Chapter Fourteen #3
Barton’s jaw ticked as he continued. “Agree to marry Aubrey this night and I swear that your friends shall go free,” he said quietly, firmly.
“Inglesbatch will go back to your uncle without a word of why he’s been sent back, d’Aurilliac will be sent back to London under escort, and the old man, whoever he is, will be released outside of Guerdley and sent along his way.
” He took a step closer to her, his hands now on the iron grate.
“Avalyn, you are betrothed to Aubrey. No matter how much you love d’Aurilliac, or how much you think you love him, the truth is that you and he will never be able to live a normal life in England.
And here is where your family is; it is where you were born, where you have wielded considerable wealth and power your entire life.
Never imagine that a life of poverty with a foot soldier is something you will be grateful for in the long run.
If you marry Aubrey, you will be thankful that you did your duty, that you married whom you were told to marry, and that you retained your honor and dignity.
Running off with d’Aurilliac will only bring you resentment and regret in the years to come. You must understand this.”
By the time he was finished, she wasn’t feeling so disoriented. In fact, much to her horror, he made a good deal of sense. “Why would you give me such advice?” she whispered. “You’ve held no great love or respect for me. Why should you help me?”
“’Tis not you I am helping,” he said, though by the expression on his face, she could see that it was not the truth.
“I serve Aubrey. You are making him miserable and he’s done nothing to deserve it.
Through your behavior, you have demonstrated that you are not worthy of him, yet he wants you all the same.
Do something right, my lady. Do what you have been pledged to do.
Regain your honor and cease with these lies. They do not become you.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment before he turned and walked away.
Avalyn’s gaze moved with him, watching him fade up the dark stairwell.
St. John’s words left a lingering aftertaste, soft yet unmistakable.
The more she dwelt on them, the more powerful they became.
Then she looked at the men in the cell across from her; Brogan had a black eye, St. Alban looked haggard, and William was just plan miserable.
She knew that their despair was all her doing. Barton was very correct and very wise.
“Is he right?” she whispered as if the thought suddenly occurred to her. “Have I lost my honor? Have I been so horrid and deceitful that I have defiled myself completely?”
No one answered right away. Brogan’s deep blue eyes glittered at her with bottomless emotion, brimming with sentiment that reached out to touch her.
It had been the first time he had seen her in nearly two days, and the sight of her in a cell, weary and beaten, was almost more than he could take. Her words were destroying him.
“You did what you had to do,” St. Alban said, seating on the dank straw behind Brogan. “We all did what we felt was right. It is immoral for two people in love to be kept apart. We took a chance to help you. But that chance has failed.”
“It has not failed,” Brogan growled, his hands gripping the iron bars and his eyes riveted to Avalyn. “It has only been delayed. She is not married to him yet. There is still a chance.”
“It is over, Brogan,” St. Alban said, stronger. “You have been defeated.”
“I have not been defeated,” Brogan roared even before St. Alban finished his sentence. “I will not give up. I will continue to fight until there is nothing left to fight for.”
“And look what it has gotten you,” William said from his other side, his voice strong and resolute. “Look where you are, d’Aurilliac; you’re in a dungeon. Your lady is in a dungeon and all of the people sworn to help you are in a dungeon. Your pride has condemned us all.”
Brogan whirled on William. “So you would give up? You would waste every effort you have made to help us? Why would you crumble so easily, William?”
William’s round blue eyes did not back down from Brogan’s intense expression.
“Look around you and ask yourself if the fight is not over.” He moved away from the mossy stone wall, making his way towards Brogan.
“I told you I wanted to see Avalyn happy. More than anyone, I wanted to see that. I agreed to help you both when I knew very well that it was wrong. But this plan was risky from the onset; like a house of cards, if one card fails, the entire structure crumbles. Somehow, somewhere, a card failed. I do not know where or how, but it did. Now there is nothing left to salvage. You heard St. John; if Avalyn agrees to marry Aubrey this night, then they will let us go. I believe that is a show of infinite mercy, considering this is not the first time that you and Avalyn have been caught trying to run off together. If you try again, they will kill you. Know when you have reached your limits, man, if for no other sake than for Avalyn’s. She has far more to lose than you do.”
Brogan did not want to agree with him, but something deep inside him was struggling to burst free, to be heard, and to concede that the fight was, indeed, over.
He looked over at Avalyn; she was crying, tears running in rivers down her cheeks and onto her neck.
He couldn’t stand her tears. As always, he found himself deferring to her, wanting so badly to keep fighting but knowing that William was, by all accounts, more than likely right.
“Avalyn,” he said softly. “Tell me what you want to do. Tell me what to do and I shall do it.”
She blinked, fat tears dripping off her lashes. “Oh, Brogan….”
“Do not cry, mein schatz,” he murmured. “There is no need for tears. Tell me what you want to do.”
The sobs came forth and she wept softly before answering.
“Perhaps William is right,” she whispered.
“Perhaps… perhaps the fight is over. As much as I love you, and will always love you, there are stronger forces at work against us. Look at William and St. Alban; they are all but ruined. We did this to them, you and I. We must beg their forgiveness and right our wrongs. We must not be selfish any longer.”
Brogan gazed at her, hearing her words, knowing that she was preparing to surrender.
Gripping the iron bars, he hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off the tears and the cries of anguish.
He ended up crumbling, falling to his knees, lethargically rolling over onto his buttocks and leaning his back against the old iron grate.
He sat there, staring into the darkness of the cell, pondering the future now that Avalyn was slipping away from him.
“No, Avalyn,” he breathed. “God, please, no….”
“We must, Brogan,” she sobbed quietly. “To save your life, and William’s life, and St. Alban’s life… we must.”
“But I cannot….”
“You must, Brogan. We must.”
He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. There was a long, heavy pause before he finally spoke. When he did, his voice had the resonance of a dead man.
“If that is your wish, mein schatz, I will abide by it.”
“It is over, Brogan.”
“Aye, my lady. There will be no schritte der herrlichkeit for us. It is over.”
Steps of glory. His words took all of the strength from her body.
Avalyn collapsed on the dank cell floor, her tears flowing freely.
Brogan turned to face her, reaching his arm out between the bars, trying to touch her.
She saw his hand and she extended her arm though the restrictive grate, her fingers stretching for him, wanting so badly to feel him.
“I love you, Brogan.”
“And I love you.”
Twenty inches and an entire country separated them.