CHAPTER TWO
It was well after midnight when Josephine retired to her room. Justine almost had to help her up the stairs, but ever-independent Josephine would not allow it. Her thirty pounds of chainmail felt like one hundred pounds as she reached her heavy oak door. She pushed it open as she bid her sister a good night.
Inside, the comfortable room was lit and warmed by a blazing fire in the hearth. Her maid, Ola, had already filled the large iron tube with steaming water, and she could smell her precious rose oil emitting from it. It filled her senses and with the implication of great relaxation and cleanliness away from the horrors of the day, she couldn’t wait to get her clothes off.
Ola came in through the door, her arms laden with linens. She was surprised to see her mistress in the room.
“Oh!” the plump little maid cried. “My lady, let me help you!”
Josephine was too tired to even utter a word as Ola dropped the linens and began to strip her mistress of every scrap of clothing. The chainmail landed in the corner with a loud clank, followed by the tunic, undertunic, and breeches. Finally, Ola helped her weary mistress into the huge tub.
It was a routine they went through quite often, a bathing ritual that Josephine relished. But as she allowed the hot water and precious oils to steam away the sorrow and weariness, there was envy in the heart of the little maid. There always had been.
Ola had been with her mistress a very long time. As she oiled and scrubbed the woman, she found herself wishing for her mistress’ perfect body. Josephine wasn’t tall, only of average height, but she possessed a shape that would make God himself lustful. Her slim neck gave way to soft, white shoulders and well-shaped arms. Her breasts were round, full, and perfect. A taut torso blossomed into shapely hips and a deliciously rounded bottom. Oh, how Ola envied her mistress!
But it was a quiet envy, something she’d always kept to herself, as one does when one admires something unattainable. Finally, when every inch of Josephine’s body was scrubbed clean, Ola gathered her things and vacated the chamber.
Oblivious to her maid’s envious thoughts, Josephine lay back in the tub, her eyes closed. For the first time in over a day, she was alone, with no sounds of battle or anguish filling her ears. It was quiet and peaceful. But, God’s Toes, she ached to the marrow in her bones. Even her aches had aches. But the warm water soothed her tired body and made her incredibly sleepy. So before she fell asleep, she carefully pulled herself out.
Ola had left a large piece of drying linen warming by the fire, and Josephine quickly dried off. Over on the bed lay her white lamb’s wool robe, and she pulled that on. The robe was soft and sensual with the way it clung to her feminine curves as she went back over to the fire to dry her hair. Laying crosswise in a sling-back leather chair, with her neck resting on the armrest and her damp hair cascading down to the floor in front of the warm fire, Josephine meant to dry her hair that way. But she was asleep before she took two breaths, unable to hold off the exhaustion that was clutching at her.
And this was how Sully found her.
He had come up to tell her of the progress on the damaged section of wall and found her door slightly ajar. Upon entering, he could see the back of the chair and the hair spilling over one side. Rounding the chair, he was hit with the vision of the peacefully sleeping Josephine, her lips moistly parted in slumber. With stolen minutes, he watched her sleep and allowed himself the luxury of exploring his feelings for her.
He simply couldn’t help it.
Sully had loved Josephine for as long as he could remember. Even if she hadn’t been the earl’s daughter and had simply been a peasant girl, he would have loved her. There was something about her that had always drawn him to her. But now, it was a difficult situation. He knew her feelings were not the same for him, simply because she considered him her very best friend. She’d told him so many times. It had been Sully who had always protected her, Sully who had comforted her when her favorite horse died, and Sully who lied to Hugh on Josephine’s behalf when she snuck out of Torridon disguised as a boy to attend the faire in the village. He had been with her through the good and the bad, and that only made him love her more.
But there had been dark times in that one-sided love affair. Josephine had almost been betrothed two years prior to the fat, old Earl of Kilbrennan, but it was Sully who saw through the old bastard’s façade and convinced Hugh that the earl would have treated Josephine less than desirably. There had always been rumors, but it was Sully who had done some digging. He had discovered that Kilbrennan had a deviant sexual streak. The earl used to like to watch his now-dead wife and daughters as they engaged in sexual acts with more than one man at a time, and sometimes with objects of the earl’s choosing.
It had been a disgusting discovery and Hugh had been exceedingly grateful to Sully for that information. Josephine had never known about it, of course. But yet again, Sully had saved her from a horrible fate.
He was always there for her.
Josephine stirred in her sleep, disrupting him from his thoughts, and a portion of the robe fell away, revealing one shapely leg and a portion of the other as they hung over the side of the chair. Sully was only human. He would have liked nothing better than to run his hands up the silken limbs, but he knew he couldn’t. His main duty in his life was to protect Josephine, especially from himself.
There was something in him that wanted to nurture and pamper her. Even take care of her. Like now, he knew she would sleep much better on a bed and not a chair, so with infinite tenderness, he picked her up and carried her over to her bed. Gently laying her down, he pulled the coverlet over her, and Josephine snuggled down in her sleep and sighed contentedly. Sully smiled at the sight, wishing with all of his heart that he could have crawled into the bed next to her.
But he couldn’t. She was an heiress, and he was not of her station. Josephine was as she always was – unattainable.
