He couldn’t help but think of her at times, however, knowing she was now Lady Aubrey and wondering if life was good to her. It was his wish for her, truly. He could never think ill of her no matter what; his relationship with her had, if nothing else, showed him he was indeed capable of living and loving. She had shown him such love and humor and devotion that he had come away from it a much richer man. Still, he wished she would have married him. He wished it every single day.
This morning had dawned warm and bright, the humidity from the river in July already creeping into the still London air. Brogan had risen before dawn to start the fire in the ovens for his mother and to begin his chores for the day. He had wood to chop and a roof to mend, and he was perfectly content going about his tasks.
Lake, however, heard him get up and she rose, too, rushing to him with a hug and a kiss to start his day. His mother had given her a daily duty, and that was to collect the eggs from the chickens they kept out in the alley behind the shop. Therefore, Brogan dressed her in a little tunic and hose, with little boots on her feet, and together they went out to collect eggs from the chickens that sometimes liked to peck. Lake was fearful of them but Brogan encouraged her, going so far as to push the chickens aside so she could move in and collect the eggs. He had just ushered the little girl and her basket full of eggs back into the house when he caught movement in the alleyway.
A man appeared in his periphery and Brogan turned casually to see who it was. For a moment, he simply stared at the man because he wasn’t entirely sure that he was not hallucinating. William stood there, clad in armor and looking particularly weary, and Brogan just stared at him. He even blinked his eyes, thinking William would disappear, but he didn’t. He was still there. Jolted, and suddenly unable to breathe, Brogan rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Inglesbatch?” he asked hesitantly. “Is it… you?”
William nodded, exhaustion in his movements. “It is,” he said. “I was hoping to find you here. I did not want to go hunting all over London.”
Brogan had no idea why he was filled with terror, but he was. He couldn’t seem to shake a massive sense of foreboding.
“Why?” he demanded. “What has happened? Why are you here?”
William stared at him a moment before looking over his shoulder, off into the small passageway that separated the bread shop from its neighbor. Brogan found himself looking there, too, feeling like a perfectly sane man until Avalyn suddenly appeared.
Then, it was if all of his control left him; strength and heart and mind drained right out of him at her appearance and he staggered, falling to one knee. The shock was too great. His collapse brought William and Avalyn running, both of them grasping his arms to keep him from falling further.
“Brogan?” Avalyn gasped. “Are you well?”
Brogan looked at her, his mouth hanging open, as she held on to his left arm. He stared and stared at her and, as they watched, tears popped to his eyes.
“Avalyn?” he breathed. “Is it really you? Or am I dreaming again?”
Seeing the tears in his eyes poked holes in Avalyn’s control and her eyes welled up. She’d had three weeks to plan what to say to the man and she thought she had a perfect speech prepared, but the look of astonishment on his face completely disrupted her statement.
“You are not dreaming,” she whispered, a lump in her throat. “It is me.”
As realization dawned, Brogan ripped his right arm free of William’s grasp and cupped Avalyn’s face, staring at the woman as tears popped from his eyes. Seeing that Brogan was weeping, Avalyn broke down completely. His touch against her skin, the big and warm hands, dissolved every last shred of composure. God, she had missed him. There was so very much to tell him.
“Why are you here?” Brogan demanded hoarsely. “Why have you come? Has something happened?”
Avalyn struggled to speak coherently. “I came to tell you that I am widowed,” she wept. “Brogan, there was so much I had planned to tell you in a manner that was calm and rational, but I cannot seem to do that at this moment. Forgive me. I came because… because I love you more than anything on this earth and I want to know… I do not blame you if you do not love me any longer considering everything that has happened, but I had hoped….”
His answer was to cut her off, brutally, as his mouth clamped down over hers. It was a kiss of such power and longing that the force behind it bled out of his very pores. It swamped her, enveloped her, and cloaked her with its potency. His arms went around her, holding her against him, listening to her soft sobs as he suckled her lips, tasting her tears along with his.
“I love you,” he whispered in between kisses. “I do not care why you are here, only that you are. For all time I will love you and only you.”
Avalyn’s weeping turned joyful, throwing her arms around the man’s neck and squeezing him tightly. Happy, joyful kisses rained down upon them both, from one to the other, each one of them demonstrating the thrill of the reunion. The bliss was beyond measure.
“Oh, Brogan,” Avalyn gasped. “I am so sorry for all you had to go through. I put you through so much… I can only plead for your forgiveness. I never meant to hurt you or mislead you.”
Brogan was suckling her lips furiously but he eased off, instead, taking a moment to gaze into her beautiful, flushed face. He didn’t think he’d ever see those delicious features again and, like a starving man, he was eating his fill.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he assured her, his voice quivering. “Love took us through a strange and difficult course and there is nothing to forgive, for anything. But tell me… you said you are widowed? What happened to Aubrey?”
Avalyn took a deep breath, struggling for calm. “He died on our wedding night,” she said softly. “I am Lady Aubrey and his estates belong to me, but I could not… I had to come, Brogan. I had to find you.”
He studied her carefully. “Why?”
