CHAPTER ELEVEN
Later that night, Andrew sat inside his tent on the perimeter of Torridon, sipping a great goblet of red wine.
His thoughts were on his actions of the day, of the decisions made, and on Josephine’s effect on him. He had finally reached the point where he could admit to himself that he wanted her. Her beauty and the body that undoubtedly accompanied it roused him more than any woman ever had.
He propped his long legs on a stool and took another drink. He and Thane had a long talk after he had informed his second-in-command of the impending marital plans. At first, Thane had been shocked and had made several points as to why marrying the heiress of Torridon might not be such a good idea. But the reasons were fairly weak and, eventually, he had laughed slyly and congratulated Andrew of his cunning in his betrothal to the Mistress of Torridon, and all of her wealth.
But after that, the conversation turned uncomfortable for Andrew. Thane said several things that greatly disturbed him. He spoke of bleeding Torridon, of acquiring the dowry and using it to increase the size and strength of the army. No wife was going to tie The Red Fury down!
Indeed, Andrew was planning to continue his lifestyle. When he was sure Josephine and Torridon were safe from any more Dalmellington attacks, he would leave and continue with his army and his vocation. Josephine, of course, would remain at Torridon, and he would visit when time permitted. It would be a good arrangement, for neither of them had any interest in a marital relationship.
… did they?
But foremost was the question of why; why did he do it? Why did he offer to marry Josephine de Carron to save her from marriage to her enemy? Andrew had to laugh at himself because he really didn’t know why. He was very attracted to her, more than he had been to any other woman. And, of course, the fact that she was very wealthy didn’t hurt. But that wasn’t his chief motivation. Then, there was Torridon, one of the largest fortresses in Scotland. But strangely, that wasn’t a factor either.
So… what was the chief reason behind his offer? Andrew had remembered his initial reaction when he saw Josephine in the grips of the gypsy man. Joey. He had felt such a sense of protectiveness towards her that it had threatened to destroy his cover. He wanted to rush forward and strangle the bastard with his bare hands for even touching her.
Andrew had been surprised at himself for so strong an emotion. The only person in his life who had ever managed to provoke feelings of such power had been his mother. Andrew came to the conclusion that, for the reason of his own sanity, he had to offer to marry Josephine rather than see Dalmellington abuse her. He knew that if she did marry her enemy, he could not sleep at night wondering at her fate.
He couldn’t let Josephine suffer.
Therefore, it was a most noble sacrifice coming from a man who never thought of himself as being very noble. Perhaps by preventing Josephine’s imprisonment, he was somehow compensating for being unable to control his mother’s.
Odd that he would look at it that way.
Lost in thought, he was gradually aware of a commotion outside his tent and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. Straining his ears, he could hear snippets of a soldier’s voice and then an angry female voice.
He thought he recognized the female voice.
Andrew’s feet came off the stool and he rose on his powerful legs, but his sharp ears were still focused. God’s Bones, it was Josephine. What in the hell was she doing in a mercenary camp? With a frown, he took a step towards the door just in time to see Josephine propel herself in through the tent flap.
Her cheeks were flushed and her nostrils flared with exertion. She was still dressed in the same dress she had been wearing for the evening meal, rather thin of fabric, and with the evening’s chill, her erect nipples showed obviously through the material.
Surprised to see her, Andrew nonetheless looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and desire. His hand came away from his sword.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, my lady?” he asked pleasantly.
Josephine didn’t mince words. She’d had time to work up a righteous anger between the keep and Andrew’s encampment.
“I have been told that you have sought… comfort with my servants,” she said.
He looked amused. “And if I have?”
Her jaw fell open in shock. “Then you do not deny any of the rumors?”
He shrugged and laid his sword on the table. “I do not confirm them, either.”
“Do not play me with riddles, Andrew d’Vant,” she told him angrily. “Tell me if the rumors are true.”
He crossed his arms as he faced her. “Why is it so important that I admit that I slept with a maid?”
“Ah!” she crowed. “So you admit it? Allow me to inform you that I will not permit you to bed any more of Torridon’s female servants.”
“Why?” he asked, not at all concerned with her outrage. In fact, he found it rather amusing. “Would you prefer I bed the mistress?”
She scowled. “You’ll not lay a hand on me,” she seethed. “I’d just as soon bed a stable hand; it would bring me as much pleasure.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “We are to be married tomorrow,” he said. “Do you think you can keep your husband from your bed?”
