CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Josephine slept late the next morning, waking a little before midday. It was unusual for her to sleep past sunrise, but she was desperately tired and needed the rest.
Ola had the tub filled with steaming rose-scented water. The little servant moving about the chamber had finally awoken her. Josephine laid on her side, watching her maid as she brought linens and soap, and laid out a rich, deep-blue surcote with white panels in the skirt.
The little maid seemed to be in more of a hurry than usual, running back and forth like a scampering mouse. When she finally ceased, she faced her mistress expectantly.
“My lady, the king demands an audience as soon as you are ready,” she said hurriedly. “Will you not rise now?”
Josephine sat straight up. “Why did you not awaken me sooner?” she demanded, throwing off the bed covers and yanking her night tunic over her head. “How long ago did he ask for me?”
“Not long, my lady. But Sir Andrew told me to let you sleep.”
Josephine’s agitated movements slowed and she peered at the woman. “He did?”
“Aye, my lady.”
Josephine wasn’t sure what to say to that; had he assumed too much? Or was he just being kind? But she couldn’t think too much about it because the king was waiting to conduct his business with her. She was eager to discover, finally, why the man had really come to Torridon. She had to hurry.
The bath was brief but invigorating. Ola scrubbed quickly and dried her so roughly that Josephine was certain the woman had removed skin. But there was a sense of urgency in the air and the little maid could feel it. Very shortly, Josephine was clad in the blue gown with soft slippers on her feet, and her hair was pulled to the nape of her neck and gathered in a gold net as fine as a spider web. Her neck glittered with a gold and sapphire necklace her father had given her.
When she felt presentable enough to face her king, Josephine exited the room swiftly and headed for the great hall. It was nearly noon, and she assumed everyone would be gathered there.
As she rushed, her stomach was twisting with anxiety. Before the day was through, she would know her fate and the thought of that knowledge scared her. It was the not knowing that was the worst. Once she reached the outskirts of the great hall, she took a deep breath for courage and said a quick prayer. God help her with what was about to happen. Truth be told, she was a little terrified.
The hall was crowded with people eating a meal of bread, cheese, and cold meats at midday. Donald Muir sat with the king on the dais, deep in conversation, and Josephine was almost surprised to see him. She had nearly forgotten he was still at Torridon, keeping to his room as he was because of his swollen face. Nicholas de Londres, the king’s nephew, sat on the other side of his uncle, and his eyes immediately riveted to Josephine as she entered the hall.
She had not seen him at the feast last night, for he had been in charge of overseeing the king’s caravan, but now that she could see him better in the light, she noted he was a very handsome young man. He was Donald’s age, perhaps having seen a little more than twenty summers, with a beautiful head of red-gold hair. He had big, blue eyes, slightly droopy, but very comely. He smiled as she approached and it was a handsome smile.
But conspicuously absent were Justine, Sully, and Andrew. Josephine was hoping to find them in the great hall and was rather disappointed to realize they were not present. She couldn’t go look for them because she had already been sighted by Nicholas, so it would not do for her to suddenly turn around and run off. Nay, she would have to face the king now. She’d come this far.
Reaching the head table, she bowed deeply to the king. He immediately pulled away from Donald and cast appreciative eyes on the vision in front of him.
“Ah, Lady Josephine,” he said. “It is, indeed, a pleasure to see you again. Will you join me for the meal?”
She smiled. “Your majesty is very kind. Thank you.”
The king shoved his nephew down a seat to make room for Josephine. She accepted the chair graciously, informing a nearby steward to bring in the meal and to send for Sully and Andrew. As the man scurried off to do her bidding, she looked around the table.
Nicholas was smiling pleasantly at her and she smiled in return. All the while, however, she was keeping an eye out for Sully and Andrew. She spied Burl and Severn several feet away and she motioned to them when they looked at her. They came quickly, saluting smartly to her and the king.
She leaned close to Burl, whispering, “Where are Sir Andrew and Sir Sully?”
“At the knight’s training field, my lady,” he told her.
She tried not to eye the king but she cast her eyes in his direction, hoping Burl would catch on. “Find them,” she said. “Tell them I want them here, now.”
Her knights obeyed instantly. Feeling somewhat comforted now, she sat against the back of her chair as a servant brought her watered wine. As she took a sip, she could feel the king’s eyes on her. Bracing herself, she forced a smile and turned to him.
“You said we had business to discuss, my lord,” she said politely. “Shall we discuss it now?”
