Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Avalyn looked at the child, who gazed back at her with bottomless eyes. “Feed her,” she said softly.

  “And then what?”

  Avalyn looked cornered, determined and confused all at the same time. “One thing I will not do is allow her to go back to those horrible children. I cannot believe they would beat such a helpless baby.”

  Brogan’s big hand patted her knee. “Don’t upset yourself so,” he said softly. “It is the way of things. Only the strong survive, you know that.”

  Avalyn looked at him, stricken. “So I should have simply left her there to be beaten?”

  He shook his head, the hand on her knee now stroking it comfortingly. “I did not mean that. What you did was most compassionate. But I cannot say I would have done the same.”

  The little girl, sensing that the enormous man wasn’t perhaps as kind as the lady, pulled the cloak over her face to hide from him. Both Avalyn and Brogan laughed softly.

  “You need not fear me, little one,” Brogan said. “I will protect you with my life if the lady says so.”

  He was forced to remove his hand from Avalyn’s knee as the innkeeper brought the first of several portions of food. Big bowls of steaming carrots and cabbage, as well as some kind of meat were put on the leaning table. The skinny lad put a huge wooden tray of brown bread on the table before scampering away. As Avalyn pulled the cloak down to show the child the food on the table, the innkeeper reappeared with a pitcher and three worn cups.

  “I am honored that you would bring your family, mein Herr,” he said, his eyes grazing Avalyn and the little girl. “You must be very proud. Never have I seen such beauty and a girl child who looks just as her mother. Schön!”

  Brogan’s deep blue gaze looked sharply at the man. Avalyn, knowing what little she did about Brogan’s background, did not want to see the evening turn morose or ugly. Though he and the innkeeper knew each other, apparently it was only on an informal basis. Had the man known Brogan in-depth, he would have never made such a comment, knowing the pain it would provoke.

  “Thank you, sirrah,” she said before Brogan could explode. “And thank you for this generous fare. It looks delicious.”

  The innkeeper, red and round-cheeked, went through his quick series of bowing before hustling away from the table. Brogan just sat there, his expression unreadable, as Avalyn unwrapped the cloak enough to set the child upon her knee and move up against the table. As she helped the little girl pull apart a big piece of bread, her gaze inevitably moved back to Brogan. He was emotionless, his gaze on the pitcher of ale.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I did not know what else to say. I did not want to get into a lengthy explanation that was undoubtedly none of his affair. I did not mean to show any disrespect and I am sorry if I upset you.”

  He looked up at her, his brow flickering with puzzlement. “Is that what you think? That you have upset me?”

  She took the big wooden spoon that the child was trying to use to dish out cabbage and carrots, spooning out a careful portion on the girl’s wooden trencher.

  “I did not mean to.”

  He shifted his chair and Avalyn realized that he was moving it very, very close to her. As the child shoveled vegetables into her eager little mouth, Avalyn gazed up into deep blue eyes. Brogan put his massive arm around her shoulder, sitting indecently close. They were mere inches from one another, deep blue on golden brown, feeling the magnetism and power that so easily ignited between them. It was enough to set her heart to racing. He leaned over and kissed her on the temple, his lips lingering on her flesh long after the kiss died away.

  “You did nothing of the kind,” he said, his mouth on her head. “As I listened to his words, I realized that I wished nothing more strongly. And then I realized that nothing is more impossible.”

  She closed her eyes to the feel of his lips on her temple. The racing of her heart made her limbs feel warm and strangely weak. “Oh, Brogan,” she sighed. “I do not want to be without you. I do not want to marry Aubrey.”

  “Then do not. Marry me instead.”

  She looked up at him, her golden eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

  He bent down, sweetly rubbing noses with her. “Never more serious about anything in my life. Marry me and let us leave this place and live where no one can keep us apart. Some place where there is no de Neville and no Edward and no Aubrey.”

