CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Two days later
Josephine couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.
It was this night she would meet her betrothed, as she could no longer put him off.
She’d managed to avoid the king, the earl, and most everyone else all day yesterday and most of the day today, her only visitors being Sully and Justine. She didn’t even let Nicholas in, not even when he begged. Andrew had been missing since the night he left her, and no one could seem to locate him, not even Sully when he made a sweep of the tavern where they had been staying and most of the taverns in the immediate area. Andrew and his possessions were missing, and no one seemed to know where the man had gone.
Josephine tried not to panic over it. She knew that wherever he’d gone, he must have had a good reason for it, but Sully had no hope or advice to offer about it. Andrew was gone and, as the hours passed, Josephine struggled against despair. She needed him now, more than ever, but he evidently had something else in mind.
She would have to trust that the man would show himself at the right time.
So, she tried very hard not to think about it and soldier on. But on the second day of Andrew’s absence, William Ward had made an appearance in the afternoon telling her that she was expected at the feast that evening to meet her betrothed and that the king would no longer accept any excuses. Ward seemed rather angry as he delivered the message, but Josephine didn’t rise to it. She simply eyed the man until he left in a huff. When he was gone, she rolled her eyes.
So, her womanly cycle excuse would no longer be tolerated. She wondered if it was because Madelaine, or any one of the number of other servants, had noticed she was not actually on her cycle and reported back to the king. Other than the discolored stain on the bed the night Andrew had bedded her, there had been no other evidence. Therefore, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.
She had to attend the feast.
Another note had come from the earl himself, telling her to wear the white dress, but she would not comply. Although it was mended and hanging on a peg in her wardrobe, she made sure to tear it again. She wasn’t going to be forced into wearing the thing. Instead, she chose the black dress again.
As she’d told the king, black was for sadness. The message would be clear.
As dusk consumed the land and the great hall was already noisy with guests and fragrant with the smells of fine foods, William Ward came to escort her to the feast. When Madelaine opened the door, Ward was accompanied by six armed men. Josephine had to laugh at that, inwardly of course; she wondered if the men were there because the king was expecting a fight. But she gave them no fight. She willingly went with Ward down to the hall, only to be met by Alexander at the entry door.
The king greeted her politely but didn’t say anything about seeing the black dress again. It seemed that he was being particularly kind, which was strange for the man. But Josephine could tell he was eyeing the black dress. Perhaps he didn’t say anything for fear of upsetting her and sending her right back up to her chambers. He had her where he wanted her and he wasn’t going to upset the balance. So he simply smiled, took her hand, and proceeded into the great hall.
When Josephine entered the hall on the king’s arm, all noise and movement stopped. Six hundred pairs of eyes devoured and admired the strikingly pale woman in black. Josephine was somewhat self-conscious as she was led to her seat on the dais, feeling the hot stares of the room on her back.
But it was nothing compared to the fear she felt when she was finally introduced to Alphonse d’Vant. She was seated right next to him and found herself looking up at a mountain of a man; enormous, with a pockmarked face and black eyes. He looked like everything hellish she’d ever heard about him. Big hands, a big nose – everything about the man was big. His gaze was fixed on her during their introduction. His expression suggested that he wasn’t disappointed in what he saw. When he spoke, however, his tone was anything but pleased.
“What happened to the white dress I sent to you?” he growled as she took her seat. “I told you to wear that.”
That was his greeting to her and Josephine’s palms began to sweat. God’s Toes, the man scared her. But she searched her soul and found courage; courage from Andrew, and she drew on it. She had to be brave, even if she didn’t feel it.
“Forgive me, my lord, but the dress was damaged,” she said. “There was no time to repair it before dinner, so I chose another dress that I hoped would please you.”
Alphonse studied her, his eyes glittering evilly. Josephine couldn’t tell whether or not he believed her and was relieved when a pretty maid bearing honeyed fruit distracted him. In that moment, she took the time to observe her surroundings.
Men she didn’t know were seated down the table from her, men who were looking at her rather interestedly. She didn’t like their stares and almost turned away until she caught sight of Sully, Justine, Nicholas, and Donald, far down the table. They were all seated together. When Josephine saw them, she nearly shouted with joy. Her confidence returned with her friends and family sitting near her. Friendly faces in a sea of unfamiliar, unwelcome men.
They gave her strength.
Her gaze fell on Sully as he smiled at her, and Josephine noticed the fine clothes he wore. He was looking more and more like the Earl of Ayr. That realization brought a stab of regret to her heart, but it quickly vanished. Her father was dead, her brother was dead, and she could think of no better man to carry on the title. Except for Andrew, of course. But he had his own path to follow that didn’t include Torridon, a path that she, too, would soon follow.
Now, Torridon belonged to Sully and Justine, and forever would.
But thoughts of Sully vanished when something heavy hit her trencher. Startled, Josephine turned to see that the earl had thrown a stringy piece of beef from his own trencher onto hers. Apparently, this was his idea of being chivalrous.
“Eat,” he commanded.
Though she had no appetite, Josephine took a bite. She’d already disobeyed him about the dress; she didn’t think he’d take kindly to her refusing to eat. As she chewed with some effort, the earl watched her intently.
Alphonse d’Vant, Earl of Annan and Blackbank, had been waiting for this moment. He’d had quite a bit to drink that evening as he waited to meet his betrothed and was feeling his liquor. With Lady Josephine in his sight, his mind wandered to the perverted and violent sexual acts he would perform with her. God, she was gorgeous. He hadn’t expected such finery. He couldn’t wait to watch while she masturbated with the phallic symbol he had specially made from pure gold. It was big, like he was, and he loved to watch women as they struggled to bury it deep within their soft bodies.
Already, he had plans for his new bride. As he watched her choke down a couple of bites followed by great gulps of wine, he leaned in her direction and lowered his voice.
“Lady Josephine,” he growled. “Would you accompany me to my chambers this eve? We have much to… discuss.”