“To find out… to discover if you would be willing to marry me and take me away from England,” she said. “We cannot stay here, Brogan. My uncle would never let us have a moment’s peace. I fear this is our last chance and we must take it if… if you are still willing.”
Brogan stared at her a moment before a smile broke out on his lips. It spread across his entire face and the tears threatened to return. “Marry you?” he repeated. “I will marry you this day and we shall go wherever you wish. De Neville will never find us.”
Avalyn gazed at him as if hardly believing his answer. “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Oh, Brogan… are you certain?”
“Of course I am!”
Relieved, overwhelmed, Avalyn burst into soft sobs and Brogan wrapped her up in his big arms, rocking her gently. It was the best sensation in the world and his heart, so badly damaged, was miraculously healing, stronger than before. Every heartache, every trial and tribulation, faded from his mind as if it had never happened. The human heart was forgiving that way. He had Avalyn back and that was all that mattered. As he held her, he happened to catch a glimpse of William standing off to his right.
The man looked sorrowful and Brogan knew why. Brogan knew because he had, in fact, had the same expression when he thought Avalyn had been lost to him forever. As he held Avalyn, feeling her sobs of joy against him, he gaze locked with William’s.
“Thank you for bringing her to me,” he murmured. “You are a true and faithful knight. And I swear upon my life that I will take good care of her.”
William knew that; the reunion between Avalyn and Brogan was breaking his heart, wishing with all his soul that it had been him with his arms around her and not Brogan. But he knew it was not to be. He was resigned to it. Now, it was time for him to move on and make his own life, a life that no longer included the hope of Avalyn as his wife. Now, he was free, but he knew he was leaving her in very good hands. There was nothing more for him to do. After a moment, he smiled faintly.
“I know you will,” he muttered. “But you have no idea what you are getting in to,
truly. She is very stubborn sometimes. You have my permission to spank her.”
Brogan grinned, nodding his head in understanding. “Did you ever spank her?”
“I never had the heart to.”
“What makes you think I will?”
William grinned as well, a moment of levity and relief. As he gazed at the pair, he knew their path wouldn’t be easy but as long as they had one another, he was sure that even though the rough times, their love would endure. He’d been wondering the entire trip to London if bringing Avalyn to Brogan had been the right thing to do and at this moment, he could see that it was. All of the struggle, all of the adversity and chaos the two had been through, this was the sweetest reward of all. It had been worth it. He couldn’t help but be happy for her.
With a nod of his head, an acknowledgment that his job was over, he excused himself and turned for his horse. He wasn’t needed here any longer. But Avalyn’s voice stopped him.
“William?” she called.
He paused to look at her. “My lady?”
Avalyn gently pulled herself from Brogan’s embrace, making her way to William and standing in front of him. For a moment, she simply looked at him. Everything she wanted to say was in her expression and he understood. Gratitude and adoration and fondness was reflected there. But after a few moments of staring, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. Leaving him with a kiss on the cheek, she whispered softly.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “You are the most loyal and true friend anyone could ever have and I will never forget you.”
William, struggling with her bittersweet words, gave her a quirky smile. “See that you do not,” he told her. “I expect you to name your first born son after me.”
“I swear it shall be done.”
“It had better.”
Avalyn grinned, watching him as he walked away to collect his charger. She continued to watch as he spurred the beast down the avenue, kicking up a small could of dust in the warm air until he disappeared from view. Nay, she would never forget him. None of this would have been possible if it had not been for him.
He was a true friend, indeed.
William received a missive a year and a half later, a roll of vellum sealed up in a well-worn leather pouch, that had originally been delivered to Guerdley Cross and St. John had forwarded to him at the de Neville seat of Warwick Castle. He had been taking his morning meal when a soldier had delivered it and, with curiosity, he had opened the pouch only to discover that the contents were from Avalyn. Holding it up in the light, he read the entire thing with great interest.
He grinned at the part describing the birth of big, healthy, and loud baby William Tygor de Neville-Aubrey in Dresden, in the earldom of Saxony. Everyone was healthy and happy, and Brogan had become a knight in the service of the House of Hesse, Earls of Saxony, as his father had been before him. He was finally where he belonged, as they all were, including baby William who was, in reality, an English baron who had inherited the Aubrey estates.
Both William and Avalyn, as well as Brogan, William suspected at this point, knew that the child was not Charles’. But it didn’t matter. It would keep the Aubrey estates in the Aubrey name, and the baby would grow up with the advantages and wealth that Brogan could have never provided for him. It was a secret between the three of them, something not even Barton knew, but William wondered, upon the return of young William Aubrey to Guerdley Cross, if someone needed to let Barton in on the secret should the boy look like his real father. It was an interesting prospect to consider for the future.
Avalyn ended her missive with the words Schritte der herrlichkeit. William had to find someone who spoke Germanic to have the words translated. Steps of Glory, he was told. He didn’t really know what she meant by it, but he suspected.
She’s finally found her happiness, after all.
The End
Bonus Chapters: The original ending of FOR LOVE AND HONOR
This is the original ending starting at Chapter Sixteen. It is left to the reader to decide which ending you like better. Enjoy!
