CHAPTER NINE
Come the evening, everyone in the castle and most everyone in the village knew of Lady Josephine’s afternoon adventure. But, at what usually happens with a tale, it transformed as it passed from person to person, and soon villagers were chatting excitably about the rape of Lady Josephine and how the mercenary lord, The Red Fury, had charged in to save her by chopping off the heads of fifty gypsies single-handedly. By nightfall, it was a truly unbelievable tale.
As the sun dipped behind the gentle western hills, and the sky became rich hues of purple and pink, torches were lit about the castle and the village to the south. The villagers still talked of the ordeal and of the larger than life Andrew d’Vant while their suppers inside their warm huts went cold.
Inside the castle, now locked up against the night, everyone was converging in the great hall where tantalizing smells of venison and pork beckoned them. The hall was alive with torches and musicians, with people taking their seats as servants rushed forward to assist them. Several knights already sat at the head table but did not eat, as they were correctly waiting for their mistresses. They spoke quietly between themselves as to the events of the day, clarifying what had actually transpired and speculating as to the very reasons in the first place. The fact that it had ended well made the situation seem almost comical in retrospect.
But there were a few who weren’t laughing, Donald Muir being one of them. He sat with the knights, his eyes blackened and his swollen nose bandaged. He listened with awe and regret that he had not been able to assist Josephine in her hour of need. That was what his father had sent him for, after all. But he had spent last night and all day sleeping off the poppy Josephine had given him. He’d missed all of the excitement and felt rather worthless for it.
As Donald wallowed in guilt, Josephine was up in her bower as she prepared for the evening meal. She sat at her dressing table clad in a magnificent pink silk. It turned the tint in her cheeks and lips to an almost identical color. Her hair was pulled back and was secured in a bun at the nape of her neck, covered by a glittering silver net that started at the crown of her head and swept down the back like a glistening waterfall. A few tendrils of hair caressed her chin and neck.
It was a beautiful image, in truth, but Josephine’s expression was anything but pleasant. She stared at herself in the mirror, reluctant for what she must say this night.
She was back to where she was before the escapade of the stolen pies. She was back to delivering the news of the king’s visit to Sully and the rest of the inhabitants of Torridon, and she was back to feeling nervous and uncertain about it. In desperation, she had sent Ola for Sully – she had decided it was best that she inform him first, before the rest. She would need his wisdom and guidance, hoping he could give that to her and not rage out of control.
Josephine’s stomach churned as she looked at her reflection. How could the king ask her to marry Colin? Especially when he knew the long, bloody history and the deep-seated hatred the families harbored against each other? He was as much as condemning her to death. Of course, she didn’t know if that was what the man was going to ask of her, but to travel all the way from Edinburgh simply to visit her… something was in the wind. The king was coming with a purpose.
It was her wild imagination that told her what the purpose was.
A knock at the door roused her from her thoughts and Josephine rose from her dressing table. Taking a deep breath for courage, she bade the caller to enter and Sully opened the door, closing it softly behind him. When his gaze fell upon her, he smiled warmly.
“Three days of events seem to not have an adverse effect on you,” he observed. “How are you feeling?”
Josephine shrugged. “I am weary,” she said. “But I did not send for you to speak on my health. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”
He saw the expression on her face and felt a twinge of apprehension. “Of course, my lady,” he said. “I am at your disposal.”
Now, the time was upon her. Nervously, Josephine looked away, as if trying to find the correct words.
“I received a dispatch from King Alexander three days ago,” she said finally. “He is coming to visit next week.”
Sully’s eyes widened. “The king? At Torridon?”
“Aye.”
Sully was at a loss. “Why was I not notified of this before now?”
Josephine turned to him. “Because I told the gatehouse guards not to tell you,” she said. “A missive from the king is worrisome enough without you breathing down my neck to know the contents.”
He looked at her, perhaps a bit cut down by her words. “I did not realize that I breathed down your neck.”
