CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It was morning on the day following Josephine’s abduction from Torridon and Ridge had stopped to let Josephine stretch her legs and relieve herself, dismounting to keep an eye on her while she disappeared into the brush on the side of the road.
“I will not follow so long as I can see the top of your head!” he called to her.
She shot him a cold look but complied. The last thing she wanted was him following her into the bushes to watch her piss.
The breeches she wore were leather but underneath them, she wore very thin cotton hose to protect her sensitive legs from the leather. She wished fervently that she had one of her gowns on as she fumbled with the layers of clothing. It occurred to her that she had absolutely no personal possessions with her – no comb, no soap, and no clothes. She wanted desperately to wash.
Josephine was calmer now about Torridon and its fate. She had had ample time to resign herself to the fact that what was done was done and even if she could return now, it would not change anything. But the ache of sadness was great in her heart and the fear of the unknown was greater. Who was alive? Who was dead? Did Andrew realize what had befallen her? She knew he would soon figure it out for himself and come for her. There wasn’t much to do but wait and fight the king and the earl anyway she could.
God, she missed Andrew.
She secured her trousers and emerged from the bramble. They were nearing Edinburgh and the hills were becoming softer as the foliage decreased. She had been to Edinburgh only once as a child, and did not remember much of it. But in realizing they were coming closer to a major city, her sense of unease had dramatically increased. It was the unknown that she was most fearful of.
The unknown of a future with too many variables to count.
Ridge was adjusting the breastplate of his destrier as she walked up, brushing her hands off on her pants.
“If you were going to kidnap me, you could have at least had the foresight to raid my wardrobe first,” she said. “I do not have anything decent to wear.”
Ridge gave her side glance. “Forgive me, my lady,” he apologized to appease her. “I shall do better the next time.”
“You plan to make a habit out of abducting maidens?” she asked, as she leaned back against the massive brown animal. “It’s not a very dignified line of work for the king’s bodyguard. I should think you are better than that, de Reyne.”
She’d struck a nerve with him. Ridge didn’t like kidnapping her any better than she did. He was a man of principle, and he was serving a man who had none at all. As Ridge geared up for a reply, he wasn’t aware that she had been watching his face and she saw his change in expression.
She saw the darkness sweep him.
“Then why do you serve him?” she asked quietly.
He looked at her, with his hand gripping the harness. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you serve Alexander if you hate him so?”
Ridge released the leather and pretended to busy himself with the saddle. Josephine moved out of the way and stood by the horse’s head as the animal turned to sniff at her.
“I serve him because I have no choice,” he said. “I was gifted to the king. It is a prestigious position.”
It was only a half-truth and she knew it. He was trying to make his role sound better than it was. Ridge just didn’t strike her as one of the king’s spineless pigeons, but she didn’t press the issue further.
The destrier’s soft, whiskery lips tugged at her sleeve and she made soft clucking noises at it.
“What is your horse’s name?” she asked. “He is magnificent.”
“Cabal,” Ridge replied.
Josephine raised her eyebrows slightly. “You know something of Arthurian lore?”
Ridge shrugged and looked at her. “I know that Cabal was his dog and Excalibur was his sword,” he said. “My mother was from Devon. She raised us on stories of Arthur, Gawain, Lancelot, and Percival. Mayhap that is why I became a knight; to continue their noble deeds.”
“But those knights did not steal women,” Josephine said lightly, hoping he would take it in jest. She no longer wished to be cruel to him for carrying out his duty, but she was not about to let him forget the deed. “They did a host of other things that were, mayhap, not entirely noble, but stealing women wasn’t one of them.”
He looked thoughtful. “Lancelot stole Guinevere, in a sense,” he said. “But from what my mother says, the knights of the realm were holier than God Himself. They probably did not even possess ballocks.”
Josephine laughed as he realized the foul language he had used in her presence. She had learned long ago not to be upset by a soldier’s crude humor. Ridge laughed a little, too, when she did, noticing her straight, white teeth and curvy smile. She was very pretty.
“I have some watered wine if you are thirsty,” Ridge said as he unstrapped a leather pouch from his saddle.
Josephine accepted it and took a few sips. Ridge watched her for a moment before taking back the bladder.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I have some jerky if you would…”
“Nay,” she shook her head. “I am not hungry.”
