Chapter Fourteen #2
“Everything you say about me is true, Sir Barton,” she agreed softly.
“I learned the art of manipulation from my uncle and I learned it well. Do not think that it has been my pleasure to deceive your liege, a man who has only shown kindness to me. Even you; though I suspect you do not have a good deal of respect for my strength of character, you have nonetheless shown me the proper reverence in all matters. You are a man of honor. But understand this; my deception had nothing to do with evil tidings or greed. It was not directed at your liege or at you. I did not seek to destroy anyone. What I did, I did because I love a man. Nothing more, nothing less. We want to be together.”
Barton was standing a few feet away from her, looking down into her pale face. “I understand that, my lady. But it does not change what has happened or what you have done. You seek to assert power over something you have absolutely no control over, and you do not care who you hurt in the process.”
“You are so wrong, Sir Barton,” she said softly.
“I do indeed care who I hurt. I care very much. But your liege was thrust into the middle of something that was in process long before he entered the situation. It was never my intention to hurt anyone, least of all Charles. But if my choice is between his contentment and mine, I will once again apologize for being a very selfish woman. I would like to marry a man of my choosing, not my uncle’s. ”
Barton just looked at her, understanding her words but not agreeing.
But in speaking with her, hearing her softly-uttered explanation, he was coming not to think so harshly of her.
She was young and in love. And, truth be told, deep down, he very much admired her devotion to d’Aurilliac.
More than he would admit. Still, he could not condone her actions.
His gaze moved to Aubrey as he turned away, pacing back towards the long lancet windows that lined the west side of the solar. He had nothing more to say.
Charles alternately watched him go and watched the lady’s expression. She was still on her knees, still holding his hands. When she finally did turn to look at him, there were more tears welling in the golden eyes. She squeezed his hands.
“Please, my lord,” she begged softly. “Let William go. He was only doing what I ordered him to do. He is a true and faithful knight.”
“But he betrayed me.”
“He does not serve you. He serves me.”
Charles pursed his lips at the technicality. “If I release him, it will be to send him back to de Neville. I do not want him here.”
Avalyn blinked, realizing she was gaining at least part of her request. William would be released and sent back to Warwick in disgrace. But at least he would be free.
“Very well,” she breathed. “And Brogan? What do you intend to do with him?”
Charles shifted uncomfortably, glancing over at Barton. The knight refused to look at him, still gazing from the lancet windows. Avalyn could see his indecision and she pounced.
“If you think on it, my lord, he’s truly done nothing wrong,” she insisted softly. “He did not actually commit a crime other than pretend to be his father.”
Barton could not remain silent. “Impersonating a knight is a serious offense, my lady,” he said sharply.
“Punishment for that is thirty days in the stocks at the very least, and another year in the vault. I’ve even seen men with their right hand cut off in punishment. What he has done is indeed a crime.”
She let go of Charles’ hands and stood up, facing Barton.
His ire had roused her own. “Your agitation at this offense couldn’t be because he beat you in the estor and almost defeated you in the mêlée, could it?
Had I not asked Charles to stop the battle, the outcome could have been, shall we say, less than positive in your favor. ”
Barton would not show his frustration any more than he already had; it had been a mistake, he could see.
She was taking advantage of it, trying to unbalance him.
He realized at that moment that the lady was quite a formidable opponent and he gained a strange respect for her.
Yet, being a de Neville, he should have expected her to do exactly what she did.
“That is possible,” he said evenly. “But we are not speaking of me. We are speaking of d’Aurilliac and his punishment.”
“What punishment?”
Barton’s gaze traveled to Charles once again. “That is for Lord Aubrey to decide.”
Avalyn turned back to Charles. “Please show mercy, my lord,” she was back on her knees before him.
“He committed a crime as the result of his love and devotion to me. He was not attempting to harm you in any way. All he wanted was me. Can you not understand a man’s love for a woman and show mercy in your judgment? ”
Charles looked at her. “I will ask a question, my lady, and I would like an honest answer.”
“You have my word, my lord.”
“If you were in my position, knowing what you know and how this deception has been carried out, what judgment would you render?”
She stared at him blankly for a moment. He saw her hesitation and stood up, his brown eyes boring into her. “Honestly, my lady. Answer me honestly.”
Avalyn thought a moment, knowing exactly how her uncle would have handled it. He would have done away with Brogan simply to be rid of the threat. But she was not her uncle. Cornered, she knew she could not speak anything but the absolute truth and hope that he would not take her advice.
“There are two options that I would probably consider,” she said quietly, feeling weak and sorrowful as she spoke.
“The first option would be to keep him in the vault and make sure the marriage took place as quickly as possible. After that, I would make sure the man was escorted to the nearest port and shipped to points Far East with the promise that if I saw him again, I would kill him. The second option, of course, would be to simply keep him a prisoner indefinitely.” Her gaze came up to him, the golden eyes brimming with emotion. “Or you could simply let him go.”
Charles met her gaze, feeling the anguish. Lord, he was such a weak man. “I would let him go only if you agreed to marry me this night,” he said. He made soft demands. “No more delays, Avalyn. No more foolishness.”
She hung her head, hating the words she must bring forth, hating herself for thinking with her heart and not her head. “I would rather spend the rest of my life in the vault with Brogan than spend the rest of my life as Lady Aubrey.”
Her words were like a slap across his face. Charles’ head literally snapped back. Inflamed, he made an uncharacteristically impulsive decision, so swift that the words poured from his mouth before he could stop them.
“Very well,” he said with more strength to his voice than she had ever heard. “Barton, take her to the vault and lock her up. Maybe a few days in a cold cell will cause her to see the error of her ways.”
Barton was across the floor in two long strides, taking her firmly by the arm.
Avalyn didn’t so much as look to Charles; she kept her head lowered and did not resist when Barton pulled her from the solar.
Once through the entry and down the steps into the faded afternoon sunlight, Barton guided her across the dusty bailey.
Hard and professional though he might be, it did not prevent him from hearing her soft sobs and being touched by them.
He fought off the sympathy that threatened.
The vault of Guerdley Cross was in the gatehouse at the front entry.
Barton took her into the cool, dark room that held the stairwell that led into the bowels of the vault.
The narrow stairs were slippery and had it not been for Barton’s iron grip, she would have fallen.
Once into the sublevel that held four small cells and a bottle prison in the floor, her eyes adjusted to the weak torchlight and she could see three familiar faces gazing back at her.
Brogan, William, and St. Alban were in various positions in the same cramped cell. When they saw her face, the three of them collectively gasped.
“Avalyn,” Brogan breathed, his big body pressed against the iron bars. “Why are you here, sweetheart? This is no place for you.”
She didn’t answer as Barton used the old iron keys to open the cell opposite the men.
He didn’t throw her inside, but his firm guidance into the small, dank cell was obvious.
Avalyn just stood there in the middle of the cell as he locked her in.
Ignoring the curious men behind him, he faced her with his hands on his hips.
“Listen to me, my lady, and listen well,” he rumbled. “I seem to be the only person in this entire castle that is thinking clearly, for I have no emotional ties nor personal investment in this situation. If you are wise, you will heed my advice.”
Avalyn looked at him, forlorn and weak. She was struggling with defeat, struggling not to let it overtake her. But it was a losing battle.