Avalyn looked at him, forlorn and weak. She was struggling with defeat, struggling not to let it overtake her. But it was a losing battle.
His jaw ticked as he continued.
“Agree to marry Aubrey this night and I swear that your friends shall go free,” he said quietly, firmly. “Inglesbatch will go back to your uncle without a word of why he’s been sent back, d’Aurilliac will be sent back to London under escort, and the old man, whoever he is, will be released outside of Guerdley and sent along his way.” He took a step closer to her, his hands now on the iron grate. “Avalyn, you are betrothed to Aubrey. No matter how much you love d’Aurilliac, or how much you think you love him, the truth is that you and he will never be able to live a normal life in England. And here is where your family is; it is where you were born, where you have wielded considerable wealth and power your entire life. Never imagine that a life of poverty with a foot soldier is something you will be grateful for in the long run. If you marry Aubrey, you will be thankful that you did your duty, that you married whom you were told to marry, and that you retained your honor and dignity. Running off with d’Aurilliac will only bring you resentment and regret in the years to come. You must understand this.”
By the time he was finished, she wasn’t feeling so disoriented. In fact, much to her horror, he made a good deal of sense. “Why would you give me such advice?” she whispered. “You’ve held no great love or respect for me. Why should you help me?”
“’Tis not you I am helping,” he said, though by the expression on his face, she could see that it was not the truth. “I serve Aubrey. You are making him miserable and he’s done nothing to deserve it. By your behavior, you have demonstrated that you are not worthy of him, yet he wants you all the same. Do something right, my lady. Do what you have been pledged to do. Regain your honor and cease with these lies. It does not become you.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment before he turned and walked away. Avalyn’s gaze moved with him, watching him fade up the dark stairwell. St. John’s words left a lingering aftertaste, soft yet unmistakable. The more she dwelt on them, the more powerful they became. Then she looked at the men in the cell across from her; Brogan had a black eye, St. Alban looked haggard, and William was just plan miserable. She knew that their despair was all her doing. Barton was very correct and very wise.
“Is he right?” she whispered as if the thought suddenly occurred to her. “Have I lost my honor? Have I been so horrid and deceitful that I have defiled myself completely?”
No one answered right away. Brogan’s deep blue eyes glittered at her with bottomless emotion, brimming with sentiment that reached out to touch her. It had been the first time he had seen her in nearly two days and the sight of her in a cell, weary and beaten, was almost more than he could take. Her words were destroying him.
“You did what you had to do,” St. Alban said, seating on the dank straw behind Brogan. “We all did what we felt was right. It is immoral for two people in love to be kept apart. We took a chance to help you. But that chance has failed.”
“It has not failed,” Brogan growled, his hands gripping the iron bars and his eyes riveted to Avalyn. “It has only been delayed. She is not married to him yet. There is still a chance.”
“It is over, Brogan,” St. Alban said, stronger. “You have been defeated.”
“I have not been defeated,” Brogan roared even before St. Alban finished his sentence. “I will not give up. I will continue to fight until there is nothing left to fight for.”
“And look what it has gotten you,” William said from his other side, his voice strong and resolute. “Look where you are, d’Aurilliac; you’re in a dungeon. Your lady is in a dungeon and all of the people sworn to help you are in a dungeon. Your pride has condemned us all.”
Brogan whirled on William. “So you would give up? You would waste every effort you have made to help us? Why would you crumble so easily, William?”
William’s round blue eyes did not back down from Brogan’s intense expression. “Look around you and ask yourself if the fight is not over.” He moved away from the mossy stone wall, making his way towards Brogan. “I told you I wanted to see Avalyn happy. More than anyone, I wanted to see that. I agreed to help you both when I knew very well that it was wrong. But this plan was risky from the onset; like a house of cards, if one card fails, the entire structure crumbles. Somehow, somewhere, a card failed. I do not know where or how, but it did. Now there is nothing left to salvage. You heard St. John; if Avalyn agrees to marry Aubrey this night, then they will let us go. I believe that is a show of infinite mercy considering this is not the first time that you and Avalyn have been caught trying to run off together. If you try again, they will kill you. Know when you have reached your limits, man, if for no other sake than for Avalyn’s. She has far more to lose than you do.”