“You have not eaten since yesterday. You probably should.”
She simply shook her head and turned away, clearly moody. Ridge watched her, a tremendous sense of guilt filling him. He felt very bad for Josephine and for what awaited her. She seemed to be a decent girl and she did not deserve what fate the king had planned for her. The more he thought on it, Ridge actually found himself feeling protective towards Josephine, but he very quickly dismissed the emotion. It was not healthy or wise, and he was a man who obeyed orders above all else. Feeling sympathy for Josephine could only lead him to harm.
He sobered after a moment and stepped away from Cabal, holding out the stirrup. “Shall we go?” he said. “It is not more than another hour’s ride.”
Josephine didn’t want to proceed, but there was no choice. Truth be told, she felt she was going to her death. Quite possibly, she was. But she proceeded to mount with a little help from him, and he pulled himself up on the horse behind her. Poking Cabal with a spurred right boot, the horse broke into a bouncy trot and they continued up the road.
Somewhere during the morning, the clouds drifted away and a warm sun appeared. In fact, it was remarkably warm, and Josephine began to sweat beneath her clothing. She pulled at her tunic and scratched, blowing her hair from her face. Ridge understood her discomfort because he was uncomfortable as well. The weather was unseasonably warm. Edinburgh was just coming into view and the castle loomed high above to the north, so there was no point in stopping. They had nearly arrived at their destination, so Ridge pushed through.
Josephine saw the castle before she even noticed the city, and her heart sank. The reality of it came crashing down on her and she felt like a trapped animal. As much as she wanted to fight Ridge again and make a run for it, she knew that she couldn’t. There was nowhere for her to go that he wouldn’t catch her.
It was a heartbreaking realization.
Feeling exhausted and defeated, she turned away from the sight of the castle and the city, and tried to take her mind off of what was to come.
“How old are you, de Reyne?” she asked.
“I have seen thirty-four years, my lady,” he replied. “And you?”
“Nineteen years,” she muttered as visions of dark castles lingered in her mind. “Are you married?”
“Nay,” he replied with a chuckle. “I have no time for a wife, nor any desire.”
“That is what Andrew believed once,” she whispered.
He almost didn’t hear her, yet caught the painful tone she used. “D’Vant?” he asked.
“Aye.”
Ridge looked away, off towards the castle he knew so well. “I still find it hard to believe that The Red Fury has feelings for anyone other than himself,” he said. “The man has a reputation as the perfect soldier.”
She sighed. “He is much more than that,” she said. Then, she paused before speaking again. “You know that he will come after me.”
Ridge’s jaw hardened. That idea did not appeal to him, for he knew that he himself would end up fighting The Red Fury to keep him from Josephine. And much like her, there was no doubt in his mind that d’Vant was more than likely already on his tail.
“I know,” he said simply.
Josephine sensed resignation in that statement, as if there he held no enthusiasm for such a confrontation. Ridge wasn’t foolish; he knew that Andrew was a spectacular fighter. But more than that, she sensed no enthusiasm from him for this entire endeavor. He’d abducted her because he’d been ordered to, but there seemed to be no glee for that task. All along, she’d sensed only duty from the man and nothing more.
His heart wasn’t in it.
“Will you fight him?” she asked quietly.
“If I must.”
Josephine didn’t reply for a moment because an idea had come to her. She wondered if it would be something that would interest Ridge. “Will you listen to me?” she asked. “I have a proposal that could prevent all of this.”
He was rather wary of any proposal. “I am listening, my lady.”
Josephine shifted in the saddle to look at him. “I am very wealthy, de Reyne,” she began. “Should you return me to Torridon, I would see that you are well rewarded. I promised Andrew five thousand marks to defend Torridon from Colin Dalmellington. I shall double it for you. Then, you shall be free to either remain at Torridon or leave to pursue your own dreams. Ten thousand marks will buy you anything you wish in life.”
The proposal didn’t surprise him. In truth, it was rather attractive. But he could not accept it and still keep his honor.
“Your offer is tempting,” he finally said. “But I must decline.”
Josephine wouldn’t give up. “I sense that you are a good knight, de Reyne, and I do not want to see you fight Andrew over something that never should have happened. I do not want to see you killed.”
He cocked his head. “I may not be killed,” he said. “Did you think of that?”