She relented a bit. “I did not mean that,” she said. “I simply meant that I wanted to read the missive and digest it before speaking to you about it.”
“And have you?”
She nodded, looking the slightest bit sickened. “It simply says he is coming to discuss important matters, but I believe I know what they are,” she said. “You know that Colin Dalmellington has been pestering the king to name him as rightful heir to Torridon and I believe he intends to inform me of his decision. Personally.”
Sully looked at her suspiciously. “What decision?”
Josephine looked long and hard at him before answering. “Sully, you are sworn to obey me, are you not?” she asked firmly. “You will do whatever I ask of you?”
He didn’t hesitate. “To the death, my lady.”
“Then if I comply with the king’s wishes, you will do as you are told?”
He read defeat in her eyes and felt his heart sink. “I will always do as you wish.”
She lowered her eyes, feeling so very disgusted at what she was about to say. “I believe our king will wish for me to marry Colin and turn Torridon over to him as my dowry,” she said, her voice hollow. “That is not what the king’s missive said, but something inside of me tells me that is his purpose.”
Sully could feel the blood drain from his face as realization dawned. Marrying Colin Dalmellington had never entered his mind, probably because the very thought of Josephine marrying anyone crazed him. But marriage to evil Colin? He thought, mayhap, that the king would simply demand she turn over Torridon and end the bloodshed once and for all… but marriage to an enemy?
Sully’s mind reeled at the mere thought. He had to turn away from her. No wonder she had made him swear his loyalty first; she knew exactly what his initial reaction would be. But he couldn’t help himself. God help him, all he could feel was blind rage.
“I shall kill him,” he finally growled. “Before I witness any such union, I shall kill him.”
Josephine wasn’t sure if she meant the king, or Colin, or both. She knew he would react in this fashion and she had dreaded it. But because she was prepared for his outrage, she was able to deal with it and not buckle under.
“Nay, Sully,” she said calmly. “You will be of no use to me dead, which is exactly what you will become should you defy King Alexander’s wishes. I need you alive.”
His jaw flexed as he looked away from her. Josephine knew the dilemma and she knew his pride. She also knew his undying loyalty to Hugh, and allowing Josephine to marry Colin Dalmellington would be failing his master. Her heart ached more for his internal conflict than it did for her own future.
Josephine went up behind him quietly, putting her arms around him and laying her cheek on his warm back. It was a gesture of friendship, of family, and of sadness. But to Sully, it was far more than that; it was a touch that took his breath away, that doused the anger in his heart. It was a touch he would have given the rest of his life for had it been a touch of affection or even love. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling her touch down to his very bones.
“Please, Sully,” Josephine begged softly. “You and Justine are all that I have left. I lost my father and my brother. I do not want to lose you, too.”
He shook his head. “You will never lose me, my lady,” he said huskily. “This, I promise.”
“Then you will swear no violence towards the king or his directive.”
Sully hesitated. “No violence, I swear.”
Josephine wasn’t sure she believed him, but she didn’t press him. “Whatever the king asks of me, we will obey peacefully. Agreed?”
“As you wish.”
Josephine released him and he turned to look her. She was so lovely in the flickering light. A tug-of-war ensued in his mind, a fight between rage and softness. Rage at the king and his horrid agenda, and softness towards Josephine. She was in no position to defy the king and they both knew it. He wished he could think of a way to help her out of it.
Sully had been a soldier since his youth. The ways of court and diplomacy did not come easily to him. Military tactics and planning were as natural as breathing, and he was always correct in his judgment. Therefore, it was very difficult for him to stand helplessly by while his mistress was at the mercy of the king, and there was nothing he could do to protect her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully prepared to risk his life for her.
Without a word, he knelt down before her and took her right hand into his. His pale blue eyes were intense as he gazed up at her.