She stood her ground, pointing a finger at him. “And may I remind you that this is a marriage only of convenience?” she said. “I intend to remain…”
He cut her off. “Remain what? A virgin?” His face and voice took on a hardness. “Josephine, we are to be married. Whether or not I deflower you is not the issue. Do you think that anyone decent would marry a divorced woman, providing the church and I grant you a divorce? Is that what you think?”
She was stunned into silence by his words. She hadn’t thought of it that way. Aye, she was attracted to him, terribly so, but she realized that she didn’t want to marry a man who would look at the union as a business arrangement. That’s never what she wanted. God, she didn’t know what she wanted now. All she knew was that she didn’t want a man who would bed the servants as well as her. It was wrong; shockingly wrong.
She wanted a man who would remain true to her.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned from him while her mind mulled over his words. Then, wiping the tears before they rolled down her cheeks, she turned back around.
“Then there will be no wedding,” she said hoarsely. “I will hold off the king and his men until I discover his true intentions. Andrew, you will choose two hundred of your best men and prepare them to ride at dawn. We will meet King Alexander on the road and, there, I shall discuss his intentions. While we are out, Sully will position the rest of the men in defensive positions in anticipation of our return and a massive attack by the king’s forces. I will die and see Torridon in ruins before I marry you or Colin Dalmellington.”
He fought off a smile. He knew she was angry, but he also knew she wasn’t serious. Torridon meant too much to her. Still, there was something at the bottom of her fit that rather touched him. Was it possible she was jealous he’d bedded the help? Was it possible she wanted him all to herself, as a wife would?
He rather hoped that was the case.
“As you wish. I’ll get my money either way.” He reclaimed his wine goblet in a thoughtful move. “I wonder if Dalmellington can use my services after Torridon has been purged of the de Carron Clan.”
That was enough for Josephine. She flew at him in a rage, with her little fists. But Andrew caught her by the arms before she could do any damage, pinning them behind her and pulling against his warm, hard body. Josephine twisted and squirmed. But she eventually realized her resistance was futile.
He had her exactly where he wanted her.
“Let me go,” she growled.
“Nay.”
Furious, she looked up, realizing that he was bent over her and his face was an inch from her own, his breath warm on her forehead. But his expression was not one of rage; there was something warm and seductive in his face. In spite of her fury, Josephine found herself relaxing against him because he felt so good. There was something about being held close to the man that made her heart leap wildly, the joy and comfort of a man of extraordinary strength.
She liked it.
“Now, Joey, my sweetling,” Andrew purred. “Listen to me and listen well. There will be a wedding because I want you, and you want Torridon. Tomorrow, you will become my wife and by tomorrow night I will take you bodily. We will truly become man and wife. And if the king and Dalmellington still want Torridon, they will have to go through me to get it.”
His words made her heart race faster and she was spellbound by his eyes. She tried to respond but found she couldn’t. There was nothing she could say by way of argument or anything else. What he said was exactly what she wanted… wasn’t it?
As she watched, his face loomed closer and, suddenly, his lips were covering hers, softly and gently as if he had all the time in the world. His stubble tickled her skin as his lips did marvelous things to her mouth. Warm… soft… delicious…. his tongue opened her lips to lick the pink insides of her mouth and run itself along her straight, white teeth.
It was more than she could take. Josephine collapsed against him completely, totally oblivious to anything else but the delight of his kiss. He was holding her close, possessing her for the first time, truly making his mark on her. She could’ve cried with the sweetness of it.
In his ardor, Andrew released her arms and Josephine immediately wound them around his neck, with their kisses growing in fervor. Andrew wrapped his thickly-muscled arms around her body and lifted her, carrying her swiftly to the furs that constituted his bed, and laid her gently down.
God’s Bones, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.
Josephine was so caught up in the heat of the moment, she barely realized he had laid her down. His hands roamed her body freely, rubbing her hard nipples through the fabric. His mouth left hers, blazing a trail down her neck and gently brushing the tops of her full breasts. The sensations were so utterly incredible that Josephine had not the mind to stop him if she wanted to.
She should… but she couldn’t.
But abruptly, he stopped. Lifting his head, Andrew looked deep into her eyes with a passion-strained expression. Josephine gazed back at him with her mind at a standstill. But she did wonder, fleetingly, why he had stopped and why he was looking at her. She was greedy in that she wanted more; more kisses, more of him. She didn’t want him to stop. Finally, Andrew’s mouth moved as if he were going to speak but, instead, he simply went back to kissing her. Josephine responded eagerly.
“My lord!” someone yelled from outside the tent. “Lord Andrew!”