Alexander had been staring at her rather heavily, the slope of her torso and the shape of her face. When she posed the question, he had to pull himself away from thoughts and feelings that were, perhaps, more lustful than they should have been.
“Aye,” he said. “But after we eat. Right now, I can smell the lamb and am famished.”
So much for revealing the mysterious subject. Josephine wasn’t even hungry as the meal was served. Lamb, pigeon in plumb sauce, peas and onions, and pies with fruit were brought out to please the royal appetite. In truth, the smells overwhelmed Josephine and she found that she could eat something as everyone began eating with gusto. As she picked at her food, eating little bites, the conversation around the table grew loud and sometimes gregarious.
The king seemed determined to engage her and Donald in conversation, speaking on various barons, his favorite wine from France, and anything else that appeared to pop into his mind. Nicholas joined in the conversation as well, telling stories about the summer he’d spent in France with a widowed old aunt who had a mustache and liked to gamble.
That brought laughter from both Josephine and Donald, and the conversation lightened. Alexander possessed a decent sense of humor, but even if he hadn’t, they would’ve laughed anyway. He also competed with his nephew for attention. If Nicholas told a story, Alexander had to tell a better one.
Also throughout the course of the meal, Josephine discovered that Nicholas was somewhat of a poet and spoke fondly of his love for it. But Alexander couldn’t compete with him on that level. Although he was extremely fond of the lad, it was clear that he had no tolerance for the poetry and reading the boy had put so much energy into. Apparently, he believed his nephew’s time would be better spent in the warring pursuit.
Once the king was finished scolding his nephew for his scholarly pursuits, he turned his attention to Donald, who was quite advanced in his warfare training. As Donald and the king discussed tactics, Josephine looked over at Nicholas as he picked at his turnips. He looked like his feelings were hurt by the king’s criticism and she felt a twinge of pity for him.
“I’d like to hear your poetry sometime,” she said quietly.
He looked up at her in mild surprise. “Would ye?” he said. “I… I would be honored, my lady.”
She smiled. “What do you like to write about?”
He looked a little embarrassed. “I write about many things,” he said. “Things that inspire me or touch me in some way. It could be a lake, or a bird, or a meadow, or a beautiful lady.”
His voice trailed off and his embarrassment seemed to grow. Josephine fought off a smile at the young man who was evidently a dreamer. “You will have to read your prose to me before you leave,” she said. “I would enjoy it very much.”
Her kind words soothed his embarrassment. “I would truly be honored. Thank ye.”
Andrew and Sully picked that moment to enter the room. Josephine looked to Andrew and, immediately, their eyes locked. He came directly to her. Taking her hand over the table, he kissed it gently and her heart leapt wildly from his touch.
“My lady,” Andrew greeted her fondly, then he glanced down at Nicholas sitting beside her. He growled. “Move, boy.”
Nicholas looked completely surprised, but jumped up and moved to the next chair. He was not about to argue with The Red Fury, especially in territorial matters of a woman. Josephine, however, was mortified. She put out a hand.
“Wait,” she said, looking to Sir Nicholas. “Return to your seat.”
Nicholas was too fearful to obey her. “I am happy to give my seat over to Sir Andrew,” he said. “Truly, it is my pleasure.”
He grabbed his wine and took a healthy drink, looking away and pretending to be interested in other parts of the hall. But Josephine knew it was because he was frightened of Andrew and she turned her scowling face to the mercenary.
“You had no cause to address him in that manner,” she said quietly. “You will apologize to Nicholas.”’
Andrew looked as if he were actually mulling over her demand, but the truth was that he was rather offended. Still, he would not show it, not in front of the king. To show a rift would be inviting a wedge, and he wouldn’t do that. They had to present a united front, in all cases.
Therefore, he did what most normal males would have done when faced with an angry lady – he swallowed his rather large pride and bowed politely to Nicholas.
“Forgive my rotten nature, Sir Nicholas,” he said. There was no mistaking the sarcasm. “I hope I have not damaged you for life.”
Nicholas wasn’t sure what to say in the least. All he could do was shake his head. “Not at all, my lord.”
Andrew smiled thinly at him, returning his attention to Josephine. “Satisfied?”
Josephine fought the urge to smile at him because she knew he wasn’t sorry in the least. He was only doing it to appease her, which was as good a reason as any. “Completely,” she said. “Nicholas, would you allow Andrew to have your seat?”