Josephine refused to entertain such a thing. “You believe that you will defeat The Red Fury in combat when he is fighting for someone he loves?” she said, rather passionately. “I am sure you are an excellent swordsman, but are you that good? If you are worried about the king, don’t be. It would not be difficult to deceive him. I can simply send word that both you and I were killed in the Dalmellington battle and he will know no differently.”
Ridge didn’t quite agree with her on that. “The king has many eyes, my lady,” he replied as they entered the smelly, dirty outskirts of Edinburgh. “He may be an unscrupulous, indifferent leader, but he is sly and cunning. He thrives on gossip and covert information.”
Josephine fell silent as Edinburgh Castle loomed closer still and they found themselves on the dirty streets of the city. In truth, she felt true defeat closing in on her. She had run out of options.
Ridge felt the heavy silence between them as it settled. The woman had tried everything to allow her to return to Torridon – fighting, running, bargaining – and Ridge had remained firm. His sense of pity for the woman was growing, but he also felt the need to reply to her offer in order to firmly establish his position. No amount of coercion was going to force him to change his mind in any of this.
His path was set, as was hers.
“My lady, your offer is most generous, and I find, much to my dismay, that I could actually consider it,” he said. “But I regret that I cannot accept and I am truly sorry. I am sorry that my loyalty lies with our king.”
Josephine already knew that and she didn’t want to hear it from him. “As am I,” she muttered.
God… as am I!
There was no more conversation after that. Edinburgh swallowed them up and Josephine found herself looking at the dark, dirty city with many levels to it. There were streets above streets, steep roads, and pale, dirty people. It felt as if they’d entered another world, one of death and darkness and strangers who seemed more like wraiths than people. Phantoms were in every corner. It seemed to her as if they moved through a maze of avenues to reach the road that led up to the massive, fortified castle at the crown of the city.
The hill that led up to the castle was rocky and steep. As the horse made his way up the grade, Josephine’s gaze was on the massive building looming before them. It was made of stone, stained black from Edinburgh’s damp climate, but it looked to her as if the stones were bleeding. Stained and ugly, they were, and she’d never felt more intimidated or alone in her entire life. The horse finally made it up the hill and entered into the courtyard of the hilltop fortress, where they were met by a flock of attendants and soldiers.
It seemed to Josephine as if they’d been waiting for them. Hands pulled Josephine from the stallion, but Ridge was off in a flash, grasping her protectively to prevent anyone else from getting a hand on her. She was his charge until the king said otherwise.
Two figures pushed their way through the crowd, and Josephine immediately recognized Nicholas de Londres. She hadn’t even realized he’d left Torridon, but here he was, and she felt a great deal of relief at the sight of him. He looked at her with such sadness she was sure he would burst into tears at any second. The other man had black, curly hair and a thin mustache, and was of an average stature. He bowed gallantly to her.
“Lady Josephine de Carron, welcome to Edinburgh,” he said, in a thin voice that wasn’t quite Scottish, as if he’d been schooled somewhere other than Scotland. “I am William Ward, Chancellor to King Alexander.”
Josephine simply glanced at the man. She couldn’t muster anything more than that. Her attention returned to Nicholas, looking at the man as if he could help her. Nicholas’ emotions were on the surface, as they always were, and he reached out and took Josephine’s hand.
“Come with me,” he said softly, leading her away.
Like a small child, Josephine allowed Nicholas to take her across the courtyard towards the entry. In truth, she clung to him, so very relieved to be with someone she knew, someone she knew to be kind and considerate of her situation.
William watched her go as he stood next to Ridge.
“Even dressed as a man, I can see that she is absolutely magnificent,” he said appreciatively. “No wonder the king wants her.”
Ridge gave William a cold glance. “He wants to wed her to the earl,” he corrected.
William looked at him quickly. “Of course,” he said. “That was what I meant.”
Ridge wasn’t so sure. He gave Ward a nasty glare before following after Nicholas and Josephine. William, seeing that perhaps the king’s bodyguard wasn’t too keen on the situation, wondered if the iron heart of Ridge de Reyne might have a weak spot for the lady.
It was something to ponder, in any case.
The king would want to know.
*
“It is an absolute lie,” Ridge said, struggling to contain his temper. “I do not know who told you such things, my lord, but I can assure you that I hold no feelings for Lady Josephine. If I did, she would not be here.”
