He didn’t say anything for a moment. “My plan is to marry you,” he said quietly. “I am afraid I am not good at planning. I usually follow commands, not make them.”
Avalyn gazed up at him; he was a proud, strong man. She was afraid her question had upset him. “I did not mean to offend you, my angel,” she said softly. “I simply meant to know if you’ve figured out what we should do.”
“You are the wiser in that regard, Avalyn. I would trust my future wife with our plans to be wed and flee her uncle.”
She smiled, meeting his gaze under the waning moon. He winked at her. “Well,” she began to think aloud. “After we take Lake to your mother, we must return to the Tower and pack quickly. No more than thirty minutes, and we must travel very light. Do you think you can obtain a horse from the stables for us to travel upon?”
He nodded. “I have a Belgian warmblood, a charger given to me by St. Alban.”
“What would a foot soldier need with a charger?”
“He was not so good in battle, so St. Alban bought another one.”
“Not so good?”
“He would rather stop and eat grass than charge the enemy.”
“Oh,” she grinned at the mental image of a big fat charger that did not like to charge. “But I am sure he is very strong and hearty. He will be perfect for travel.”
“Travel to where?”
She sighed. “I am not very familiar with the layout of the city. We must find a priest to marry us, but not at the bigger cathedrals. We must find a small church. Do you know of any?”
He shook his head. “I must ask St. Alban. He is a pious man and would know where there is a church suitable for us.”
She didn’t ask why he would not know of any churches. Perhaps he did not attend mass, which was of little concern to her. Given the man’s life, she doubted he had anything to thank God for.
The streets grew quieter as they reached the Thames and they crossed the bridge toward the Tower without incident. A fog was starting to roll off of the water, blanketing the ground with an eerie mist. As they approached the mammoth structure of the Tower with the intention of skirting it, Avalyn paused. Brogan also came to a halt, looking at her curiously.
“What is wrong?” he asked quietly. “Why do you stop?”
“Because,” she had an idea, perhaps not a very desirable one, but one she thought might be best for them all. “The longer I am gone, the more chance there is for my absence to be discovered. Perhaps you should take Lake to your mother’s, alone, and I will meet you in the shadow of the White Tower in one hour.”
It was evident that he did not like her suggestion. “I would see to your safety, lady. If you feel strongly you should return, then I will escort you to your apartments first.”
She shook her head. “Brogan, there is naught that can happen to me on the grounds of the Tower. There are soldiers everywhere. But I feel very strongly that I should return as soon as possible. Unlike you, there are many people that look for me, that expect my presence, and now a few who are suspicious of my activities. I would feel much more comfortable if I could return to make sure I’ve not been missed yet.”
He sighed heavily; glancing up at the enormous walls that comprised the Tower of London. Though he was uncomfortable with leaving her unescorted, he also knew she was more than likely correct. He, too, was concerned that she had been missed. The more the seconds ticked away, the more critical the situation became and the more determined they became to carry out their plan. He dipped down, kissing her firmly. Avalyn’s fingers ached with the longing his kiss provoked, her hands on his cheeks as he suckled her lips. There was excitement to the kiss, but there was also a great deal of fear. They both felt it.
“The White Tower in one hour,” he repeated. His blue eyes bore into her. “You had better be there or I will come looking for you.”
“Do not,” she shook her head. “If I am not there, then it is because something has happened. I will find my way out of it, have no doubt, but I do need you walking into the Lion’s Den with your eyes wide open. They will destroy you.”
He didn’t look happy in the least. “Avalyn…”
She put her fingers over his lips, feeling the sting of tears. Something told her to not return to her apartments, to simply keep running with him until they were free and clear of all that would separate them. But there were things she wanted to collect, the most important of which was coin. They would need money to start their new life together.
“Don’t argue with me, my angel,” she removed her fingers and kissed his smooth lips. “I must do as I must. And you must take Lake to your mother, collect the horse, and decide which church we will seek for our marriage. Beyond that, I will think of somewhere to go. I know a great many people. I’m sure someone will take us in until we can decide what to do.”
He nodded in resignation. “I do not want to let you out of my sight.”
“I know. But it will only be for a short while, I promise.”
He caught her against him with his one free arm, hugging her fiercely to him. To feel her sweet body against him, her warmth and life, was more than he could bear. The first time he’d felt her, she’d been cold and gray. But the woman in his arms now was vibrant and passionate and had given him more joy in a few short hours than he’d had in his entire lifetime.
His lips were against her neck, her ear. “One hour,” he murmured hotly. “I will be waiting.”
She nodded, the sting of tears transforming into small rivers on her cheeks. She wiped at them before he could see them, before he could see the fear in her heart. She had to pull away or risk never leaving his arms altogether.
“Take care of Lake,” she whispered, her gaze drifting over the sleeping face. “Tell your mother not to spoil her too much. I do not want her to be hard to handle.”
Brogan just shook his head, an ironic smirk on his lips. “My mother will spoil this child rotten,” he said. “Let us hope the damage can be undone.”
Avalyn smiled, too, but her smile faded as she gazed into his eyes. The time was upon them to separate, as much as her heart was aching.
“One hour,” she whispered.
“One hour.”
He kissed her again, with sadness and misery and hope. Her eyes almost welled with tears again. This time, Avalyn pulled away and walked quickly in the direction of the Traitor’s Gate. It was a lesser used entry along the river. A fitting entry point, considering the view her uncle now held on her. Brogan watched her walk away, stealing into the shadows as she approached the gate. After a few words exchanged with the sentries on watch, the gate slowly cranked open and Avalyn’s cloaked figure disappeared inside. Brogan waited until the gate closed again before moving out of the shadows.
The trek to his mother’s shop was uneventful. The moon was low in the sky and Lake slept soundly against him. She was a warm little bundle and he kept gazing down at her, hardly believing the events of the night. There was so much uncontrolled emotion within him that it was difficult to know what to feel. All he knew was that, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt something other than bone-numbing grief. He felt anticipation for his life to come with more excitement than he ever thought possible. But they had to make it through the next few hours.
Mama Starke’s shop was dark, as he knew it would be. He went around to the back entry, situated in a small alleyway that linked with other shops. The door was bolted and he rapped softly, several times, hoping his mother could hear him from her chamber above the shop. It was cold and dark as he continued to rap, wondering if he shouldn’t just break the door down. It was a heavy door, but then again, he was a heavy man. There wasn’t much he couldn’t break down.
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 ro
om. 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.”
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