“You are my commander, Lady Josephine de Carron,” he said hoarsely. “I have been and always shall be yours. Whatever you ask of me, I shall do without question. But if that should include serving under Colin Dalmellington, know that I will do it under great personal protest. But I will never, ever leave you.”
Josephine could hear that angst in his tone. She could see it in his eyes, and she hurt for him. “It pains me to ask you to serve Dalmellington when you have as much hatred for them as I do,” she said. “Believe me, I derive no pleasure from the thought of sharing Colin’s bed.”
Sully’s jaw ticked at the mere thought. God, he was sickened by it. But looking up into her pale face, it occurred to him how selfish he was acting. Josephine would be the one at the center of the storm. He was only a bystander, yet he was acting like he was to be directly affected.
“Hopefully, it may not come to that,” he said softly. “Mayhap, God will grant us a miracle.”
Her smile faded. “Mayhap,” she said wistfully.
But she wasn’t counting on it.
*
The mood of the Knight’s Haven was, to say the least, somber.
The knights of Torridon, plus Josephine, Andrew, Thane, and Donald had taken the evening meal in the great hall and, upon the conclusion of it, Josephine proceeded to inform the knights of the king’s visit and her suspicions as to the reason. Once she was finished, the room was deathly still with shock and disbelief. Josephine had never felt more like crying in her life. For Torridon to come to this end was sorrowful.
Such a terrible, somber end.
But her men would not surrender so easily. Soon, the table was abuzz with ideas and solutions. More than relinquishing Torridon, the thought of their pretty mistress in Colin Dalmellington’s clutches horrified them. The more the after-dinner wine flowed, the more animated and full of ideas they became.
“My friends!” Severn rose and gestured wildly. “Have we forgotten we have The Red Fury at our disposal? Should we defy the king, not even the royal armies could defeat us!”
“Do not be ridiculous, Severn,” old Burl said sharply. “We have over one thousand men and the king commands all of Scotland. The combined forces would sweep over us like a plague of locust and scatter our bones to the wind.”
The room roared with arguments and counterproposals, with each man talking all at once. The noise level was deafening and Josephine was overwhelmed and confused by it all. Even though the situation directly involved her, no one seemed to be talking to her. They were screaming and yelling at each other. Even Donald was involved, with his swollen face, arguing for reason as the knights lobbied for action.
Feeling left out and confused, she stood up from her seat. No one noticed as she walked the length of the table, behind the chairs of gesturing men, and exited the room. No one, that is, except Andrew.
He had been sitting passively in his chair since the riot started, initially caught off guard by Lady Josephine’s announcement, but he wasn’t completely surprised. Torridon was valuable, as was a maiden heiress, so he was inclined to agree with Josephine’s assumption. Still, his mind began to work on a solution. A new twist thrown into an already volatile situation. If he didn’t help her figure a way out of this, then he wouldn’t get his money.
And he might not ever see her again.
Therefore, when she left the room, he followed. And as he followed her, he realized it wasn’t just the money that disturbed him, but the thought of Josephine with a man he had heard only terrible things about. He remembered how he felt when he had seen her at the mercy of the gypsies; it was an overwhelming feeling of protection. But was it money-inspired? He would have liked to believe it was, but he knew better.
The problem, as he saw it, was that he liked Lady Josephine. He liked her beauty and her spirit. He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him, much less anything else. She was an extraordinary woman who seemed to have been dealt the short end of the stick over the past few years. But she was strong of character and intelligence, even if she was a little naïve. She was different than every woman he had ever met. She wasn’t throwing herself at him in a constant barrage of flirtation.
In short, she was a challenge.
He followed Josephine into a portion of the castle’s rambling keep that he had never been to. He looked about him as he traversed the corridor, noting the level of dirt and black mold. It seemed to be a very seldom used wing and, in a keep this size, that probably wasn’t an unusual thing.