Chapter Sixteen
“The physics knew he had a bad heart. He did not want anyone to tell you.”
Exhausted, cold and sickened, Avalyn sat in the solar in the pale gray of the coming dawn, listening to Barton’s soft explanations. The weddings guests were still about, having not been told of the groom’s death. For the moment, those that knew were still in shock. Especially Avalyn.
“Then you knew, too?” she looked at Barton, her voice soft and weary. “So this was nothing surprising, then?”
Barton drew in a long, slow breath. “It is not surprising. Shocking, aye. The man is only thirty three years old. But he knew his heart was bad. Why do you think he was so eager to marry? He wanted to at least have a wife to leave his estates and titles to, and hopefully any children.” Barton’s gaze fixed on her, guardedly. “Is there… a possibility of children, my lady?”
Avalyn didn’t dare look at William, standing in the shadows just inside the doorway. She could feel his gaze upon her, questioning, sympathetic. So Barton must not know of Charles impotency, she thought. Had he known, he would not have asked such a question. She lowered her head, staring at the smoking embers in the massive hearth. She was so very tired of lies and deception, but one more was necessary for all their sakes.
“Aye,” she murmured. “There is a possibility.”
Barton took a deep, cleansing breath as he nodded his head. It was clear that the man was struggling with his grief. The events of the past few hours had been disheartening and startling. He was still having difficulty believing it, no matter how he pretended otherwise.
“God be praised,” he said softly. His gaze lingered on Avalyn’s pale face, now illuminated by the early dawn’s light. “You are the lady of Guerdley Cross, sole commander of her armies. I am sworn to obey you to the death. What is the first order you would have me carry out, Lady Aubrey?”
Avalyn tore her eyes away from the dying embers of the hearth, focusing on the handsome blond knight with whom she had shared a strange relationship. He’d set her straight on a good many things when her moral compass seemed to be spinning out of control; Brogan would do as she wished, William would bow to her commands, but Barton had been given the advantage of being moderately objective. No matter what had happened between them, she had grown to trust the man. She respected him a great deal.
She rose stiffly from her chair, moving to the fading fire and throwing a lump of peat on it. William moved forward to take the duty from her, gently but firmly shoving her away.
“Lady Aubrey does not stoke her own fire,” he said, a twinkle in his tired eyes. “Answer Sir Barton. What would be your first command to us?”
She could only grin at him, wearily, before looking back to Barton. She pulled her heavy brocade cloak, the one Charles had given her, more tightly around her chilled shoulders.
“It would seem our first order of business would be to bury my husband,” she said, softly but with a commanding tone that William was familiar with. “Where is the Aubrey family crypt?”
“In the cathedral in St. Helens,” Barton told her. “I shall send someone immediately to summon the priest.”
Avalyn nodded, trying to sort out her muddled thoughts. “The guests must be told, including my uncle,” she looked at William as she made the statement, something unsettling in that idea. “This marriage was of his making, after all. He will want to know.”
William was crouched beside the fire, meeting her gaze, reading her thoughts. He knew de Neville better than anyone and knew exactly what a wealthy widowed niece would mean to him.
“You have Guerdley Cross and a great deal of wealth now, my lady,” William stood up with the poker in his hand. “I mean no slander against your uncle, as you well know, but he will insist on marrying you off immediately. You are more valuable to him now than ever.”
More burdens added to Avalyn’s weary mind. Something ominous and sickening
was settling over her. She sought out her chair again, sinking heavily. There was hesitance writing all over her face. “I do not wish to marry again anytime soon,” she murmured. “But you are correct, William. The moment he is told of Charles’ death, he will be planning my next husband.”
Barton’s expression was one of concern mixed with duty. “He would do this, my lady? Would he give no respect to your mourning?”
She nodded strongly. “Without hesitation. And you, Sir Barton, would have a new lord, perhaps one you would not be so fond of. It would be completely out of my hands.”
Barton didn’t particularly like that thought; his gaze moved between Avalyn and William. “Then what are you suggesting?” he asked.
William’s gaze never left Avalyn’s face. “Wait until he leaves for Warwick,” William spoke to her as if she was the only person in the room. “Do not tell him now. Go up to your chamber and stay there until he has left. We will bury Lord Aubrey after he is gone and perhaps send him a missive in a few months when everything has settled down.”
“Or perhaps not send him one at all,” Avalyn fired back softly. She clutched at the cloak as if it could protect her from her uncle’s evil reaches and cunning manipulation. “Let him think what he will. Let him think that Charles is alive and well. And when he should eventually find out, perhaps… perhaps by that time I will have already married someone of my own choosing, a man that I am familiar with who possesses moral character and a noble background.”
Barton’s expression was now stamped with uncertainty. “What about the other guests? What about the soldiers?” he looked at them as if they were bordering on insanity. “If we tell them that Lord Aubrey has passed, the word will get back to de Neville. If we do not tell them, eventually, they will deduce that something is wrong. We cannot keep Lord Aubrey’s death hidden forever.”
Romantic Legends Page 30