Quitting the chamber, Sully shut the door quietly behind him, leaving his mistress her well-deserved sleep.
*
The next morning
Josephine sat at the head of the massive oval table in what used to be her father’s chair. The chamber was the Knight’s Haven, a long, rectangular room that was located off of the great hall where Hugh would meet with his knights. Now, it was the place where Josephine met with the very same men, men that had become her knights.
The room was rich with the heritage of Torridon Castle. The de Carron banner of two black serpents facing each other against a field of white hung high above the head of the table. It smelled of smoke, of rushes, and of the special aromatic wood her father had liked to burn in the hearth. Josephine always felt closest to her father here, and today that feeling was especially important. She prayed that Hugh would understand what she was about to say.
She’d come to a decision.
It wasn’t an easy decision, but a necessary one. She’d been mulling it over for months. But after yesterday, she knew she had to do something. She could no longer sit back and watch the Dalmellingtons destroy her beloved home.
Dressed in a rich surcote of emerald silk over a white underdress, Josephine’s beauty hid the power of her distress. The dress hung low on her shoulders, revealing their tempting lines and a hint of cleavage. A gold linked belt hung low on her hips, and her thick hair was pulled back loosely at the nape of her neck and was secured with a golden ribbon. It was a beautiful picture, deceiving to the men who were now entering the chamber.
There was something on the wind.
The knights entered the room in a group, taking their usual places about the table. Josephine sat straight in her chair, waiting until all were seated before she spoke. But first, she glanced at the faces of her most loyal knights – Sully, Burl, Albert, Henly, Simon, Rickard, and Bruce; sitting on her right. Etienne, Severn, Geoffrey, Stephen, John, Quig, and Christoph were to her left. There were fourteen of them, a rather large number, but the Earl of Ayr’s estate demanded such skilled protection. Hugh had made sure his lines were well-fortified with expensive knights. It was something that he could afford. Each one of the knights looked at Josephine with unquestioning loyalty, which made what she was about to say more difficult.
But the time had come.
“My faithful friends,” she began. “I realize the hour is early and you have your duties to attend to, but thank you for coming at my summons. I wanted to say that you were all magnificent yesterday in the latest Dalmellington attack, and you have my undying gratitude. But the damage we sustained yesterday was beyond anything we have seen up to this moment and the task of rebuilding is sorely stretching our resources and our subjects. I fear that it will only get worse.”
Josephine paused a moment, watching their reactions. Everyone seemed to agree. Folding her hands, she collected her thoughts and continued.
“I love Torridon with all of my heart, and to see it and my loyal subjects so badly assaulted pains me deeply,” she said. “Therefore, I beg you to understand what I am about to say. We cannot take any more of these barbaric attacks. We are losing men-at-arms by the tens and, very soon, we will have no one to defend our walls. And you, my brave knights, I fear I will lose one or more of you at any time. And that, I cannot bear. My reason tells me to fight until there is nothing left for Colin Dalmellington to take, but my heart says to save Torridon any way that I can. I choose to listen to my heart.”
Sully stiffened in his seat. She had said nothing to him about this, but he knew she’d been agonizing over the situation for quite some time. Yesterday’s battle had been particularly bad. Now, a warning bell went off in his mind.
Good Lord, he thought. What is brewing inside that pretty little head?
She didn’t keep him waiting.
“I have decided to travel to Burnton Castle and discover what will pacify Colin Dalmellington,” she said firmly. “Whatever it is, within my power, I shall give it to him.”
The knights bolted to their feet, all loudly protesting her decision and declaring their intention to fight until there was no breath left in their bodies. Josephine had expected this and she stood as well, holding up her hands for silence.
“Gentle knights, please,” she begged. “There is no other choice, as I can see it. But if any of you have suggestions, now is the time.”
They quieted somewhat as if contemplating alternative plans, looking at each other in discussion or yelling across the table. Only Sully was silent, watching his fellow knights in their animated conversations. Still, his mind was working swiftly – he truly wasn’t surprised to hear of her decision, and it wasn’t as if he entirely disagreed. It was obvious that she meant to do something to spare her castle and her people, but what would be the least dangerous option for her? Would walking into the Dalmellington lair be her best choice? He didn’t think so.
“Dalmellington will demand a marriage,” Albert, a burly and younger knight, was almost yelling. “The bastard will marry her to some lout-headed relative!”
“No, no,” said fair-haired Severn. “He’ll demand all of Torridon’s riches and her title!”
“Ye’re both wrong, laddies,” Quig, the ruddy Scotsman, cut in with his usually calm fashion. “He’ll demand her maidenhead. He never could keep his eyes off our mistress.”
Josephine’s bile rose at that thought. Oh, Sweet Jesus, would he really? Would the man be low enough to demand such a thing? She stepped away from the table as her men argued and wandered to the wall where the swords and shields of her father hung. She was still so young, never having any true responsibility in life until Hugh died. She’d never had to make a serious decision in her life.
And that inexperience was showing.
Josephine had awakened in the dead of darkness last night, her mind churning with worry. That happened often but, this time, it had been different. She had had a dream that her father stood on the drawbridge of Torridon, looking at his devastated fortress with such sadness that Josephine sensed he believed all of Torridon’s problems were her fault. She had taken his once-magnificent castle and run it right into the ground.
