Chapter Seventeen
Three weeks later
Brogan couldn’t help but notice that little Lake was gaining weight.
With his mother’s constant tending, and feeding, the little girl had turned into a healthy little cherub with round rosy cheeks.
She was sweet, and funny, and an utter joy to be around.
In fact, it had almost been enough to take his mind off his horrendous grief at times, but not entirely.
He still had moments of melancholy so painful that he would literally double over from it.
It had been over two months since that painful scene with Avalyn in the vault of Guerdley Cross.
He lived that moment over and over in his mind on a daily basis.
Because he had a tendency towards great and almost suicidal depression, as evidenced on the night he met Avalyn, his mother and St. Alban were with him almost constantly.
If one wasn’t around, the other was. He knew it was because they were worried about him and he had reassured them both more than once that he would never again do anything foolish against his life.
Even though they nodded their heads, he knew they didn’t believe him.
But their doubt and constant attention didn’t bother him now like it had in the earlier days.
In fact, everything had bothered him in the first few weeks as they had all returned to London like a rag-tag band of gypsies; him, St. Alban, his mother, little Lake, and the sirens.
All of them traipsing back to London in defeat.
The sirens had returned to their lair in the troop house while St. Alban had split his time between there and the bread shop.
All of them, trying to resume their lives before they had uprooted everything and had traveled north.
Still, the normalcy they sought was fragile; there were days that all seemed well and days that seemed dark.
But little Lake gave them all something to focus on, her youth and beauty filling their lives like the brilliance of stars.
For Brogan, in particular, since she went nearly everywhere with him.
No longer a soldier for Edward, he now lived with his mother in the little apartment over her bread shop.
He didn’t want to be a warrior any longer; he wanted to live as a simple man because it seemed the more pleasing thing to do.
He found that he was actually happier there than he’d been in a very long time.
Memories of Avalyn, for the most part, were easing.
He couldn’t help but think of her at times, however, knowing she was now Lady Aubrey and wondering if life was good to her.
It was his wish for her, truly. He could never think ill of her no matter what; his relationship with her had, if nothing else, showed him he was indeed capable of living and loving.
She had shown him such love and humor and devotion that he had come away from it a much richer man.
Still, he wished she would have married him. He wished it every single day.
This morning had dawned warm and bright, the humidity from the river in July already creeping into the still London air.
Brogan had risen before dawn to start the fire in the ovens for his mother and to begin his chores for the day.
He had wood to chop and a roof to mend, and he was perfectly content going about his tasks.
Lake, however, heard him get up and she rose, too, rushing to him with a hug and a kiss to start his day.
His mother had given her a daily duty, and that was to collect the eggs from the chickens they kept out in the alley behind the shop.
Therefore, Brogan dressed her in a little tunic and hose, with little boots on her feet, and together they went out to collect eggs from the chickens that sometimes liked to peck.
Lake was fearful of them but Brogan encouraged her, going so far as to push the chickens aside so she could move in and collect the eggs.
He had just ushered the little girl and her basket full of eggs back into the house when he caught movement in the alleyway.
A man appeared in his periphery and Brogan turned casually to see who it was.
For a moment, he simply stared at the man because he wasn’t entirely sure that he was not hallucinating.
William stood there, clad in armor and looking particularly weary, and Brogan just stared at him.
He even blinked his eyes, thinking William would disappear, but he didn’t.
He was still there. Jolted, and suddenly unable to breathe, Brogan rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Inglesbatch?” he asked hesitantly. “Is it… you?”
William nodded, exhaustion in his movements. “It is,” he said. “I was hoping to find you here. I did not want to go hunting all over London.”
Brogan had no idea why he was filled with terror, but he was. He couldn’t seem to shake a massive sense of foreboding.
“Why?” he demanded. “What has happened? Why are you here?”
William stared at him a moment before looking over his shoulder, off into the small passageway that separated the bread shop from its neighbor. Brogan found himself looking there, too, feeling like a perfectly sane man until Avalyn suddenly appeared.
