Avalyn’s free hand was on Brogan’s arm, full of warmth and yearning. He gazed down at her, studying that magnificent face, knowing that what he wanted at the moment was not necessarily the right thing to do. He wanted to take Avalyn and flee. But it would be at the expense of a good man.
“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded with her softly. “Tell me and I shall do it.”
Avalyn sobbed softly, taking her hand off of William and wiping her face. She pushed against Brogan, being enveloped in his powerful embrace. His hand was on her head, his big arms around her body and his face buried in the top of her head. He just stood there and rocked her, feeling her weep against him.
“Tell me, Avalyn,” he murmured into her hair. “What do you wish for me to do?”
“I cannot let William go back and face my uncle’s wrath alone,” she whispered. “I must go with him. Only then will suspicion be spared.”
“As you wish,” Brogan muttered, not wanting to hear the words but knowing they were for the best. “Should I still wait here for you to return?”
She pulled back to gaze up into his handsome face. “Aubrey is leaving the Tower today and I am going with him,” she said quietly. “He is taking me to Guerdley Cross in Merseyside. Do you know where that is?”
Brogan shook his head, defeat and grief in his eyes. “You must go?”
She laid her head against his chest again, drawing strength from his soothing, powerful embrace. “I do not believe there is a choice at this moment,” she said. “But rest assured that I will delay any wedding. I will not marry the man, Brogan. You have my vow. I will think of a way for us to be together, I swear it.”
He could do nothing else but hold her. The anguish, the helplessness he felt, was indescribable. In his torment, his deep blue gaze found William; the man was gazing at Avalyn with a tremendous amount of sorrow in his eyes. When Brogan spoke, it was to William.
“You are going with her?” he asked.
William nodded. “Aye.”
“You will take care of her, then.”
“I will indeed.”
Brogan swallowed hard. “See that you do until this difficulty is behind us. For now, I have no other choice but to trust you.”
As William nodded, Avalyn lifted her head again, gazing up at Brogan one last time. “Do not despair, my angel. Take care of Lake and know that we will all be together again, soon. But we must get through this tribulation first.”
Brogan knew that, but it did not make the situation any easier. He cupped her face in his great hands, studying her beautiful features one last time. He had no way of knowing when next he would see her, touch her, taste her. The kiss he delivered was enough to send her sobbing again. It was William who finally reached out and took her from Brogan, pulling her gently with him as she struggled to compose herself.
“If we are to return, we must do it now,” William said softly, firmly. “Any further delay will only aggravate the issue.”
She knew that. She also knew that William was doing what she could not do at the moment, what was best for them all. He was separating her from Brogan. One of them had to be strong. She was almost through the door when she paused to look back at Brogan.
“You have my heart and my love,” she whispered. “Be strong with it. Depend on it. I will send word to you when I can.”
Brogan smiled weakly, feeling as if the life was draining from him with every step she took. “As you also have my heart and my love. I will wait every day for you to send word.”
William had her outside, in the alley, and lifted her up onto his horse. It was like trying to lift so much dead weight, as part of her was still resisting him. Brogan moved to the doorway with St. Alban on his arm, the old man making a symbolic attempt to prevent Brogan from running after her. There was so much sorrow filling the air that it was affecting all of them like a suffocating fog. St. Alban was sure that it he let go, Brogan would throw himself in the path of the charger.
William, in fact, could no longer look at Brogan. There was too much pain in the man’s eyes and William was disturbed by it. He mounted behind Avalyn, wrapped his arm around her waist, and spurred his horse away from the shop. Brogan stood there, watching them go, with St. Alban’s gnarled hand still holding on to him. His claw-like fingers dug into Brogan’s flesh. When Avalyn and William were out of sight, the sounds of hooves fading into the distance, Brogan slouched against the doorframe as if his bones had suddenly turned to liquid. Instead of holding him back, now St. Alban tried to prop him up.