Naïve as she was to the ways of the world, somehow Josephine believed that reasoning with Colin Dalmellington would solve the situation. Sweet Jesus, she had tried! She had tried so hard to keep Torridon running as smoothly as her father had, but she had one thing to contend with that her father hadn’t – Dalmellington attacks.
She wasn’t even sure Hugh could have defended the castle more ably than she had.
Josephine turned from the wall and walked back to her knights. Her usually confident self was damaged, but her pride still was intact. They were still arguing over the best course of action and she found herself sincerely hoping they would come up with a better solution than she did, because she most certainly didn’t want to surrender her virginity to Colin Dalmellington. The mere thought made her ill.
Returning to the table, she stood by her chair as her knights continued to debate the issue. She wasn’t hearing anything that seemed like a better solution to the problem but, out of the arguing, Sully’s voice could be heard.
“I may have a solution,” he said.
Instantly, the other conversations ceased, all eyes turning to him. But Sully only had eyes for Josephine.
“I believe the problem lies in the fact that we have lost so many men,” he said matter-of-factly. “In the beginning, when we were eight hundred men strong, we were only concerned with defending Torridon and not launching counterattacks. We assumed, wrongly, that Dalmellington would tire of his game. But he has chipped away and chipped away until we now only possess enough men to barely defend ourselves, to say nothing of a counterattack. Our villeins are fleeing and our remaining men are discouraged. What used to be one of the strongest fortresses in all of Scotland is now in shambles.”
The knights were silent. Sadness was reflected in their eyes. Josephine looked as if she were about to cry. Sully continued.
“What Torridon still possesses, however, is her last coffers of wealth,” he said. “Money is not lacking, so I contend that we hire a mercenary army to help us rebuild and launch an attack that will wipe out Burnton Castle and the Dalmellingtons once and for all.”
Josephine’s lips parted in surprise. Of course! Hire an army! Why hadn’t she thought of that before? With growing eagerness, she took her chair and fixed her eyes on Sully.
“Do you know of one?” she asked eagerly.
“Not personally,” he said. “But it is well known that The Red Fury is the fiercest mercenary in all of England and Scotland. He commands over a thousand men and there isn’t an army around that can best him.”
The Red Fury! Of course, Josephine had heard that name. Hardly a person in England and Scotland hadn’t. The man was English, she’d heard, but he did a great deal of business in Scotland fighting wars for Scottish lairds. It was said that The Red Fury could lick any army, anywhere. Most sane men feared him.
Was it possible she could hire him to defeat Dalmellington?
“Do you think he would assist us?” Josephine asked. “For the right price, of course.”
A lazy grin creased Sully’s lips. “My lady,” he said. “He would assist the devil himself for the right price, to be sure.”
Josephine’s mind was working furiously. It was an astonishingly simple solution and she was truly ashamed she’d not thought of it herself.
“How much will it cost?” she inquired, perhaps a little hesitantly. “Will it be expensive?”
Sully cocked his head, glancing at Etienne before answering. Etienne gave him a quick lift of the eyebrows.
“Perhaps ten thousand marks,” he said finally. “Mayhap more.”
Josephine’s mouth fell open in outrage. “Ten thousand ma…” she sputtered. “God’s Toes! I could buy half of Scotland for that amount of money! They shouldn’t call themselves mercenaries; they should just call themselves thieves and do away with the veil of deception!”
She threw herself against the back of the chair, her expression a cross between anger and disbelief. If the mercenary would really cost ten thousand marks, then hiring him would take everything they had.
“My lady,” Sully said, seeing that she was discouraged. “Ten thousand marks for a one thousand man army. That is, at the very least, worth the money. Think of the security and stability they will bring to Torridon.”
“But it will take everything we have,” she said passionately. “And that is not where it will end. We will have to feed and house them here with our people. My God, when I think of all of the bastards we shall have running around next summer, it makes my head spin. Oh, Sweet Jesus…!”
She put out a weary hand over her eyes in a gesture of despair. What Sully was proposing was the best possible solution and she knew it; they all knew it. Josephine had been in favor of the idea until she found it would cost her ten thousand marks. Mayhap it wasn’t as good an answer as she originally thought, but she seriously wondered if it was the only answer. A mercenary in their midst.
There was no other choice.
Josephine sighed heavily and looked at Sully. Her lips formed a straight line in a gesture of resignation as she came to the conclusion that they’d all come to; this was the only real solution. They’d already tried to fight off the Dalmellington forces themselves and they were near collapse. What they needed was a bigger army.
A professional army.
“Very well, Sully,” Josephine said finally. “If you feel this is the right thing to do, then… then I suppose we have little choice. Find The Red Fury and hire his army. Make it so.”
Sully had to admit that he was relieved to hear her command. He’d had his doubts. But even Josephine could see that it was their only answer, even if it would drain their coffers. But at least they’d have their fortress saved from the Dalmellington onslaught.
And a mercenary to save them.
“Aye, my lady,” he said quietly. “I will do what I can.”
The decision had been made. Josephine watched her knights leave the room and wondered if she made the right decision. Sweet Jesus, a mercenary army at Torridon! She’d have to make sure all of the valuables were hidden away, and that none of the women were ever alone or without an escort.
