Just when he was seriously considering smashing in the door, he heard the bolt slide and slowly, the door inched open. His mother’s big eyes were gazing back at him.
“Brogan?” she whispered.
He shoved the door in with his foot, basically barging into the room. Before he could open his mouth, he saw a figure sitting at one of the bread tables near the front of the shop. Curiosity, mingled with fear, crept into his veins. Since his step father was away on business, he couldn’t imagine who the figure could be. Until it stood up and stepped towards him.
St. Alban did not look pleased.
Chapter Seven
She had walked right into it.
They had been waiting for her when she arrived in her apartment; her uncle, Charles Aubrey, Inglesbatch, and a nasty looking knight that she did not recognize. One look at their expressions and she knew it would do no good to deny her activities. They already knew. Momentary shock transformed into fear. Fear transformed into hatred. When Inglesbatch grabbed her arm and firmly directed her into the nearest chair, the hatred within her grew. So did the fear.
They kept her up the rest of the night, trying to force her to tell them where Brogan was. He was not in the barracks and no one had seen him. They wanted him so that they could punish him but Avalyn would not tell them anything. Her uncle did most of the interrogation while Charles sat silently by, his expression infused with sadness and, strangely, reluctance. When Richard was finished with his questions, Aubrey had his Captain of the Guard, Sir Barton St. John, try to scare the truth from her because St. John was the only man in the room without any vested emotional interest in the situation. But Avalyn wouldn’t budge and the true test of wills had begun.
St. John gave a good attempt to harass the truth from her, but Avalyn would have no part of it. She was cold, tired and hungry, but they could not break her. She sat in an uncomfortable chair, her head turned and her eyes closed, all but ignoring St. John’s threatening tone. If she opened her eyes, she could see William off to her right, but she could not see his face. She didn’t want to. If he was a part of this, she would grow to hate him, too.
Several hours of intense questions produced nothing. It must have been close to dawn when her uncle gave St. John an imperceptible nod and suddenly, St. John grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes flew open with shock and pain and she saw Inglesbatch flinch menacingly as her uncle held out a quelling hand to him. Furious, Avalyn threw a fist up into St. John’s jaw and sent the big blond knight rocking backwards. Before he could regain his balance, Inglesbatch was in his face and full-fledged brawl erupted. Charles leapt from his chair and separated them in a surprising show of strength and courage and, like good combatants, they went to opposing corners to settle down. But not before William went to Avalyn to see if she was all right. Rubbing the back of her head, she nodded affirmatively, but the tension in the room was thick enough to cut.
“Good men,” Richard held up his hands as he, too, walked towards his niece. “This is getting us nowhere. Obviously, if the lady knows d’Aurilliac’s whereabouts, she will not tell us. I must say that I am proud of her fortitude. I expected nothing less.”
Avalyn wouldn’t look at him, but he was most certainly looking at her. He drew closer.
“Avie,” he said quietly, evenly. “I will ask you one last time, dearest. Where is d’Aurilliac?”
Avalyn kept her face averted and her eyes shut. She heard Richard sigh heavily.
“Very well,” he moved away from her. “Charles, take her this day and marry her. Take her back to Guerdley Cross and claim her as your own. Perhaps then will she forget about d’Aurilliac.”
Avalyn came alive, then. “Nay,” she roared, the golden eyes shooting fire. “I shall never forget about him, no matter how hard you try to force me.”
Richard was back in her face faster than the blink of an eye. His thin face loomed above her, angry de Neville to angry de Neville. The intensity, the rage filling the air between them, was frightening.
“Tell me where d’Aurilliac is or you marry Aubrey this very hour,” he snarled.
Avalyn’s first reaction was to flare, match fury for fury, but she admirably steeled herself. “You are going to marry me to him anyway. What advantage is there for me in that statement?”
Richard did not back down, but he almost smiled. Touché, Avie. Even so, he would not be out-maneuvered by a woman. “I was actually thinking on dissolving the betrothal,” he said in a casual lie. “But no more. I will do you no favors when you are so blatantly rebellious.”