Nicholas was flabbergasted at the whole situation, but managed to nod. Andrew sat in Nicholas’ vacated chair and immediately demanded wine and meat. Servants tripped over each other in their haste to do his bidding. When he finally had a cup of wine in hand, he turned and smiled at his betrothed.
“You are looking well this day,” he said pleasantly. “Did you sleep well?”
She turned to Andrew, her eyes roving over his handsome features. She realized that she was very glad to see him, as if his presence meant instant comfort, instant safety.
“I did,” she said. “Did you?”
Andrew didn’t know if she was aware he’d spent the night at her door, so he simply nodded. “As well as can be expected.”
His food was placed before him, cleaving any further conversation for the moment. As he was delving into his food, Sully approached with a goblet in hand and squatted between Andrew and Josephine’s chairs.
“Where is my sister?” Josephine asked him. “Did she not come to the hall to eat?”
Sully took a drink. “She is in her chamber,” he said quietly. “She said she wanted to be alone, so I left her there.”
Josephine’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”
He shook his head. “I do not know.”
“Has she at least been pleasant since… yesterday?”
He took another drink of his wine. “It is difficult to tell.”
“What do you mean?”
“She will not speak to me.”
Josephine sighed deeply. “I am sorry, Sully,” she said. “I am sorry she is being so difficult.”
He shrugged. “She is Justine and that is her nature.”
Josephine didn’t say anything. She suddenly felt very bad for having done this to the man. Forcing him to marry her sister and forcing him to endure whatever Justine dished out. And he had done it just for her.
Damn Justine!
“Excuse me,” she rose abruptly.
Andrew bolted out of his chair and Sully stood quickly. The king, on her right, turned to watch her as she asked his permission to leave. He nodded briefly, and she swept from the hall.
The three men watched her, with Sully and Andrew knowing exactly where she was going and wondering if they should follow.
*
Josephine was more than angry.
In her opinion, her sister was not only acting in a childish, selfish manner by not coming down from her chamber, but she was also risking provoking the wrath of the king by not showing her face and assuming her role as Mistress of Torridon.
Standing outside of Justine’s door, she didn’t even bother knocking. She stormed into the room, heading directly for the bed as she prepared to throw her sister bodily from it. The bed was mussed, but no Justine. Slightly puzzled, Josephine looked about the room but her sister was nowhere to be found. Not even her maid was present.
Josephine was befuddled as she left her sister’s room; she had even looked under the bed. As she headed for the stairs, preparing to scour the entire keep for her errant sister, she noticed the door to her own chambers slightly ajar. Curious, she poked her head inside.
Justine was sitting at her dressing table, examining the contents of Josephine’s jewelry box. As Josephine entered her room, she saw that Justine was dressed in her silk dress that was the color of a ripe apricot, with the square-necked bodice was embroidered with tiny seed pearls. The full skirt was also embroidered with the seed pearls in the pattern of flowers and bees.
It was one of Josephine’s favorite surcotes and her initial reaction was one of outrage for having her privacy invaded. But the more she looked at her sister sitting quietly, the more she began to see the whole picture. For the first time in her life, Justine wanted to be pretty. That had never happened before. Perhaps, one night in Sully’s arms was all that she needed to spur a side of her that had been kept buried; the side of a woman who wanted to feel beautiful and please a man. For certain, Justine had always ignored that side of her in favor of her black garments and witch’s brews.
But now… something had changed.
Ola and Darcy, Justine’s maid, were fussing over Justine as she sat before the dressing table. They were brushing her hair, arguing on the best way to dress it now that she was a married woman. But the moment Josephine stepped further into the room, they looked at her with big eyes, as if fearful for the anger to come. Josephine strongly protected her privacy against her sister.
But Josephine didn’t look at the maids. She was looking at her sister.
“Leave us,” she ordered, and the maids scampered out.
Justine looked at her sister guiltily, bracing for a fight. “I… I am sorry that I did not ask you,” she said. “No one seemed to know where you had gone and I did not want to go downstairs dressed like… that is to say, everything I have is dark, and I wanted to… I mean, I have seen you wear this dress before and it is so pretty, so I thought…”
Josephine cut her off. “That dress never looked so good on me,” she said. “I believe it was made with you in mind.”
Justine looked at her in surprise. “You are not angry?”
Josephine shook her head. “Why should I be?” she asked. Then she looked down at her jewels. “Here – try the pearl collar. It goes with the gown.”