Josephine almost choked on the food in her mouth. She hadn’t expected a proposition so soon and every instinct in her body told her to run. The man’s foul breath and foul ambiance was enveloping her, embracing her like the grime of an unseen plague. She could feel death about her, radiating from him. But she couldn’t run; she knew she couldn’t. With iron control, she managed to turn and look at him.
“Of course, my lord,” she replied evenly. “And I believe the king also wishes to discuss our arrangement. It would be ideal for all of us to meet in the privacy of your chambers.”
The earl was a bright man. He knew exactly what she was doing, calling in reinforcements so she wouldn’t have to be alone with him. But he was also an insensitive brute and could not possibly feel admiration for her bravery or her cleverness. He leaned his big head close to hers.
“I have no need for the king,” he whispered gruffly. “Unless the man wishes to help me inspect my latest acquisition.”
Josephine couldn’t help it; she visibly blanched. “I am a maiden, my lord. I shall remain so until my wedding.”
He laughed loudly, and she nearly jumped from her skin. “Liar!” he said.
Josephine flared in spite of her fear. “How dare you accuse me of untruth!” she fired back, even if he had been correct.
By this time, the dining hall had quieted considerably, watching the earl glare at his newly betrothed.
“Is that so?” he boomed. “Then we shall see!”
That was the end of Josephine’s bravery. King or no king, Josephine shot out of her chair in an attempt to run, but no sooner did she move than the earl was on her, grabbing handfuls of hair and nearly her entire neck in one hand. She gasped in pain, clutching at his wrist with one hand and trying to keep from stepping on her dress with the other.
Sully, witnessing the brutal move, jumped out of his chair. His face was red and his veins throbbed violently in his temples – no one was going to treat Josephine like that, and to hell with the king. He may be killed for his actions, but he wasn’t going alone. That bastard earl was going to feel his sword if it was the last thing he ever did.
But his efforts were thwarted. On either side of him, Justine and Donald reacted to Sully’s murderous intentions. Donald grabbed his arms while Justine tried to block him with her body, putting her hands on his chest.
“Sully, nay!” she hissed pleadingly. “Sit down! Please, I beg of you!”
Sully was struggling against Donald. Nicholas, his eyes wide with concern, tore his eyes from Josephine long enough to see that Sully was not taking the assault well. Nicholas knew that they had to help keep Sully calm, lest his blood be spilled right here in front of all of them. The king wouldn’t tolerate any acts of violence against guests, and most especially against Blackbank. Quickly and silently, Nicholas slipped from his chair and caught Sully around the torso with his strong, young arms.
“Let us remove him from the hall,” he whispered to Donald, who heartily agreed.
“Let me go, you little whelps,” Sully demanded, fighting all three of them. “Let me go, all of you!”
“Remove him,” Justine said desperately as she gave the struggling mass a hard shove towards the door. “Take him back to our chambers!”
With Donald pulling and with Nicholas pushing, they managed to get Sully several feet from the table and Justine breathed a sigh of relief as they moved away. But her hope was shattered when a booming voice rang above the commotion. The earl still had Josephine twisting in his hand and he stepped out into the room, yelling again for the exiting group to halt.
Nicholas, Donald, and Sully came to a halt, turning eyes of anxiety and hatred to the monstrous man. Sully was breathing fire.
The earl’s eyes narrowed at the group. “What goes on?” he demanded. “Who are you?”
Nicholas knew he didn’t mean him; they had met. Quickly, he straightened. He would do the talking.
“My lord, allow me to introduce Sully Montgomery, the Earl of Ayr, and his companion, Lord Donald Muir,” he said evenly. “They are… guests.”
The earl looked right at Sully, who was spitting venom from his eyes. “What ails you, man?” he asked suspiciously.
In his grip, Josephine was nearly hysterical. The earl would kill Sully in a heartbeat if she didn’t do something. She turned her head slightly to look at her sister, whose face was a mirror of her own – pure, absolute terror. Before she could say anything, however, Nicholas answered the earl’s question.
“Nothing ails him, my lord,” he said. “The earl has simply had too much to drink. We were escorting him to bed.”
As Alphonse eyed Sully threateningly, thinking the man looked as if he was about to charge, the king came up behind him as he gripped Josephine by the hair.
“Remove your hand from my cousin,” he said icily.
It was a steely command, not meant to be disobeyed. Alphonse turned to look at the king with an expression that was nothing short of hateful. He considered bashing the king’s brains out right there, but he decided against it. He was, after all, in the king’s court, and even he couldn’t fight all of the king’s men. After a moment, he released Josephine.
“Thank you,” King Alexander said, but he didn’t mean it. He even looked to see if Josephine was all right as she staggered away, rubbing her scalp. But then he pointed at Sully. “This is Lady Josephine’s brother-in-law, and that is his wife, Lady Justine. She is Lady Josephine’s sister.”
The earl looked at Justine. “Not a beauty like her sister, is she?” he said cruelly. “And you, Lord Ayr, wish to challenge me for your sister-in-law’s honor? Ha!”
Sully went mad. Jerking away from Donald and Nicholas, he drew his broadsword from its decorative sheath. “By God and King Alexander, I’ll do more than challenge you!”
The earl responded by yanking his sword from its sheath. It was a huge piece of metal, as tall as Josephine. His eyes glittered coldly.
“I’ll skewer you, little earl!” he declared.
The hall was alive with people dashing to leave, and with soldiers drawing their swords; shouting. Justine was chanting “no, no, no” and Josephine turned beseechingly towards the king.
“My lord!” she pleaded. “Stop this!”
Before the king could speak, Ridge de Reyne came charging into the chamber like a runaway horse, his sword drawn. He had been outside of the hall, monitoring who was coming and going, when a hysterical servant told him what was transpiring inside. Sworn on his life to protect his king, even from a giant, he charged into the great hall.
