Chapter Twelve #2
“And you go against Barton today,” she pulled away from his seeking lips, her hands in his hair, her gaze devouring him. “I am so frightened for you. You have never jousted before. What if…?”
His lips were on hers again, his tongue invading her delicious mouth.
Their breathing was coming in heavy pants, her hands in his hair and his enormous arms swallowing up her torso.
Somehow, they made it back into the stall with the big bay colt and he pinned her against the wall, trapping her against his fervent exploration.
As their kisses came in a frenzy of passion, the horse, normally so edgy, did nothing more than look over his shoulder at them.
Brogan did not want to talk; he only wanted to taste her, if only for a brief moment.
One massive hand moved long her torso, stroking her arm, finding the swell of her breast. Against his mouth, Avalyn sighed with pleasure and his hand closed over her breast, squeezing with gentle insistence.
She put her small hand over his as he fondled her, silently encouraging him, telling him without words how long she had waited for his touch.
His mouth left hers and moved to the rise of her bosom, dragging his lips over the tender flesh. He moved to her shoulder, her neck, nibbling tenderly on her sweet skin. As he prepared to invade her mouth again, a hiss from the stable entry grabbed his attention.
“Aubrey’s coming,” Inglesbatch was already half way towards them, waving his hands sharply. “Separate yourselves. Avalyn, get over by the horse’s head.”
Brogan immediately dropped his hands from her, but it did not prevent him from stealing a last kiss.
With a lingering glance, he moved far enough away so that it looked as if he was merely observing the lady and her horse.
Avalyn, shaking with the passion cut short and the fear of being discovered, wiped the moisture from her face, her gaze lingering on Brogan as he went to stand near the wall of the stable.
She bumped absently into the post of the stall, unable to look at anything other than her soldier.
William snapped his fingers at her when he saw where her attention was, forcing her to focus on the horse’s leg.
William bent over the limb once more, his hands on the fetlock, just as Aubrey and St. John entered the dim, musty stable.
Brogan looked over at the two men, noting the expression on Aubrey’s face as he gazed at Avalyn. He felt a stab of jealousy and forced himself to look away, his gaze returning to the leg that William was currently examining. Aubrey and Barton came upon the group.
“Well?” Aubrey’s gaze moved between Avalyn and the horse. “How is the leg?”
William stood up. “A swollen tendon, but I do not believe it to be bowed, my lord,” he faced Aubrey. “I will wrap it tonight with some medicament and see how he fares tomorrow.”
St. John, standing back and observing, looked over at Brogan as the man leaned silently against the wall. “A fine colt; wouldn’t you say, Gervaise?”
Brogan nodded. “Indeed. I came to tell Sir William just that.”
“It’s not Sir William’s horse, but the lady’s,” Barton replied. “Do you know horseflesh?”
Brogan shook his head, a faint smirk on his lips. “I only know warfare, my lord.”
Barton returned the grin. “As do I. In fact, I do believe we have an appointment shortly.”
Brogan, smirk still on his lips, nodded his head and pushed himself off the wall.
His charger was in the next bank of stables, which, had Aubrey and St. John been the suspicious type, would have made his presence at the end stall a little odd.
There was no reason for him to be there.
But they had no reason to suspect anything and neither gave him a second glance as he left the stall and went back to his own horse.
“I’d better go see to my animal,” Barton said, begging his leave of his liege. “I shall see you at the field, my lord.”
Avalyn watched the tall blond knight as he left the stable, wondering who would indeed emerge the victor in the bout.
She wished with all her heart that she could go to Brogan, giving him words of encouragement.
She wished she was allowed to show her support for him.
But as Charles led her from the stables back into the windy sunshine, she knew it was more important than ever not to show any bias towards Brogan.
She could not give Charles reason for suspicion, not if she and Brogan were to have more moments together like the one they just had.
A glance over her shoulder showed William several paces behind.
By his expression, he did not look pleased and she knew it was because he did not like being deceptive.