Standing before the king as the man sat in his private solar, a massive fire blazing in the hearth, Ridge stood tall and strong and proud before a man he was coming to hate. Now, someone had accused him of an attraction towards the very women he’d brought to Edinburgh for the king and Ridge was angrier than he’d ever been in his life.
But Alexander seemed to find some humor in it. He glanced at his numerous courtiers, who were also grinning. They all liked to taunt Ridge de Reyne because he was English, an outlander among them, but also because they knew the big man wouldn’t do a thing to them, no matter how badly they tormented him.
“No one would blame you, de Reyne,” Alexander said. He was exceedingly weary, still, from his harried flight from Torridon. He was still in sleeping clothes he’d put on when he’d arrived at Edinburgh. “She is a beautiful woman and you have spent two days and a night with her.”
He said it rather suggestively and Ridge’s jaw ticked faintly. “Because you ordered me to, my lord,” he said. “I spent two days and one night with her because you ordered me to take her from Torridon, and that is exactly what I did.”
Alexander was still fighting off a smile at his bodyguard’s indignation as he reached for a cup of warmed wine that a servant brought him.
“What did you mean when you said that if you had feelings for Lady Josephine, she would not be here?” he asked.
Ridge wasn’t sure if he should tell the king of the woman’s attempt to escape and her general revulsion of the situation. It might focus the king’s anger on her. But he wasn’t in the habit of withholding the truth from his monarch, not even in a situation like this.
“She offered me money to let her return,” he said. “If I harbored any pity for her at all, or if I was the greedy sort, I would have taken her money and returned her to Torridon. But I did not. I am loyal to my king’s wishes, just as I have always been.”
Alexander sipped at his wine, eyeing William Ward as he did so. It had been Ward who had told him of de Reyne’s apparently sympathy towards the lady. But Ward was a gossip with the best of them and half the things he said could not be trusted.
“Of course you are, Ridge,” Alexander said. “I was only jesting with you. Do not be too angry about it.”
Ridge didn’t reply to that. He wasn’t about to forgive a man who liked to torment and shame him when the whim hit him.
“Will that be all, my lord?” he asked.
Alexander could see that Ridge was offended, still. “It will not,” he said flatly. “I have more business with you before you retire. While I realize you must be weary from your journey, I wish to know when you left Torridon and what state it was in.”
Ridge was essentially standing at attention in front of him, his eyes ahead. He wouldn’t look at him. “I left several hours after you did, my lord,” he said. “I had to wait for the right time to capture the lady, and that was difficult.”
Alexander grew serious. “Did d’Vant see you?” he asked. “Were you followed?”
Ridge shook his head. “I was not seen nor was I followed, at least to my knowledge,” he said. “I was able to leave by a postern gate in the kitchen yard, one that had been bolted but was not manned, at least not when I went through. Torridon sits on a rise and since I did not wish to be seen, I immediately headed to the east, through a heavy forest, and then found a smaller road that headed north.”
Alexander digested that. “And Torridon? What was the state of the fortress when you departed?”
“Still intact. The siege had not started yet.”
Alexander sat back in his chair, pondering the situation. “They still have several of my wagons,” he muttered, glancing at his courtiers, some of whom had accompanied him there. “If they know I have taken their lady, and I am sure they will figure that out, then I wonder if I shall ever see them again.”
It was a fairly flippant comment, as if he didn’t take Torridon, their troubles, or what he’d done, seriously at all. As his courtiers grinned, most of them well into the wine that was being passed around, the king turned his attention to William Ward.
“Word has been sent to Alphonse, has it not?” he asked. “The man may be at his townhome in Liberton. He knew I was going to Torridon to seal the betrothal with the lady and he further knew I intended to bring her back to my castle, so he may have remained close to Edinburgh.”
Ward had a ready answer. “He is, indeed, at Liberton, my lord,” he said. “I have been in contact with the man and, already, he has sent gifts for his betrothed. The young woman is being tended and shall be well dressed this eve, in clothes provided by her future husband.”
Alexander had a mental vision of a properly dressed Lady Josephine. “It is about time,” he grunted. “The woman favors the clothes of a soldier, unfortunately. That is a habit that will have to stop. I doubt Alphonse will tolerate it.”
“He wishes to meet his betrothed soon.”