“I am not,” Avalyn insisted hotly. “Why is it rebellious to fall in love with a man you do not approve of?”
“He’s the infantry sergeant for Edward. Need I say more?”
“But he doesn’t know anything.” Suddenly, she was verging on tears. “He follows orders; he does not create them. He’s not involved in these silly politics and he doesn’t care about intrigue or deception. He’s just a man, Uncle Richard. He’s a man unlike any man I’ve ever known. Why must you fight me so much on this?”
Richard was not swayed. “Maybe he is not involved in politics or intrigue. But you are.”
Avalyn wasn’t sure what he was driving at. “What do you mean?”
“Who is to say that through d’Aurilliac, you have unknowingly helped Edward?”
Her eyes widened. “Is that what you think?” she hissed. “You’re mad. You’re all mad.”
“The only way you can prove it is by marrying Aubrey. Otherwise, d’Aurilliac is a spy and spies must be killed.”
“And if I refuse to marry Aubrey?”
“You cannot and you know it.”
Avalyn’s golden eyes blazed at him a moment longer before lowering her head. She could feel the tears on the surface, pain pushing them forward with a force she had never known. She had made a promise to Brogan, one she desperately wanted to keep. But they wanted him, to punish him, and she would not allow it. Not when the man had already been through so much. More English knights to belittle him and strip him of his dignity. She would not have it, and she would do what she could to prevent it.
“I will make you a bargain,” she said softly, hating herself as the words came forth.
Richard looked at her with interest. “A bargain? What would that be?”
Her head came up and the tears she had been fighting off suddenly spilled over onto her cheeks. They trickled down, dripping off her chin.
“I will go peacefully and marry Aubrey,” she whispered. “But you must promise to leave Brogan alone. You will not touch him, ever. You’ll very much regret it if you do, I swear it. You’ll know treachery and rebellion the likes of which you’ve never seen.”
Richard’s face was hard. Avalyn was privy to so much private information that he had no doubt she could, and would, carry out her threat. After a moment, he shook his head with puzzlement.
“He is simply a man, Avie,” he said softly. “Why would you risk so much over one man?”
“Because he is my man. I love him.”
“So you would sacrifice everything?”
“Without hesitation.”
Richard let out a heavy sigh, turning to look at Charles. The red-faced fiancé stared back at him, that same expression of sadness and reluctance on his face. Richard almost felt disgust as he looked at him, sensing he was sympathetic to Avalyn’s plight. Weakling, Richard thought.
“If I agree to your terms, you will promise me in return that this entire situation with d’Aurilliac is finished,” Richard said, his voice without the force it had possessed earlier. “I want this done, Avie. It’s over.”
“May I at least say good bye?”
“No.”
The tears fell faster then, but she managed a weak, resigned nod. The ambiance of the room was dark, sorrowful, as Richard reached down to take her arm. Now that the hard politics were finished, he could be her uncle again. But she jerked her arm away.
“Nay,” she whispered. “I will go with William.”
Richard looked at Inglesbatch, silently gesturing him to take the lady. Without another word, Richard, Charles and Sir Barton quit the room. William waited until the chamber was quiet before moving to Avalyn. No matter if he’d tried to warn her; his heart was breaking for her. She was a strong lady, but she wasn’t unbreakable. Richard had done to her what he was so capable of doing; he had crushed her. William could read it in her manner.
“My lady,” he began softly.
She suddenly burst into loud, painful sobs. William went down on one knee beside her, his big arm going around her shoulders. She wept as if her heart was shattered in a million pieces.
“It will be all right,” he comforted her. “I will go with you to Guerdley Cross. I will not leave you alone, I swear it.”
She grasped his tunic, forcing him to look her in the eye. She was so close to him that if William had stuck out his tongue, he would have licked her. Her beautiful face was coated with tears.
“Do something for me, please?”
“Anything at all, my lady.”