Then, it was if all of his control left him; strength and heart and mind drained right out of him at her appearance and he staggered, falling to one knee. The shock was too great. His collapse brought William and Avalyn running, both of them grasping his arms to keep him from falling further.
“Brogan?” Avalyn gasped. “Are you well?”
Brogan looked at her, his mouth hanging open, as she held on to his left arm. He stared and stared at her and, as they watched, tears popped to his eyes.
“Avalyn?” he breathed. “Is it really you? Or am I dreaming again?”
Seeing the tears in his eyes poked holes in Avalyn’s control and her eyes welled up. She’d had three weeks to plan what to say to the man and she thought she had a perfect speech prepared, but the look of astonishment on his face completely disrupted her statement.
“You are not dreaming,” she whispered, a lump in her throat. “It is me.”
As realization dawned, Brogan ripped his right arm free of William’s grasp and cupped Avalyn’s face, staring at the woman as tears popped from his eyes.
Seeing that Brogan was weeping, Avalyn broke down completely.
His touch against her skin, the big and warm hands, dissolved every last shred of composure.
God, she had missed him. There was so very much to tell him.
“Why are you here?” Brogan demanded hoarsely. “Why have you come? Has something happened?”
Avalyn struggled to speak coherently. “I came to tell you that I am widowed,” she wept.
“Brogan, there was so much I had planned to tell you in a manner that was calm and rational, but I cannot seem to do that at this moment. Forgive me. I came because… because I love you more than anything on this earth and I want to know… I do not blame you if you do not love me any longer considering everything that has happened, but I had hoped….”
His answer was to cut her off, brutally, as his mouth clamped down over hers.
It was a kiss of such power and longing that the force behind it bled out of his very pores.
It swamped her, enveloped her, and cloaked her with its potency.
His arms went around her, holding her against him, listening to her soft sobs as he suckled her lips, tasting her tears along with his.
“I love you,” he whispered in between kisses. “I do not care why you are here, only that you are. For all time I will love you and only you.”
Avalyn’s weeping turned joyful, throwing her arms around the man’s neck and squeezing him tightly. Happy, joyful kisses rained down upon them both, from one to the other, each one of them demonstrating the thrill of the reunion. The bliss was beyond measure.
“Oh, Brogan,” Avalyn gasped. “I am so sorry for all you had to go through. I put you through so much… I can only plead for your forgiveness. I never meant to hurt you or mislead you.”
Brogan was suckling her lips furiously but he eased off, instead, taking a moment to gaze into her beautiful, flushed face. He didn’t think he’d ever see those delicious features again and, like a starving man, he was eating his fill.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he assured her, his voice quivering. “Love took us through a strange and difficult course and there is nothing to forgive, for anything. But tell me… you said you are widowed? What happened to Aubrey?”
Avalyn took a deep breath, struggling for calm. “He died on our wedding night,” she said softly. “I am Lady Aubrey and his estates belong to me, but I could not… I had to come, Brogan. I had to find you.”
He studied her carefully. “Why?”
“To find out… to discover if you would be willing to marry me and take me away from England,” she said. “We cannot stay here, Brogan. My uncle would never let us have a moment’s peace. I fear this is our last chance and we must take it if… if you are still willing.”
Brogan stared at her a moment before a smile broke out on his lips. It spread across his entire face and the tears threatened to return. “Marry you?” he repeated. “I will marry you this day and we shall go wherever you wish. De Neville will never find us.”
Avalyn gazed at him as if hardly believing his answer. “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Oh, Brogan… are you certain?”
“Of course I am!”
Relieved, overwhelmed, Avalyn burst into soft sobs and Brogan wrapped her up in his big arms, rocking her gently.
It was the best sensation in the world and his heart, so badly damaged, was miraculously healing, stronger than before.
Every heartache, every trial and tribulation, faded from his mind as if it had never happened.
The human heart was forgiving that way. He had Avalyn back and that was all that mattered.
As he held her, he happened to catch a glimpse of William standing off to his right.