“He is eager, that one,” Alexander said. But he didn’t want the man coming too soon because Alexander wanted to spend time with the lady also. He’d hardly had time back at Torridon. “I am coming to wonder if Lady Josephine is too good for him.”
“From what I saw, she is too fine, indeed, my lord.”
Alexander’s attention was lingering on his cousin, who was primed to make a fine royal mistress. He’d already broken one betrothal for the lady; it would be nothing to break a second. But that might provoke Alphonse’s wrath and he was unwilling to do that.
Ridge stood there and listened as the king and his chancellor continued to discuss the lady as if she were nothing more than a commodity. In truth, women were chattel and that was simply the way of the world, but Ridge couldn’t help the pity he felt for the lady, increasingly sorry to have been part of the king’s plan. But there was nothing he could have done – he was a pawn in this as much as Lady Josephine was. They were all following orders.
The orders of a fool.
*
Josephine sat submerged up to her neck in the biggest copper tub she had ever seen. The water was strongly scented with lavender, with tiny purple petals floating in the steaming water. She had been scrubbed to within an inch of her life by several female servants and her hair had been soaped and rinsed three times, with the final rinse consisting of flat, dark beer.
Now, she lay back, allowing the warmth of the water to seep into her weary muscles and to clear her mind. God’s Toes, how she needed to collect herself. So much had happened in a very short amount of time and she was still reeling from it.
Nicholas, bless him, had brought her up a back route in the castle, avoiding all of the usual king’s men and the king himself. He could see she was tired and defeated, and that she needed a chance to collect herself before going head-to-head with Alexander. He had taken her to what had once been the room of a former princess, or that’s what he’d told her, where a flock of maids greeted them. The apparent leader of the group, a pretty and robust young woman named Madelaine, promptly chased Nicholas away and began drilling her peers like a soldier.
In came the tub, the water, the soap, and the oils, and off went Josephine’s filthy clothes. Madelaine was preparing to burn them until Josephine stopped her, asking instead that they be washed and set aside.
All of this happened within the first hour she was there. Washing, scrubbing, and the like. The beautiful room she was in, the Princess Room, was actually part of a three-room suite. It was a massive chamber with twelve-foot ceilings and a carved marble fireplace that was taller than Josephine was. Rich rugs from mysterious places covered the floor and there was an intricately carved couch upholstered in blue silk with two matching chairs. The walls were covered with rich tapestries to create a barrier against the stone walls.
But there was more. Behind Josephine, against the wall, stood a massive mahogany wardrobe, and two carved stands flanked the bedchamber door and displayed twin alabaster vases. Surrounded by these riches, she had no doubt that she was in the castle of a king, and she found herself in awe.
After the scrubbing and washing, the servants were nowhere to be seen until she stirred in the bath and sat up. Then, they poured in from another room and rushed in with towels, brushes, and lotions. They didn’t touch her until she actually stepped out from the tub, and then she was vigorously dried and oiled, and then wrapped in a magnificent purple robe. Madelaine then led her to a chair by the fire where her hair was gently combed out. A young servant girl brought her a tray of wine, bread, and fruit, and Josephine proceeded to devour the entire plate. She had not eaten since yesterday and she was famished.
As Josephine ate and the servants brushed and dried, Madelaine, the maid, stood back and watched the situation carefully. She admired the lady’s luxurious hair as it dried, noticing its myriad of colors and the unearthly shine. Having been in the house of the king since she was very young, Madelaine had seen women come and go, and she wondered who this beautiful lady was and further wondered why she was here. She had heard nothing, nor had she been told anything, with the exception of Nicholas de Londres’ orders to prepare these particular rooms for a guest.
But it seemed to be a very special guest. Madelaine, of course, would never dream of speaking to the solemn young woman; it simply wasn’t proper. She was a maid from a long line of maids and she knew how to behave. Service was silent. But the young lady seemed very sad and Madelaine wished she could say an encouraging word to her without overstepping her bounds.
As Madelaine pondered the mysterious young woman, more activity started in the chamber. Three young maids came into the room, each bearing several richly-colored surcotes. Madelaine directed them to the giant wardrobe where they began carefully hanging the garments on the pegs, shaking them out to smooth the material.
As Madelaine supervised the garments, she happened to glance at the young woman for whom they were intended. She could see interest on the woman’s face.