Up ahead, he could see Josephine entering the very last room at the end of the hall. She didn’t bother to close the door and he came up in silence, standing in the doorway. The room was immaculate, tidy, and clean, and it had a large alcove in one corner and a beautiful Persian rug under the great mahogany bed. It was a delicate and completely feminine room, and he felt completely out of place in his heavy leathers and sword, as if his mere presence might somehow damage the fragile aura.
Josephine still hadn’t noticed him. She sat in front of a huge dressing table, staring at herself in the polished bronze mirror. Slowly, Andrew entered the room and came up behind her, looking at her through her reflection. Josephine didn’t start when she saw him. She simply looked at him, her face devoid of any emotion, but the gloom in the air was palpable.
“My mother’s name was Lady Afton de Carron,” she said quietly. “Her father and King Alexander shared the same grandfather. The king arranged the marriage between my mother and father. My father said that he was not too keen on the idea at first. But after he saw my mother, it was love at first sight.”
Andrew’s voice was gentle and deep. “This was your mother’s room?”
“Yes,” she responded. “She died in childbirth with Justine. I was so young when she died and I do not remember her, but I feel her presence very strongly in this room. I talk to her often here about things at Torridon and I know she hears me.” She looked at herself a little more closely in the mirror. “My father used to tell me that I look just like her.”
“Then she was extremely beautiful,” Andrew said.
Josephine lifted her eyes slowly to him, trying to read his expression. It took her a moment to realize he was referring to her. When their eyes met, she felt a spark run through her veins. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but it frightened her and thrilled her at the same time. The attraction she was feeling for Andrew was turning into something else, something she had no idea how to deal with or control. She wasn’t sure she wanted to control it. But, clearly, it was all very one-sided. Surely a man like Andrew d’Vant had no need for a naïve heiress and a broken-down fortress.
Distressed, she stood up and began to wring her hands.
“I am failing them – do not you see that?” she said. “My parents loved each other. They built Torridon into what you see and raised their children in the hopes that my brother would carry on the family line and maintain the integrity of the castle. But the castle has fallen to me and I’ve done nothing but run Torridon into the ground. Now I must pay the ultimate price by marrying my enemy to save my home. I am glad my parents are dead and cannot see my failure.”
Andrew cocked an eyebrow. “Hold,” he instructed sternly. “You, Lady Josephine, are the bearer of nothing more than bad circumstances. Had you not been as strong and determined as you are, Torridon would have fallen long ago. You are to be commended for holding a fortress of this size against a formidable enemy, and I am proud to have been commissioned to serve you.”
“There will be no battle,” she said bitterly. “At least no battle that you will be able to assist in. The battle now will be decided in King Alexander’s court, but the war will continue in Colin Dalmellington’s bedroom. God’s Bones, I would sooner wed the devil himself.”
With that, she wandered over to the massive bed and sat heavily. Slowly, Andrew went over and sat down beside her. He truly felt her despair, but he knew that her self-confessed failure was not her fault. From what he’d seen, she was anything but a failure. He just wished that she would realize it as well.
But he was coming to see a problem. He’d only been at Torridon for a couple of days but, in that short time, he was feeling a pull to this place and its lovely mistress. He’d already come up with a plan as a result of the speech she’d given to her men, but it was a plan borne of haste and desperation. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to suggest it because it would mean great sacrifices for both him and Josephine. All the while, as he was thinking of his plan, he kept questioning himself as to why he should even involve himself in any of this.
It wasn’t his castle!
Andrew knew he should remain a bystander. The first rule in Scotland was not to involve oneself in clan wars, and that was exactly what this was. He would be smart to simply forfeit the contract and leave. There was no shortage of work for his army, so why was he staying?
God help him, he knew why.
Josephine.
As he sat there and deliberated over his involvement in all of this, and the plan he was afraid to mention, Josephine abruptly stood up from the bed and faced him.
“I apologize for bringing you and your army here,” she said. “It would seem that it was a waste of time on your part and a waste of money on mine. I will pay you your five thousand marks and you are free to leave. With the king coming… I fear there is no reason for you to be here.”