Ridge was an extremely large man. Perhaps not as tall as Andrew, but he was very wide and muscular. He had never in his life been bested in a fight, sword or fist, but he had doubts about coming to blows with the Earl of Annan and Blackbank. Prepared for the worst, he put himself in the middle of the melee.
But the king saw that, very quickly, this was going to be a bloodbath. Once Ridge entered the mix, he raised his hands in supplication.
“Cease!” he bellowed. “No blood will be spilled in this hall!”
The combatants paused, giving King Alexander a chance to continue. Somewhat relieved, he began to issue orders. He had to defuse the situation quickly.
“Lady Justine, remove your husband to your rooms and stay there. Nicholas, go with them. De Reyne, take Lady Josephine to her chamber and remain with her.” Then, he fixed an intolerant eye on the earl. “You, my dear Blackbank, will accompany me.”
The group broke up. Justine, Donald, and Nicholas half-carried a reluctant Sully out as Ridge moved swiftly to Lady Josephine, sweeping her into his enormous arms and whisking her from the room. In a matter of seconds, the room was nearly empty.
Alexander fixed the earl with a cold stare. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a serious mistake.
“Now, d’Vant,” he said quietly. “What you do with Lady Josephine when you go back to England is your affair. But while she is under my roof and is my charge, you will kindly show her the respect she deserves. And that includes her family as well. Is that understood?”
The earl cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Clearly, my lord,” he said, simply to pacify him. But he didn’t mean it.
Alexander wasn’t stupid. He was very astute in his dealings with men, and he could see in Alphonse’s eyes that the man had absolutely no respect for the king, his position, or anything else. Alphonse was a man used to having his way, in all things, and he considered orders from the king an annoyance and nothing more.
Mostly, Alexander saw Josephine’s death in the cold, black depths of Alphonse’s eyes.
Now, he was starting to feel some guilt for what he’d done. He’d taken his beautiful young cousin and pledged her to a monster. Aye, he’d already known that but, somehow, now it was different. He’d come to know Josephine and knew she was an extraordinary woman, like her mother. Truth be told, perhaps that was Alexander’s biggest weakness – long ago, he’d had a great love for the Lady Afton. Perhaps he still did. That being the case, he couldn’t condemn the woman’s daughter to such hell. As the great hall around them began to settle down, the king shook his head.
“I hope I do not regret this,” he muttered, eyeing Alphonse. “Do not make me wish I had not pledged my young cousin to you. I could have very easily pledged her to another man who would be worthy of her. But because I honor our alliance, I honored you with her hand. If you make me regret such a thing, there will be consequences.”
Alphonse didn’t take anything Alexander said seriously. “What consequences?” he asked. “Once she is my wife, there is nothing you can do. And I will do what I wish to my wife.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “Harm her and I will bring all of Scotland down over you,” he threatened. When Alphonse merely lifted an eyebrow, as if he didn’t care, Alexander’s rage knew no limits. “By God’s Bloody Rood! I should have left the woman to her betrothal with your brother, but I foolishly believed I was doing what was best for her and for my throne. And you have the arrogance to refute me and tell me it is none of my affair?”
Alphonse was prepared to retort, at least as much as he dared to a king, but something the man said caught his attention. In fact, he was most puzzled by it, fixated on it.
“My brother?” he repeated. “What about my brother?”
Alexander could see the man had no idea what he was talking about and, in that knowledge, he felt some smugness. He was about to lay some knowledge on the man that might change the entire dynamic of the situation.
“Your brother was betrothed to Lady Josephine but I dissolved it and, instead, gave her over to you,” he said, seeing a genuine reaction of shock on Alphonse’s face. “Did you not know that? Your betrothed was once pledged to The Red Fury.”
Alphonse’s mouth popped open in shock. He wasn’t any good at hiding his emotions. “The Red Fury?” he said, stunned. “My… my brother is The Red Fury?”
Alexander was disgusted that the man knew nothing of his kin. “Were you not even aware of that?” he said. “The greatest mercenary lord in all of England and Scotland is your brother, Andrew d’Vant. I have met the man. He is a beast of a man, although not as beastly or barbaric as you are. I took that woman away from him to give to you. So if you harm her, not only will all of Scotland come down over you, but so will The Red Fury. I doubt you will survive his wrath.”
Alphonse simply stared at him, too stunned to speak. My brother is The Red Fury? He’d never even heard that, not in the nineteen years that his brother had been gone from Haldane. Once Andrew had run, he never heard from the man again. He hadn’t kept track of him, uncaring what happened to his younger brother. All he cared about was the fact that his brother was gone for good. Since he’d not heard from his brother in so long, he had assumed the man was dead. God, how wrong he’d been.
It seemed as if the joke was on him.
Suddenly, he burst out laughing, as if he’d just heard something incredibly funny. Still laughing, he sheathed his sword.
“My brother is The Red Fury?” he said. “That is the most astonishing thing I have ever heard of. I do not believe it!”
Alexander wasn’t sure the man’s laughter was that of real humor. There was something innately disturbing about it. “It is true,” he said. “You were not aware?”
“I was not. By God, I was not.”
Alexander watched the man as he seemed to relax a great deal, still chuckling over the news. “Then you know what I say is truth should you harm the lady,” he said. “Treat her well, Blackbank, or you shall have to answer to a great many people.”
With that, the king went back to his seat and back to his meal. He was finished dealing with arrogant lords. But Alphonse didn’t follow him; he’d eaten his fill, anyway, and he’d had far too much to drink. What he needed now was a woman, but it was clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his betrothed. She had too many people concerned for her and, until he could remove her from Edinburgh, he wasn’t going to make a move against her.
Not much of a move, anyway.
Still laughing about his brother, Alphonse’s thoughts turned towards his bed and the women he intended to put in it this night. Too much food and wine always fed his libido, and that libido was voracious at the moment.
Leaving the great hall, the hunter went in search of prey.
