William fell silent a moment. He knew she’d gone to the stable the previous evening to check on her horse and she had returned unharmed. He had heard nothing about a spooked horse, but that would explain why both Avalyn and d’Aurilliac were sighted at the stables examining the high-strung colt. Now it made sense. There had been a time when Avalyn used to tell William everything and he was feeling the slightest bit hurt. Her brief infatuation with d’Aurilliac was growing, no matter how hard he’d tried to stop it.
His envy began to seep into his manner. “Be that as it may, it does not give him excuse to take license with her,” he hissed. “She is a woman of the highest noble order and, I might add, betrothed to a powerful lord. D’Aurilliac is playing with fire.”
That drew a reaction from St. Alban. He looked at William, horror and shock in his eyes. “She is betrothed?”
Inglesbatch nodded slowly. Then, he suddenly bent over the man threateningly, his mailed arms braced on either side of the heavy chair. “I do not know what magic d’Aurilliac seems to have over the lady to cause her to behave so, but I have caught her in clandestine situations with him twice already. And tonight, she was out well after midnight, roaming the grounds of the Tower in, I can only assume, her quest to rendezvous with d’Aurilliac. But before I could forceably escort her back to her apartment, I was hit on the head and knocked unconscious. I do not have to guess who did that.”
St. Albans tried not to look shocked. “So what is it you want from me?”
William exhaled sharply and pushed himself off the arms of the chair. He paced away from the old man, his agitation evident. “I want you to tell me where he has taken her. I want to find her before her uncle does.”
Though his guard was up, still, St. Alban could sense that this was growing from bad to worse. “What do you mean?”
The round blue eyes focused on him. “I mean precisely that. When I regained consciousness, I returned to the de Neville apartment to collect my men to go and search for the lady. But her uncle awoke and demanded to know what was amiss. I was compelled to tell him.”
St. Alban didn’t like the look in the man’s eye. “He will kill Brogan when he finds them, won’t he?”
For the first time since entering the small, stanky chamber, William seemed to calm. “It’s not d’Aurilliac I worry for, but the lady. De Neville justice is swift.”
“They would harm her?”
“Perhaps. I know that her uncle sent word to her betrothed to aid in the search.”
“And you want to help her?”
William’s stance weakened further. “I want to get her away from d’Aurilliac before her uncle finds them together. If I can get her back to the apartments and give de Neville time to calm, then things should go better in her favor. But as it is, the man is bent on fury right now. I must get to the lady before he does. Now, will you tell me what you know?”
St. Alban shook his head, slowly. “If I knew, I would help you, but I truly do not. Brogan did not confide in me, perhaps because I have spent my time attempting to warn him off of Lady Avalyn. Perhaps he did not want to be judged.”
Though the old man seemed sincere, William didn’t believe him. He knew more than he was telling, of that William was sure. His frustration was growing again. He resorted to a very seldom used tactic in the House of de Neville; he pleaded.
“If you could guess where they have gone, what would be your speculation?”
St. Alban was a wise old man. He had been through enough intrigue and warfare to know enemy tactics of coercion. But the young knight with the big blue eyes did not come across as attempting to be particularly hard or clever, simply honest. Part of him wanted to help and part of him didn’t. It was a tense internal struggle.
“He tends to haunt the boroughs to the east of the Tower,” he said softly. “Or he is fond of Walworth. Beyond that, I can tell you no more.”
“Hopefully it will be enough.”
As Inglesbatch turned for the door, St. Alban stopped him. “My lord?”
William paused. “Aye?”
“Would it be possible for an old knight well past his prime to assist you?”
Inglesbatch new he meant himself. His first instinct was to deny him, but on second thought, he might prove useful. One nod of his head had St. Alban up and searching for his antiquated armor.
As William watched him dress, he felt as if he had a distinct advantage now. At least he had a starting point, which was more than de Neville had. Being a dedicated de Neville knight with a good deal of power, he should have rushed back to divulge everything to his lord. But his heart was ensnared by the Lady Avalyn and he truly wanted to find her before the situation veered out of control.
Already, he could feel it slipping from his grasp.
*
Avalyn looked up from wiping tears and snot from the little child’s face only to see the oddest expression on Brogan’s features. Something between desire and mercy. When their eyes met, he smiled faintly.
“Now that she has caught you,” he said quietly, “what do you intend to do with her?”
Avalyn’s expression washed with indecision then determination. “I cannot let her go back to those children who would beat a helpless baby,” she said. The she looked at the lowered blond head, resting sweetly against her shoulder. “We must feed her, Brogan. She is starving.”
“What about your entertainment?”
“This is more important.”
His smile grew as he once again put his arm around her shoulders and took her back down the street to a pub that he was familiar with. He knew the innkeeper and knew the man would deal fairly with them. Moreover, it didn’t usually have the disparaging type of rabble he was trying to avoid.
The establishment was a typical wood and mortar building, with a patch of green moss growing up the north side of the structure. Brogan yanked the door open, ushering Avalyn and the child inside. It was a one-room building with a loft above, smelling of old ale and dung. There were a few people dotted around the common room as Brogan put his enormous hand gently on Avalyn’s back and guided her into the heart of the warm room.