And then there was her sister.
Justine would be in her glory with all of the soldiers to tell fortunes to, but not if Josephine could help it. She wondered how Justine would react to being locked up in the tower indefinitely.
She snickered bitterly at the thought.
*
It was towards mid-afternoon on the day after the battle, and repairs were in full swing under a bright blue sky and soft winds. Seated in her solar and repairing a pair of her breeches that had been torn in a previous battle, Josephine heard a shout from the inner ward. Visitors were arriving, and she set her things aside and quickly headed out to the keep entry where several servants were congregating.
“Who is here?” she demanded.
A young maid with bad teeth and hair bound up in a kerchief snapped her head in her mistress’ direction and curtsied quickly.
“Donald Muir, my lady,” she said.
Josephine looked in the direction of the entry door as if to see the inner ward beyond. “Excellent,” she said, pleasure in her expression. “Find Lady Justine. Inform her we have a guest. I want the great hall prepared for a grand feast this evening. Now, run!”
The servants scattered and Josephine went to stand in the entry. Outside, in the inner bailey, the entourage of young Muir was just coming to a halt. Josephine smiled at Donald, who caught sight of her immediately from atop his silver-gray destrier. The wind caught her emerald silk surcote as she descended the stone steps, causing it to billow out behind her and revealing her pretty legs from the knees down.
Young Donald was pleased at the unexpected view of her legs but said nothing. He dismounted with a smile on his face, chivalrously extending his hand. Josephine placed her hand in his, and he flipped it over and brought the tender side of her wrist to his lips. She smiled reproachfully at the devilish look on his face. He was blond, tall, very handsome, and was two years older than she.
“Master Muir,” she said. “What brings you to my humble, if not slightly destroyed fortress?”
Donald removed his gauntlets and slapped the leather against an open palm. “I would say Torridon is more than just slightly destroyed,” he said, passing a practiced eye over the ward. “We received word of yer attack late yesterday. Father sent me with one hundred men-at-arms to see if we could be of assistance.”
She smiled gratefully. “How I wish you had come yesterday,” she said softly. “But the siege ended at dusk. Your father is very kind to have sent you but, as you can see, the storm has passed. But you will stay, of course, and feast with us tonight.”
“Of course,” he said agreeably. “Ye do not think I really came to fight, did ye? I only came to gaze on yer beauty.”
He was arrogant, and a flatterer, but a good friend and Josephine liked him a great deal. Donald extended his arm and she took it, leading her off across the compound as his followers disbanded. It was a well-known fact that the son of the neighboring lord was wildly in love with Josephine, but she considered him nothing more than a childhood friend. Pity, too, for they made a handsome couple.
Sully entered the inner bailey from the stables in time to see Josephine and Donald stroll leisurely towards the opening into the outer bailey. He could tell that Josephine was showing him the damage. She was pointing to the destruction as Donald nodded his head. An expression of impatience crossed Sully’s face; as much as he liked young Muir, he felt a distinct twinge of jealousy at the sight of the two of them arm-in-arm. He knew Donald’s feelings for Josephine; everyone knew. Although she showed him no interest, the lad wouldn’t give up. Perhaps that’s what bothered Sully the most; the fact that Donald never seemed to understand Josephine’s position on the matter. He thought he still had a chance.
Foolish whelp.
Casually, Sully followed the pair just to make sure young Donald behaved himself.
*
Early in the evening, a sumptuous spread was served of roast venison, mutton, roasted pigeon in plum sauce, and waterfowl. Whatever problems Torridon Castle may have had, food was not one of them. With their own herds and gardens, they always had plentiful fare. Fresh loaves of bread with butter and honey crowded the tables.
The enormous great hall was warm and brightly lit. The servants moved among the boisterous diners, making sure their cups were never empty of sweet Spanish wine. A quartet of minstrels, who were actually soldiers from Torridon’s ranks, played lively music from one corner of the room.
Even though the feast had already commenced, Josephine was just finishing dressing. For this evening, she had selected a gown of red silk. The gown hung dangerously low on her chest, greatly accentuating the swell of her luscious breasts. The sleeves started midway down her upper arm and extended down to her tapered wrists. A large, white collar encircled the top of the dress and the sleeves were intricately embroidered with golden thread.
The silk clung to every curve, flaring just below the hips and gracefully encircling her. Resting on her hips was a girdle of finely woven gold that came to a “V” right before her pubic mound. The dress was absolutely magnificent.
To finish the picture, Ola had pulled her great mane back, weaving it into a loose braid. Upon her head, she wore a thinly-woven net of gold. A layer of beeswax gave her lips a glossy glow. As Josephine gazed at herself in her polished bronze mirror, she didn’t think she looked much like a woman who was killing men and wielding a broadsword only the day before. She looked like a true lady, a countess in fact, who ruled a prosperous earldom.
But it was all a façade; the beautiful picture masked the weariness, the hopelessness that she felt. The eyes that looked back at her couldn’t conceal the sorrow. Perhaps an evening with her friend, Donald, would change that reflection. She was hoping so, ready for some pleasantness after such terrible times. Rising from the stool she’d been sitting on, she heard an audible gasp from Ola.
“Oh, my lady!” she breathed. “You look lovely!”
Josephine smiled, with a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you.”