*
That night after the feast, Andrew had still not made an appearance, and Josephine went to bed with a heavy heart, only to be awakened by wailing in the night. Mournful, shrill wailing that sent shivers up her spine as she sat bolt upright in her bed. The silver moonlight splashed against the coverlet and the wall, and she was spooked into believing she was hearing a ghost.
The wailing sounded again and Madelaine, who was sleeping near her this night, rose from her pallet in the alcove, amazingly level-headed as she went for the door.
“Where are you going?” Josephine demanded.
“To see who is ailing so,” her maid informed her. “I shall return.”
Madelaine threw open the door only to find Ridge de Reyne planted firmly in the arch.
“Close it!” he boomed, and Madelaine complied fast as a wink.
By this time, Josephine was out of bed and snatched a wine-colored bed robe from the bottom of her bed. Something was going on and she was going to find out what. Jerking open the door, she jabbed a finger at Ridge before he could snap at her.
“You will not order me, de Reyne!” she told him sharply. “Find out what the matter is and ask if we can lend assistance.”
“My lady…” he began firmly.
She cut him off. “Go, you big ox!” she pushed at him. “We can protect ourselves for the moment!”
He glared at her. “I am not leaving you.”
But Josephine would not be deterred. “I told you to go,” she said again, as she made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Find out what is happening!”
Clenching and unclenching his fists, Ridge marched off down the hall, muttering to himself on how very badly Lady Josephine needed a good spanking. He’d done it once; he was about to do it again if the woman didn’t hold her tongue. But he dutifully went to see where the screaming was coming from, even though he had a good idea.
It wasn’t something he was looking forward to discovering.
Josephine, with Madelaine behind her, stood in the doorway as he headed into the darkness, watching and listening. They could hear distant moaning and shrieking, and wondered curiously what was going on.
Several long minutes passed and the wailing subsided. The torches in the hall flickered softly, with shadows dancing on the walls and across Ridge as he returned.
“Well?” Josephine demanded.
Ridge did not look pleased. “The sound is coming from the Earl of Annan and Blackbank’s rooms,” he said. “But the doors have yet to open. I do not know what has happened.”
Suddenly, two female servants came running down the hall as if the devil himself were chasing them. Ridge put out a large hand and caught one of them like a fish on a hook.
“Halt!” he ordered. “Where are you going? Why are you running?”
The caught woman stopped struggling long enough to recognize Ridge. “My lord!’ she cried. “Oh… it is terrible! Simply terrible!”
“What?” Ridge snapped.
Both women were crying. “The English earl,” the woman sobbed. “He killed a girl!”
“How do you know?” he asked, less sternly.
“A servant girl.” The women were clinging to each other, talking in unison. “He took a maid to his bed. He was so… so demanding that he killed her!”
Josephine’s face went white as a sheet as she looked to Ridge, who was still looking at the servants grimly. The women continued, breaking into tears. “He was too large for her and tore her asunder!” one of the women said as the other one wept. “She bled to death in front of him, while he ate mutton and watched! It was she who was wailing!”
“Oh, my God,” Josephine whispered, reeling back into her rooms.
Ridge glanced at her, seeing her reaction to the news, before turning back to the hysterical women. “Go and hide yourselves,” he instructed quietly. “Come out for no one. Tell them I told you to do it. Tell any other women you see to do the same. They must all hide from Blackbank.”
The women nodded and fled into the night. Madelaine went with them to help them round up all of the female servants that they could. This night was not safe for any of them.
Ridge entered Josephine’s room, bolting the door behind him. Josephine stood across the room with her back to him, gripping her arms tightly. He went to her quietly.
“My lady…” he began softly.
“Get me out of here,” she hissed, breaking down in tears. “I do not care about the king or my standing. I do not care anymore! I will not marry that beast! Help me, de Reyne, please!”
He grasped her gently. God’s Bones, he wanted to help her, but he was desperately torn between duty and doing what was right. “I cannot,” he muttered. “You know that.”
She exploded. “Damn you, De Reyne!” she yanked herself from his grasp. “You heard what happened. And by God, you have seen what the man is capable of doing to me in the presence of others. Think of what he will do to me in private!”
Ridge didn’t want to think about it because the more he did, the more his resolve to his duty began to crumble. “He was drunk tonight, and angry,” he said, trying to make excuses when he knew it was futile. “It is possible that…”
She cut him off, grasping at him. “Please, Ridge, help me,” she gasped. “If you will not do it, then find Andrew. He will know what to do.”
It was almost too much for him to bear. Truth be told, he blamed himself for bringing her here in the first place. This was all his fault, he knew; his and his weakling king. But he swore an oath to the king, an oath that bound him to the king’s wishes over all.
Tears spilled onto Josephine’s cheeks and Ridge swore softly. It came down to this: he was an honorable man and his king intended to do a dishonorable thing. Alexander might as well drive his sword through her right now, for he would have just as much responsibility in her eventual death by this English earl. As Andrew had said, this marriage was her death sentence.
Now, he knew for certain that it was the truth.
He could not let her go to her death. It simply wasn’t right.
Ridge couldn’t free her himself, but he was not going to prevent someone who wanted to. He had too much honor to knowingly let a terrible thing happen. Grasping Josephine’s face in his two big hands, he forced her to look at him.
“Stay here,” he instructed firmly. “I shall return.”
She sniffled and looked at him. “What… what are you going to do?”
He dropped his hands and rushed to the door. “Trust me, my lady. Please. I will not fail you.”
“Fail me?” she repeated, puzzled. “But…”
The door slammed in her face. She stared at it a moment before going back to her bed, but not before she clasped her bejeweled dirk to her chest. If anybody entered her room, save Ridge or Andrew himself, she would be ready.
*
Ridge pounded heavily on Sully’s door. It was a matter of seconds before the door flew open and Nicholas stood firmly in the arch.
“Oh, de Reyne, ’tis only ye,” he said as he turned away.
Ridge entered the room, his eyes searching out for the earl. The room was dimly lit, smelling of strange herbs. He saw Nicholas, and Donald, and finally Sully as he sat on a chair next to the bed where his wife lay. But the moment Sully saw Ridge, he jumped from the chair.
