She began to lose track of time as the evening and the wine flowed freely. In spite of all of the people, she felt isolated and lonely. Everyone was having a good time but her, and she realized she would have much rather been sitting in Mama Starke’s shop than in this extravagant hall. It was an unusual thought, as this was quite normally her element. But not tonight.
Eventually, her uncle stood up and went over to the duke. He whispered something in the man’s ear, to which Clarence nodded. The movement caught Avalyn’s eye simply for the fact that she knew they were conspiring. Something was about to happen; she’d seen those expressions too many times before not to know that. Richard set down his cup and held up his hands to quiet the room.
“My lords,” he said in his loud, distinctive voice. “My ladies. Our host has asked me to welcome you tonight in honor of a very special occasion.”
Beside Avalyn, Isobel perked up. Young Anne just looked bored. The room quieted to a dull rumble and Richard continued.
“There comes a time in life when all children must leave their homes, whether it be to foster or to join the cloister, to seek fame or fortune, or to marry,” he said. “Tonight, I am both saddened and gladdened to be losing one of my children, for my eldest daughter, Isobel, is to become the future Duchess of Clarence.”
A small cheer went up in the room and a hearty round of applause lifted into the warm, stale air. Isobel, puffed and gloating, acknowledged the congratulations and went to her father when the man extended his hand to her. Richard made a big show out of placing Isobel’s hand in Clarence’s hand, and the room cheered loudly. It was a presentation spectacle, and all the while, Avalyn couldn’t help but feel that both her cousin and the duke were in the marriage for completely different reasons and not one of them good. Isobel wanted money; the duke wanted the throne. Perhaps in reflection the two selfish people were indeed made for each other.
The duke was well on his way to getting the throne. Months of planning, of rumor mongering, were beginning to pay off. Avalyn had helped counsel her uncle, sensing things that perhaps he did not. He had congratulated her on her foresight and she should have been proud. But what should have been a rewarding moment for her was something of a distraction. All she seemed to want to think about was a lowly soldier she had met the night before, and of his weeping mother who made such wonderful bread.
Her uncle was speaking again, distracting her from her thoughts. She heard his first few words and snapped from her trance, turning to focus on him yet again. This time, he was gesturing to Aubrey beside him.
“This is indeed a night of joy,” he was saying. “For not only do I have the pleasure of announcing one betrothal, I have the pleasure of announcing two.”
For some reason, fear as sharp as the strike of an arrow blazed through Avalyn. She looked at young Anne, who gazed back at her with equal fright. Both girls realized something was up and suspected that one of them was somehow involved. Avalyn took her cousin’s hand, already clammy in her grasp, and held it tightly. Uncle Richard was a deal maker, a king maker, and a surprise of this magnitude was not an unusual thing. Avalyn held on to Anne mostly so she wouldn’t bolt from the room when her father made the announcement she suspected was to come. Poor Anne! Tension exploded in her chest as her uncle focused on his family of women.
“I am pleased; nay, very pleased, to announce the betrothal of Sir Charles Aubrey,” Richard focused on Avalyn, “to my niece and trusted advisor, the Lady Avalyn Arabella de Beauchamp du Brant.”
At first, Avalyn did not quite grasp what he had said. It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, her eyes widened to the point of bulging from her skull. She could hear young Anne beside her, muttering words of comfort, but she did not heed him. She simply could not believe what she had heard. Over the roar of applause, Uncle Richard was holding out a hand to her, encouraging her to come to him, but she simply sat there until young Anne gave her a timid shove.
Woodenly, she stood up and took a few steps towards her uncle. Her head was swimming and she felt betrayed, belittled, castigated. A hand reached out to grasp her; looking down, she saw that it was her aunt. The brown eyes were surprisingly hard.
“Had you not disobeyed us today, we would not have had to take such drastic measures,” came Anne’s soft, even tone. “You have brought this on yourself, Avalyn. Now you will heed your husband where you have failed to heed us. He will guide you properly.”
Avalyn stared at her aunt. Damn them! No wonder they hadn’t said a word to her all afternoon. They had already passed judgment and sentence. Now she was to be married off, corralled by a husband, watched over by a master. Her knees began to shake and it was an effort not to respond to her aunt, an angry response that would have only shamed the family. She was, after all, a de Neville. She had been raised in the finest house with the finest resources available. She was a loyal family member and a trusted member of the inner core. One act of disobedience, no matter how innocent and small, had earned her a drastic punishment. She simply could not believe it.
Somehow, she made it to her uncle. She did not even remember how she got there. He took her hand, kissed it, and turned it over to the sweaty grip of her puffy betrothed. Aubrey stood up and faced her politely.
“My lady,” he said in a quiet, deep voice. “I realize this is something of a shock, but may I say that I am most pleased at the prospect. I promise I shall endeavor to make a very fine husband.”
