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“My thanks,” she breathed heavily, pushing the hair from her eyes. “How fortunate that you were here to save me.”
Keller gazed down at the woman. She was petite with gold-colored hair that fell in great silken sheets. In spite of the fact that the rain had dampened it, it was the most beautiful hair he had ever seen. But when she shoved the hair from her face, he was doubly-intrigued. Her face could only be described as exquisite. She looked up at him with great brown eyes, big and round with a fringe of dusky lashes. Her features were delicate and lovely, her cheeks red from the weather. For a moment, he was speechless. It actually took him a moment to move past the wonder of her beauty to realize she had spoken to him.
“I would say it was most fortunate,” he replied, tearing his gaze away from her to look up the slope. “Where did you come from?”
She struggled to stand and he held on to her a moment while she steadied herself. “Up there,” she pointed to the obvious. “I was chasing a wounded rabbit.”
“For supper, no doubt.”
She gave him a lopsided grin. “Not really. I felt sorry for the poor little thing.”
“And you were going to heal it rather than eat it?”
“That was my intention.”
“Seems like an incredible waste of effort.” Keller took his hands from her because she seemed steadier. Still, his gaze moved over her. He couldn’t help it. She was magnificent. “You are from the castle.”
Chrystobel returned his gaze, curious about him now that her fright had eased. “I am,” she replied. “And you are with the Marshal’s men.”
“How would you know that?”
“Because you are not from Wales. I can tell by the way you speak, your manner of dress, your fine charger, your….”
He held up a hand to silence her, though it was done in a light-hearted way. “I can see you are a bright woman. Clumsy perhaps, but bright.”
She laughed softly, displaying a beautiful set of white teeth with slightly prominent canines. Keller was instantly captivated.
“I am not always clumsy,” she informed him, her brown eyes warm with humor.
Keller regarded her a moment. In truth, he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. “Beth ydy’ch enw chi?”
Her delicately arched eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Your Welsh is perfect,” she commented. “To answer your question, I am the Lady Chrystobel d’Einen of Nether Castle. May I know your name also, my lord?”
Keller stared at her, the surprise of her identity not lost on him. His first reaction was one of resistance followed just as quickly by one of great interest. The two responses tumbled over in his mind, crashing into one another until all he felt was confusion. But the lady was expecting an answer and he struggled to give her one that didn’t sound too extreme one way or the other.
“I am Sir Keller de Poyer,” he replied after a moment.
He was positive she would know the name, the stranger who was to become her husband, and was somewhat surprised when she did not react. She continued to gaze at him with a politely friendly look on her face.
“How long will you be part of the English contingent posted at Nether Castle?” she asked.
He was puzzled by her response and he was also strangely offended. He cocked his head. “Does my name not mean anything to you?”
The polite smile was fading. “No, my lord, it does not. Should it?”
He scratched beneath his visor. “Aye, it probably should. It is the name of your husband.”
That bit of information received a reaction. Her smile faded completely and her eyes widened. “You… you are my husband?”
He nodded. “Now tell me what you were really doing out here. Were you running away?”
She appeared struck. “Why would I run?”
“I should think that would be fairly obvious.” When she continued to look deeply confused, he elaborated. “From me. From our marriage.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, my lord. It is as I told you. I was chasing a wounded rabbit and slipped. There is a trail upslope,” she pointed up the mountainside, “that leads from the postern gate of Nether.”
He glanced up the side of the mountain, seeing a small sliver of black as it cut through the green of the slope. His gaze returned to the petite, beautiful woman in front of him. If he could admit one thing to himself at that moment it would be that he was glad she was lovely. It made this honor forced upon him a little easier to bear. He realized he was a little less reluctant than he was just moments earlier. Additionally, he was glad that she had not been attempting to run away. Even if he had been…well, almost.
