Chapter Six #3
“Then you are agreeing? With your heart and not your head?”
Oblivious to the child between them, Avalyn could focus only on his amazing features.
He was so handsome, strong and masculine, so much more than any man she had ever known.
Of course she wanted him, and she knew without a doubt that she could spend the rest of her life married to Aubrey and never erase Brogan from her mind.
Even in the short time she had known him, their connection was so strong that it was as if he had been tattooed on her heart.
She put her hands on his cheeks, stroking the tanned, smooth skin, running her finger over his full lips.
Beneath her touch, she felt him shudder.
“Get the baby a bath,” she murmured, kissing his cheek, just close enough to his lips that she did not quite touch them. It was tender, delicious, and wildly erotic. “Give me time to think.”
His lips brushed against her mouth, so gently that her body ached with a wonderful sort of pain.
It was enough to suck every thought out of her head.
Just as she leaned in for another kiss, he bolted up and stalked across the room, finding the round-faced innkeeper and making demands in German.
Avalyn smiled as she watched him send the employees to a frenzy, her smile broadening when he leaned against the bar and turned to look at her.
He winked boldly at her, the dimples in his cheeks carving great chasms down his face.
Avalyn turned back to the little girl on her lap, her eating frenzy almost at a dead stop.
“All finished?” she asked the child.
Poupée, miserably stuffed, nodded in response to Avalyn’s question.
Her mouth was still full, but she wasn’t chewing; the food was just sitting there.
She wiped the hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand, spoon still clutched in her fingers.
Avalyn pulled the spoon free and encouraged the little girl to swallow the contents of her mouth.
With a great struggle, the child did so.
Avalyn lifted her from her knee and set her to the ground.
“Where are we going?” the little girl asked, rubbing an eye. Already she was sleepy with so much food and warmth.
“To get a bath.”
“A bath?”
“You do not even know what that is, do you?”
The child just lifted her shoulders unsteadily. Avalyn took her hand and led her away from the table, over to where Brogan now stood with a massive pot of steaming water in his hands. With a tilt of his head, he motioned the ladies to follow him up the narrow stairs into the loft above.
The innkeeper and the skinny boy were already in the loft, putting water into a big copper tub that looked as if horses had been eating out of it.
Avalyn looked at the surroundings, noting a bed with dirty covers and little else.
There were no walls, but the loft was high enough from prying eyes of the room.
Only those coming just inside the entry had a somewhat clearer view.
She led the child over to the bed, stood her up on the lumpy mattress, and began peeling away the filthy clothes.
She stripped off the only shift the child had, holding it out with disgusted fingers. “Burn this,” she ordered the innkeeper softly, “and bring me something else, anything at all will do.”
The innkeeper took the torn, soiled shift and held it away from him just as Avalyn had done. “I have no girl child clothes, my lady.”
“Do you at least have a clean shirt she can use? I shall pay you handsomely for it. And make sure it is warm. Hose, too, if you have any that might be serviceable.”
The innkeeper looked at Brogan before quitting the loft, uncertainty in his expression.
But Brogan gazed back boldly as if daring the man to complain.
As the innkeeper descended the stairs with a puzzled expression, Brogan’s gaze returned to the tub.
He poured the last of the hot water into it, watching is splash over the sides. Then he tossed the iron pot aside.
“There,” he went over to Avalyn where she stood beside the naked girl. “Get her in the tub before she freezes to death.”
Avalyn scooped the child up and plopped her in the water. The little girl howled.
“What’s wrong?” Avalyn demanded, concerned.
The little girl’s lip stuck out. “It hurts.”
“It must be too hot,” Brogan said helpfully, leaning over Avalyn’s shoulder as she picked up the big white bar of soap left by the innkeeper. “Perhaps we should cool it.”
Avalyn put her hand in it; it was warm, but not too hot. “It’s well enough. She’s just not used to it.” She began pouring it over the child, soaking her. Then she lathered up the soap and went to work.
Brogan moved away from the pair and sat upon the bed, watching Avalyn, in her deep purple silks, gently but firmly scrub the dirty little street urchin.
The child cried initially, but gradually settled down and even started playing in the water.
Isobel’s expensive aubergene-colored gown surely should not have gotten wet, but Avalyn didn’t seem to care as the little girl began splashing about happily.