She just stared at him. She couldn’t seem to manage anything else. Her gaze moved over him; he had reddish blond hair that flowed past his shoulders and he secured it at the nape of his neck in a ponytail. His face was round and very red, his eyes a clear shade of blue. He was neither handsome nor ugly, but somewhere in between. He was a big man, too, with an enormous belly and muscular arms and legs from what she could see. Truthfully, she’d never looked closely at the man; ever. She’d never even been this close to him. Now, the reality was staring her in the face and it was a struggle not to choke.
“My lord,” she managed to stammer.
He was trying to be very kind. He held out his chair to her. “Will you sit?”
Haltingly, she lowered herself into the chair. Someone had brought him another chair and he pulled it up next to her, yelling for more wine. Avalyn put up her hand; her head was spinning already. She did not need more wine.
“My lord,” she was laboring to find her tongue. “When… did you speak to my uncle about a marriage?”
Charles didn’t seem like a brute or a dullard; he seemed like a truly mild man. “Only today, my lady,” he said. “Your uncle proposed this match to me and, having seen you in the past, I must say that I was very pleased with the prospect of marrying into the House of de Neville. I will try to make a very fine husband.”
“You already said that,” she eyed him. Then she realized that she sounded cruel. It wasn’t his fault if her uncle had brokered her like another would broker a mare. “I am sorry, ’tis simply that this is something of a shock. I never heard a word about it.”
He looked at his hands. “I know,” he said. “Your uncle told me that it was a surprise. It would seem that your birthday is coming soon, and he felt it would be a proper birthday present. He said that you are getting too old to be without a husband.”
She digested that statement. So her uncle had told him nothing of her disobedience? Curious. But her uncle had certainly gotten the last word on the situation by betrothing her to a man she didn’t even know. Not an unusual happening, but she had hoped to at least marry someone of acquaintance. She took a long look at Charles, the man who would be her husband. His gaze was open and eager. It just made her ill.
“If you don’t mind, I will excuse myself for a moment,” she said, her voice tight.
He leapt up from his chair. “May I escort you, my lady?”
She shook her head. “I am just going outside. To…”
He put up his hands and his red cheeks flushed redder. “Of course,” he sai
d. “I shall await your return.”
She rose from her chair and skirted the table, making sure to pass the on the opposite side from where her aunt and uncle were sitting. She had no desire to see them or speak with them. But she knew, even as she quit the room, that their eyes were following her. She could feel their suspicion. She just wanted to be alone and truthfully, at the moment, that was her only thought.
She went out the door she had come in, leading directly to the outside. The privy chamber was off to her left, buried in the structure near the Salt Tower. She really had no desire to go there; she simply wanted a breath of fresh air. The events of the last few moments had been too much for her to take in all at once and she needed to clear her head.
It was cold as she wandered into the night. She had left her cloak inside but made no move to go and retrieve it. To re-enter the hall would be to risk being cornered by her aunt or uncle, or even her betrothed. She needed to get away. As she crossed the courtyard towards the southeast corner of the White Tower, a voice came from the shadows.
“I thought you would never come out.”
Her heart leapt into her throat and she whirled in the direction of the voice. Emerging from the darkness under the turret of the White Tower was Brogan. Their gazes locked and he smiled at her surprise.
“God’s Teeth, you frightened me,” she managed to gasp. “How long have you been waiting?”
He shrugged casually. “Since before sunset.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That long?”
“I wanted to make sure I was here when you came out. I did not want to miss you.”
She smiled, feeling gladdened by his words. They warmed her. But she just as quickly realized that even at this moment they might be watched, so she grabbed his arm and scooted back into the shadows from whence he came. She pressed herself against the arc where the turret met the straight building wall, a small corner in which to hide. Brogan was right next to her, his massive body blocking out everything else.
“We should hurry if you still intend to take in the entertainment,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “The hour grows late.”
She looked up at him; standing up against his enormous frame, she was eye level with his chest. To look him in the face meant she had to practically lay her head back horizontally.
“I still want to go, but I am not sure if it would be wise for you to go with me,” she said softly.
He was very, very close to her, gazing down into her sweet face. “Why not?”
She sighed, trying to glance around his big body to see if they were indeed being watched. “You saw what happened today,” she said. “My uncle’s knights might not be so forgiving if they find you with me again.”
“I am not afraid of them.”
“Aye, but I am afraid for you. They’re warring men; they would more than likely strike first and ask questions later. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of my foolishness.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment; he just looked at her. Then, very slowly, she felt his big fingers clasp her own. His hand was warm and strong. She gripped him in return and he lifted her hand to his lips, depositing a very soft kiss on her knuckles.
Avalyn had the same reaction she had had earlier when he had kissed both of her cheeks; lightning slammed through her and her entire body shuddered. Though she lost her breath and almost her balance, it was the most wonderful sensation she had ever experienced.
“I would take the risk,” he said quietly. “For the chance to be with you, for only a moment, I would risk the entire de Neville army.”
It was a lovely thing to say. Her heart began thumping madly against her ribs and she could not help the flush that came to her cheeks. Though it was cold in the shadows of the White Tower, she was quite warm. As much as she wanted to linger in that very tender moment, she knew that she could not. Reality was an ugly thing and she’d had more of her share of it throughout her life. She hated her reality at the moment.