Brogan did not want to agree with him, but something deep inside him was struggling to burst free, to be heard, and to concede that the fight was, indeed, over. He looked over at Avalyn; she was crying, tears running in rivers down her cheeks and onto her neck. He couldn’t stand her tears. As always, he found himself deferring to her, wanting so badly to keep fighting but knowing that William was, by all accounts, more than likely right.
“Avalyn,” he said softly. “Tell me what you want to do. Tell me what to do and I shall do it.”
She blinked, fat tears dripping off her lashes. “Oh, Brogan….”
“Do not cry, mein schatz,” he murmured. “There is no need for tears. Tell me what you want to do.”
The sobs came forth and she wept softly before answering. “Perhaps William is right,” she whispered. “Perhaps… perhaps the fight is over. As much as I love you, and will always love you, there are stronger forces at work against us. Look at William and St. Alban; they are all but ruined. We did this to them, you and I. We must beg their forgiveness and right our wrongs. We must not be selfish any longer.”
Brogan gazed at her, hearing her words, knowing that she was preparing to surrender. Gripping the iron bars, he hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off the tears and the cries of anguish. He ended up crumbling, falling to his knees, lethargically rolling over onto his buttocks and leaning his back against the old iron grate. He sat there, staring into the darkness of the cell, pondering the future now that Avalyn was slipping away from him.
“No, Avalyn,” he breathed. “God, please, no….”
“We must, Brogan,” she sobbed quietly. “To save your life, and William’s life, and St. Alban’s life… we must.”
“But I cannot….”
“You must, Brogan. We must.”
He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. There was a long, heavy pause before he finally spoke. When he did, his voice had the resonance of a dead man.
“If that is your wish, mein schatz, I will abide by it.”
“It is over, Brogan.”
“Aye, my lady. There will be no schritte der herrlichkeit for us. It is over.”
Steps of glory. His words took all of the strength from her body. Avalyn collapsed on the dank cell floor, her tears flowing freely. Brogan turned to face her, reaching his arm out between the bars, trying to touch her. She saw his hand and she extended her arm though the restrictive grate, her fingers stretching for him, wanting so badly to feel him.
“I love you, Brogan.”
“And I love you.”
Twenty inches and an entire country separated them.
Chapter Fifteen
One month later
It was the most lavish wedding anyone in attendance could remember seeing.
The bride was clad in yards of ivory satin and jewels, while the groom, red-faced and sweaty, was giddy throughout the entire ceremony, so much so that he dropped his Bible, dropped the ring, and had difficulty standing from prayer. Barton stood close behind him most of the time, as Aubrey seemed to be having trouble holding his balance. He laughed and attributed it to his nerves and too much wine. Aval
yn thought he looked rather sickly, but she too attributed it to the excitement. She’d never seen someone so completely thrilled.
Uncle Richard and Aunt Anne were in attendance, as was young Anne. Isobel was with Clarence, having married him two weeks prior in London. Avalyn was sorry she had missed the ceremony for her cousin’s sake, but she had been busy planning her own ceremony and trying to focus on something other than her complete misery. Every time she thought of Brogan, she would burst into tears. She had gone about her tasks with no heart and no soul, a former shell of her once-vital self. She was, for all intent and purposes, dead.
But there were small things to be thankful for even in the darkness that surrounded her. Charles had showed his true benevolence the day she had agreed to marry him without delay; he had Brogan and St. Alban escorted from Guerdley Cross that very day under St. John’s watchful eye and, in a complete show of mercy, allowed William to remain. After his anger had calmed and profound remorse set in for his show of temper, he was eager to make amends to the lady.