“Go to Brogan and tell him what happened. Tell him that he must stay away until I can think of something. I beg you, William. Please do this for me and I’ll never ask another favor again.”
His first reaction was to refuse. After everything they had just been through, now she wanted to pull William more deeply into it. But he was already in it. He had been from the beginning.
He sighed heavily. “Lady….”
“I beg you, William.”
“If I am discovered, my punishment shall be far worse than yours.”
“I know,” she murmured, gazing into his round blue eyes. “But I would not ask you if it was not the most important thing in the world to me. Please, William. I beseech you.”
“My lady, I cannot….”
“Please, William. Please do this for me.”
He swallowed hard, feeling like an idiot. It went against his better judgment, but he could not refuse her, not when her entire life was in upheaval. Not when he was so deeply in love with her.
“All right,” he said it so softly that she barely heard him. “Where is he?”
“If he is not in the barracks, then he must be at his mother’s bread shop, to the east of the Tower along the avenue that borders the training field.” It was the little bit of information that they had tried to force from her for the past fifteen hours, flowing from her lips so freely now. “If he is not either of those places, then I do not know. You will have to ask St. Alban de Sotheby, the old knight he rooms with at the barracks. Perhaps he will know.”
William didn’t say anymore. He knew he should not be doing this, but he couldn’t stand to see her so unhappy. He pulled her to unsteady feet and half-carried her from the room. She was so exhausted that by the time they entered the corridor, he swept her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way back to the apartments. By the time they reached the warm, lavish chambers, she was asleep against him. She was exhausted, and so was he.
Leaving Avalyn with her very sympathetic aunt and oblivious cousins, William made excuses and went about his duties. One duty in particular.
“St. Alban,” Brogan said steadily. “What are you doing at my mother’s shop in the dead of night?”
The old man was in no mood for games or pleasantries. “Trouble, Brogan. Very big trouble. Where have you been?”
Brogan’s gaze moved between his stricken mother and the old man. “Out,” he said. “What trouble has happened?”
His mother sudden burst into sobs. “Ach sind, Brogan, die soldaten nachdem sie!”
Brogan looked at her. “What soldiers?”
“De Neville’s men,” St. Alban’s face was grim. “Brogan, what have you done? Where is Lady Avalyn?”
Brogan remained characteristically calm. He could see that he and Avalyn’s evening had not gone unnoticed and fear began to take hold in his belly. He suddenly very much wished he had not left her at the Tower.
“You will start from the beginning and tell me why you are here,” he said to St. Alban. “But first, I must get my daughter into bed.”
Mama Stark’s sobs instantly lessened in favor of blatant shock. Her big blue eyes widened to the point of bursting when Brogan shifted the bundle in his arms and a sleeping little face came into view. Tears forgotten altogether, Mama Starke raced to him, nearly bowling him over in her haste.
“Brogan, what is this?” she demanded, though not unhappily. “Was haben sie?”
Brogan gazed down at the child, a smile on his lips. What he said was loud enough for St. Alban to hear. “This is Lake du Brant d’Aurilliac. She is my daughter and Avalyn’s daughter. We plan to be wed tonight.”
St. Alban closed his eyes in sorrow, shaking his head and turning away as Mama Starke ignored the implications of that statement other than the fact that Brogan now had a daughter. Several hours of abject terror, caused by St. Alban’s appearance and explanation, were now vanished. She reached out a fat hand and touched the pale little cheek.
“Oh, Brogan, she is so lovely,” Mama became choked with emotion. “But I do not understand; how is she your daughter? You do not have a daughter. And she belongs to Lady Avalyn, too?”
Brogan shifted the baby and placed her in his mother’s arms. The old woman began to weep silently at the sweet presence of the baby and Brogan put his massive hand on her shoulder. “We found her starving in the streets,” he explained softly. “The other children were making her beg for coin and then beating her when she did not get any. Avalyn has decided to adopt her as our daughter.”