“I must confess something,” she said. “My aunt and uncle told me to stay away from you and I disobeyed them. Oh, my intentions were good when I returned the dress this morning and I should have let that be the end of it. But I didn’t. I went with you to your mother’s shop and shared a wonderful morning with you. It was the most wonderful morning I can remember.”
“For me as well. I did not want it to end.”
“I’m sorry that it ended so abruptly, but I hope you understand it was not by my choice. I had to go, or the knights would have been quite unkind to you.”
He brought her hand to his lips again. “I know.”
She smiled, feeling the bolts run through her again, his lips on her flesh. Some wonder of magic was working deep within her, something that Brogan could conjure up with a look or a touch. It was thrilling and almost enough to make her forget about all else. But she could not. If Brogan was to remain safe, she could not forget.
“My aunt and uncle punished me for disobeying them,” she murmured.
He froze, his deep blue eyes widening. “What did they do? Are you injured?”
She shook her head. “Nay, nothing like that. They would never touch me.” She sighed heavily, unsure how to tell him. It was difficult because she did not want to lose this moment, and she knew when she told him, everything warm and wonderful that was developing would end. “They must feel that my disobedience is some kind of rebellion, though it has nothing to do with treachery or deceit. It was simply… simply that I wanted to become better acquainted with the man who saved my life. In any case, they took swift action. Tonight, when I entered the feast, my uncle announced the betrothal of my cousin as I suspected. But he announced another betrothal as well.”
He wasn’t following her. “Whose?”
She fixed him in the eye, spitting it out before she lost her courage. “Mine.”
He didn’t react for a moment as the news sank in. Then, his expression went slack as confusion, outrage, disappointment all crossed his face in the same split second. “You?”
She nodded, lowering her gaze. She couldn’t stomach to look at him. “To Lord Charles Aubrey, a baron and great supporter of the Duke of Clarence.”
Brogan didn’t say anything for a moment. He continued to stand there, very close to her, with her hand at his lips. She could feel his hot, even breath on her flesh as the painful seconds ticked by.
“Do you know him?”
She shook her head. “Only by name and reputation.”
“Is this something you wish?”
She looked at him with a scowl. “Of course not. I have no desire to marry him. My aunt and uncle betrothed me to punish me for disobedience. I am sure it is their hope that a husband, a master, will keep me in my place.”
“They punished you because I serve the king?”
She nodded weakly. “Aye. Were you not loyal to Edward, perhaps things would be different, but I think they somehow feel our acquaintance somehow jeopardizes Clarence’s cause. They seek to ensure my loyalty, I suppose, though I’ve truly done nothing wrong.”
“Then I will go now and swear fealty to your uncle.”
She looked at him, sharply. “What?”
“I would serve the cause you stand for, so there will be no suspicion.”
She could see that he was doing it to save her from the marriage. But he simply didn’t understand. She put a soft hand on his cheek, watching his eyes close at the gentleness of her touch.
“That is very sweet,” she whispered. “But it would not matter. What is done is done.”
His eyes opened, the deep blue orbs fixing on her. “You would still marry him?”
“I do not believe I have a choice.”
He just looked at her. “Then I will go swear allegiance to this Aubrey. I will at least be able to serve you if I do.”
Her brow furrowed. “Brogan, why would you do this? You are speaking of pledges and loyalty as if we have known each other all our lives and there is something to b
e gained by it. I am simply a woman whose life you saved. I am not worth altering your entire existence for.”
He lowered her hand from his face. It was clear that he was struggling for words. “You are more than that,” he rumbled. “You have brought something to me, something I do not want to lose. I know I have only known you for a few hours, but those have been the most glorious hours of my life. You have given me hope, my lady.”
“Hope for what?”
She could feel his big hands on her waist, the heat from his palms searing her skin through her surcoat. The hands moved to her back and she was being pulled into a massive embrace. Then the timid hold grew bolder and he pulled her against his enormous chest, wrapping his arms around her slender body. It was like being swallowed up by a mountain of warm, musky, wonderful flesh. She collapsed into it, relished it, the first true embrace she had ever had from a man that she was attracted to. It was enough to make her head swim.
“You give me hope that this glory you have brought to my life will last,” his big face was looming over hers, his warm breath on her face. “My mother tried to explain it to me once. She felt this glory with my father. Each day, each step, brings you closer to it. She called it schritte der herrlichkeit.”
She was breathless with his massively overwhelming presence. “What does that mean?”
“It means the steps of glory.”
A smile crept onto her lips. She couldn’t help it. He was holding her so closely that he was nearly folded over in half, his face very near to hers. Avalyn reached up a timid hand, touching the weather-tanned cheek. He smiled and the flesh folded into deep grooves, which she traced with a finger. It ran from his cheekbone all the way to his chin. When she finished inspecting the dimple, she focused on his eyes.
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