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“I can write in English,” he said. “I fostered in England in my youth because my father thought it would be wise for me to learn their ways and I learned their vile language, so you needn’t worry over that.”

Colvyn still had doubts. “What about your sister?” he wanted to know. “Wouldn’t she know your writing? What if she sees the missive?”

Gryffyn shook his head. “I am sure that de Poyer would not share his business with my sister,” he said. “She is a mere woman, after all. Why would he confide in her or discuss it with her? Nay, it is a chance we must take.”

Colvyn wasn’t so sure about the risk of Gryffyn’s writing being recognized but he let it go. There was no use fighting d’Einen because, in the end, he would only persuade him otherwise. So he backed off, with nothing more to say, and headed towards the great hall where a meager amount of food awaited. That is the first thing I am going to do upon reaching Nether, he thought to himself. I am going to eat myself into oblivion. He justified his compliance by focusing on his end reward.

Hunger had a way of making strange bedfellows. The wheels of deceiving the English were now in motion.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Early November

In the big master’s chamber that she shared with her husband, Chrystobel was helping one of the house servants tend freshly washed clothing. Since their marriage almost three weeks ago, Chrystobel had come to learn that her husband was somewhat slovenly. Not in the literal, terrible sense, of course, but the man didn’t keep his clothing clean in the least. Therefore, he had several tunics that had hardly been washed, if ever, and that included two heavily padded tunics he wore under his mail coat.

Upon acquiring such knowledge, as it wasn’t difficult considering how badly some of his clothing smelled, she was able to coax him into turning over all of his clothing to her so she could wash it. Keller was embarrassed that his wife had to wash his filthy laundry, but Chrystobel was thrilled to do it.

As she was ironing freshly washed and dried tunics with a hot stone upon a smooth, worn tabletop, she kept hearing what sounded like strained voices outside. Sticking her head from the lancet window that faced north over her garden, she was able to look down and see George and Aimery wandering through her garden, evidently chasing something. She called down to them.

“Watch out for my garden,” she said. “Do not step on anything!”

The knights looked up at her. “We are being careful, Lady de Poyer,” George said, pointing. “There is a rabbit in your garden.”

“And you want to catch it for supper?”

George shook his head. “Your sister wants it for a pet!”

Chrystobel fought off a grin when Izlyn, who had been standing just out of her line of sight, suddenly appeared and waved up at her sister. The young woman was thrilled to have the high-strung Ashby-Kidd brothers as playmates, which they had been for well over a week now. They treated Izlyn like a princess and because of it, she had spoken at least four more words. It was amazing what respect and happiness could accomplish. As Izlyn waved her hands happily at her sister, Chrystobel waved back.

“Be cautious,” Chrystobel warned again. “I do not want to see my flowers trampled.”

The knights didn’t mention that most of the flowers had long since bloomed and were already dead or dying. They simply waved her off and Chrystobel returned her attention to her laundry. It was a clear November day, not particularly cold, and as she focused on her task. Her husband had tasks of his own.

The tallymen were downstairs in the small hall with Keller providing updated tallies and information about Nether’s vast sheep herds. That information had always been Trevyn’s domain and Chrystobel knew little about it, so Keller and his razor-sharp mind took to the business aspect easily. He seemed to enjoy the financial side of Nether’s empire and she was content to run the castle as chatelaine just as she always had. The past few weeks had seen Keller and Chrystobel form a very comfortable and extremely affectionate working relationship as each one settled into their new roles as Lord and Lady Carnedd of the Carnedd Barony.

As Chrystobel carefully rolled up an ironed tunic, her thoughts lingered on Keller. Surely a sweeter, more attentive man had never existed. She was sure of it, in fact. He was always thinking of her first, bringing her a few late-fall posies or a pretty bird feather he had managed to come across. Since their rather rough beginning, there had been no more misunderstandings or harsh words between them, and they had settled into a symbiotic relationship as man and wife. Every night, Keller would make love to her and every morning, he would kiss her awake and do more of the same. He had become very confident in his role as husband and she swore she hadn’t seen him nervously pop his knuckles in weeks. That bad habit seemed to have faded away the more comfortable he became with his wife.

As Chrystobel tucked away the rolled tunic into the large wardrobe that had once belonged to her father, her thoughts were lingering more heavily on Keller and she decided to go downstairs and visit him. It seemed that they were never far away from each other and she left their warm, comfortable chamber and headed down the steps to the entry level below.

As soon as she hit the landing, she could hear voices in the small hall. There were several men in the room, standing around the table that Keller was seated at. He had parchment in front of him and a quill in hand, speaking to one of the shepherds about a young flock that was off to the east. The flocks were heading into winter and their wooly coats were filling in, and Keller was curious about the amount of wool each sheep would produce, but his conversation ended the moment he saw Chrystobel standing in the doorway. At that moment, he had eyes only for her.

He extended a hand to her, inviting her in, and Chrystobel smiled brightly as she entered the room, reaching out to take his offered hand. Keller excused the men standing around him, telling them to go to the kitchens for food, and they eagerly obeyed. Once the men quit the keep and it was just the two of them remaining, Keller reached up and pulled Chrystobel onto his lap.

His big arms went around her, his face buried in her neck. He inhaled deeply, smelling her sweet, musky scent. He’d come to depend on that scent, keeping him a sane and happy man. These past few weeks with her were just how he always imagined a contented relationship would be, only there was more to it. Somehow in the past several days, he realized that he loved her. He hadn’t told her yet, of course, for things like love and emotion were treacherous waters, indeed. He hoped to summon the courage to tell her soon, but until then, he was content simply to feel and breathe her.

“How long has it been since I last saw you?” he whispered.

Chrystobel smiled, her arms around his head and shoulders. “Hours,” she said dramatically. “Mayhap even days.”

He chuckled. “Sometimes it seems like that,” he said, pulling his face from her flesh and gazing at her. “What have you been doing?”

She toyed with his dark hair. “Finishing the last of your wash,” she said. “I spied George and Aimery out in my garden chasing a rabbit for Izlyn.”

Keller grunted. “Those two are supposed to be tending to the collection of horses I have confiscated from your brother,” he said. “I do not intend to keep all of them and would like an inventory and surmised value. And you say they are chasing a rabbit?”

Chrystobel shook her head at him. “Do not become angry,” she said. “It is for Izlyn, after all. I suppose she could always go find Gart and force him to chase the rabbit for her.”

This time, Keller shook his head. “Forbes has more important things to do.”