“Inside, my friend,” he pulled the massive man into the darkness of the shop. He tried to steer him into a chair as Mama Starke, having made herself scarce during the course of the conversation, suddenly emerged from the kitchen with a big trencher in her hand. The two of them hovered over the devastated man.
“Eat, Brogan,” she whispered. When Brogan looked up at her, he saw tears all over her face and knew she had heard everything said between him and Avalyn. “Eat and be strong. The baby will be awake soon and she will need her papa.”
The baby. Their baby. Mama Starke was trying to give him something positive to focus on but all it did was remind him of his destruction. Brogan looked back down at the trencher, filled with bread and cheese. He just stared at it. Then he tried to pick up a piece of cheese, not knowing what else to do. He was numb. But the moment he picked up the morsel, the tears came. He dissolved into gut-wrenching sobs as his mother and St. Alban stood by in mute witness.
It was something neither one of them ever wanted to see again. It nearly broke St. Alban’s heart. But he wasn’t one to let a situation slip away, especially one as critical as this, without trying to resolve it. He had to help.
He had an idea.
“Brogan,” he put his hand on the man’s heaving shoulder. “All is not lost, lad. You must trust me.”
Brogan wiped at his eyes, his nose. He hadn’t wept since the death of his father; not even his son’s death had brought on such a raw level of emotion. What he had felt for Shaw’s passing had been deep and agonizing and he had congratulated himself for his self control. But what he felt for Avalyn was new and tender and spilling out all over the place.
“Trust you how?” he sniffed loudly. “There is nothing to do but… wait.”
St. Alban’s mind was working swiftly. “I fear we should not. I fear we must take action if you do not want to lose the lady.”
“Action? What action?”
St. Alban met the man’s deep blue gaze as Brogan struggled to compose himself. “Can you be ready to travel in an hour?”
Brogan’s tears were fading. “Why?”
“Can you?”
“Do you have a plan?”
Brogan’s softly weeping mother broke into the conversation. “Listen to him, Brogan. He will help. Er wird helfen!”
Brogan didn’t look at his mother, but he felt the impact of her words. At this moment, he wasn’t thinking clearly and he knew it. He had to trust that others could.
St. Alban could see his confusion. “Aye,” he murmured. “I have a plan. Be ready to leave in an hour.”
“I have need of you.”
St. Alban’s words were softly uttered. Thelchtereia, Aglaope and Peisinoe weren’t sure if St. Alban meant one of them, or all of them. He stood in the doorway of their musty chambers, exhausted to the point of collapse, which was strange for the normally kempt man. Moreover, he wasn’t a usual customer. None of the girls had ever pleasured him. Thel lifted a dark eyebrow.
“Which one of us, St. Alban?” she asked. “Aggie has been up all night and Noe…”
“I do not mean what you think I mean. And it’s not me who truly needs you; it’s Brogan.”
Noe and Aggie were suddenly not so tired. They visibly perked at the mention of Brogan’s name.
“Where is he?” Aggie asked eagerly, grabbing for the hose she had just yanked from her skinny legs. “I will go to him.”
St. Alban held up a hand before the three of them work
ed themselves up into a frenzy. He could already see their enthusiasm at the mere mention of Brogan. The reality of his purpose must be made clear before the girls succumbed to fits of excitement.
“It is not what you think,” he held up his hands to stop the eager tide. “We have a very serious situation on our hands. Brogan is in trouble and I do not believe I can help him by myself. I need your assistance.”
Surge of excitement fading when they realized that Brogan’s needs were not physical, the girls settled down with a mixture of disappoint and curiosity.
“What manner of trouble?” Thel asked with some suspicion.
The old man sighed, his faded eyes full of remorse and fatigue. “Trouble of the heart.”
Thel was the only one of the three that didn’t look completely perplexed. In fact, she looked rather concerned. A glimmer of understanding came to her dark eyes. “That lady that was here, isn’t it? The one who returned my gown?”
St. Alban nodded. “Brogan is in love with her and she with him. But her uncle is Warwick and has separated them.”