When she was washing the child’s hair, a big glob of soap hit her in the mouth but she only laughed.
Seated on the mattress, Brogan laughed, too. It was a charming scene.
The bath didn’t last too long, but Brogan wished it would have gone on for eternity.
He could have watched Avalyn tend the child for the rest of his life.
She was firm yet tender, sweet and caring.
He’d never seen anything so marvelous in his life, but in the same breath, it reminded him a good deal of his mother.
She had been the same way with him, with Jeffrey, and finally with Shaw.
He knew that Avalyn would make a magnificent mother to his sons.
Whatever he was feeling for her grew by leaps and bounds in those few minutes he sat and watched her bathe the baby.
He couldn’t have run from it if he tried, and he didn’t want to try.
He knew at that moment that there was no possible way he would ever let her out of his sight again, not if all of the de Nevilles in England swarmed over him.
He wanted her, and he knew she wanted him. They had to be together.
Rising from the mattress, he went over to Avalyn as she kneeled on the floor by the tub.
Seating himself behind her, carefully, he made sure to sit close enough to touch her.
Water lapped onto his leather breeches but he hardly cared.
He only had eyes for the magnificent lady with the golden eyes and the pale little girl with the white-blond hair.
Gently, he reached and tucked stray strands of hair behind Avalyn’s right ear.
“So what will you name her?” his voice was soft. “Our daughter, I mean.”
Somewhat startled, she turned to look at him, seeing how close he was. With a smile, she turned back to the child, now blowing bubbles in the water.
“She looks rather like the lady of the lake, don’t you think?” she replied. “A water nymph from King Arthur’s realm.”
Brogan had heard the story of the Saxon king from those long centuries ago. “So you plan to name her Lady of the Lake?”
Avalyn laughed softly, dodging the suds that came flying at her. They missed her completely and hit Brogan in the cheek when he swiftly turned his face to avoid being hit in the eye. Avalyn laughed again as he wiped the froth off his skin.
“Nay, not Lady of the Lake. But I do like… Lake,” she said softly, watching the child frolic. “Lake du Brant d’Aurilliac.”
Brogan took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her to face him. His deep blue eyes were intense. “Does this mean that you accept my proposal?”
Gazing into his marvelous face, she could only think of one reply.
She was bewitched, mayhap foolish, but at the moment she did not care.
She was giddy with feelings for the man, for the life that loomed in front of them.
Perhaps it was a fool’s dream, but it was a dream nonetheless and she wanted to live it.
No politics, no kingmaker, and no Aubrey.
“Aye,” she whispered. “I will be your wife.”
Brogan’s mouth slanted over her with such passion that she toppled backwards, into his arms as his lips ravished her thoroughly.
His massive arms were around her, his hands caressing and powerful and delightful.
The only thing that existed at that very moment was the two of them, feeling the heat of desire soar like an arrow shot in to the sun.
They would have probed deeper, tasted more, had little Lake not suddenly yelled at them.
“It’s cold!” she squawked. “I’m cold!”
Brogan tore his mouth away from Avalyn and they both looked at the child, now as bright and clean and shiny as a new coin. She was spectacularly beautiful with her bottomless blue eyes and blond hair. But he still held Avalyn in his arms tightly, just a moment longer, unwilling to let her go.
“Lake d’Aurilliac,” he repeated, nuzzling her neck. “It’s perfect for her.”
“Do you really like it?”
“I do.”
Avalyn sat up, her golden eyes boring into him, suddenly very serious. “’Tis a big step for a man to take on both a wife and child, Brogan. Are you sure that you do not want to…?”
He cut her off with a deep kiss, lingering on her sweet lips, suckling the flesh until she gasped softly.
“I cannot recall a duty I would take on more willingly or more happily,” he said.
“You cannot know how much this means to me, Avalyn. I do not have the words to describe what is in my heart at the moment. I feel… alive. So very alive.”
“I’m cold!” Lake growled again. “I want out!”
Tender moment harshly interrupted, Avalyn laughed softly and collected the big piece of linen that the innkeeper had left for them, handing it to Brogan to hold out as she picked up the slippery baby and plopped her inside the material.
Brogan wrapped it around the child and began gently, vigorously, drying her little body.