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Ola opened it and in swept Justine. But this was no ordinary appearance by Torridon’s self-proclaimed white witch. Josephine’s eyes bulged at the sight of her sister, and then she looked at Ola in disbelief. Ola’s face was a mirror of her mistress’ distress.
Justine was dressed in a black silk dress that was so sheer, that one could see her skin right through it. And she wore nothing underneath it. Some sort of strange silver girdle encircled her hips with odd occult markings on it. Over her shoulders, she wore a long, silken black shawl. Her long brown hair was pinned up in an elaborate style. Josephine circled her sister in disbelief.
“I will not allow you to wear such a garment,” she finally said.
Justine stiffened. “I will wear what I please, my sister, with no instructions from you.”
“Then do as you please,” Josephine said angrily, “but only in your own boudoir. Not in the dining hall surrounded by oversexed soldiers!”
“I am not ashamed of my body,” Justine informed her with self-righteousness. “It is as pure as the heaven and the earth, and to gaze upon it will bring them good fortune. And, in fact, there is not one man down there that has not seen a woman’s body.”
“Oh, God’s Toes,” Josephine rolled her eyes in exasperation, letting a hand slap her thigh. “Ola, send Sully to me immediately.”
As Ola slipped out, Justine flamed. “Sully cannot tell me what to wear, either,” she declared. “Hear me, Sister. I am very powerful and you would be wise not to a-flame me.”
“Spare me the empty threats, Justine,” Josephine said, unimpressed. “Your mind works in such mysterious ways that I cannot believe you and I sprang from the same loins. Just once – just one blessed time – I wish you would stop this pretending to be something you are not and assume your true position as chatelaine of Torridon. How on earth do you expect to find a husband if you continue acting like a brainless nymph?”
“Who wants a husband?” Justine seemed genuinely repulsed. “I must remain pure if my powers are to remain strong.”
Josephine scowled. “You will not remain a virgin if you continue to dress like that.”
Justine stepped into her sister’s face. “I am untouchable,” she said threateningly. “No man would dare touch me and risk provoking the powers of the universe.”
“Aye, Justine,” Josephine said as she put up a hand as if to push away her foolish sister. “You must be sure to remind them of that as they rip off your sheath and drive their manhood deep into your womb.”
Justine’s blue eyes flashed furiously and she opened her mouth to retort when the door opened and Sully calmly entered the room. Josephine turned to him, her face wrought with exasperation; she didn’t need to tell him anything because he’d already heard some of it. At Ola’s urgent message, he had raced from the dining hall in a matter of seconds and stood outside of Josephine’s door. The only reason he chose this moment to enter was because he was afraid they had reached the hair-pulling stage.
That had happened before.
“My ladies require me?” he inquired casually.
“Sully,” Josephine said, pointing a finger at her sister. “See what she plans to wear at dinner. Tell her that it is most inappropriate.”
Sully honestly hadn’t noticed anything about Justine; his eyes were riveted to Josephine as they always were. But after her statement, he managed to tear his eyes away long enough to give Justine the once-over. The first thing he saw was the dark thatch of hair between her legs, clearly seen through the sheer fabric. After that, he tried not to look any further but morbid curiosity kept his eyes where they should not be. He could not believe that Justine would actually wear the dress in front of hundreds of drunk, leering men. He crossed his arms and lifted a fatherly eyebrow.
“You intend to wear that… garment?” he asked.
Justine’s chin shot up defiantly. “I do.”
Sully cocked a thoughtful eyebrow before turning to an irate Josephine. “A word, if you please, my lady.”
Josephine cast Justine a triumphant expression as she went to the opposite end of the room with Sully. Justine, in turn, cast her sister her very best evil eye.
Sully moved close to Josephine. “Will you trust me?” he whispered.
She nodded eagerly. “Implicitly.”
He looked her in the eye. “Let her wear it.”
Josephine looked stunned. “What?”
“Let her wear it,” he repeated patiently. “Let her see just how untouchable she really is. You can yell at her until your tongue falls out, but she will never relent because she believes she is right. Some people must learn lessons the hard way.”
Josephine looked at him dubiously, then looked at her sister, and back to Sully again. Her jaw muscles were flexing as she thought on his words.
“Very well,” she said reluctantly. “I would be in favor of that. But what if the situation gets out of hand? Will you save her?”
“Do you want me to?”
There was a twinkle of mirth in her eye. Despite her anger, she found herself fighting off a grin.
“I almost do not,” she said.
The subject of the conversation began to fade in Sully’s mind and all he could think of was the smell of Josephine’s rose perfume and the swell of her bosom. Why on earth should he think of Justine when this glorious creature was in front of him? But Josephine turned with a wink and was gone. That ended Sully’s daydreams.
Oblivious to Sully’s mental worship of her, Josephine walked over to her sister and looked the woman up and down. Hands on her hips, she faced off against Justine’s stubborn stance.
“Sully feels you should be allowed to wear the gown of your choosing,” she said evenly. “So be it. We will attend our guests now.”
Justine’s chin jutted out triumphantly and she stomped from the room. Josephine looked at Sully with uncertainty in her eyes.
“I hope you are right,” she said quietly. “Or I will have lost all control over her.”
