“Oh, Brogan, she is so lovely,” Mama became choked with emotion. “But I do not understand; how is she your daughter? You do not have a daughter. And she belongs to Lady Avalyn, too?”
Brogan shifted the baby and placed her in his mother’s arms. The old woman began to weep silently at the sweet presence of the baby and Brogan put his massive hand on her shoulder. “We found her starving in the streets,” he explained softly. “The other children were making her beg for coin and then beating her when she did not get any. Avalyn has decided to adopt her as our daughter.”
Mama Starke’s sobs grew. “Oh,mein liebling kleinesbaby,” she murmured. “Poor little thing. She is so tiny and helpless.”
“She is tiny, but she is anything but helpless,” he told her. “I am proud to call her my own and I would ask that you tend her until Avalyn and I return for her.”
Mama Starke tore her gaze away from the child. “You are leaving?” she fearfully looked at St. Alban. “But the soldiers are looking for you!”
Brogan looked at St. Alban also. The old man had seated himself back in the chair at the front of the shop, staring out of the front window. Brogan wasn’t sure he wanted to hear all of it but knew he had no choice. He patted his mother on the shoulder.
“Take her upstairs and put her to bed,” he commanded softly. “She is your baby now, too. Take great care of her.”
Mama Starke didn’t need to be told twice. She kissed the sleeping child on the cheek and carried her up the narrow steps to the second-floor chamber. Only when she was out of earshot did Brogan approach his old friend. He pulled up a three-legged stool from beside the hearth and sat, his big body tense.
“Now you will tell me everything,” he growled.
St. Alban sighed heavily; he looked far older than Brogan remembered. The old man shifted in the squeaky chair and looked up at him. “What is the meaning of that child?”
“You heard me. The lady and I have claimed her as our daughter. We plan to wed this night.”
St. Alban looked sick. “Do you have an idea how badly you have complicated things? You don’t need the added burden of a starving child to tend. And a wedding is out of the question.”
“My future plans are not your concern. Tell me what has happened.”
St. Alban lifted an eyebrow with a tinge of irony; what hadn’t happened this night? “De Neville’s knight came to me this evening looking for you. It would seem that Richard and Lady Avalyn’s fiancé were out scouring the town for the two of you and he wanted to know where you had gone so that he could find the lady before her enraged uncle did.”
Brogan gazed steadily at him. “And so they did not find us.”
“Brogan, did you even know the lady was betrothed?”
“I did, but it is an unwelcome one. She does not want it.”
St. Alban shook his head wearily. “It does not matter what she wants; the fact remains that she is contracted to another. You have no right to focus your attentions on her.”
Brogan’s jaw ticked. “I love her.”
“But she belongs to someone else!”
St. Alban was growing agitated. Not wanting to get into a verbal altercation with him, Brogan shifted the subject slightly. “Where are de Neville’s men now?”
He shrugged weakly. “Not being able to locate you or the lady, they have gone back to the Tower to wait. You cannot return to the barracks; they are waiting for you there, too. Where is the lady?”
“She has returned to her apartment.”
“Then they have her.”
Brogan stood up so swiftly that the stool toppled. “I must go and…”
“Nay,” St. Alban grabbed him before he could move away. “If you go to the Tower, they’ll kill you. Brogan, no matter how strong you are, they will overwhelm you by sheer numbers. I beg you; for your sake as well as the lady’s, do not go back to the Tower. You’ll be walking into your death if you do. Is that what you want?”
Brogan glared ferociously at the old man, but in the same breath, knew he spoke the truth. But he could not just stand by and do nothing, which was what St. Alban was asking him to do. Confused, furious, his big body began to twitch. That which he feared was coming to pass and he could see his entire life crumbling again before his eyes. But he fought it: this time, he would not give in so easily. He would fight.
“No,” he rumbled. “But I cannot stand by while they punish her. Is that what they are going to do? Punish her for being with me?”
St. Alban lifted his puffy shoulders. “I do not know,” he said truthfully. “The knight that came to me– Inglesbatch– seemed to be more sympathetic to the lady’s plight than spurred with the overwhelming need to see her punished. He convinced me to help him find the two of you so that he could intervene on the lady’s behalf. But we could not find you, no matter where we looked. So we returned to the Tower, and I came here alone, hoping to find you.”
Brogan’s face was taut with emotion, thinking on Avalyn at the mercy of her uncle. “You did not tell Inglesbatch of my mother’s shop?”