“How is Lady Josephine?” he demanded.
“Terrified, as she should be,” Ridge replied. “My lord, where is Sir Andrew?”
Sully was guarded. “I do not know.”
Ridge sighed. There was no time for games. “My lord, time grows short. You must tell me where d’Vant is.”
Sully cocked an eyebrow. “Why? So you can bring him to the king to be executed? I think not.”
Ridge was growing impatient. “If you want to save Lady Josephine’s life, then you shall tell me. Only d’Vant can help her.”
Sully tensed. “What in the hell is going on? Where’s Josephine?”
“She is in her room, safe for the moment,” Ridge said forcefully. “But if the Earl of Annan and Blackbank has his way with her, and I suspect he will attempt it before morn, then it will be most difficult to spirit her from the castle.”
“You are going to help her escape?” Justine asked anxiously as she sat up on her knees.
“Nay,” Ridge said flatly. “I am not. D’Vant will. But I will not be an obstacle.”
“Why the change, de Reyne?” Sully asked suspiciously. “I thought you were sworn to carry out the king’s wishes. You have made that very clear.”
Ridge shot him a nasty look. “Ask me again and I shall turn from this room without another word. You must trust me if you value Lady Josephine’s life.”
Sully looked at Ridge, attempting to determine the motivation behind his apparent change of heart, while Justine and Donald and Nicholas exchanged tense glances. It all seemed very strange that Ridge should seem so determined to find Andrew but, at some point, they would either have to trust the man or throw him from the chamber, and no one seemed willing to do that. There was something in all of them that wanted to trust Ridge, to believe he was on their side. Finally, it was Justine who spoke.
“Andrew is here in town, de Reyne,” she said, divulging something she didn’t think Ridge knew. “He has been here nearly since Josephine was brought here, but he has been missing for the past two days. Sully has been unable to locate him. We do not know where he is.”
Ridge looked at Sully. “I have not seen him for the past two days, either,” he said. “I was wondering why he had not come to see Lady Josephine. You say he is missing?”
“Then you knew?” Justine said, surprised. “You knew Andrew was here, in Edinburgh?”
Ridge nodded. “I am the king’s bodyguard, Lady Montgomery,” he said. “There is not much that I do not know around here. I even spoke to d’Vant two nights ago when he was leaving Lady Josephine’s chambers, but he said nothing about an absence or going away. In fact, he said he would return the next night, but I did not see him.”
Justine looked at Sully, fear in her eyes. “You do not believe something has happened to him, do you?”
Sully wasn’t entirely sure anymore. Now, he was starting to feel some apprehension. He looked at Ridge. “We must find him,” he said. “I scoured the inns at the base of the castle earlier today, but I did not come up with anything. We must search again.”
As Ridge nodded, Justine spoke. “Take Donald with you,” she said. “The three of you can cover more ground and Donald knows Andrew on sight.”
It was a logical suggestion. “Very well,” Sully said. “You will stay with Nicholas, Justine. That is not a request.”
Justine opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. She wanted to go, too, but knew Sully would never let her. Besides, she was better served remaining where her sister was in case Josephine needed her.
Therefore, she stood aside as Sully strapped on his sword and pulled on his gauntlets. With Donald beside him, Sully followed Ridge to the door. At the threshold, he paused to look at Justine and, much to her pleasure, blew her a kiss.
It was sweet and touching, and Justine responded with a shy grin. But it was all for show; once they were gone, she bolted from the bed and pulled on her warm slippers.
“Where are ye going?” Nicholas demanded.
“To my sister,” Justine said casually, as she was already making for the door.
Nicholas went after her. “But Sully told ye to remain!”
Justine simply shrugged her shoulders. It didn’t seem to deter her in the least. With a heavy sigh, Nicholas followed. He knew it was better to go with her than to permit her to go alone. And he knew better than to argue with her. Therefore, he went, if only to keep her out of trouble. Like her sister, Justine could well protect herself.
Woe betide the man who ever truly got in her way.
*
Josephine’s room was quite a distance from her own. It was located in another part of the castle, in fact. Josephine was delighted and relieved to see Justine and Nicholas at her door and did not spare the details of the English earl’s latest horror. Her hands and voice trembled as she spoke, telling them just how frightened she really was even if her words would not admit it.
Justine was horrified to hear the tale, deeply terrified for her sister’s well-being. As Nicholas stood by the bolted door, listening for anything in the corridor beyond, the women headed over to the bed on the opposite side of the chamber.
“That is why de Reyne came to our chamber,” Justine gasped after hearing the terrible story. “He did not tell us the entire tale!”
Josephine was holding on to her sister’s hands. “Because he more than likely did not want to frighten you,” she said. “Where is Sully?”
“With de Reyne,” Justine said. “They are going to find Andrew, Josephine. Wherever he is, they will find him, I swear it.”
Josephine sat heavily on her bed, her expression distant as she thought of Andrew and his absence. “I am sure wherever he is, he will return soon,” she said, trying to sound hopeful. “I must believe that everything is well and that he is not in any danger. I must believe that Sully and Ridge will find him and bring him back.”
Justine could hear the fear and longing in her sister’s voice. “I know they will,” she agreed. “Until then, we will do all we can to keep you from the earl.”
Josephine appreciated her valor, but she knew it was futile. No one could keep the earl from her if he truly wanted her. But more than that, she was thinking of what the immediate future held once Andrew returned.
“Then it will come,” she murmured. “The battle Andrew has been preparing for nearly his whole life is coming.” She suddenly closed her eyes and hung her head. “Oh, Justine, what will I do if I lose him? I cannot bear the thought!”
Justine put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “You love him,” Justine stated quietly. “I have known from the very beginning.”
Josephine lifted her head, smiling wryly. “And I denied it, once,” she said. “Mayhap you truly are a witch if you really did know. Aye, I love him. With all that I am, I do.”