Sully came over to her, a reassuring smile on his face. He offered her his arm and she accepted. As they descended the stairs, he didn’t say what he was thinking; he knew that Justine’s shocking costume would be quickly forgotten when Josephine, in all of her glory, entered the hall. Any normal man would look at her over her foolish sister.
Sully wondered if his plan would, indeed, backfire.
*
Josephine could barely eat. With Donald on one side of her and Sully on the other, her trencher was filled to overflowing with food, but her appetite was gone.
Around her, the hall was alive with music and laughter. The smells of roast meat filled their air as hungry dogs wandered the room. But Josephine’s eyes watched her sister’s every move as she sat at the end of the table, surrounded by salivating soldiers who pretended to be interested in what she was saying. But their bloodshot eyes were fixed on her small breasts with large brown nipples that showed obviously through the fabric.
Josephine was deeply embarrassed for her sister, but Justine seemed not to notice the reason for their attention. She was going on and on about the deadly benefits of the nightshade plant.
“Justine has certainly dazzled the men with her… charms,” Donald spoke in Josephine’s ear.
Josephine glanced over her shoulder at him. “I pray that the floor will split wide and swallow her up.”
“Is she truly yer flesh and blood?” Donald asked with mock seriousness. “Or did yer mother find her growing on a vine in the forest?”
Josephine visibly sobered. “My mother died in childbirth for that… that woman.”
Donald wished the floor would split wide and swallow him, too. He had not meant to sound insensitive. Josephine turned away from him and focused on Sully.
“Your plan is not working,” she whispered, singsong. “Not once has anyone made a move to touch her and she is enjoying the attention immensely! Now what?”
“Patience, my lady,” he reassured her. “Have you ever known me to be wrong?”
Her pause made him turn to look at her. “Not very often, but it has been known to happen.” His eyes twinkled at her and she pointed a finger at him in a threatening fashion. “But this better not be one of those occasions!”
Suddenly feeling ravenous, Josephine turned her attention to her trencher and began to hungrily devour a piece of stringy beef. The music grew more lively and a few couples rose to dance to the swift beat. Before Josephine could finish her food, Donald had her by the hand and led her to the floor near the hearth where the others were dancing. It was a fast-paced old folk dance and Josephine was soon breathless and laughing as Donald swung her endlessly in his arms.
Sully watched from his seat on the dais. It was so good to see her laughing again; Lord knew, there had been little enough to laugh about lately. Her laughter sounded like chimes; clear, pure, and tinkling. But his eyes darkened with the jealousy he had no right to feel.
God in heaven, what was he going to do when she married? How in the hell was he going to handle a husband touching and loving Josephine? Get a hold of yourself, man, he scolded himself. Who is to say that you will not be the one holding and loving her? He comforted himself with that thought. He always thought that if he was patient enough, his patience would come to fruition. Josephine would see who loved her the very most. Not Donald or the other fools who fawned over her, but the stoic and strong knight who had devoted his life to her.
The man who had treated Torridon as if it were his very own castle.
In fact, Sully comforted himself further when he remembered that he had news for Josephine. News that they had been waiting for had come right before the feast began and Sully intended to deliver it to Josephine personally.
Alone.
Aye, she’d know soon who loved her the very most.
As Sully pondered what the future might bring for him and his lady, Justine was dancing furiously with several men, being passed from man to man as they swung her roughly. They were laughing loudly in their revelry but, soon, hands began to touch places they shouldn’t. Justine stopped laughing and tried to stop dancing, but momentum kept moving her from one man to the next. Finally, one particularly burly soldier grasped her around the body and pulled her close to his sweaty, smelly face. Justine squealed and pushed at him as he brought his stinking mouth close to hers.
“Aw, c’mon, girl! Do not be shy!” he rasped.
Josephine stopped her dancing and raced to her sister’s side. She pounded the man’s broad chest.
“Let her go, you swell-headed lout!” she yelled.
Sully was on the move. He vaulted over the dining table and hit the floor running. Etienne, Burl, and Christoph followed on his heels. But he wasn’t fast enough to prevent Josephine from wrapping her arms around the man’s neck and hanging on for dear life in her attempt to choke him.
Between Josephine’s yelling, Justine’s screams, and the soldier’s grunting, it was hard to tell just who was assaulting whom. Donald, rushing to assist Josephine, was summarily flattened by one of the soldiers who had been dancing with Justine. His nose was gushing blood as he pushed himself up from the floor and shook off the bells ringing in his ears.
Sully bounded over the flailing Donald to wrench Justine from the man’s grasp. He thrust her into Burl’s waiting arms.
“Get her out of here!” he ordered.
The soldier was struggling to breathe with Josephine’s arms wound tightly about his neck. She managed to remove one arm long enough to pound him solidly on the side of his mangy head, all the while hurling insults at him. Sully lunged and grabbed Josephine about the waist, tugging her hard at least twice before he managed to dislodge her.
“Josephine!” he bellowed. “Josephine, release!”
Etienne had the soldier by the hair, pulling him away as Josephine was pulled off of him. She was still angry and fighting until Sully, with one arm wrapped tightly around her small waist, clamped his other hand over her mouth. Then, with Josephine silent, he turned with a clenched jaw to his knights.