  Gazing up at him, she realized that she was more than willing to agree with him. Though the thought had perhaps lingered with her earlier that eve, she had just as quickly chased it away. But now, basking in his presence, she could think of nothing else. A paradise with Brogan as her husband and no war, no politics. She wondered if such a place existed. She had lived so long with the worst intrigue and power struggle imaginable that it was difficult to believe there was actually a world where peace prevailed. A place where she and Brogan could be happy.

  The little girl suddenly turned to Avalyn, distracting her from her thoughts. The big blue eyes were warm with joy, food spread out all over her face. She said something with her mouth full but neither Avalyn nor Brogan could understand her.

  “What did you say?” Avalyn asked with a smile on her lips.

  The child swallowed a huge bite. “Is there sweets?”

  As Avalyn chuckled softly, Brogan lifted an eyebrow. But it was without force. “What do you know of sweets?” he asked.

  The little girl focused those enormous orbs on him. “I had some, once.”

  “You did? What kind?”

  Her expression washed with wonder and excitement. “Burnt sugar.”

  “Burnt sugar?” Avalyn repeated. “Where on earth did you get that?”

  The child turned back to her bread. “A man gived it to me when he hurt me.”

  Avalyn’s smile faded, as did Brogan’s. “What man?” Avalyn asked with quiet puzzlement. “How did he hurt you?

  The little girl truly had no idea of right or wrong, good or bad. She only knew what she knew, having grown up on the streets without anyone to guide or raise her. She shrugged to Avalyn’s question; she had more interest in the food than in answering.

  “He hurt me and then he gave me burnt sugar.”

  Brogan suspected what she meant but he dare not explain it to Avalyn. A side glance showed Avalyn sitting with her eyes closed, tightly, before opening them again. He suspected she knew what the child was alluding to as well but did not want to voice it. Such a thing was common and not particularly shocking. But to such a beautiful child, any child for that matter, it was a horror.

  “You should eat something,” Brogan said, trying to distract her from her revulsion. He poured ale into one of the cups and put it before her. “Have some. It is usually quite good.”

  Avalyn took the cup and downed the contents in three swallows. Brogan poured her some more and poured himself a measure as well. The little girl turned to look at Brogan, smiling with food falling out of her mouth, and sending him into snorts of humor. But the child had no idea why he was laughing and she went back to her meal. Avalyn downed another cup of ale, watching the little girl stuff herself.

  “Poor little thing,” she murmured. “To live on the streets, starving, having no one to take care of her. What do you suppose will become of her?”

  Brogan shook his head. “She will sell herself on the streets as most young girls do.”

  Avalyn knew that. She didn’t know why she asked a rhetorical question. “She’s so young,” she stroked the dirty hair. “Do you suppose we could get her a bath and some clean clothes?”

  “What for?” he asked. “She is going back on the street where she will only get dirty again.”

  His attitude incensed her and she turned to glare at him. “Not if I decide to keep her.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Keep her?”

  “Aye,” she said in a tone that dared him to defy her. “I cannot turn her back over to those evil children that would beat her or men that would… would hurt her.”


  He kept his cool, trying to be detached about the situation. “Avalyn, it is not as if she is a stray puppy. You simply cannot take a child home like a pet.”

  “Give me more credit than that. I do not intend to keep her as a pet. I intend to raise her as my child.”

  “But what if she is already someone’s child? She said that she did not have a mother, but what of a father? What if he still lives?”

  “No worthy father would allow his child to live as she so obviously lives.”

  “Maybe not, but I do not believe you are thinking clearly about this.”

  She turned away from him. He suspected she would have run away from him had the child not been seated on her lap. He squeezed her shoulders gently.

  “I am not trying to be cruel,” he leaned close so his lips where against her temple again. “But you are letting your heart speak and not your head. You’re not thinking…”

  “Just as I do with you,” she cut him off sharply. “I am letting my heart speak and not my head, because my head tells me that I am committing unspeakably foolish acts with you. Do you know what would happen if my uncle, not to mention Aubrey, found us right now? Do you have any idea of the horror that would await us both?”