Justine smiled. “I am very happy for you,” she said, her smile fading. “And I have another confession. I am not… displeased to be married to Sully.”
Josephine looked her in the eye. “I know,” she said flatly. “I’ve always known. Why do you think I suggested he marry you? I could have easily married you to Donald, but I knew you would only be happy with Sully. Besides… he is the only one brave enough to handle you.”
Justine laughed softly. “You are too kind,” she said to the insult. “I may even give up my magic now that I am a married woman; the powers lessen once you experience pleasures of the flesh.”
Josephine turned her eyes skyward, a mocking gesture. “There is a God, after all,” she said reverently. “And tell me, Sister, did you enjoy your pleasures? After the first night, anyway.”
Justine looked shocked, shushing her because Nicholas was in the room. But then she grinned. “What do you think?”
Josephine reached out to stroke her sister’s hair. “I think that my baby sister is finally becoming a woman.”
Even though Nicholas was across the chamber, he could still hear bits of the conversation as the women whispered and giggled. He was genuinely trying not to listen to the private exchange, but he was nonetheless amused and touched. He liked his cousins very much and he was glad he’d found family that accepted him as he was. His poetry didn’t make them ashamed; they loved it. Nicholas had a feeling he was going to be spending much more time with Josephine in the future. At least, he hoped so. The woman deserved a happy life and Nicholas was going to do all he could to ensure she had it, however small that contribution was.
The corridor beyond the door seemed quiet enough and Nicholas moved away from the panel, heading over to another part of the room so the sisters could continue their private conversation. But just as he reached the hearth, there was a huge crashing sound against the door.
The entire room shook, and the women shrieked, which sent Nicholas into a defensive position. As he rushed to the door to ensure the bolt held, the panel splintered, sending shards of wood flying into the room.
The women shrieked as the Earl of Annan and Blackbank catapulted through the arch, broadsword in hand. Nicholas had no time to react before the earl drove his huge sword through Nicholas’ gut. Nicholas hit the floor, blood pouring, as the women began to scream.
But Alphonse was oblivious to their fear, the dying man, or anything else in the chamber. He stepped over Nicholas, his gaze feasting on Lady Josephine. She was all he could see. His drunken face was gray, and his eyes were sunken black dots.
Josephine, through her hysteria, could see what was coming. Justine sat next to her, gasping in panic. Josephine, in a serious concentrated effort, gave her sister a shove.
“Get out of here,” she said through clenched teeth. Her eyes never left the earl. “Get Nicholas out of here and find help for him. Then get to the king. Hurry, for pity’s sake!”
The earl never even noticed Justine dashing around him. He didn’t see Justine grasping Nicholas under the arms and dragging him in a trail of blood out of the room. Alphonse’s eyes were only on the lovely Josephine.
But Josephine had seen everything. Her fear for Nicholas was overwhelming, but she fought it. She had to think clearly and she couldn’t do that if she was worried over Nicholas’ fate. As Alphonse came closer, instead of fear, she felt incredible rage. But she knew she had to control it. She had to control every emotion that was struggling to break free. Hysteria would not save her.
Only a level head would.
Josephine had never backed away from a fight in her life and she was not about to start now. She had to hold the earl off until Andrew arrived, wherever he was, and she was grimly determined to do just that, by any means necessary.
Now, the true test of her strength would begin.
“My Lord Earl,” she said steadily. “If you wanted to visit me, you did not have to break my door down or gore my friend. That was truly unnecessary.”
Alphonse staggered a couple of steps and let his bloodied sword clatter to the ground. His eyes blinked slowly. He appeared dazed. It occurred to Josephine that after the initial burst into her chamber, he didn’t look the least bit agitated. In fact, he seemed oddly calm.
“I told you we had much to speak of at the feast,” he said, slurring his words. “Now, we will speak.”
“Of course. What do you wish to speak of?”
Alphonse wasn’t expecting such a calm, level-headed woman. He was used to women cowering when he was around. He thought he might yell at Josephine, or even grab her, but he couldn’t seem to do either. All he could do was stare at her and say the first thing that came to mind.
“Do you know that I have never in my life had anything pure and untouched?” he said. “I have decided that I will not touch you before our wedding.”
Josephine was astonished to hear that. Her knees suddenly became weak and she whispered a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks. Hopefully, he truly meant it because that declaration made all the difference in the world to her.
“I am pleased that you would respect my wishes, milord,” she said, her voice trembling with relief. “Please sit, and I shall bring wine.”
Alphonse looked around the room for a chair, staggering over to one near the hearth and falling into it. With a sharp crack, the chair disintegrated, depositing the earl onto the stone floor.
Josephine’s eyes widened. She was positive he was going to rage. Instead, he laughed loudly.
“Can’t the Scots do anything right, even fashion a decent chair?” he said, rising like a drunken sailor. He was so large that Josephine dared not help him for fear of being squashed. “I need another chair!”
Josephine pointed to a bigger, heavier chair but he ignored it. Instead, he lumbered over to the bed and sat heavily upon it, looking at the furniture before shrugging.
“Very well that this can hold me,” he said, then looked to Josephine. “Now, you will tell me of my brother. I understand you were pledged to him.”
Josephine tried not to show her surprise at the question and, honestly, the apprehension. She was shocked that the earl had been told of her betrothal to Andrew and she knew, instinctively, that she must be very careful what to say. Alphonse had run off Andrew many years ago and she was afraid that hatred was still there. It was a very tricky situation.
“He is a fair and honorable man,” she replied steadily. “He commands an army of a thousand men.”
Alphonse pondered that in his drunken mind. “I am told he is The Red Fury.”
“He is.”
More silence as Alphonse mulled that over. “You know that he hates me.”
“I know,” Josephine answered honestly.
The earl looked at her for a moment, and then laughed. “Good,” he said. “I hate him, too. He was always father’s favorite son.”