Thel’s eyes widened. “Warwick?” she gasped. “The man is more powerful than God. What do you expect to do?”
St. Alban knew it was foolish. He’d spent the better part of the past hour concocting this scheme, listening to Brogan weep and piecing together a course of action. For a man who had been useless for years, he felt more alive, more powerful, than he ever had. It was his youth returned, even for a futile cause. But he was determined.
He smiled weakly. “Have you ever been to Merseyside?”
“Merseyside?” Thel repeated. “Why do you ask?”
St. Alban put his arm around Thel’s shoulder and pulled her into the dim, smelly chamber. Before the door closed softly behind them, quiet words could be heard into the corridor.
“There is a party from the Tower leaving for Merseyside at some point this morning. Can you be ready?”
The door was almost closed. “Be ready for what?” Thel could be heard saying.
The panel snapped shut.
They were on the road north before noon. Avalyn had decided against riding her big bay colt, the very same horse that had caused her introduction to Brogan, instead choosing to ride in a small cab that was a gift from her future husband. Pulled by a matching team of white horses, it was rather confined but comfortable. Moreover, it gave her an excuse not to ride next to her intended. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts and did not want to have to be a part of Aubrey’s attempts, though kind, to come to know her better. She just wanted to be left to herself.
Strangely, that sentiment didn’t seem to extend to William. Her uncle had agreed to allow Inglesbatch to accompany her and she kept him around her like a shield, watching him puff up every time Aubrey’s captain came around. Though most of what Avalyn knew of Barton St. John was his hair-pulling and interrogation tactics, he seemed almost cordial as the party bound for Merseyside completed its assembly. Charles, of course, couldn’t seem to do enough for the lady as they prepared to leave. He was very nearly groveling at her feet the entire time and Avalyn was very quickly coming to feel some distaste for him; he was coming across as weak and spineless, though his behavior during her interrogation told her otherwise. Having thrown himself between St. John and William when the men started fighting, she knew that Charles was stronger, and more fierce, than he let on.
But it still did nothing to erase her distaste of him from her lips. When the party was complete, all trunks loaded and a contingent of forty de Neville men in place for the lady’s comfort, Charles mounted his fat gray Belgian warmblood and the party moved out.
Avalyn was not surprised that her family had not come out to bid her farewell. Perhaps it was a last note at their displeasure in her actions; she suspected it was her uncle’s decision alone as a show of his disapproval. With all she had meant to the man, for as close as they had been, she found his absence stinging. Glazing up in the windows of the apartments, she saw Isobel and young Anne with their faces pressed against the windows, tears on their faces. They waved wildly when they saw they had Avalyn’s attention. She waved back and blew kisses. Standing next to Isobel was her aunt; the woman gazed emotionlessly back at her niece as the carriage began to pull away. Just when Avalyn was nearly out of eyeshot, her aunt blew her a gentle kiss. That gesture alone caused Avalyn to crumble completely. Even if Richard would shun her, Anne would not.
Sobbing softly into her kerchief, she noticed little as the cab pulled out of the tower and traveled the road that would take them to the main highway north and west. As the party paralleled the Thames, she gazed over the water, watching the cloudy sunlight play off of the ripples. It was spring and the ground was just coming to life after a particularly hard winter; patches of green dotted the gray landscape, grew in gutters and on patches on thatched roofs. Somehow, the weather reminded her of her feelings; mostly gray with patches of green. There was hope among the desolation. Something deep inside her had sprouted and would not give up without a fight. No matter how gray the world looked at the moment, she had to cling to that hope.
She didn’t know how long a thick red charger was walking next to her. It seemed as if it had always been there but she was just coming to notice it. She could see a big red neck and head. Peering out of the window, she gazed up into Inglesbatch’s strong, round face. His big blue eyes gazed at her steadily through his raised visor.
“Does my lady require anything?” he asked pleasantly.
She shook her head. “I just wanted to see if you were there.”
“I am.”
