Barton watched his liege a moment before strapping on his weaponry. He knew his liege well enough to know that Charles really hadn’t meant what he had said; beneath the weak-willed character and flab was a man who simply wanted to live a peaceful, easy life. He wasn’t cut out for command of a powerful baronetcy or the powerful marriage brokered by the Kingmaker. Had Aubrey been surrounded by less scrupulous people, he would have been easy to manipulate, as de Neville had so aptly done. But Barton was not only scrupulous, he was also protective of his liege. He thought that perhaps he might have a conversation with Inglesbatch himself to explain the way of things. Like it or not, Lady Avalyn was due to marry Aubrey and Inglesbatch would have to back off his zealous protective instincts where the lady was concerned if he wanted to stay at his post.
The wind was blowing outside, slamming the door to the armory back on its hinges. The sharp sound startled both St. John and Aubrey from their correlating thoughts. Barton slapped his helm onto his blond head.
“Shall we go, my lord?” he asked. “I must go to the stables and retrieve my charger.”
Aubrey was up, moving slowly for the door. Then he suddenly perked. “The lady is there tending her horse. Perhaps we will see her.”
He sounded just like an eager child. Barton was suddenly coming to feel some animosity towards the lady that would treat his liege so callously. “Perhaps, my lord.”
Charles picked up the pace.
*
The wind wasblowing with increasing intensity as the day progressed. The Guerdley Cross pennants of red and yellow snapped at the top of the keep as the wind whipped them about. As Avalyn and William crossed the bailey into the stable yards, Avalyn’s elaborate hairstyle was in danger of unraveling in the harsh breeze. Dust kicked up with the gusts.
The stables were fairly protected against the northeast wall of the outerwall, a well-kept and busy place considering that Charles had a collection of warmbloods for breeding. Several mares, big animals that were well fed and happy, were in a corral. Avalyn passed by the corral, reaching out to stroke a velvet nose that was close by. The brown mare with the white spot on her forehead tried to nibble on her and she laughed.
William followed her into the cool, dark stalls. Her big bay colt was at the very end, tethered to an iron ring because he had been so skittish as of late. Avalyn approached the animal, calling his name and cooing softly. The horse’s ears perked inher direction and he nickered softly. She was able to enter the stall and affectionately stroke the horses’ head and neck, keeping the beast calm as William took a look at the right front foreleg. He ran his hands over the limb, from top to bottom.
“Well?” Avalyn asked. “What do you think?”
He put the leg back down, running his fingers over the ankle. “I think the horse has strained his tendons and nothing more. I’ll wrap him with mashed Arrowroot tonight and we’ll see how he fares tomorrow.”
Avalyn kissed the horse on his nose, moving around the animal to get a better look at the leg. “Thank Goodness,” she sighed. “Charles seemed to think it was worse than that.”
“Not to contradict the baron, but I do not believe so,” he said. “We’ll know better after I tend it.”
Satisfied, Avalyn pat the horse one last time and turned to leave the stall. But a massive body was suddenly blocking her path and, startled, she looked up into deep blue eyes. It was an electric moment full of shock and euphoria as Brogan’s gaze glimmered at her.
“Is your horse well, my lady?” his voice was strangely tight.
Her hands flew to her mouth to prevent the soft cry that threatened. “Brogan,” she breathed before she could stop herself.
William was suddenly between them, shushing Avalyn strongly. “The horse will be fine,” he said loudly, in case ears were near. “I was just going to tend him. Do you know about horses, Gervaise?”
Brogan couldn’t take his eyes off of Avalyn. As he watched, tears filled the golden orbs and he tore his gaze away, so terribly wanting to take her in his arms but knowing, for both their sakes, that he could do nothing of the kind. At least not yet.
“I know something of them,” he said to William. “But my focus has been warfare more than horseflesh.”
William held up a quelling hand, his round blue eyes searching out their surroundings. It appeared that they were alone but for three or four other horses. With his hand still in the air, ordering silence, he made his way to the stable entry and looked to the yard beyond. After a moment, he turned back to the two of them.
“Say what needs to be said quickly,” he ordered in a harsh whisper. “I shall be just outside the door.”
He disappeared. Brogan didn’t hesitate; he caught Avalyn against him fiercely, crushing her, listened to her soft sobs of joy as she felt the warmth of his touch for the first time in weeks. He kissed her furiously, tasting her tears.
“Mein Schatz,” he breathed against her lips. “You are more beautiful that I had remembered. Are you well?”
She nodded, barely able to speak. “I thought you had forgotten me,” she whispered, her hands on his face, reacquainting herself with his masculine beauty. “You stayed away so long.”
His lips were on her again, his massive arms holding her tightly. “I am sorry,” he murmured. “If I am to be a knight, then I must be convincing. St. Alban has been schooling me. I did not mean to stay away from you for so long, but it was necessary.”
“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.