She pulled forth a three-strand pearl and diamond choker and put it on her sister’s neck. It was perfect. Justine looked at herself in the mirror, seeing a well-groomed, fashionably-dressed woman for the first time. Josephine brushed her sister’s hair back from her face and braided it, twisting the braid elaborately at the back of her head. Then, she selected a dozen pearl pins and placed them strategically in the coiffure. Finally, she stood back to view her work.
Justine looked at her timidly, but Josephine could only smile. She looked absolutely lovely, and nothing like the strange pseudo-witch she had been masquerading as. It was as if a light had been lit and now burned brightly in the eyes of Justine, Lady Montgomery.
It was an astonishing transformation.
“Come,” Josephine said softly. “The king awaits.”
Justine looked down at herself. “And… and I look presentable?”
“More than presentable, darling. You are beautiful.”
Justine blushed furiously as Josephine took her by the hand and led her from the chamber.
“Where are Sully and Andrew?” Justine asked as they descended the stairs.
“I left them in the dining hall,” Josephine replied. “Andrew was being abhorrently rude to Nicholas de Londres, the king’s nephew. Have you met him?”
“Nay,” Justine said. “Why was Andrew being rude to him?”
Josephine snorted. “Who can say?” she said. “Nicholas and I were having a pleasant conversation when Andrew demanded Nicholas remove himself from the chair so that he could sit next to me. He was quite overbearing.”
Justine glanced at her sister, seeing the outrage, but perhaps also seeing an expression that suggested she might have been flattered by it. “Where you are concerned, Andrew has every right to be,” Justine said, but she was unusually soft-spoken. “You are his betrothed and I believe he loves you.”
Josephine looked at her sister with a great deal of shock. “Andrew loves Andrew,” she said matter-of-factly. “There is little room for anything else.”
Justine took on the stubborn look that Josephine knew so well. “You are so wrong,” she said. “Last night, he stood guard at your door because he was afraid the king would attempt to seduce you.”
Josephine shook her head, unwilling to give any credence to her sister’s wild idea. “He simply wanted to keep me pure so that he could claim my virginity,” she insisted. “Besides, our king is a married man.”
Justine pulled her sister to a halt. They were in the foyer of Torridon’s keep and there were servants lurking about, so Justine kept her voice low.
“Josephine,” she said seriously, “the king sent three soldiers to retrieve you last night. Andrew killed two of them, and Sully killed the other.”
Josephine was stunned. “What?”
“It is true.”
Josephine was beside herself with shock. “How do you know this?”
Justine’s expression was full of concern. “I heard the noise and peeked from my door,” she said. “I saw it all. It was a terrible, brutal fight and when they were finished, they carried the bodies away. I heard Sully say something about not wanting the king to discover what they’d done.”
Josephine was truly stunned. She’d never had a man kill for her honor before. “God’s Bones,” she finally hissed, thinking of the far-reaching implications of Sully and Andrew killing the king’s men. “He is absolutely right; the king must never know this. He could punish Andrew and Sully, and we would never see them again.”
Justine, surprisingly, understood that. She wasn’t a fool. “I know,” she said quietly. “But I wanted you to know what Andrew did for you last night. That is why I believe he feels more for you than you realize.”
Josephine looked at her sister, seeing some logic to what she was saying. Was it really possible that she was right? Did Andrew, indeed, feel something for her, or was he simply protecting what belonged to him? It was difficult to know. But one thing was for certain – there were three dead men to prove that whatever Andrew was feeling must have been serious.
“I suppose it is possible,” she said. “But we have known each other so short a time.”
Justine simply shrugged. “I am not sure one needs years and years to know if feelings are valid and true,” she said. “Sometimes, all it takes is a glance. Or so I’ve heard.”
Josephine was at a loss for the whole conversation; she was feeling bewildered and uneasy. “Mayhap.”
Justine could see her sister’s expression was one of confusion. She took the woman by the hand and began to lead her towards the door.
“Come now,” she said. “The king awaits, does he not?”
Josephine suddenly remembered that the king needed to speak with her, as he had requested. Her thoughts switched from Andrew’s behavior to the king’s agenda, and a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach made her swallow hard. She mentally prepared herself for what was sure to come as she and her sister entered the torch-filled hall.
She would find out soon enough.
*
The king had retired to the privacy of the Knight’s Haven, waiting for Josephine to return. She was informed of this by the king’s steward when she re-entered the dining hall, but she had to speak to Andrew first. Her eyes scanned the hall quickly, searching for his auburn head.