Andrew eyed her, hearing the surrender already in her tone. He didn’t like to see such a fiery woman admit defeat.
“Lady Josephine,” he rose slowly on his big legs, with his eyes fixed on hers. “I believe I have an idea that may be a solution to all of this. Would you permit me to suggest it?”
She looked at him a little curiously. “By all means.”
He paused a moment, hardly believing he was about to propose his idea. But he’d come this far.
“The king cannot betroth one who is already married,” he finally said.
The simple solution hit Josephine like a ton of rocks and her eyes widened until they nearly popped from her skull. She took a few steps in Andrew’s direction, not realizing she was moving, for her mind was reeling with realization of his suggestion.
“Of course!” she gasped. “Andrew, you are brilliant! If I marry someone else, the king cannot betroth me to Colin!”
“Indeed, he cannot.”
She was beside herself with glee. “But who can I marry in the next two days?”
Andrew hesitated a split second before opening his mouth again, but he couldn’t get the words out fast enough before she was moving away from him, thinking aloud in her zeal.
“It will have to be someone close by, someone of rank or a noble birth,” she said. She spun around to Andrew with a sudden look of horror. “But what of Justine? Even if I am married, King Alexander can still betroth Justine to Colin; therefore, she must be wed, too. Andrew, I must find two husbands!”
He shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “There is no need to search, for what you seek is within these walls of Torridon.”
She stopped her pacing and her brows knitted together curiously. “Who?”
His gaze upon her was intense. Slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, he went to her. For a moment, he simply stood there, gazing down at her, hardly believing what he was about to say but, in the same breath, nothing had ever seemed so right. Josephine de Carron was the only woman who had ever caught his attention in such a way that he could hardly go a minute without thinking about her. She had may fine qualities, as he had seen, and she was exquisitely beautiful. Perhaps they were shallow reasons but, to him, they were reasons enough. He couldn’t stand the thought of her married to another.
With great deliberation, he took a knee before her.
“My father was the Earl of Annan and Blackbank, a title inherited by my older brother,” he said. “When I said I born north of Haldane, I neglected to tell you that my family’s earldom is from Gretna Green to the east all the way to Dumfries. The heir apparent to the earldom is Viscount Brydekirk, a title which I technically hold unless my brother has a son I am unaware of. We are descended from the ancient kings of Cornwall on my father’s side and Kenneth MacAlpin on my mother’s. I have wealth to match your own, and an army of men to protect your holding. I will offer myself to you in a marriage of convenience, if you will accept me.”
Josephine was stunned. She hadn’t seen his offer coming and the more she thought on it, the more astonished she became. The Red Fury was offering for her hand to spare her the king’s betrothal to Colin?
She could hardly believe it.
“What… but what of Justine?” It was all she could think of to ask.
In truth, Andrew had been holding his breath, waiting for her reply. At least she hadn’t refused him outright. Much to his surprise, she actually seemed to be considering it.
“Justine can marry Sully,” he said. “Surely he must come from a good family, and it is not so important that the second daughter marry well. I suspect that he is already as good as a member of the family and marriage will make him permanently so.”
Josephine was beginning to see his plan clearly. It was simple and seemingly foolproof. But as her astonishment began to fade, several questions began to form.
“How will I explain to the king that I married secretly and quickly?” she asked. “And Justine, too? He will become suspicious.”
Andrew shook his head. “We will explain to the king that it was necessary to marry quickly, for you are with child,” he said. “As for Justine, she and Sully were betrothed by your father before he died because they were deeply in love. It was kept secret because your father wished to marry you off first.”