“I want the offending soldier and his cohorts sent on their way,” he growled to Etienne.
“Och, my lord!” the man whined. “We were just ’aving a li’l fun! Besides, she was jus’ askin’ fer trouble with that invisible dress she’s wearin’!”
His friends chimed in loudly, implying all sorts of unladylike things. Sully had to struggle to keep Josephine under control. She writhed, twisted, and grunted under his iron grip. But the man’s argument didn’t affect Sully; he continued to stare at the man with an unwavering gaze. Then, with a nod of his head to Etienne, the soldier and his four accomplices were forcibly escorted from the room. As they were exiting the door, Sully looked over at the musicians.
“Play!” he commanded.
Without so much as a pause, the music began again, as lively and melodic as before. People began to turn back to their conversations and the dancing resumed. Slowly, Sully removed his hand from Josephine’s mouth.
“Are you calm?” he asked.
Her mouth was twitching. “Aye.”
He still had her about the waist, pulled close against him. Just inches below his mouth was the tender nape of her neck and her creamy white shoulders. The temptation was almost overwhelming, but Sully forced himself not to think about it. Still, he didn’t let her go.
“Can I trust you not to run after those men if I release you?” he asked.
Josephine pulled herself irritably from his grasp. “Of course, Sully,” he snapped. Then she caught sight of Donald Muir being attended by Christoph. “Donald! What happened to him?”
Sully’s eyes followed her as she ran to Donald and fussed over the man. The lad had gone down quickly in the fight, he noted with a bitter chuckle. He was a good swordsman, but not much with his bare knuckles. Josephine had fared better in the fight than young Muir had. God’s Bones, she was feisty.
Sully rather liked that.
But Sully was forgotten, as was the feast, as Josephine helped Donald to his feet. She had greater concerns on her hands now than a foolish sister and a lascivious soldier. With her guest of honor injured, she felt terrible about the entire event and escorted him to a guest room to recuperate. She suspected that his nose was broken with the pain he was experiencing. Donald tried to joke about it, but she could see the blue circles forming underneath his eyes already. Deeply concerned for her friend, Josephine left the chamber to seek the old physic, Dewey.
The old man who had been at Torridon long before the House of de Carron took charge of the castle was in his room at the top of the east tower of the keep. It was a dark and eerie tower, smelling of strange odors, and most people avoided going into the tower altogether. But not Josephine; she knocked loudly on Dewey’s door and entered hesitantly, peering into the room as the ancient oak door squeaked open. As children, she and James and Justine had been absolutely terrified of coming up here, and they used to threaten each other with the prospect of it often. It was a cold, dank, and weakly-lit room; even on the brightest of days.
Josephine called Dewey’s name softly and slowly entered into the forbidden chamber. It was a large room littered with tables, and the tables were heaped with paraphernalia she did not recognize. Among Dewey’s many talents, he also practiced the ancient art of alchemy. She gingerly examined the contents of the nearest table, noticing the foul odor emitting from it.
Disdainfully, she backed away and called Dewey’s name again just as the old man appeared out of the darkness behind her. When he put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped with fright.
“Oh!” She put her hand to her chest. “You startled me. Dewey, Master Muir has been injured and requires your attention.”
“Of course, my lady,” he smiled his ancient crooked grin at her. “Let me get my medicaments.”
Josephine waited while he retrieved his enormous woven basket laden with potions, herbs, and mysterious salves. With a swish of his cloak, he preceded her out of the room and she followed eagerly, glad to be out of his private abode. Glancing over her shoulder as she descended the stairs, she could swear unseen eyes were watching her from the walls of the old tower. Dewey’s tower had that effect on everyone. Shaking off her uneasy feeling, she continued quickly down the steps, following the tiny physic all the way to Donald’s chamber.
As it turned out, the young man did, indeed, have a broken nose, according to Dewey, who tended the young man as best he could. Josephine stood by, helping the old man if he needed it, all the while feeling a building rage towards her sister. Justine and her ridiculousness had caused all of this, after all, and the more she watched Donald wince, the angrier she became.
By the time Dewey was finished with him, Josephine had worked up a righteous fury. As far as she was concerned, this would be the last time Justine behaved so poorly. This time, Donald was injured but, next time, there was no telling what the consequences would be.
Josephine made a decision that there were to be consequences, no more idiocy, even if she had to throw her sister in the vault to prove it.
This night, Justine’s foolishness was at an end.
*
When Josephine returned to her chamber after helping tend Donald, Sully was waiting for her in the corridor outside of her room. But she swept past him without so much as a glance on her way to Justine’s room, next to hers. Sully watched her breeze by, then followed her.
He had a feeling what was coming.
Reaching Justine’s door, Josephine pounded on it loudly. Her sister screamed for her to go away, but Josephine ignored the command completely and burst into the chamber, seeking out Justine. She spied her huddled up in a ball in a chair by the fireplace. Justine’s eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at her sister in surprise.
Josephine’s anger was unchecked. She intended for Justine to feel the full force of her wrath. Marching up to the chair, she put her balled fists on her slim hips and glared down at her sister.
“Well?” she demanded. “Are you satisfied with the havoc you have wrought? Who needs Dalmellington when we have you around to destroy us from the inside?”