She found him on the dais with Sully and Thane, engaged in conversation. But the words fell from their lips as Josephine and Justine approached, with each man affixed to his respective lady as Thane wisely excused himself. Andrew smiled warmly at Josephine, pulling his eyes away long enough to glance at Justine.
“Lady Montgomery,” he greeted. “Marriage seems to agree with you.”
Everyone in the room noticed the metamorphosis of Justine, and none more so than Sully. This was not the same woman he merely tolerated just two short days ago. She was transforming into a lovely woman and Sully took it as a sign that she very much wanted to please him. He reached out and took his wife’s hand.
“Join me,” he asked softly.
Justine actually seemed to blush at his attention, as much as she pretended otherwise. She took the seat beside him.
Andrew came from behind the table and stood in front of Josephine, gazing at her with appreciation. She put a hand on his arm.
“May I speak with you?” she asked.
He nodded and offered her his arm. “Of course.”
Josephine took him to the small room that the servants used. It was quiet and private there, with the dark and sooty hearth smelling heavily of smoke. Once inside, she released his arm but did not stray far.
“Justine informed me of last night’s events,” she said quietly. “She told me you killed three of the king’s guards when they came for me.”
Andrew wasn’t really surprised she’d heard what had happened. He paused for a moment before nodding in agreement.
“I would not let them have you,” he said simply.
She put a hand on his arm. “But what if the king discovers what you have done?” she argued softly. “You have put yourself in danger.”
He shrugged. “No more than usual.”
He was making light of a situation she considered serious and she was afraid for him. Josephine’s face took on a pained look and she gently squeezed his arm.
“I could have handled the king myself,” she said. “It was not necessary for you to jeopardize yourself so. But please know that I am grateful for your efforts.”
He unfolded his strong arms and tilted her chin up so that their eyes met, soft brown melding with her green. There was a significant amount of tangible emotion that poured between them, growing stronger by the moment.
“You are my betrothed,” he said quietly. “What I do for you is not a service, but what any man would do for his lady. None but me shall ever touch you, and woe to any man who would try. Even the king.”
Josephine was oddly fulfilled by his words. And his touch was warm; she could grow to crave it. Justine’s words came back to her in that instant; I believe he loves you. Looking into Andrew’s eyes, she could almost believe that. There was something there, something meant only for her, and her heart soared because of it.
She was feeling the very same way.
Was it possible to know feelings after having only known someone a few days at most? Perhaps there was no timeline for feelings, as Justine had wisely suggested. Perhaps, they were present in a day as much as they were present in ten days or in ten years. Who could know the unpredictable nature of emotions? Josephine didn’t pretend to. All she knew was that she felt them, too.
And she was worried for what he’d done, but there was no time to dwell on it. She knew the king was waiting for her.
“For all that you have done for me and for my sister, I am touched and grateful,” she finally said. “But I do wish you would be careful. I do not wish for you to be punished because of me.”
He flashed her a grin. “No one would dare punish me, my lady. You worry overly.”
Josephine couldn’t help but grin at his devil-may-care attitude. “Mayhap,” she said. “But mayhap not. In any case, the king is expecting me. I must go to him.”
So far, Andrew had managed to keep the entire conversation rather light in spite of the serious nature of it. But at the mention of the king, his face darkened. He knew that she must attend him, alone, and he wasn’t happy with that thought.
“Then I shall escort you and wait outside the door,” he said firmly.
Josephine didn’t argue with him. Truth be told, she would feel better if she knew he as nearby. The moment that she had dreaded was finally at hand and she took his arm as they headed towards the Knight’s Haven. Andrew noticed her tense shoulders and taut brow as they walked.
“You are troubled,” he said as they passed down the hall. “There is nothing to fear; I am here.”
She didn’t answer for a moment. “There is a great deal to fear,” she said. “I am frightened.”
“You?” he said, teasing her gently. “I do not believe it. You are afraid of nothing.”
She sniffled and came to a halt. There was a tear on her cheek and she tried to brush it away before he saw, but he caught it. He felt his heartstrings pull as she let go of his arm and leaned against the cold, stone wall.
“I am afraid of being forced to marry a man who hates me,” she said, her voice tight. “I have saved everyone but myself, and now I am sorry. I do not want to marry Colin Dalmellington.”
Reaching out, Andrew gathered her hands and held them to his chest, standing very close to her.
