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Izlyn was dancing around with her beautiful new scarf, waving it in the air, but swiftly ran over to Keller when he called her. It didn’t even occur to her that he’d used her nickname, but it certainly occurred to Chrystobel. In fact, she was very touched that he would use the nickname, a family name that intimated affection as if he belonged to them already, and they belonged to him. This man, this enemy, who had been kinder to them than any of their kin had ever been.

As Izlyn ran up to him to see what he had for her, she didn’t expect the exquisite necklace that he held up in the light. In fact, it rather confused her until he motioned for her to turn around so he could put the necklace on her. Chrystobel went to retrieve her polished bronze mirror and she held it up for her sister as Keller placed the necklace on her slender collarbone.

Izlyn’s eyes widened at the beautiful necklace. To her, pearls and garnets looked like the greatest treasure of the most favored queen. She felt beautiful and regal in a way she’d never felt before and she fingered the necklace, awestruck, before looking to Keller in shock. He smiled at the girl, nodding his head.

“It is for you,” he said. “Do you like it?”

Izlyn was overwhelmed with the gift. She threw her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly before swiftly releasing him and darting off. Her right hand remained on the necklace while the left hand held the marvelous scarf. They were gifts beyond compare to a girl who had known so little generosity. As Keller and Chrystobel watched, Izlyn snatched the mirror from her sister and stood close to one of the lancet windows, inspecting her necklace in the weak morning light. The look on her face was all of the thanks Keller needed.

“She is madly in love with the necklace,” Chrystobel said softly, turning to her husband. Her expression was deeply sincere. “Thank you for making her so happy. If I were not already married to you, I would marry you now just to show my gratitude.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “And I would let you,” he said, giving her a saucy wink that made her giggle. Then he turned back around to the remaining items on the wooden chest and pulled forth a corked gourd and an alabaster phial. He extended them both to her. “The small phial is perfume and the larger container is something called ‘waters’. It is used for washing hands or cleansing. It even has some medicinal purposes. I thought you might like it.”

Curious, Chrystobel took both items, inspecting the containers before setting the gourd down on the nearest table so she could smell the perfume. The scent made her gasp aloud with joy and she immediately put it on her arms and neck, just so she could smell it every time she moved. Setting the perfume down, she then popped the cork on the gourd and smelled the fragrant waters inside.

It was a pungent smell, strong and earthy. She looked at Keller curiously. “And I am supposed to wash my hands with this?”

He nodded. “That is what the merchant said,” he replied. “You may wash your hands and face with it, he said. It is also good to drink for medicinal purposes.”

“What kind of medicinal purposes?”

He shrugged. “Of that, I did not ask,” he said. “But there is wine in it, so mayhap it is used to settle nerves or for general malaise.”

She grinned as she sniffed the gourd again but decided against tasting it. As she sniffed it again, she caught a whiff of Keller’s slightly rotted scent as the result of his clothes being unable to properly dry after being caught in the rain yesterday. He smelled most foul and a thought occurred to her. She went in search of a bowl.

“Mayhap you should be the first person to try this,” she said. “Mayhap you would like to wash before we leave?”

He frowned. “I bought that water for you.”

She smiled brightly. “And I am sharing it with you,” she said, not wanting to offend him but thinking that at least a quick washing and a change of clothes was in order. “Would you not allow me the privilege of helping you to wash?”

He just looked at her, a vaguely wry expression on his face. “I am sure it is not necessary.”

Chrystobel wrinkled her nose, trying desperately to couch what she was trying to say. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite come up with a tactful approach.

“I realize that you were caught in the rain yesterday and your clothes have not been properly dried,” she said, “but you smell a bit…”

She trailed off and he lifted his eyebrows to encourage her. “Wet?”

“Rotted.”

He cocked his head but there was a smile on his lips. “Rotted, am I?” he said. Then he shrugged his big shoulders again. “Then mayhap I had better wash so I do not shame my well-dressed wife. But my clothes are upstairs where Rhys and Gart are sleeping, I believe. On the day I arrived, I took most of my possessions up there. I shall retrieve clean clothing and return.”

He quit the room and they could hear his big boot falls heading up to the second floor above them. Chrystobel, wanting to be alone with her husband in order to help him bathe, sent Izlyn off on an errand to the kitchens to pack some food for their journey, simply to get the girl out of the room. Izlyn went happily with her lovely necklace and beautiful scarf. By the time Keller returned, Chrystobel had poured the “waters” into a big bowl and was awaiting him. He closed the door behind him, tossing the clean tunic onto the bed.

“I brought my razor,” he said, holding up what looked like a dirk in a sheath. “I have a feeling I could use a shave as well.”

Chrystobel smiled. “You do look a bit ragged.”

With a grin, Keller pulled the smelly tunic off and tossed it to the ground. “Then I am in your hands, Lady de Poyer. Do with me as you will.”

She did. She had Keller bend over the table, over the big bowl of scented water, and proceeded to scrub him with a horsehair brush she had that was used solely for bathing. She also used a bar of lumpy white soap that smelled of roses because it was the only thing she had, and she scrubbed the man’s head, face, and upper torso with it. Using a linen rag, she wiped the soap off his skin, rinsed out his hair with the heavily-scented “waters”, and proceeded to use the soap on his face again to lather up his beard. But that was where she stopped.

“You will have to shave yourself,” she said. “I have never shaved a man before.”

His dusky eyes glittered. “Then perhaps you should learn,” he told her, removing the razor from its sheath. He handed it to her. “I will sit down. The best way for you to learn is to stand over me, with my head against your belly, and drag the blade up my face towards you.”

Chrystobel wasn’t too sure about it but she did as he asked. When he was seated, she came up behind him and he rested his head back against her breasts. Holding his chin with her left hand, she proceeded to drag the sharp razor up his left cheek, scraping off a portion of his beard. With a few more drags, she grew confident and proceeded to very carefully shave his entire face without a single nick. She even shaved his neck. Thrilled at her first attempt, she used more of the “waters” to wipe off his face, cleaning it of the slimy soap, and stood back to inspect her handiwork.