Chapter Three #4
They had made the turn onto the avenue that would take them straight to the Tower. Avalyn wasn’t quite so anxious to reach it and neither was Brogan. Their pace slowed, though neither one was aware of it. They were simply enjoying walking together.
“Brogan?”
“Aye?”
“What were you doing on the bridge last night?”
He looked at her, startled anew by the question. “Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “For a few reasons, I suppose. For one, it was nearly pitch-black last night, barely a moon, so I would assume you weren’t standing there observing the beauty of the night.
Secondly, I remember racing for the bridge and I remember my horse veering off, enough to dislodge me.
And I remember sailing through the air before everything went black.
But if I went up and over the guides and still managed to knock you in, that means you had to be at least standing up on the guides.
I couldn’t have knocked you in the river had you been standing on the footbridge. ”
He didn’t say anything for a few long moments.
He had never expected that question to come from her.
She was more astute than he gave her credit for, reasoning out the disturbing circumstances of their meeting.
As much as he was inclined not to tell her what he had been doing on the bridge, there was something about Avalyn that touched him deep, as if she could look into his eyes and know all about him.
He didn’t have to say a word. There was a connection, and there was an attraction.
It was uncharacteristic of him to reveal himself to anyone. But he had already done it once to Avalyn and she had respected him. Still, he was reluctant to tell her of his darkest weakness. He was afraid she would think less of him and he did not want to risk it.
“I was up on the guides,” he admitted. “I was… I was looking at the water. I was thinking.”
She gazed up at him and he swore those golden eyes could see everything that was in his heart.
He met her gaze, but he knew that she was aware he was lying.
He felt like a weak little lad, gazing into the most beautiful face he had ever seen and being terrified she would distain him if she knew the truth.
After several long moments, she finally looked away. “Oh,” she said. “Whatever the reason, ’twas a good thing you were there. Otherwise, I would have surely died.”
Brogan was relieved that she did not press him. He began to think that perhaps God had put him on that bridge for a reason that night, only not for the reason he thought. He believed he had gone there to end his life. What he had ended up doing was saving one. His fingers around her hand tightened.
As they walked in cozy silence, a shadow suddenly fell across their path.
Avalyn looked up to see her uncle’s knight, William Inglesbatch, gazing down at them astride his big red charger.
She came to a halt, startled at his appearance.
She knew, in that instance, that she would have a good deal of explaining to do.
If William had found her, they must be looking for her, and the warm situation of a simple stroll with Brogan suddenly turned dark and tense.
She felt like muttering a curse, but she spoke plainly and tried not to appear rattled. “What is it, William?”
Inglesbatch was in full battle armor, armed to the gills with broadsword and weapons. He flipped up his three-point face plate, of the latest style. There was menace on his handsome face.
“Your uncle is looking for you, my lady,” he said in a deep, unsympathetic voice. “I am to escort you back.”
Avalyn could have done one of two things at that moment; she could refuse, or she could go with him.
How she behaved could very well dictate how Brogan behaved as well, for already she could feel him tensing against her.
Rather than to create a scene and invite possible bloodshed, she slipped her hand from Brogan’s elbow and moved towards Inglesbatch.
She put herself between the men in a calculated move; William would not move for Brogan if she was in the way.
There was nothing else, in her opinion, that she could have done at the moment.
“Very well,” she said compliantly, turning to Brogan as if he was an afterthought. “Thank you for the escort, my lord. A very good day to you.”
Inglesbatch bailed of his charger, his blue eyes shooting daggers at Brogan.
He took possessive hold of the lady’s arm and, in that instant, it took all of Brogan’s self control not to charge the man.
The sudden appearance had been shocking enough, but now that he’d had a moment to let it sink in, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to let the lady go.
When William turned his back on him in order to help Avalyn mount, Brogan clenched and unclenched his fists and prepared to charge.
But Avalyn caught his gaze over the top of William’s shoulder and she shook her head, a hard snap that begged him not to do anything foolish.
Their gazes locked, and he could see that she was as reluctant to go as he was to let her.
But another flick of her gaze, which he followed, showed that there were several De Neville knights and soldiers surrounding them.
He knew she was going because she had to.
It did not occur to him until later that she left because she was trying to save his life.
There was no doubt the de Neville men would have cut him down and called it justice.
So Brogan stood there, unmoving, like a massive statue in the middle of the avenue as Inglesbatch mounted behind Avalyn and took off in the direction of the Tower.
The surrounding de Neville men, with the green crest emblazoned upon their saddle blankets and tunics, brought up the rear in a thunderous retreat.
As quickly as they had appeared, they were gone, leaving Brogan standing in their dust. It was a disappointing end to a spectacular morning.