“Tie him up.”
Someone grabbed Avalyn.
Chapter Fourteen
“Where is William?”
The question came as half-demand, half-plea. Avalyn wasn’t sure she should make demands at all given the circumstances, but she wasn’t going to let Charles assert his dominance over her, either. Even with St. John in the room, fuming quietly in the corner and shooting hateful glares in her direction. Suddenly, the sunny solar that she had adopted as her own had taken on a black, ugly ambience. It wasn’t a comforting place any longer. For almost two days, it had been the place of her sorrow and her captivity.
“As I have said to you innumerable times, my lady, I will be asking the questions at this time.”
Charles was angry; that much was certain. But more than that, he was embarrassed and hurt. Embarrassed that he had been made a fool of and hurt that Avalyn had deceived him. He had tried so hard to be kind to her, to show her what kind of man he was. She had responded by betraying him. He paced back and forth across the wide-slat wooden floor, his expression worn and weary.
“I would ask that you kindly answer my question,” Avalyn was exhausted and frightened. She was terrified they had done something horrible to William, as she’d not seen him since the night she and Brogan were discovered. “Just tell me where he is. I’ll not ask that he be brought to me, but I want to know where he is. Please.”
Charles was exhausted, too. This was turmoil he wasn’t used to and didn’t need, though in truth, he wasn’t particularly surprised. The lady had made it clear her very strong feelings for d’Aurilliac, though he had hoped beyond hope that the past few weeks would have seen that infatuation dissolved. But he should have guessed that it would not be the last he heard of the man. Maybe he had been the one deceiving himself all along, not the lady. She’d never been less than truthful about her feelings for another. Fat jaw ticking with frustration, he looked at her.
“If I tell you where he is, will you tell me what is truly going on?” It sounded strangely like a plea. “I have been asking you for two days to be truthful with me and you’ve yet to tell me what I wish to know. I have a right to know what has happened, my lady. I have every right in the world.”
Avalyn gazed up at him, her golden eyes dull. So far, they had not made the connection with The Sirens yet, but Brogan and St. Alban were in the vault. The women were still free as far as she knew. She intended to keep it that way, for their sakes.
She still did not know how Charles had come to discover Brogan’s identity; he’d not said. But the fact remained that he did know. Perhaps she needed to be truthful with him and hope that he would show mercy. Certainly, they could not keep up this stalemate much longer. Moreover, she knew that she was in the wrong; she had chosen to mislead him. She had allowed Brogan to infiltrate his knight corp with the intention of stealing her away. She’d known all along that Charles was a decent man and had been given to moments of great guilt for her actions. Gazing into his face, her pity for him made a weak resurgence.
“I will tell you what you wish to know,” she finally sighed, lowering her gaze. “Just tell me where William is.”
Charles watched her lowered head, feeling a strange tug of compassion. He wasn’t a strong willed man as it was and Avalyn seemed to bring out his weaknesses, mostly because he wanted to please her so much. Even now, after her betrayal, he still did not want to see her unhappy.
“He’s in the vault,” he said.
Her head shot up, eyes flashing. “What? Why is he there?”
Charles lifted his eyebrows. “He knows d’Aurilliac on sight. He knew that Gervaise was not who he said he was. He knew, my lady, and he did not tell me. His action cannot go unpunished.”
She flushed a dull red. “How do you know that? William is a knight. He does not involve himself with the common soldier.”
“He told us, my lady.”
Avalyn closed her eyes tightly, lowering her head. He confessed! Damn him; why did he do it? But she knew the answer even as she asked it. William was an honorable man. He must have been asked a direct question and could not lie. She needed to see him, if only to apologize for pulling him into something horrible. He had lied for her and now he was in the vault for it.
“It is not his fault, my lord,” she said softly, raising her head to look at him. There were tears in her eyes. “He did as I ordered. He was following my directive. You do not need to keep him in the vault.”
Charles gazed at her, his expression fairly neutral. After a moment, he pulled up the nearest stool he could find, a small three-legged thing by the hearth. He sat several feet away from her, his small brown eyes beseeching.
“Tell me everything and I will consider releasing him,” he said, that strange pleading tone in his voice again. “Was this planned all along? Is this something that has been simmering ever since you and I left London for Guerdley Cross?”
Avalyn blinked away the tears that were threatening. “Yes and no,” she sniffed. “Brogan was going to come for me, but I did not find out later just how he planned to do it.”
“And Inglesbatch came to help him?”
“William came to help me.” She suddenly stood up, her face pale and her hands shaking. “Charles, you once told me that you loved a woman so much that you wanted to marry her. If that is true, then surely you understand my feelings for Brogan. What we did, we did for love. We did not do it to shame you, or hurt you, or cause you to be the source of ridicule. We did it because we love each other and would do anything to be together. If you loved your lady as you said you did, then surely you understand how we feel. Would you not do anything to be with her also?”
Charles was looking up at her, his expression morphing into one of sorrow and, surprisingly, anger. He twisted his fingers in his lap. “She is married. There was never any chance.”