“Cease,” Justine propelled herself from the chair, trying to get away from her angry sister. “I will not hear your insults. Leave me alone and attend your guests!”
“I have!” Josephine fired back. “Because of your willful stubbornness, Donald Muir is now abed with a broken nose and we are less five men-at-arms. Justine, why did you not listen to me? I was not speaking just to hear my own voice, you know. I happened to know what I was talking about.”
Justine glared frightfully at her sister and, for a moment, Sully again feared that they would come to blows. But Justine, showing a ray of intelligence, turned away from her sister and stared into the fire.
“Leave me, Joey,” she said dully. “I have no wish to listen to your words tonight.”
“Is that all you have to say to me? That you do not wish to listen to my words?”
Justine was starting to tear up again. “What would you have me say?” she asked. “That you were correct? That I should have listened? That I am sorry for what happened to Donald? Of course I did not plan that. I am more sorry than you know.”
“Are you? Enough to listen to me the next time I tell you something for your own good?”
Justine sighed heavily and looked away; there was such defeat in her features. As Josephine looked at her sister’s expression, she began to calm down. She could see that Justine was repentant and she was coming to suspect that there was nothing she could say that Justine didn’t already know. Perhaps, the humiliation of the evening was enough of a lesson for one night. God’s Bones, she could only hope so.
Therefore, she was coming to think it was best if she simply left. As she reached for the door she paused, her gaze moving to her sister’s profile.
“Justine,” she said hesitantly. “I only want the best for you. I do not try to make your life miserable. You are my sister and I love you. No matter what… please always remember that.”
Justine turned to her and, for a brief moment, Josephine caught a glimpse of a normal, rational woman who would someday make a fine wife. That woman was there, buried deep inside Justine’s complex persona. Josephine hoped that she would come out someday, sooner rather than later.
“I love you, too,” Justine whispered.
In silence, Josephine quit the chamber with Sully on her heels. He escorted her back to her chamber and poured her a cup of mulled wine, thinking that she probably needed it. Josephine accepted it absently, her mind still on her sister.
As she went to sit by the hearth, Sully poured a cup for himself, watching his mistress’ face as she sat. He knew she was taxed with Justine adding to her already insurmountable burdens. It was a large load for one so young to handle, but she was strong. And she had to continue being strong until a permanent solution was found to the Dalmellington problem. As of tonight, Sully hoped he had the answer.
This was the moment of privacy he’d been hoping for.
“My lady,” he said quietly. “I sent out four messengers today; one in each direction. They are instructed to find The Red Fury and deliver the message that five thousand marks await him and his army if they will defend Torridon Castle against the Dalmellington onslaught. The Red Fury is usually encamped this time of year near Dumfries, so we may get lucky. He may get our message quickly and respond.”
Josephine pondered that information for a moment. “I thought you said it would cost me ten thousand marks,” she said, staring into the flames of her hearth.
Sully shrugged lightly. “I left room for negotiation.”
She tore her eyes away from the fire and looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. “But what if it is not enough?” she asked. “What if he will not come?”
He puckered his lips in a silent whistle and went to stand by her chair. “Five thousand marks is still a great deal of money,” he said. “It will be enough to get his attention. I believe it will be enough to garner his attention.”
Josephine looked at him with uncertainty, but so wanting to believe him. Sully was always right, wasn’t he?
“Oh, Sully,” she looked into his ice-blue eyes as she lifted her cup to him. “May you always be right.”
Sully found himself lost in her eyes, her lips, and her hair. The dress, in a sitting position, strained against her breasts. Common sense screamed at him to get the hell out of the room before he did something they would both regret. Swiftly, he turned away from her and deposited his cup on the table as he hastened for the door.
“Sully!”
Josephine called to him and he froze with his hand on the door latch. Josephine set her goblet down and rose from her chair. In the next second, she was standing next to him and he could feel the heat radiating from her body.
“Thank you,” she whispered sincerely. “Thank you for taking such good care of Justine and me. I shudder to think what would have become of us had you not been here.”
Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Sully was plunged into a tumultuous abyss; he had no idea how to respond. She was warm, soft, and fragrant, and the only thing between their bare bodies was a silk dress and his linen tunic and leather doublet.
This was where he’d always wanted to be.
Still, he wrestled with keeping his arms to himself. He was afraid of what would happen if he let himself go. Yet he knew she was expecting some sort of response and his arms came up, hesitantly, and wrapped themselves around her waist. He squeezed her quickly before releasing her, moving away so that she was forced to release him, also.
God in heaven, he had to get out of there!
“Sleep well, my lady.” It was the only reply he could manage.
Sully left her without another word. Outside in the corridor, he rushed to the stairs and descended them two at a time. His cheeks were hot, his heart pounding in his ears, and he just had to get the hell out of the keep.
In the great hall, the feast was still going on, as it most likely would all night. Sully could hear faint strains of the flute as he strolled out into the night on his way to the knight’s quarters. He found himself wondering which one of the whores would fill his bed tonight. They were women who warmed the beds of the knights and who gave them a particular peace in a world that didn’t have much. There were seven of them and Etienne had named each one after the seven deadly sins – Gluttony, Lust, Greed, Pride, Sorrow, Wrath, Vanity, and Sloth.
He was feeling particularly lustful tonight.