  Brogan’s good humor faded. He averted his gaze, looking at his lap, unable to answer her at the moment. He knew very well what could happen.

  “It is well worth the risk,” he said after a moment. “Given a thousand chances to make this decision, I would make the same choice a thousand times over.”

  She watched him, the masculine beauty of his face, and felt her outrage ease. “As would I,” she murmured. “I’ve never truly had to make a choice of the heart, Brogan. You have been my very first one.”

  He looked up at her. “Then marry me,” he whispered. “Marry me and let us live happily where the crown and your uncle cannot destroy us.”

  “Now you’re thinking with your heart.”

  “I do not care. It is what I feel and I will not deny it.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “But what about Poupèe?”

  He looked at the little girl stuffing her face. The child met his gaze, letting out a loud burp to which she laughed loudly. Brogan grinned, his enchantment growing. “Her, too, if that is your wish. But I will not call my daughter Poupèe. You must think of a better name than that.”

  Avalyn laughed softly, touching his dimpled cheek sweetly. “I promise.”

  He gazed into her golden eyes, feeling his limbs tingle and his heart swell. He leaned closer to her, feeling her sweet breath on his face.

  “Then you are agreeing? With your heart and not your head?”

  Oblivious to the child between them, Avalyn could focus only on his amazing features. He was so handsome, strong and masculine, so much more than any man she had ever known. Of course she wanted him, and she knew without a doubt that she could spend the rest of her life married to Aubrey and never erase Brogan from her mind. Even in the short time she had known him, their connection was so strong that it was as if he had been tattooed on her heart. She put her hands on his cheeks, stroking the tanned, smooth skin, running her finger over his full lips. Beneath her touch, she felt him shudder.

  “Get the baby a bath,” she murmured, kissing his cheek just close enough to his lips that she did not quite touch them. It was tender, delicious, and wildly erotic. “Give me time to think.”

  His lips brushed against her mouth, so gently that her body ached with a wonderful sort of pain. It was enough to suck every thought out of her head. Just as she leaned in for another kiss, he bolted up and stalked across the room, finding the round faced innkeeper and making demands in German. Avalyn smiled as she watched him send the employees to a frenzy, her smile broadening when he leaned against the bar and turned to look at her. He winked boldly at her, the dimples in his cheeks carving great chasms down his face. Avalyn turned back to the little girl on her lap, her eating frenzy almost at a dead stop.

  “All finished?” she asked the child.

  Poupèe, miserably stuffed, nodded in response to Avalyn’s question. Her mouth was still full but she wasn’t chewing; it was just sitting there. She wiped the hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand, spoon still clutched in her fingers. Avalyn pulled the spoon free and encouraged the little girl to swallow the contents of her mouth. With a great struggle, the child did so. Avalyn lifted her from her knee and set her to the ground.

  “Where are we going?” the little girl asked, rubbing an eye. Already she was sleepy with so much food and warmth.

  “To get a bath.”

  “A bath?”

  “You do not even know what that is, do you?”

  The child just lifted her shoulders unsteadily. Avalyn took her hand and led her away from the table, over to where Brogan now stood with a massive pot of steaming water in his hands. With a tilt of his head, he motioned the ladies to follow him up the narrow stairs into the loft above.

  The innkeeper and the skinny boy were already in the loft, putting water into a big copper tub that looked as if horses had been eating out of it. Avalyn looked at the surroundings, noting a bed with dirty covers and little else. There were no walls, but the loft was high enough from prying eyes of the room. Only those coming just inside the entry had a somewhat clearer view. She led the child over to the bed, stood her up on the lumpy mattress, and began peeling away the filthy clothes.

  She stripped off the only shift the child had, holding it out with disgusted fingers. “Burn this,” she ordered the innkeeper softly, “and bring me something else, anything at all will do.”

  The innkeeper took the torn, soiled shift and held it away from him just as Avalyn had done. “I have no girl child clothes, my lady.”