“Does my lady see a cote she would like to wear?” Madelaine asked respectfully.
Josephine was caught off guard by the question. No one had spoken to her since her arrival in the chamber, so she hadn’t been expecting the softly-uttered question. She had no idea where the gowns came from, but she was certain the king had something to do with them. That being the case, she had half a mind to put her combat clothes back on, to display her complete dissatisfaction with the king’s decision and to protest the manner in which she was being used.
But she knew that wouldn’t go over well and she truly had no desire to fight tooth and nail with the king, at least at this point. She was in his house, surrounded by his men, and things could go very badly for her. She was defiant but she wasn’t stupid. She would only fight a battle she could win and, right now, there was no chance of that.
But her chance would come.
“I have no preference,” she said, looking away from the garments displayed. “You choose for me.”
Madelaine did. She ordered the maids working over Josephine and drying her hair to work faster. The lady must be dressed, she said. As the servants began to move with a more clipped pace, Madelaine thoughtfully selected a garment she believed would suit the lady quite well.
But Josephine paid no attention; her mind was turning from the king and his complete control over her to Andrew and Torridon. In truth, her thoughts were never far from them. They’d been heavily on her mind for the past two days and continued to be. Most of all, she wondered what was happening with them at this moment. She was saddened beyond words, feeling anguish that she could do nothing about.
All she wanted to do was go home.
But that was not to be at this moment. She had to face the king and the situation at hand. Madelaine broke her from her train of thought as she came to her with a beautiful emerald-green silk with gold trim. As the woman held it up for her, Josephine realized the woman wanted to dress her in it. So Josephine stood reluctantly and allowed the woman and her little minions to dress her in fine, white shift with an embroidered bodice, another shift that was heavier and had a ruffle along the hem, before having her step into the green silk.
In truth, the surcote was as fine as any she had ever seen. With the snug V-shaped neckline accentuating her full breasts and with the long sleeves hugging her long arms, she found the gown to be most beautiful. Madelaine took a matching green ribbon and tied it about her head, pulling her hair from her face. On her feet were placed matching shoes and stockings.
It was quite a production and Josephine had never had so much help dressing. All she had to do was stand there and let the maids do all of the work. A knock at the door shattered the calm efficiency of the room and Josephine could feel her heart leap with fear. Who had come for her? Fully dressed, she moved over towards the windows, as far as she could get away from the door, while the servants scattered back into the shadows. Madelaine was left to open the door.
It was Nicholas. He entered and immediately caught sight of Josephine in the voluminous surcote. He smiled gently as he went to her, his eyes brushing over her.
“Ye look as beautiful as I have ever seen ye,” he said.
Josephine smiled modestly and looked down at the gown. “Are you to thank for this?”
“Nay,” Nicholas shook his head. “This is a gift from yer future husband. I understand more are on the way.”
Josephine’s smile vanished and she turned away. Nicholas, knowing her distress and confusion, ordered Madelaine to leave so they could have some time alone. It was only a matter of time before the king demanded audience with her and, after that, Nicholas had no way of knowing. He’d heard that Alphonse was on his way to the castle. When he came, Nicholas might not ever see her again. The mere thought made Nicholas feel ill.
When everyone was gone, he went and stood next to her, following her eyes as she looked from the window to the yard below.
“I am sorry, Josephine,” he said softly. “I am sorry for the abduction, for taking ye away from Torridon so brutally. I did not even know my uncle had ordered that until we had left Torridon and de Reyne wasn’t with us. I suspected something was amiss and my uncle was more than happy to admit it.”
She continued to stare at the unfamiliar courtyard below. “It is not your fault,” she said. “You have been a true friend, Nicholas.”
Nicholas leaned against the wall, watching her. “As ye have been one to me, as well,” he said. “But I should have foreseen this. I know my uncle and I know he can be unscrupulous. I should have suspected he might have done something like this.”
“There would have been nothing you could do about it.”
“I could have warned ye.”
Josephine stepped away from the window. “Everything happened so quickly,” she said. “Even if you had warned me, I am not sure anything could have been done.”
Nicholas fell silent a moment, thinking of Torridon and the people there. People he’d enjoyed greatly in the short time he’d spent there. “What of Andrew?” Nicholas asked quietly. “Does he know you were taken?”
Josephine shrugged. “If he did not at first, I am sure he has figured it out.”