“Josephine, look at me,” he ordered, and her eyes reluctantly lifted to meet his. Her sadness was almost more than he could bear. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded, with a sniffle. “Aye.”
He smiled faintly. “Then trust me when I tell you that you shall not marry Colin, or anyone else but me,” he said in a tone that left no room for doubt. “Whatever the king might say to you in there shall have no bearing on our future. You shall become my wife and bear my sons, and we shall have a long and happy life together. Do you believe that?”
He sounded so very sure. “But I cannot disobey the king’s directive,” she said. “To go against a royal order would mean terrible things for us all.”
Andrew cocked an eyebrow. “You made a promise to me before the king ever became involved,” he said. “No directive he can give you will supersede the one you have with me. I will marry you.”
She was caught up in his words, so strong and so confident. “You are used to having your way, in all things.”
“I am.”
“But… I do not understand why you are so determined to marry a woman you have only just met.”
“I told you why. I have explained this to you.”
He had but, somehow, it didn’t seem enough of an explanation. Josephine sensed something more behind his determination, something stronger than he was willing to admit. Before she could think about what she was saying, she spoke.
“Justine thinks it is because you are in love with me.”
Andrew was caught completely off guard by that statement. He stared at her, his eyes caressing her sweet face as those words rolled around in his mind. His first reaction was to scoff; love? Who had ever said anything about love? He had loved his mother and father, and what had that brought him? Only pain and grief. But as much as he found himself denying it, he knew it was true. The little witch was right.
God’s Bones, he was in love with her!
Andrew dropped her hands and looked at her with a furrowed brow. Josephine stared back at him, seeing his nearly enraged expression, and she was very sorry she had even mentioned it. She should not have. But she couldn’t take those words back, not now.
It became apparent very quickly that she had made a terrible mistake. Embarrassed, Josephine turned away from him and prepared to continue down the hall. She hadn’t taken two steps before Andrew managed to grab her arm and stop her forward movement. When she turned to look at him, her expression full of shame, he opened his mouth as if to say something but couldn’t seem to speak.
Still, his expression said more than words could. The outrage turned into puzzlement, and puzzlement to understanding. His features softened and he pulled her close, and closer still. His gaze was intense, his arms holding her fast, and he could feel her relax against him. Her warmth against his warmth, her body molding to his. Andrew had never experienced a more comforting or emotionally satisfying embrace in his life and he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this same feeling. He wanted to capture it, to savor it, and to spend his life loving Josephine.
Without a word, Andrew’s lips slanted over hers softly, yet with increasing passion. Josephine gave in to his kiss immediately, swept away with the sheer tenderness behind the action, and even as his tongue licked at her pink mouth, she could think of nothing but the sheer pleasure of it. Emotions stirred so deep within her that her limbs ached with her need for him.
Indeed, she needed him.
He needed her.
Feeling her respond to him undid Andrew. It released a passion in him stronger than he ever thought possible. He pulled his lips from hers, kissing her cheeks, her eyes, and her neck. His strong hands roamed her body, exploring her with every touch, every caress. There was so much in his heart, so much that had built up in a very short amount of time that he hardly knew where to start.
“I think that I have always loved you,” he whispered between fevered kisses. “I cannot remember when I have not. I have been a fool to deny it.”
Joy soared in Josephine’s heart. She threw her arms around his neck and, for the first time in her life, felt as if she could depend on someone other than herself. She was no longer afraid to show her feelings because she knew, with Andrew, they were safe. She was safe.
It was the most wonderful feeling she had ever known.
“Promise me,” she whispered into his ear. “Promise that you will never leave me and that you will always love me.”
He heard her wistful tone and pulled back, his hands cupping her face. “I vow on my father’s grave that I will love no other but you, for now and for always,” he said hoarsely. “But we must be realistic. There will be times when I will have to leave you, but I shall always return to you. Not even death can keep me from returning to you, Joey. I swear it.”
Josephine believed him, implicitly. Moving forward, she kissed him sweetly and put a finger to his lips as she drew back. “Then what the king says matters naught,” she said. “For I know where my true destiny lies. It lies with you.”
He kissed her finger, caught up in a maelstrom of emotion that was overwhelming him. “As mine lies with you,” he murmured. “Let me hear it from your lips, Joey. Tell me you love me.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I love you.”
“Love is what life is made of.”
She smiled faintly. “Truly… it is.”
He kissed her fingers again and they resumed their walk down the torch-lit hall. For now, what lay at the other end of it didn’t matter any longer.