Though Avalyn had agreed to marry him immediately, Charles knew that everyone, especially the de Nevilles, were expecting a massive affair. To marry her in a ceremony lacking pomp or circumstance would have not be fitting to either of their stations. Therefore, with Brogan gone and on the lady’s word that any relationship between she and Brogan was forever ended, Charles agreed to postpone the wedding for a few weeks so that a sumptuous event could be planned.
In the weeks leading up to the ceremony, William kept a very discreet presence around Avalyn. If Charles wanted to be near her, he would politely excuse himself. No longer was he the cloak that shielded her from her betrothed; Avalyn had made it clear that it was no longer necessary. Even so, William felt some jealousy and concern over Aubrey’s unchaperoned visits with the lady. For some reason, he still felt the strong need to protect her, even from her intended. Aubrey was a good man, a benevolent man, but he still didn’t like him close to Avalyn. He wasn’t good enough for her, in William’s opinion. But perhaps there was just the smallest part of him that didn’t think anyone was good enough for her.
But the day came when she indeed became Lady Aubrey. After the enormous mass in the cathedral of St. Helen, the couple and their guests retreated to Guerdley Cross for the three-day celebration that would follow.
Dusk on the day of the wedding was a brilliant scope of pink and blue hues as the salty sea breeze infiltrated the land. The keep of Guerdley Cross was warm and well-lit, and well-wishers wandered in and out of the keep, bringing their merriment to the bailey and congregating in loud groups. High on the battlements over head, William watched the events unfolding, his gaze lingering on the familiar standards of de Neville as they now flew over the keep of Guerdley Cross. The marriage gave Richard that right, to announce to all that Guerdley Cross was now part of the Warwick family.
Avalyn hadn’t seemed overly emotional about anything, William mused silently. He had half-expected tears and hysterics, but instead, she had steeled herself as he’d seen her do so many times. Before she had met Brogan, she had always been in control of her emotions, unusual for a woman. But with the introduction of the big Germanic soldier, she’d finally allowed herself to feel something. Then she was asked to steel herself again. He wondered bleakly if she would ever allow herself to feel anything ever again.
She had been quite stoic, an odd scene when one considered how excited Aubrey was. Even now, he could imagine her in the great hall, chalice in hand as Charles toasted their marriage. There wouldn’t be much thrill to that, but she would drink to their happiness and pretend like she cared. It made William sick to think that the life had gone out of her.
“A lovely evening.”
A soft voice roused him from his thoughts. Startled, William turned to see Avalyn standing next to him, wrapped in a fabulous ivory brocade cloak with gold thread and white rabbit fur. It was an amazing garment that Charles had ordered commissioned especially for the wedding. With her hair piled in an elaborate arrangement atop her head, courtesy of Aggie, Avalyn looked stunning. He smiled at her.
“Lovely indeed, my lady,” he said. “Why aren’t you inside enjoying your debaucherous orgy?”
She laughed softly, the first smile he’d seen from her all day. “It is too hot in there,” she said. “Besides, everyone is drunk, including Charles.”
William’s eyebrows lifted. “Even your uncle?”
She nodded. “Both he and my aunt. In fact, my aunt has had so much wine that her ladies have taken her up to her chamber. If it wasn’t so pathetic, it would be funny.”
William did indeed soft softly with laughter. His round blue eyes lingered on her a moment before gazing off across the compound again. “An impressive wedding, Lady Aubrey. You should be most proud.”
Her smile faded, her golden eyes following William’s. “It is what Charles deserved. Even if this marriage is a farce, at least the ceremony looks real enough. At least the man will keep his dignity.”
“And you?” William leaned forward on the battlement, his elbows resting against the stone. “Have you kept yours?”
She shrugged. “I exchanged my happiness for it. I should hope so.”
