William stared back at the man, thinking of the dead wife and son that St. Alban told him about. He also remembered the orphan. But d’Aurilliac’s beastly reputation still clouded his thoughts, filling his mind. So did a hint of jealousy.
“I do not understand any of this,” he said after a moment, realizing his guard was down but not caring. “You only met the lady two days ago and already you are madly in love and wish to be married? I’ve known the lady for fifteen years and I have never known her to do anything without clear forethought. Avalyn du Brant is, if nothing else, a very rational creature. And who does she fall in love with? A man with a reputation for tearing men apart with his bare hands. I fought with you at Wakefield, d’Aurilliac. I remember the other knights speaking of your blood lust, your frenzy for death. I even saw it once when you snapped a man’s neck because you had lost your weapon. You are an animal, a soldier with no conscience or thought in the heat of battle. And now I am supposed to feel compassion for your plight because you are in love with a lady I’ve served and loved for fifteen years? Tell me why I must feel sympathy for you, because surely, I cannot fathom a reason. If I had any sense at all, I’d kill you right now and be done with it.”
It was a passionate speech, one that eased all tension in the room. Brogan didn’t feel quite so fatigued by the time William was finished. They were the first unguarded words that had passed between them since William’s arrival, and strangely, they made Brogan trust him.
“I cannot give you a good reason, my lord,” Brogan said. “All I can tell you is what the lady and I feel. It is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. Two days ago, my life was over. But now… now I am alive again and I have the lady to thank for it. I do not want to lose her.”
“But she never belonged to you to begin with. Can you not see that?”
“I do. So I am supposed to let her go and marry this man she has no interest in?” Brogan could see the strange expression on William’s face. “Could you?”
William’s strange expression grew even odder. “That is not a situation I would ever face.”
“Nor did I ever think I would, either. But I am. You know Aubrey. Do you think she will be happy with him?”
William lowered his gaze, shaking his head after a moment of reflection. “She has little choice.”
Brogan exhaled heavily, his fatigue returning full-bore. He knew what he wanted to do, but he was effectively corralled by the lady’s message. She wanted him to stay away until she could think of a way out of their predicament.
“What if she cannot think of a way out of this?” he asked softly, not to anyone in particular.
“Then you will have to move on with your life without her,” William answered.
“Do you believe she will be able to save herself from this marriage?”
William looked at him, his round blue eyes full of honesty. “Nay.”
There was a soft knock on the door. From the angle of the windows, Brogan could not see who stood in the archway. He rose from his chair, motioning to William and St. Alban to fall back out of sight. The men moved into the shadows as Brogan unbolted the door and cautiously opened it.
Avalyn’s flushed face greeted him.
CHAPTER NINE
Avalyn threw herself into Brogan’s arms before either of them said a word. Her flight had been so panicked that her only thought had been to reach Mama Starke’s shop. Now that she was here, emotions were close to the surface and she wept softly as he held her tightly in his arms. Her feet dangled several inches above the ground, wrapped up in Brogan’s enormous embrace. He smothered her with his body, his lips on her ear.
“Avalyn,” he breathed into the side of her head. “How is it you are here? I was told that…”
She cut him off, her voice brimming with relief and fear and joy. “I escaped,” she pulled her face from the crook of his neck and he began pelting him with kisses. “I ran as fast as I could and prayed that I was not followed.”
As they indulged in a joyous and tender reunion, William stood from his stool, his expression one of quiet distress as he watched the kisses, the affection. It cut through him like a dagger, but in the same breath, it was of no consequence. He knew, as he had always known, that he could never have her. But it had never stopped him from wishing.
“My lady,” he cleared his throat quietly.
Avalyn stopped in her kisses to Brogan’s cheeks, turning to look at the man she had known most of her life. She could read his expression, the indecision, the confusion. They both knew that her presence here was in no way acceptable, but the fact remained that she was indeed here. If William still possessed an ounce of loyalty to Warwick, he should do his duty and take her back to the Tower. But that was not going to happen. Slowly, Avalyn pushed herself from Brogan’s arms.
“William,” she did not let go of Brogan even as she walked towards the knight. “I am not quite sure what to say to you. But for the simple fact that you are here, you have my undying gratitude.”
William’s gaze was unchanging. “How did you escape?”
“Through the servant’s entrance.”
“How long ago?”
“Not more than a half-hour.”
William’s jaw ticked. His gaze moved between Brogan and the lady before charging towards the back door where his charger was tethered. Avalyn ran after him.
“Where are you going?” she demanded. She put a hand on his arm as he reached the door, forcing him to stop. “William, where are you going? What are you going to do?”
His round face was flushed with emotion, with fury. He struggled to maintain his calm. “Your aunt and uncle are no fools. Your absence will have been discovered by now and they will be looking for me to search for you. If I am not found also, there will be suspicion on me.”
Avalyn hadn’t thought of that. She had only thought of herself. The hand on his arm squeezed gently. “Oh, William,” she breathed. “I did not stop to think… clearly, you must return immediately otherwise they will think you have aided my escape somehow. But what are you going to say if they question you?”
William focused on her beautiful face, knowing he would have faced a thousand such interrogations simply to aid her again. He was a fool and he knew it.
“I will think of something,” he said, throwing open the door. But his last sentence was firm. “Get out of the city, now. Run as far as you can and as fast as you can, for Warwick will undoubtedly be on your heels. There are enough hunters in this town that will gladly take the price to track you, and track you they shall. If I were you, I would take passage to France and stay there.”
“But what about you?” there were tears in her eyes now. “I will not leave if it means jeopardizing you.”
“You have already done that,” he said before he could stop himself. But his harsh stance eased at the look on her face. “Avalyn, I made my choice. Now I shall have to go back and see if I can at least stall them while you get away. But you cannot delay.”
By this time, Brogan and St. Alban were standing behind her. Avalyn’s tears had made their way onto her cheeks as she gazed back at the man who had shown such selfless loyalty. As strong as her love for Brogan was, she could not, in good conscience, leave William to her uncle’s mercy. And that was exactly what was about to happen; he was going to return to sacrifice himself to give her enough time to run. She squeezed his arm again, turning to look at Brogan.
“My uncle will kill him,” she whispered, tears all over her face. “Uncle Richard will know exactly what has happened. If William returns, he returns to his death.”
Brogan looked at the knight; the man had indeed risked much to aid them. He had never known an English knight to show such selflessness. He’d grown up hating the knights, men who taunted him, who had kept him from achieving his true potential. But Inglesbatch was not one of them. He had done much to help a man he did not even know. All of the bitterness he had felt for so many years suddenly eased just a bit.
Avalyn’s fr
ee 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 if 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 well-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 worked them
selves 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.
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