Josephine didn’t say anything. Truly, she didn’t know what to say, afraid that anything she said might enrage a man who was already dangerously off-balance. But Alphonse remained calm as he continued.
“Andrew was a quiet child, and very serious. I, on the other hand, was more assertive. Father never liked that,” he said. “When father died, I was going to kill Andrew. Do not look appalled; it is true. He reminded me of what a failure I was in our father’s eyes, so I swore to be rid of him. But the little bastard escaped me when I banished him instead.”
Josephine watched him silently. Wine certainly seemed to loosen him up, she noted. He was a pitiful creature and was absolutely terrifying at the same time, making it an odd paradox. But she had no sympathy for him. It would be misplaced as well as unhealthy.
“And what of your mother?” she asked quietly, leading him into a subject she was very curious about. “Surely she did not have favorites among her sons.”
Alphonse waved a sloppy hand at her. “Of course she did,” he said. “The bitch loved Andrew more than she loved me. In fact, she hated me.”
It seemed to be a sore subject. Josephine knew it was probably dangerous to speak on his mother, but she couldn’t help herself. For Andrew’s sake, she found that she had to know.
“Does she live in your home?” she asked, pretending to be ignorant.
Alphonse shook his head, very nearly losing his balance. “She lives in my dungeons, which is where you shall end up if you do not please me.”
Josephine was shocked to hear that. “She is still alive?”
“Of course.” He waved another sloppy hand at her. “Her every need is tended to.”
Locked up in a dungeon for years on end. What a horrible fate, Josephine thought. “It is cruel to keep your own mother locked away,” she said boldly. “After all, the woman birthed you.”
Alphonse didn’t reply. He simply lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. Josephine watched him closely, wondering if he was going to fall asleep in her bed. If he did, she was going to run and run fast. She found herself praying he would fall asleep but, after a few moments, he spoke again.
“Talk to me,” he mumbled. “What have you been doing since you left the feast? That big knight took you away. Who is he?”
“He is the king’s bodyguard.”
Alphonse’s eyes opened and he turned his head to look at her. “Do you know what I have been doing since I left the feast?”
She already knew but she didn’t want to tell him that. “What?”
“Fucking,” he said as if he were proud of it. “Did you not hear the screaming earlier?”
Josephine felt sick to her stomach. “I did,” she said reluctantly. “What happened?”
He suddenly rolled onto his side, struggling to sit up. “You see, my lady, I have a problem,” he said. “My problem is that my male organ is as large as a prized bull’s and women, as a rule, cannot accommodate me. So what am I to do? Give up fucking altogether? Of course not. Women are like chickens; a penny for a dozen, so I shall never go hungry. What you heard tonight was just a dying chicken.”
God, was he truly so callous? Josephine had never felt such horror in all her life. “And what about me?” Josephine demanded. “Am I a chicken, too? Do you intend to use me and watch me die?”
He scratched his chin. “I have not decided yet,” he said. “Mayhap not. You are to be my wife, after all, and I should like to have sons someday to inherit my title. I suppose I shall have to be careful with you.”
Josephine was so appalled at the whole line of this conversation that she was beginning to tremble. “It would be kind if you were,” she said. “I… I will be a worthy wife, my lord. I… I am sure I would give you fine sons.”
She hated how she sounded as if she were pleading with him, trying to sell herself to him so he wouldn’t think she was another “chicken” to be plucked. Anything to keep the man talking, to keep him away from her, until Andrew or the king or someone else with a big sword and the ability to overcome the earl could arrive.
But Alphonse seemed too drunk to really care. He managed to push himself off her bed, standing next to it and weaving dangerously as he looked at her.
“You had better,” he said, his manner turning threatening. “If our firstborn is a daughter, I will drown both of you in the river. Remember that.”
Josephine could feel the evil radiating off of him. She knew he meant every word. “I will, my lord.”
He stared at her a moment longer. He could have been thinking about anything at that moment; it was difficult to tell. Josephine waited for the next vile thing to come out of his mouth but, instead, he simply turned for the door. As he walked past her, he reached out to pat her on the face. He probably really only meant a gentle pat, as one would pat a child or a pet, but with his strength and bad manners, he ended up slapping her. Josephine’s head snapped sideways as he headed for the door.
“I will be taking you back to Haldane Castle on the morrow,” he told her. “Be ready to travel at dawn. I will send my men to collect your baggage before sunrise, so be prepared. If you are not ready, I shall not wait. I will bundle you up in whatever state you happen to be in and toss you onto the wagon. Is that clear?”
Hand to her stinging cheek, Josephine looked at the man as he neared the door. So he was planning on taking her immediately from Edinburgh? Her thoughts rapidly turned to the plans Andrew had spoken of, how he’d assumed the wedding would be at Edinburgh. He’d been wrong, but that wasn’t a bad thing – he wanted to challenge his brother on the open road. So if Alphonse was planning on leaving on the morrow, then that was perfect for Andrew’s purposes.
At least, she hoped so. If they could find the man in time.
“It is, my lord,” she said. “I will be ready. Good sleep to you.”
Alphonse paused by the door, turning to look at her. But he was so drunk and so weary, that he simply stood there and weaved about. Unable to answer because she had given him the exact answer he had expected, and therefore had nothing more to threaten her with, he pulled back the broken panel that he’d come smashing through only to be met head-on by Alexander and several heavily-armed men out in the corridor.
The first thing the king did was push through the broken door, positive he was going to find a broken, dead woman on the floor of the chamber, but was vastly surprised to find Josephine relatively unharmed but for an angry red hand print on her left cheek. With great concern, Alexander went to her.
“Are you well?” he asked. “Did he harm you?”
Josephine was very relieved to see him. “He did not harm me, at least not intentionally,” she said. “But he gored Nicholas. Is he all right? Will he live?”
Alexander sighed heavily, great distress on his face. “He is dead,” he said. “There was nothing to be done for him.”