The innkeeper saw Brogan from behind his crudely-built bar; immediately, the round face lit up and he held up a dirty hand in greeting.
“Empfang, mein Herr,” he said. “Es ist gut, Sie wieder zu sehen.”
It was apparent that the man and Brogan knew each other. Brogan was actually friendly with the man. “A table for my lady,” he said to him. “And food. The best you have.”
The innkeeper’s bulbous eyes focus on the lady and he bowed a few times, very quickly and respectfully. “Of course,” he said in heavily accented English. “Right away.”
He lumbered away, barking orders in German to a skinny lad behind the bar. Avalyn watched him curiously.
“Is everyone you know German?” she asked.
The corners of Brogan’s mouth twitched. “When one is a stranger in a strange land, you learn where your countrymen have settled. My mother knows this man. They lived in the same village as children.”
As she nodded in understanding, he led her to a table near the smoldering hearth, offering some warmth against the chill of the room. He held the chair out for her as she settled carefully, shifting the child in her arms so she was seated across her lap. Brogan took the chair opposite, his eyes never leaving the beautiful lady. She had the little girl so tightly wrapped up in her cloak that the only thing visible was the top portion of her little head; big blue eyes and dirty blond hair peeked out at him.
Brogan couldn’t help the smile on his face as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. A big hand lay gently across Avalyn’s knee.
“So I will repeat my question,” he said. “Now that she has caught you, what do you intend to do with her?”
Avalyn looked at the child, who gazed back at her with bottomless eyes. “Feed her,” she said softly.
“And then what?”
Avalyn looked cornered, determined and confused all at the sa
me time. “One thing I will not do is allow her to go back to those horrible children. I cannot believe they would beat such a helpless baby.”
Brogan’s big hand patted her knee. “Don’t upset yourself so,” he said softly. “It is the way of things. Only the strong survive, you know that.”
Avalyn looked at him, stricken. “So I should have simply left her there to be beaten?”
He shook his head, the hand on her knee now stroking it comfortingly. “I did not mean that. What you did was most compassionate. But I cannot say I would have done the same.”
The little girl, sensing that the enormous man wasn’t perhaps as kind as the lady, pulled the cloak over her face to hide from him. Both Avalyn and Brogan laughed softly.
“You need not fear me, little one,” Brogan said. “I will protect you with my life if the lady says so.”
He was forced to remove his hand from Avalyn’s knee as the innkeeper brought the first of several portions of food. Big bowls of steaming carrots and cabbage, as well as some kind of meat were put on the leaning table. The skinny lad put a huge wooden tray of brown bread on the table before scampering away. As Avalyn pulled the cloak down to show the child the food on the table, the innkeeper reappeared with a pitcher and three worn cups.
“I am honored that you would bring your family, mein Herr,” he said, his eyes grazing Avalyn and the little girl. “You must be very proud. Never have I seen such beauty and a girl child who looks just as her mother. Schön!”
Brogan’s deep blue gaze looked sharply at the man. Avalyn, knowing what little she did about Brogan’s background, did not want to see the evening turn morose or ugly. Though he and the innkeeper knew each other, apparently it was only on an informal basis. Had the man known Brogan in-depth, he would have never made such a comment, knowing the pain it would provoke.
“Thank you, sirrah,” she said before Brogan could explode. “And thank you for this generous fare. It looks delicious.”
The innkeeper, red and round-cheeked, went through his quick series of bowing before hustling away from the table. Brogan just sat there, his expression unreadable, as Avalyn unwrapped the cloak enough to set the child upon her knee and move up against the table. As she helped the little girl pull apart a big piece of bread, her gaze inevitably moved back to Brogan. He was emotionless, his gaze on the pitcher of ale.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I did not know what else to say. I did not want to get into a lengthy explanation that was undoubtedly none of his affair. I did not mean to show any disrespect and I am sorry if I upset you.”
He looked up at her, his brow flickering with puzzlement. “Is that what you think? That you have upset me?”
She took the big wooden spoon that the child was trying to use to dish out cabbage and carrots, spooning out a careful portion on the girl’s wooden trencher.
“I did not mean to.”
He shifted his chair and Avalyn realized that he was moving it very, very close to her. As the child shoveled vegetables into her eager little mouth, Avalyn gazed up into deep blue eyes. Brogan put his massive arm around her shoulder, sitting indecently close. They were mere inches from one another, deep blue on golden brown, feeling the magnetism and power that so easily ignited between them. It was enough to set her heart to racing. He leaned over and kissed her on the temple, his lips lingering on her flesh long after the kiss died away.
“You did nothing of the kind,” he said, his mouth on her head. “As I listened to his words, I realized that I wished nothing more strongly. And then I realized that nothing is more impossible.”
She closed her eyes to the feel of his lips on her temple. The racing of her heart made her limbs feel warm and strangely weak. “Oh, Brogan,” she sighed. “I do not want to be without you. I do not want to marry Aubrey.”
“Then do not. Marry me instead.”