Andrew was on his feet and raced to the tent flap before Josephine even had time to open her eyes. But as she scrambled up and tried to look as regal as possible, the tent flap opened and in swept Thane.
Thane opened his mouth to speak, but caught sight of Josephine and hesitated a split second. Andrew saw his surprised look and sighed impatiently.
“Well, well? What is it?” he demanded.
Thane tore his eyes away from Josephine and focused on his lord. “Riders,” he said quickly. “About three miles out.”
“How many?” Andrew asked.
“About twenty,” Thane replied. “Wearing uniforms and flying green and yellow colors.”
Andrew looked at Josephine for her opinion. She stepped forward towards the men, her eyes wide.
“Those are Kennedy colors,” she said. “Are they bearing weapons?”
Thane shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “It looks like an escort of some kind.”
She and Andrew passed perplexed glances.
“This time of night?” he asked her. “Who would be riding at this hour?”
She shook her head, perhaps a bit apprehensive. “It must be extremely urgent for Methuselah Kennedy to be exposing himself in the dead of night.”
Andrew didn’t waste any time. He turned to Thane. “Send a party out to meet them,” he instructed swiftly. “Bring them directly into the inner bailey, and say nothing of the events of today. Understood?”
“Aye, my lord,” Thane said, and was gone.
Andrew turned to Josephine. “Any idea as to why they should come?”
She shook her head, increasingly concerned. “I would not know,” she said. “But I am certain we will find out soon enough.”
It was a true statement. But Andrew realized he was nearly as apprehensive as Josephine was. Whatever it was, he was certain it could not be good.
But there was no time to waste. With guests on the approach, Andrew went to the corner of his tent where his mail and protection hung on a frame and donned his mail coat. He also had pieces of plate protection and Josephine watched as he deftly donned the protection and secured his sword. Picking up the big leather gauntlets he always wore, he pulled them on.
As Josephine watched it all curiously, it occurred to her that this was the true professional soldier that he was. Big, fearsome, and deadly. It sent a shiver of fear up her spine, for he was truly formidable. She had seen him many times before in his armor and gauntlets, and she didn’t know why this particular time was so different. It was as if she just realized she was gazing at the legend of The Red Fury.
There was a prideful feeling about it, too. It was this legend, this man, who was to be her husband. Such warm, giddy feelings filled her chest. Pulling herself from her daydreams, she gathered her skirts and moved to the tent entry.
“I will ride out with them,” she said. “I must have my horse brought around.”
He turned to her with lightning speed, a command to remain at Torridon on his lips. But he knew she wouldn’t tolerate that well, so he paused before replying carefully. “I am sure that will not be necessary,” he said. “You have enough men to do that for you. Surely you would rather remain here, where it is warm and safe.”
Josephine shook her head. “As the heiress of Torridon, it is good manners to greet other clans personally,” she informed him patiently. “No need to fear; the Kennedy are allies. You may join me in greeting them if you wish.”
He regarded her steadily, not at all pleased with her decision, but understanding her reason. But in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming a warning to him… riders on a dark night… in armor… bearing colors… it just didn’t make sense.
It was a custom that the chief of a clan greet allies personally; everyone knew that. With all of the trouble Torridon had been experiencing, the word “ambush” flashed in Andrew’s mind. If a man could control Josephine, then he could control Torridon. But Andrew knew no amount of pleading would change her mind. He had no choice.
“Very well,” he said begrudgingly. “I will ride with you.”
“Bring thirty or so men with you. Will you leave Thane here to assist Sully?”
“I will.”
He didn’t seem happy about any of this, but Josephine didn’t care. She turned for the tent flap and as she pushed it back, she stopped and turned around to look at him one more time. He wasn’t looking at her as he adjusted the tunic over his mail. Josephine admired how the light from the brazier made his hair dance with color. God, he was a glorious man.
“Andrew?” she said softly.
He stopped and looked up at her. “Aye?”
“I will ask you only this once and I would appreciate an honest answer,” she said. “Did you bed my servants?”
He straightened, gazing into her angelic face. It suddenly dawned on him that she was jealous, and she didn’t even know it. There was insecurity there, something that made her seem vulnerable and womanly. It was good to see, and his heart softened.
“Nay,” he said softly. “I have not even had the time. But if I had the time, I think I might’ve spent it with you.”
She smiled modestly and lowered her gaze, pushing through the tent flap.
He looked down at the empty doorway for a few moments before a smile appeared on his lips.
It had been the right answer. And it had been the truth.