But he was doing it for her sake. Avalyn wasn’t sure how much more guilt she could feel for compromising William, but she experienced another full measure.
She smiled timidly at him and turned back around, facing forward as Aubrey led her off towards the practice field outside the walls of Guerdley Cross.
A pivotal match was about to take place.
*
Brogan was waiting for them when they reached the field.
Astride the massive gray charger than St. Alban had given him, he was standing quite patiently at the southern end of the large, dusty field used for practice by Guerdley’s troops.
Shielding her eyes from the sun as the wind whipped around her, Avalyn also noticed a fat, large man a few feet away from Brogan. She recognized St. Alban immediately.
There was a single list to the east of the field, backed up against Guerdley Cross’s tall outerwall.
Charles led her over to the platform and assisted her up the steps, making sure to keep himself between the lady and Inglesbatch, who was still following them.
Charles then sat her down on the only stool available while he stood next to her.
William remained at the base of the platform.
Barton arrived shortly thereafter astride his muscular bay charger.
He adjusted his gauntlets as the horse jaunted to the northern end of the field, two young squires running alongside.
There were also several soldiers accompanying him simply to see the spectacle.
Avalyn observed Barton closely; having been exposed to knights for most of her life, she was well versed in their trappings and their chivalry code.
Barton was loaded down with well-used protection, and his weapons were powerful and simple.
He had come to do business, not make a show.
“This shan’t take long,” Charles broke into her train of thought. “I have instructed the men to line up for the estor. A few passes and perhaps I will have them go to foot combat.”
Avalyn looked up at him. “A charge?” she clarified the term estor. “That should be enough, don’t you think? Why must they fight each other on foot?”
“To see Gervaise’s worth, of course.”
“He’s twice the size of St. John. That alone should prove his worth.”
“Still, I would like to see him fight.”
Avalyn glanced over at William, several feet away and focused on the field.
He could not have failed to hear what Charles had said.
Knowing what William had told her of Brogan’s behavior on the battlefield, she wondered if a foot battle would be a good idea.
It might give him away if they knew anything of d’Aurilliac’s savage reputation.
William could feel her gaze and he gave her a sidelong glance. He could read the concern in her eyes.
A few more soldiers joined the growing crowd on the field, men who served Aubrey.
One of them was an older man, serving as Field Marshall.
Avalyn tried not to stare at Brogan, poised and waiting on the south end of the field, as Barton finished securing his gauntlets.
St. Alban was standing alongside Brogan now, speaking to him and apparently directing him.
She could see the old man gesturing with his hands.
As she was watching St. Alban, Thel and Aggie came upon the platform and stood respectfully behind William.
Avalyn looked over at her ladies, who gazed back at her with big eyes. Having been searching for Brogan at the Knight’s Quarter’s, they had met up with St. Alban and had been told of the bout. Now they could only offer silent support as the foot soldier faced off against the knight.
Avalyn’s gaze lingered on the ladies, on William, and finally on Brogan in the distance. So many people willing to risk their lives for her. She still did not know what she did to earn such loyalty, but she was grateful for her blessings. Still, she could feel their anxiety. It matched her own.
When it was apparent that Barton was ready, Charles walked to the edge of the list and emitted a shrill whistle from between his teeth.
Immediately, Barton spurred his charger forward.
Brogan spurred his own beast forward a split second later.
As the horses thundered towards each other at break-neck speed, Avalyn rose from her seat.
Her eyes were riveted to the hurling masses of flesh, heading towards one another as if to run each other over. The lances were lowered and aimed.
Avalyn found her focus on Brogan, watching him for any signs that the man was not as skilled as he wanted everyone to believe.
But he held the lance steady; the only outward sign of his lack of experience was the fact that he was bouncing too heavily in the saddle.
Barton, with years of horsemanship behind him, used his knees to steady himself so that he did not bounce so terribly.
He appeared suspended above the saddle while Brogan was entrenched in it.