The baby.Theirbaby. Mama Starke was trying to give him something positive to focus on but all it did was remind him of his destruction. Brogan looked back down at the trencher, filled with bread and cheese. He just stared at it. Then he tried to pick up a piece of cheese, not knowing what else to do. He was numb. But the moment he picked up the morsel, the tears came. He dissolved into gut-wrenching sobs as his mother and St. Alban stood by in mute witness.
It was something neither one of them ever wanted to see again. It nearly broke St. Alban’s heart. But he wasn’t one to leta situation slip away, especially one as critical as this, without trying to resolve it. He had to help.
He had an idea.
“Brogan,” he put his hand on the man’s heaving shoulder. “All is not lost, lad. You must trust me.”
Brogan wiped at his eyes, his nose. He hadn’t wept since the death of his father; not even his son’s death had brought on such a raw level of emotion. What he had felt for Shaw’s passing had been deep and agonizing and he had congratulated himself for his self control. But what he felt for Avalyn was new and tender and spilling out all over the place.
“Trust you how?” he sniffed loudly. “There is nothing to do but… wait.”
St. Alban’s mind was working swiftly. “I fear we should not. I fear we must take action if you do not want to lose the lady.”
“Action? What action?”
St. Alban met the man’s deep blue gaze as Brogan struggled to compose himself. “Can you be ready to travel in an hour?”
Brogan’s tears were fading. “Why?”
“Can you?”
“Do you have a plan?”
Brogan’s softly weeping mother broke into the conversation. “Listen to him, Brogan. He will help.Er wird helfen!”
Brogan didn’t look at his mother, but he felt the impact of her words. At this moment, he wasn’t thinking clearly and he knew it. He had to trust that others could.
St. Alban could see his confusion. “Aye,” he murmured. “I have a plan. Be ready to leave in an hour.”
*
“I have needof you.”
St. Alban’s words were softly uttered. Thelchtereia, Aglaope and Peisinoe weren’t sure if St. Alban meant one of them, or all of them. He stood in the doorway of their musty chambers, exhausted to the point of collapse, which was strange for the normally well-kempt man. Moreover, he wasn’t a usual customer. None of the girls had ever pleasured him. Thel lifted a dark eyebrow.
“Which one of us, St. Alban?” she asked. “Aggie has been up all night and Noe…”
“I do not mean what you think I mean. And it’s not me who truly needs you; it’s Brogan.”
Noe and Aggie were suddenly not so tired. They visibly perked at the mention of Brogan’s name.
“Where is he?” Aggie asked eagerly, grabbing for the hose she had just yanked from her skinny legs. “I will go to him.”
St. Alban held up a hand before the three of them worked themselves up into a frenzy. He could already see their enthusiasm at the mere mention of Brogan. The reality of his purpose must be made clear before the girls succumbed to fits of excitement.
“It is not what you think,” he held up his hands to stop the eager tide. “We have a very serious situation on our hands. Brogan is in trouble and I do not believe I can help him by myself. I need your assistance.”
Surge of excitement fading when they realized that Brogan’s needs were not physical, the girls settled down with a mixture of disappoint and curiosity.
“What manner of trouble?” Thel asked with some suspicion.
The old man sighed, his faded eyes full of remorse and fatigue. “Trouble of the heart.”
Thel was the only one of the three that didn’t look completely perplexed. In fact, she looked rather concerned. A glimmer ofunderstanding came to her dark eyes. “That lady that was here, isn’t it? The one who returned my gown?”
St. Alban nodded. “Brogan is in love with her and she with him. But her uncle is Warwick and has separated them.”
Thel’s eyes widened. “Warwick?” she gasped. “The man is more powerful than God. What do you expect to do?”