William kept silent to that. He didn’t want to bring about memories they were all attempting to forget. He shifted on his big legs. “Your uncle wants to take me back to Warwick,” he said. “Now that you are Lady Aubrey, he feels that my work here is finished.”
She looked at him, eyes wide. “But… I do not want you to go, William. You are my very best friend. Who will I talk to? Who will know everything about me and advise me?”
He patted her arm through the heavy brocade. “You have your ladies. And you have your husband.”
For the first time all day, she began to show signs of cracking. “It is only your presence keeping me sane, William. If you leave, I shall surely crumble. I shall be lost.”
He didn’t want to leave her, either, but for entire different reasons. But he remained resolute. “You? Lost? I do not believe it. You’ll be ruling this place within the month. God help Aubrey.”
“No, William, you cannot leave,” she was growing more agitated. “I need you with me. Especially now that…”
She abruptly broke off, looking away, looking uncomfortable. He smiled at her. “Especially now that you are married? That reason, more than any other, supports the fact that I should return to Warwick. Aubrey has tolerated me long enough. I doubt his good humor will hold out much longer.”
She shook her head. “It’s not… that.”
“What, then?”
She shook her head again, pulling the cloak more tightly about her shoulders. The golden eyes drifted across the festivities below. “Oh, William,” she suddenly sobbed softly.
He looked at her, concerned. She hadn’t wept all day and he hoped a breakdown wasn’t coming. “No tears, Avalyn,” he said softly. “You are Lady Aubrey now. You have station and reputation to uphold. You have a beautiful castle and a husband who clearly adores you. There is much to be grateful for.”
“I am in trouble,” she whispered.
He peered more closely at her. “What trouble?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. Then, very slowly, her gaze focused on him once more and he could see how utterly distressed she was. “It’s… it is just that I have no one else to tell. I’m so frightened. I need your help.”
His brow furrowed though he tried to keep light of the situation. “You’ve never been frightened of anything in your life.”
“I am frightened of what will happen when Charles finds out.”
“Finds out what?”
She swallowed hard; he saw it. “That I’m pregnant.”
He looked at her for a long, painful moment as the words settled. His first reaction was one of volcanic proportions; everything within him threatened to erupt all over the place. But in a last moment of sanity before the explosion, he saw the look on her face and knew that she could not take his emotional
outburst. So he forced himself to take a deep, cleansing breath, banking the fires of fury that were surging. It was a moment before he could speak.
“Brogan?” It was all he could say.
She nodded. “No matter what you think of me at this moment, William, know that I always believed I would be his wife, up until those few weeks ago when his presence was discovered here. We loved each other deeply and this child was conceived in love. That is more than any child that Charles and I may have can lay claim to.”
He couldn’t look at her any longer; he felt like a jilted lover, a betrayed father, a slandered brother. But if he was feeling this way, he could only imagine what Aubrey would feel. The mere thought almost sent him into a panic. When he heard her soft sobs again, he reached out and squeezed her arm.
“I do not think poorly of you,” he whispered. “My respect for you shall always be of the highest regard. And I know that you loved Brogan very much. I know that you believed you would be his wife.”
She wept into her hand. “What will I do? Help me, William, for I cannot think clearly at the moment. My thoughts are numb.”
He couldn’t help it; he pulled her into his arms, holding her close to comfort her. She clung to him.
“Do not worry, my lady,” he whispered into her elaborate hair. “Stay calm. I will think of something.”
“You cannot return to Warwick,” she insisted, pulling away and struggling to compose herself. “I need you here.”
He pursed his lips in agreement. “I would say that you do.” Initial shock fading, his mind was beginning to work. “How… advanced is this pregnancy?”
She sniffled, wiping the remainder of her tears away. “A few weeks at most. Very early.”
William’s jaw ticked in thought. “Early enough that Charles might think you conceived on your wedding night?”
She looked blankly at him. Then her face crumpled again. “I… I have to let him…”
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