“Where are we stopping for the night?”
William’s gaze moved to the head of the column where St. John and Aubrey rode. “Beaconfield. Perhaps even as far as Wyecomb if the weather and stamina hold out. But I believe your fiancé is concerned with your health and will leave the decision to you.”
“Has Aubrey said anything to you about my disappearance this morning?”
He shook his head. “No more than he said to your uncle.”
Avalyn thought back to that moment a few hours ago. She and William had barely made it back to the Tower when Aubrey happened upon them, sitting on a carved bench in the courtyard of the White Tower. It had been a good cover; they made it seem as if they had been sitting there, talking, for quite some time and Aubrey hadn’t been the wiser. “What more could he say when he found us sitting in the courtyard of the Tower speaking of the weather?” she asked rhetorically.
“Nothing.”
“Do you think my uncle suspects you?”
“My trust with your uncle has been long established. I hope that he would believe that I found you in the courtyard and kept you with me to prevent you from doing anything foolish.”
“Do you think that’s why he agreed to let you accompany me to Guerdley Cross?”
“You told your aunt that you were afraid of St. John. I believe it was Lady Anne that convinced him to send me for your protection.”
Avalyn fell silent a moment, thinking how much William had done for her over the past day. He had always been loyal. But his behavior over the past several hours went beyond normal loyalty. She had no idea how she could ever thank the man.
“Just as long as you are not suspect,” she said quietly. “That is all I am concerned with at this moment.”
William lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps I am not suspect, but all eyes are still on you. Even if Lord Aubrey is willing to overlook your behavior where it pertains to d’Aurilliac, St. John isn’t. The man is no fool.”
“He is loyal to Charles just as you are loyal to me. I do not fault him his loyalty.”
William didn’t say what he was thinking, that he suspected the real trouble from this point would be Barton St. John. Though he did not personally know the man, he had a reputation for having the eyes of the hawk, the ears of a bat, and staunch loyalty to Warwick’s cause. He would bear watching.
“How are you feeling?” William changed the subject, not wanting to
dwell on darker things at the moment. “Do you feel strong enough to make it to Weycomb?”
Avalyn shook her head. “Honestly, I would like it very much if we could stop in Beaconfield. I did not sleep last night and would like to find early rest this eve.”
“As you wish.”
“William?”
“Aye, my lady?”
“Do you think Brogan is all right?”
He was silent a moment. “He is a warrior, my lady. He has learned to control his emotions over the years.”
It wasn’t much of an answer. William suddenly spurred his charger forward and Avalyn watched the red beast’s butt as it flanked the troops in front of her, dirt flying from its hooves as it raced up the road. But she soon lost sight of the animal at the head of the party and she sat back in the cab, sighing heavily as the reality of the situation settled. She had never felt more alone.
The settlement of Beaconfield was a larger village with an inn in the center of town called the Bright Pony. When Aubrey’s party pulled into town, St. John sent the men to the outskirts of the town to set up camp while he and Charles went into the inn to procure rooms for the night. William stayed with Avalyn, protected against the evening’s chill inside her cab. There were few words spoken between them, as they were both exhausted from a day and night without sleep. Avalyn’s exhaustion was more mental than physical.
Charles and Barton emerged from the one-storied inn a short time later and approached the cab. William eyed Barton, standing very close to the cab door and refusing to move as if to provide a physical barrier between Avalyn and Aubrey’s man. But both Charles and Barton were quiet congenial and almost passive.
“My lady,” Charles said. “If you are ready, I shall take you to your room.”
Avalyn nodded faintly, gathering up her heavy cloak and emerging from the cab with William’s help. But the moment her feet hit the ground, Charles took her from the knight. Avalyn looked a little panicked but calmed quickly, realizing that Charles had every right to escort her. In fact, he had nearly every right to do with her as he pleased. They did not re-enter the inn but rounded the corner, heading around back. Avalyn looked over her shoulder at the carriage and trunks left behind under guard.
Romantic Legends Page 17