“But if she was not married, only betrothed, would you not do anything to claim her as your own?”
He wouldn’t look at her. “It is… impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible!” Avalyn threw her hands up. “Charles, Brogan is a foot soldier, a lowly fighting man. I come from the most prominent family in England. If anything is impossible, it is even the remotest possibility that Brogan and I could be together. But even stronger than class and social standing are what we feel for each other. When I look at Brogan, I do not see a mere soldier. I see a man of flesh and blood and emotion, and I see so much goodness in him. You must understand that kind of devotion. I would do anything to be with him and I would gladly die in the quest for the opportunity.” She moved towards him, her eyes and voice pleading with him. “Please, Charles, you must understand this. We were not attempting to hurt you. But we must be together.”
She was standing very close to him; he was having difficulty maintaining his firm stance when she was so openly beseeching him. Avalyn suddenly fell to her knees beside him, her soft hands closing over his big calloused ones.
“Please, Charles,” the tears were coming now. “Please let me go. Tell my uncle I ran away; there will be no shame on you. But I am begging you… please let me go. Just because you were denied your opportunity at happiness with the woman you loved, do not deny me mine. Let me have what you were unable to. You have this power over my life. Will you not show your benevolence?”
He continued to gaze back at her, feeling her emotions spilling out onto him. Every tear from her eye was like a small dagger to his heart. “And you could not be happy with me?” he asked softly.
She smiled weakly. “If I had never loved Brogan, I believe I could. You are a warm and generous man. I would not deliberately hurt you for the world. But I am a selfish woman; I want my happiness more than I want yours, and I am sorry. I pray that you can forgive me.”
Charles just stared at her, not trusting himself to make any manner of decision. She was begging him and he was in chaos because of it. “Barton?” he spoke to the knight in the corner even though he was looking at the lady. “What do you thin
k?”
The focus not shifted to the knight. Avalyn looked at Barton, lingering in the shadows; fear crept into her expression, for she knew the man did not like her and she did not blame him. There had always been a strain between them after her uncle’s interrogation episode. Barton’s pale blue eyes gazed at her steadily, his expression emotionless.
“My opinion is of no matter, my lord,” he said after a moment.
“It is to me. Tell me.”
Barton sighed imperceptibly. It was clear that he did not want to speak. “Do you wish for me to be frank, my lord?”
Charles nodded, his gaze still on Avalyn. Barton pushed himself off the wall, walking towards the pair very slowly. He was still looking at Avalyn, the glittering eyes calculating a thousand ways to condemn her.
“I believe the lady is very good at manipulating you, my lord,” he said. “I believe she is very good at manipulating all of the men around her. She excels at this. She is, after all, a de Neville and it is well known that the de Nevilles control their surroundings” He came to a halt, his eyes boring into her. “But I also believe that people do strange things where emotions are involved and I think her devotion to d’Aurilliac is admirable. Futile, but admirable.”
Avalyn had averted her gaze somewhere in the middle of his speech. She couldn’t look at the man.
“Everything you say about me is true, Sir Barton,” she agreed softly. “I learned the art of manipulation from my uncle and I learned it well. Do not think that it has been my pleasure to deceive your liege, a man who has only shown kindness to me. Even you; though I suspect you do not have a good deal of respect for my strength of character, you have nonetheless shown me the proper reverence in all matters. You are a man of honor. But understand this; my deception had nothing to do with evil tidings or greed. It was not directed at your liege or at you. I did not seek to destroy anyone. What I did, I did because I love a man. Nothing more, nothing less. We want to be together.”
Barton was standing a few feet away from her, looking down into her pale face. “I understand that, my lady. But it does not change what has happened or what you have done. You seek to assert power over something you have absolutely no control over and you do not care who you hurt in the process.”
“You are so wrong, Sir Barton,” she said softly. “I do indeed care who I hurt. I care very much. But your liege was thrust into the middle of something that was in process long before he entered the situation. It was never my intention to hurt anyone, least of all Charles. But if my choice is between his contentment and mine, I will once again apologize for being a very selfish woman. I would like to marry a man of my choosing, not my uncle’s.”
Barton just looked at her, understanding her words but not agreeing. But in speaking with her, hearing her softly-uttered explanation, he was coming not to think so harshly of her. She was young and in love. And, truth be told, deep down he very much admired her devotion to d’Aurilliac. More than he would admit. Still, he could not condone her actions. His gaze moved to Aubrey as he turned away, pacing back towards the long lancet windows that lined the west side of the solar. He had nothing more to say.
Charles alternately watched him go and watched the lady’s expression. She was still on her knees, still holding his hands. When she finally did turn to look at him, there were more tears welling in the golden eyes. She squeezed his hands.
“Please, my lord,” she begged softly. “Let William go. He was only doing what I ordered him to do. He is a true and faithful knight.”
“But he betrayed me.”
“He does not serve you. He serves me.”
Charles pursed his lips at the technicality. “If I release him, it will be to send him back to de Neville. I do not want him here.”