  “Do you at least have a clean shirt she can use? I shall pay you handsomely for it. And make sure it is warm. Hose, too, if you have any that might be serviceable.”

  The innkeeper looked at Brogan before quitting the loft, uncertainty in his expression. But Brogan gazed back boldly as if daring the man to complain. As the innkeeper descended the stairs with a puzzled expression, Brogan’s gaze returned to the tub. He poured the last of the hot water into it, watching is splash over the sides. Then he tossed the iron pot aside.

  “There,” he went over to Avalyn where she stood beside the naked girl. “Get her in the tub before she freezes to death.”

  Avalyn scooped the child up and plopped her in the water. The little girl howled.

  “What’s wrong?” Avalyn demanded, concerned.

  The little girl’s lip stuck out. “It hurts.”

  “It must be too hot,” Brogan said helpfully, leaning over Avalyn’s shoulder as she picked up the big white bar of soap left by the innkeeper. “Perhaps we should cool it.”

  Avalyn put her hand in it; it was warm, but not too hot. “It’s well enough. She’s just not used to it.” She began pouring it over the child, soaking her. Then she lathered up the soap and went to work.

  Brogan moved away from the pair and sat upon the bed, watching Avalyn, in her deep purple silks, gently but firmly scrub the dirty little street urchin. The child cried initially, but gradually settled down and even started playing in the water. Isobel’s expensive aubergene-colored gown surely should not have gotten wet, but Avalyn didn’t seem to care as the little girl began splashing about happily. When she was washing the child’s hair, a big glob of soap hit her in the mouth but she only laughed. Seated on the mattress, Brogan laughed, too. It was a charming scene.

  The bath didn’t last too long, but Brogan wished it would have gone on for eternity. He could have watched Avalyn tend the child for the rest of his life. She was firm yet tender, sweet and caring. He’d never seen anything so marvelous in his life, but in the same breath, it reminded him a good deal of his mother. She had been the same way with him, with Jeffrey, and finally with Shaw. He knew that Avalyn would make a magnificent mother to his sons.

  Whatever he was feeling for her grew by leaps and bounds in those few minutes he
sat and watched her bathe the baby. He couldn’t have run from it if he tried, and he didn’t want to try. He knew at that moment that there was no possible way he would ever let her out of his sight again, not if all of the de Nevilles in England swarmed over him. He wanted her and he knew she wanted him. They had to be together.

  Rising from the mattress, he went over to Avalyn as she kneeled on the floor by the tub. Seating himself behind her, carefully, he made sure to sit close enough to touch her. Water lapped onto his leather breeches but he hardly cared. He only had eyes for the magnificent lady with the golden eyes and the pale little girl with the white-blond hair. Gently, he reached and tucked stray strands of hair behind Avalyn’s right ear.

  “So what will you name her?” his voice was soft. “Our daughter, I mean.”

  Somewhat startled, she turned to look at him, seeing how close he was. With a smile, she turned back to the child, now blowing bubbles in the water.

  “She looks rather like the lady of the lake, don’t you think?” she replied. “A water nymph from King Arthur’s realm.”

  Brogan had heard the story of the Saxon king from those long centuries ago. “So you plan to name her Lady of the Lake?”

  Avalyn laughed softly, dodging the suds that came flying at her. They missed her completely and hit Brogan in the cheek when he swiftly turned his face to avoid being hit in the eye. Avalyn laughed again as he wiped the froth off his skin.

  “Nay, not Lady of the Lake. But I do like… Lake,” she said softly, watching the child frolic. “Lake du Brant d’Aurilliac.”

  Brogan took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her to face him. His deep blue eyes were intense. “Does this mean that you accept my proposal?”

  Gazing into his marvelous face, she could only think of one reply. She was bewitched, mayhap foolish, but at the moment she did not care. She was giddy with feelings for the man, for the life that loomed in front of them. Perhaps it was a fool’s dream, but it was a dream nonetheless and she wanted to live it. No politics, no kingmaker, and no Aubrey.

  “Aye,” she whispered. “I will be your wife.”