She looked up at him, her golden eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
He bent down, sweetly rubbing noses with her. “Never more serious about anything in my life. Marry me and let us leave this place and live where no one can keep us apart. Some place where there is no de Neville and no Edward and no Aubrey.”
Gazing up at him, she realized that she was more than willing to agree with him. Though the thought had perhaps lingered with her earlier that eve, she had just as quickly chased it away. But now, basking in his presence, she could think of nothing else. A paradise with Brogan as her husband and no war, no politics. She wondered if such a place existed. She had lived so long with the worst intrigue and power struggle imaginable that it was difficult to believe there was actually a world where peace prevailed. A place where she and Brogan could be happy.
The little girl suddenly turned to Avalyn, distracting her from her thoughts. The big blue eyes were warm with joy, food spread out all over her face. She said something with her mouth full but neither Avalyn nor Brogan could understand her.
“What did you say?” Avalyn asked with a smile on her lips.
The child swallowed a huge bite. “Is there sweets?”
As Avalyn chuckled softly, Brogan lifted an eyebrow. But it was without force. “What do you know of sweets?” he asked.
The little girl focused those enormous orbs on him. “I had some, once.”
“You did? What kind?”
Her expression washed with wonder and excitement. “Burnt sugar.”
“Burnt sugar?” Avalyn repeated. “Where on earth did you get that?”
The child turned back to her bread. “A man gived it to me when he hurt me.”
Avalyn’s smile faded, as did Brogan’s. “What man?” Avalyn asked with quiet puzzlement. “How did he hurt you?
The little girl truly had no idea of right or wrong, good or bad. She only knew what she knew, having grown up on the streets without anyone to guide or raise her. She shrugged to Avalyn’s question; she had more interest in the food than in answering.
“He hurt me and then he gave me burnt sugar.”
Brogan suspected what she meant, but he dare not explain it to Avalyn. A side glance showed him Avalyn sitting with her eyes closed, tightly, before opening them again. He suspected she knew what the child was alluding to as well, but did not want to voice it. Such a thing was common and not particularly shocking. But for it to be done to such a beautiful child, or any child for that matter, was a horror.
“You should eat something,” Brogan said, trying to distract Avalyn from her revulsion. He poured ale into one of the cups and put it before her. “Have some. It is usually quite good.”
Avalyn took the cup and downed the contents in three swallows. Brogan poured her some more and poured himself a measure as well. The little girl turned to look at Brogan, smiling with food falling out of her mouth, and sending him into snorts of humor. But the child had no idea why he was laughing and she went back to her meal. Avalyn downed another cup of ale, watching the little girl stuff herself.
“Poor little thing,” she murmured. “To live on the streets, starving, having no one to take care of her. What do you suppose will become of her?”
Brogan shook his head. “She will sell herself on the streets as most young girls do.”
Avalyn knew that. She didn’t know why she asked a rhetorical question. “She’s so young,” she stroked the dirty hair. “Do you suppose we could get her a bath and some clean clothes?”
“What for?” he asked. “She is going back on the street where she will only get dirty again.”
His attitude incensed her and she turned to glare at him. “Not if I decide to keep her.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Keep her?”
“Aye,” she said in a tone that dared him to defy her. “I cannot turn her back over to those evil children that would beat her or men that would… would hurt her.”
He kept his cool, trying to be detached about the situation. “Avalyn, it is not as if she is a stray puppy. You simply cannot take a child home like a pet.”
“Give me more credit than tha
t. I do not intend to keep her as a pet. I intend to raise her as my child.”
“But what if she is already someone’s child? She said that she did not have a mother, but what of a father? What if he still lives?”
“No worthy father would allow his child to live as she so obviously lives.”
“Maybe not, but I do not believe you are thinking clearly about this.”
She turned away from him. He suspected she would have run away from him had the child not been seated on her lap. He squeezed her shoulders gently.
“I am not trying to be cruel,” he leaned close so his lips where against her temple again. “But you are letting your heart speak and not your head. You’re not thinking…”
“Just as I do with you,” she cut him off sharply. “I am letting my heart speak and not my head, because my head tells me that I am committing unspeakably foolish acts with you. Do you know what would happen if my uncle, not to mention Aubrey, found us right now? Do you have any idea of the horror that would await us both?”
Brogan’s good humor faded. He averted his gaze, looking at his lap, unable to answer her at the moment. He knew very well what could happen.
“It is well worth the risk,” he said after a moment. “Given a thousand chances to make this decision, I would make the same choice a thousand times over.”
She watched him, the masculine beauty of his face, and felt her outrage ease. “As would I,” she murmured. “I’ve never truly had to make a choice of the heart, Brogan. You have been my very first one.”
He looked up at her. “Then marry me,” he whispered. “Marry me and let us live happily where the crown and your uncle cannot destroy us.”
“Now you’re thinking with your heart.”
“I do not care. It is what I feel and I will not deny it.”
Her eyes twinkled. “But what about Poupée?”
He looked at the little girl stuffing her face. The child met his gaze, letting out a loud burp to which she laughed loudly. Brogan grinned, his enchantment growing. “Her, too, if that is your wish. But I will not call my daughter Poupée. You must think of a better name than that.”
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