Avalyn blinked, realizing she was gaining at least part of her request. William would be released and sent back to Warwick in disgrace. But at least he would be free.
“Very well,” she breathed. “And Brogan? What do you intend to do with him?”
Charles shifted uncomfortably, glancing over at Barton. The knight refused to look at him, still gazing from the lancet windows. Avalyn could see his indecision and she pounced.
“If you think on it, my lord, he’s truly done nothing wrong,” she insisted softly. “He did not actually commit a crime other than pretend to be his father.”
Barton could not remain silent. “Impersonating a knight is a serious offense, my lady,” he said sharply. “Punishment for that is thirty days in the stocks at the very least and another year in the vault. I’ve even seen men with their right hand cut off in punishment. What he has done is indeed a crime.”
She let go of Charles’ hands and stood up, facing Barton. His ire had roused her own. “Your agitation at this offense couldn’t be because he beat you in the estor and almost defeated you in the melèe, could it? Had I not asked Charles to stop the battle, the outcome could have been, shall we say, less than positive in your favor.”
Barton would not show his frustration any more than he already had; it had been a mistake, he could see. She was taking advantage of it, trying to unbalance him. He realized at that moment that the lady was quite a formidable opponent and he gained a strange respect for her. Yet, being a de Neville, he should have expected her to do exactly what she did.
“That is possible,” he said evenly. “But we are not speaking of me. We are speaking of d’Aurilliac and his punishment.”
“What punishment?”
Barton’s gaze traveled to Charles once again. “That is for Lord Aubrey to decide.”
Avalyn turned back to Charles. “Please show mercy, my lord,” she was back on her knees before him. “He committed a crime as the result of his love and devotion to me. He was not attempting to harm you in any way. All he wanted was me. Can you not understand a man’s love for a woman and show mercy in your judgment?”
Charles looked at her. “I will ask a question, my lady, and I would like an honest answer.”
“You have my word, my lord.”
“If you were in my position, knowing what you know and how this deception has been carried out, what judgment would you render?”
She stared at him blankly for a moment. He saw her hesitation and stood up, his brown eyes boring into her. “Honestly, my lady. Answer me honestly.”
Avalyn thought a moment, knowing exactly how her uncle would have handled it. He would have done away with Brogan simply to be rid of the threat. But she was not her uncle. Cornered, she knew she could not speak anything but the absolute truth and hope that he would not take her advice.
“There are two options that I would probably consider,” she said quietly, feeling weak and sorrowful as she spoke. “The first option would be to keep him in the vault and make sure the marriage took place as quickly as possible. After that, I would make sure the man was escorted to the nearest port and shipped to points Far East with the promise that if I saw him again, I would kill him. The second option, of course, would be to simply keep him a prisoner indefinitely.” Her gaze came up to him, the golden eyes brimming with emotion. “Or you could simply let him go.”
Charles met her gaze, feeling the anguish. Lord, he was such a weak man. “I would let him go only if you agreed to marry me this night,” he made soft demands. “No more delays, Avalyn. No more foolishness.”
She hung her head, hating the words she must bring forth, hating herself for thinking with her heart and not her head. “I would rather spend the rest of my life in the vault with Brogan than spend the rest of my life as Lady Aubrey.”
Her words were like a slap across his face. Charles’ head literally snapped back. Inflamed, he made an uncharacteristically impulsive decision, so swift that the words poured from his mouth before he could stop them.
“Very well,” he said with more strength to his voice than she had ever heard. “Barton, take her to the vault and lock her up. Maybe a few days in a cold cell will cause her to see the error of her ways.”
Barton was
across the floor in two long strides, taking her firmly by the arm. Avalyn didn’t as much as look to Charles; she kept her head lowered and did not resist when Barton pulled her from the solar. Once through the entry and down the steps into the faded afternoon sunlight, Barton guided her across the dusty bailey. Hard and professional though he might be, it did not prevent him from hearing her soft sobs and being touched by them. He fought off the sympathy that threatened.
The vault of Guerdley Cross was in the gatehouse at the front entry. Barton took her into the cool, dark room that held the stairwell that led into the bowels of the vault. The narrow stairs were slippery and she almost fell had it not been for Barton’s iron grip. Once into the sublevel that held four small cells and a bottle prison in the floor, her eyes adjusted to the weak torchlight and she could see three familiar faces gazing back at her.
Brogan, William and St. Alban were in various positions in the same cramped cell. When they saw her face, the three of them collectively gasped.
“Avalyn,” Brogan breathed, his big body pressed against the iron bars. “Why are you here, sweetheart? This is no place for you.”
She didn’t answer as Barton used the old iron keys to open the cell opposite the men. He didn’t throw her inside, but his firm guidance into the small, dank cell was obvious. Avalyn just stood there in the middle of the cell as he locked her in. Ignoring the curious men behind him, he faced her with his hands on his hips.
“Listen to me, my lady, and listen well,” he rumbled. “I seem to be the only person in this entire castle that is thinking clearly, for I have no emotional ties nor personal investment in this situation. If you are wise, you will heed my advice.”
Romantic Legends Page 26