“He will not stand idly by while ye marry another.”
Josephine looked at him. Nicholas didn’t know that Andrew and the Earl of Annan and Blackbank were brothers and blood enemies. She was fairly certain no one had told him because the only person he’d really spent any time with at Torridon had been Donald, and Donald did not know the truth. But she knew she could confide in him and it would go no further.
“Nay, he will not,” she said quietly. “He will come for me and he will kill the earl.”
“Kill him?” Nicholas repeated. “It would do simply to take ye away from here. Killing an earl could be… complicated.”
That was true, but there was a reason for Andrew’s intent to kill Alphonse d’Vant. Josephine proceeded to tell him the entire story, starting from Andrew’s birth and continuing until The Red Fury came to Torridon. Nicholas was truly amazed and found himself gaping at the conclusion of the tale. He knew that Josephine and Andrew were betrothed, but the entire situation was so complex that it was almost unbelievable.
Now, he understood why she was so distressed and so completely unhappy. And he doubly understood why Andrew had to come to Edinburgh to kill the man she was betrothed to.
“That is the most incredible tale I have ever heard,” he said with awe. “They are brothers?”
“Indeed, they are.”
“Does the king know this?”
“I doubt it. But I suspect he will soon enough, especially when Andrew arrives.”
Nicholas could only shake his head, shock on his features. “Alexander’s betrothal has made it possible for Andrew to have more of a reason to kill his brother than ever before.”
It was the truth. “And now you understand,” Josephine said. “I am afraid, Nicholas. Afraid of the earl, afraid for Andrew, and afraid of what is to come.”
Nicholas didn’t say anything to that because he completely understood those fears. Truth be told, he was having some fear himself. This situation was deeper and more complex than he could have ever imagined. Finally, he went over to one of the chairs near the hearth and sat down.
“The earl is on his way to the castle, Josephine,” he said softly. “The chancellor sent word to him.”
Josephine looked at him with stunned horror. “When?”
“Possibly tomorrow. I am not sure.”
Possibly tomorrow. Josephine sank into the nearest chair, mulling that over. “Tomorrow,” she repeated. “I am not expected to marry him when he comes, am I?”
Nicholas could only shrug. He had no idea. His eyes reflected pity and compassion from his deep poet’s soul. He reached out and held her hand for a moment; a helpless gesture of support.
“Be brave,” he told her gently. “Andrew’s love for ye will make him the victor. I have no doubt he will win whatever battle ensues.”
Josephine looked at him. “I pray that is true,” she said. “But I have been told that the earl is a master swordsman. If Andrew wins, all well and good. But if Andrew loses, then I will kill myself. Have no doubt.”
Nicholas looked at her; his eyes silently pleading with her to reconsider. “He will not lose,” he said. “He is fighting for love. That is the greatest reason of all.”
She thought for a moment on his words, believing them as well. She believed that with all her heart. But there would be no fight should the king see Andrew when he came for her. In fact, it was imperative that the king didn’t see him at all.
“Nicholas,” she said. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Anything.
Her expression was serious. “When the time comes and the duel is at hand, you must keep the king occupied,” she said. “I fear that he will interfere and arrest Andrew. I could not bear it.”
“I shall endeavor to do my best,” he promised. “But until then, be strong. And I am at yer disposal.”
She smiled gratefully at him. “I am glad I have a friend in you,” she said. Then, she turned away from him dramatically. “Oh, Nicholas, why is the king surrounded by such good and noble men like you when he himself is a vain and self-centered child? Why couldn’t you have been king?”
Nicholas had often wondered that himself. “God has His reasons,” he said, moving for the door. “Ye must have faith, my lady. There is a reason for everything as it is.”
She turned to him, a smile on her lips. “You are a philosopher as well as a poet,” she said. “I think you would make a wonderful king.”
He returned her smile, falling under Josephine’s spell. He could see what d’Vant and the king saw in her. He paused by the door.
“Now that ye are properly dressed, would ye like to take a walk around the grounds?” he asked. “Edinburgh Castle is quite a place to see.”
Josephine nodded, turning away from the window and coming towards him. “I would,” she said. “It will help take my mind off what is happening around me.”
“Then that is the best reason of all.”
Nicholas would not soon forget the looks he received escorting the utterly lovely Josephine, for he had never felt so proud in all his life.