome sight to behold and she was still quite stunned by it all.