Mama Starke’s sobs grew. “Oh, mein liebling kleines baby,” she murmured. “Poor little thing. She is so tiny and helpless.”
“She is tiny, but she is anything but helpless,” he told her. “I am proud to call her my own and I would ask that you tend her until Avalyn and I return for her.”
Mama Starke tore her gaze away from the child. “You are leaving?” she fearfully looked at St. Alban. “But the soldiers are looking for you!”
Brogan looked at St. Alban also. The old man had seated himself back in the chair at the front of the shop, staring out of the front window. Brogan wasn’t sure he wanted to hear all of it but knew he had no choice. He patted his mother on the shoulder.
“Take her upstairs and put her to bed,” he commanded softly. “She is your baby now, too. Take great care of her.”
Mama Starke didn’t need to be told twice. She kissed the sleeping child on the cheek and carried her up the narrow steps to the second floor chamber. Only when she was out of earshot did Brogan approach his old friend. He pulled up a three-legged stool from beside the hearth and sat, his big body tense.
“Now you will tell me everything,” he growled.
St. Alban sighed heavily; he looked far older than Brogan remembered. The old man shifted in the squeaky chair and looked up at him. “What is the meaning of that child?”
“You heard me. The lady and I have claimed her as our daughter. We plan to wed this night.”
St. Alban looked sick. “Do you have an idea how badly you have complicated things? You don’t need the added burden of a starving child to tend. And a wedding is out of the question.”
“My future plans are not your concern. Tell me what has happened.”
St. Alban lifted an eyebrow with a tinge of irony; what hadn’t happened this night? “De Neville’s knight came to me this evening looking for you. It would seem that Richard and Lady Avalyn’s fiancé were out scouring the town for the two of you and he wanted to know where you had gone so that he could find the lady before her enraged uncle did.”
Brogan gazed steadily at him. “And so they did not find us.”
“Brogan, did you even know the lady was betrothed?”
“I did, but it is an unwelcome one. She does not want it.”
St. Alban shook his head wearily. “It does not matter what she wants; the fact remains that she i
s contracted to another. You have no right to focus your attentions on her.”
Brogan’s jaw ticked. “I love her.”
“But she belongs to someone else!”
St. Alban was growing agitated. Not wanting to get into a verbal altercation with him, Brogan shifted the subject slightly. “Where are de Neville’s men now?”
He shrugged weakly. “Not being able to locate you or the lady, they have gone back to the Tower to wait. You cannot return to the barracks; they are waiting for you there, too. Where is the lady?”
“She has returned to her apartment.”
“Then they have her.”
Brogan stood up so swiftly that the stool toppled. “I must go and…”
“Nay,” St. Alban grabbed him before he could move away. “If you go to the Tower, they’ll kill you. Brogan, no matter how strong you are, they will overwhelm you by sheer numbers. I beg you; for your sake as well as the lady’s, do not go back to the Tower. You’ll be walking into your death if you do. Is that what you want?”
Brogan glared ferociously at the old man, but in the same breath, knew he spoke the truth. But he could not just stand by and do nothing, which was what St. Alban was asking him to do. Confused, furious, his big body began to twitch. That which he feared was coming to pass and he could see his entire life crumbling again before his eyes. But he fought it; this time, he would not give in so easily. He would fight.
“No,” he rumbled. “But I cannot stand by while they punish her. Is that what they are going to do? Punish her for being with me?”
St. Alban lifted his puffy shoulders. “I do not know,” he said truthfully. “The knight that came to me – Inglesbatch – seemed to be more sympathetic to the lady’s plight than spurred with the overwhelming need to see her punished. He convinced me to help him find the two of you so that he could intervene on the lady’s behalf. But we could not find you, no matter where we looked. So we returned to the Tower, and I came here alone, hoping to find you.”
Brogan’s face was taut with emotion, thinking on Avalyn at the mercy of her uncle. “You did not tell Inglesbatch of my mother’s shop?”
Romantic Legends Page 14