Josephine’s eyes filled with tears at the death of her sweet, gentle poet friend. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, the tears spilling over. “He did not even have a weapon. The earl burst through my door and stabbed Nicholas when he tried to protect me.”
Alexander’s features tensed and he turned to Alphonse, who was still in the doorway and unable to move forward because of so many armed men. As Josephine turned away and wept over her lost friend, Alexander went into a rage.
“You killed my nephew,” he cried, grabbing Alphonse by the arm and trying to force the drunken giant to face him. “I should kill you myself!”
Alphonse wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t rise to the threat. “What nephew?”
“The man you killed in this chamber tonight!”
Alphonse barely remembered Nicholas. “He threatened my life!” he boomed. “Am I not allowed to defend myself? He was also in my betrothed’s chambers, where he should not have been. I have a right to protect what belongs to me!”
Alexander was beyond enraged. But above that rage, the sage politician was able to think clearly. He knew that imprisoning the earl would bring with it an abundance of trouble and, in truth, he didn’t need or want that kind of trouble. Poor Nicholas deserved justice, but in the world of political dealings and political balance, Alexander wasn’t willing to make an enemy out of Blackbank. Not even for Nicholas. But, God, this relationship was becoming more complicated, and more unsavory, by the minute.
He was starting to wonder if the alliance was worth the trouble.
“You will leave Edinburgh tonight,” Alexander snarled. “I want you out of my home. Go back to Haldane and be grateful that I do not seek revenge for what you have done to my nephew. But know this, the betrothal between you and my cousin is dissolved. I will not pledge her to such a fiend.”
That wasn’t something that Alphonse wanted to hear. A massive hand shot out, grabbing the king by the neck as his men surged forward and tried to separate them. All the while, Alphonse was snarling in Alexander’s face.
“She belongs to me,” he said. “I will take her with me or I will destroy this castle with my army. You will have a battle on your hands if you do not give me what you promised me!”
Men were shouting and jostling around, and somewhere in the middle of it, Josephine suddenly appeared.
She had heard the king’s command and it occurred to her that if she did not go with Alphonse, not only could Andrew not challenge the man once he left Edinburgh, but there may very well be a huge amount of trouble here at Edinburgh with an enraged Earl of Annan and Blackbank and the somewhat large contingent of men he’d brought with him.
Men would die if there was fighting in the castle and Josephine wasn’t willing to chance that. She couldn’t see Donald or Sully or even Ridge or Andrew suffer because of her. She would have to trust Andrew to catch up to them as they traveled back to Haldane.
She knew the man would save her.
It was the only choice.
“Nay, my lord,” she said to Alexander as he struggled in the midst of a sea of men. “I will go with him. That was the promise and it is not worth men’s lives to break that promise. Nicholas has already paid the highest price. I would not see more men dead because of me.”
The jostling and shouting came to a halt as all eyes turned in her direction. Alexander, in particular, appeared stunned by her words. His face was red from where Alphonse had grabbed him around the neck and he was, in truth, still in Alphonse’s grip. But he looked at Josephine as if she had lost her mind.
“Are you mad?” he asked. “You begged me not to betroth you to this man and now you wish to go with him?”
Josephine looked at Alphonse, who had the look of a killer spread over his face. “My lord,” she said quietly. “Release him. I must speak to him.”
Alphonse eyed her; what was the little witch up to? But he was rather softened by her pretty face and the fact that she said she would go with him. She was willing. That alone caused him to break his grip on the king and as men pulled him back, boxing him in and restraining him, Josephine took the king by the hand and led him over to the hearth, quickly, where they could speak in private.
“Why would you say such a thing?” Alexander hissed at her. “Do you truly wish to be wed to such a man?”
Josephine shook her head, still wiping at her eyes from the weeping she’d done for Nicholas. “Nay, I do not,” she whispered. “But if you do not let me go with him, it will tear Edinburgh a part. He has many men with him, my lord. You know this. If he is angry enough, men will die as he fights to take me back to Haldane. Nicholas was already far too high of a price to pay for that and I do not wish for any more men to die.”
Alexander could see that she was very serious. “I am sorry I broke your betrothal with The Red Fury,” he said. “I see now that my choice, although something I felt strongly about at the time, was wrong. Blackbank is a beast; a beast who killed Nicholas.”
It was a surprising apology about the betrothal. Josephine could see, in that moment, that he was grieving for the nephew he had been so hard on. She felt sorry for the man.
“Then let me go,” she murmured. “But when I do, you must tell Andrew and Sully what has happened. They will come after me, have no fear, and Blackbank will be no more. In their actions, you shall have your justice for Nicholas. And for me.”
It began to occur to Alexander what she was saying. “They will kill him?”
She nodded firmly. “It is something Andrew must do,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “It is something he has sworn to do since Alphonse sent him away from Haldane when he was a youth. Andrew has carried this vengeance around with him all of these years and he cannot fail. Will you do this, then? Tell them I have gone with Alphonse. Sometimes, one man can do what an entire army cannot. Andrew will know what needs to be done. He has been waiting all of his life to do it.”
Alexander could see the logic. The thought of The Red Fury punishing Blackbank for what he’d done to Nicholas was overwhelmingly satisfying.
“If The Red Fury will do this for me,” Alexander said quietly, “then I can promise you that Torridon will never again have trouble with Colin Dalmellington.”
Josephine could see what a beneficial deal this was for both of them. The only problem was that she was going to have to put herself in mortal danger before any of it could be accomplished. But somehow, it didn’t seem like danger. She’d faced the enemy and she’d established a rapport with him. She felt confident she could hold the man off, at least until Andrew arrived. And he would arrive.
She was sure of it.
“For Nicholas,” she said softly, feeling tears sting her eyes again.
Alexander nodded, suddenly looking very old and very sad. It was apparent that his nephew’s death was more than he could bear.
“For Nicholas,” he whispered.
By midnight, Josephine was moving out with the Earl of Annan and Blackbank’s army, disappearing into the foggy Edinburgh night.