He seemed to have all of the answers. Josephine put her folded hands to her lips, pondering his plan and all of the angles of it that she could see. It could work. Better still, she liked Andrew. She was deeply attracted to him. Even a marriage of convenience to a man she found attractive would be better than spending the rest of her life in a hate-filled marriage with an enemy. Furthermore, Torridon would be safe because no man in his right mind, not even Colin Dalmellington, would attack property belonging to The Red Fury.
God, could this truly work?
But there was Justine; the woman would have to get used to the idea of marrying Sully. And Sully! Poor Sully would have to get used to the idea of being saddled with Justine the rest of his life. She felt a genuine twinge of pity for him, her very best friend, but it couldn’t be helped. He would make a fine husband for Justine. Perhaps Justine would even grow up with his guidance.
Josephine’s thoughts turned back to Andrew. He was still kneeling chivalrously before her, his eyes searching her face. It seemed to her that he was looking for her answer in all of this. She gave him a weak smile.
“It would seem, Andrew, that a wife could come along with the five thousand marks,” she said quietly. “But why would you do this on my behalf? We hardly know one another. There is nothing at stake between us.”
Andrew had to admit, he was relieved. He’d never asked for a woman’s hand before and was hoping his first attempt wouldn’t end in failure. Thankful that Josephine saw his reasoning, he stood up, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at her.
“Nay,” he said. “There is nothing at stake between us. But as I see it, you are in need of a husband to save your castle, and I believe it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Besides, I am sure that taking a wife would please my mother, wherever she may be.”
“But I thought you believed your mother to be dead?”
As soon as Josephine said those words, she was sorry. Andrew’s smile disappeared and he stiffened. His first impulse was to throw a curt answer back at her, but he forced himself to calm and realized that she had not asked out of malice. Moreover, he was the one who had brought the woman up. If he was to marry this woman, it would only be fair that she know something of his past.
With that in mind, he forced himself to calm. He didn’t like to speak of his past; it was a forbidden subject to those who knew him. Therefore, to speak on it was both awkward and painful.
“’Tis true, I do believe that,” he said quietly. “I… I suppose it is only fair that you know something of my past, of where I come from. But I warn you, it is not an easy tale.”
That was a clue to Josephine as to why he’d become brusque with her earlier in the day when the subject of his mother came up. Patiently, she nodded.
“I hold no judgement,” she said. “If you wish to tell me, I shall listen.”
With a sigh, Andrew sat down on the bed again, next to her. He was silent a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “When my father died, my brother Alphonse inherited everything,” he said. “Alphonse is a dim-witted, greedy bastard, and he ordered my death before my father was even cold in his grave. In fear of my life, I fled my home and joined up with a band of mercenaries. I was just a lad at the time, not yet a man. Even so, I was forced to grow up quickly. A mercenary named Trey took me under his wing and I learned well. I learned well enough that I now have the largest and most powerful mercenary army in all of England and Scotland. But I always swore that I would return someday to my brother’s home of Haldane Castle, seat of the Earl of Annan and Blackbank; someday when I could stand and meet my brother face-to-face, and call him to answer for all of his misdeeds.”
It was quite a story and Josephine was naturally heartbroken for him. She could hear the distress in his voice. He was letting her to see a glimpse of the man beyond The Red Fury persona, to the beating heart of the man beneath, and that touched her.
“I am so sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely. “But what of your mother? Did he force her to flee, too?”
He shook his head. “The same day he ordered my banishment, he locked my mother away when she tried to protect me,” he said. “That was almost nineteen years ago. I suspect she is no longer alive, so any mention of her for me is… painful.”
Josephine felt sorry for the man. Instinctively, she put her soft hand on his well-muscled shoulder, trying to give him some comfort. Although the touch was as light as a child’s, Andrew felt it as though it were reaching through to his soul. He looked up at her, with his defenses down and all of the self-assuredness gone from his eyes. To Josephine, he looked as vulnerable as a child.
“Why haven’t you gone after her?” she pressed gently. “With all of your money and manpower, surely you have enough strength to go after her and find out if she is still alive?”
He lowered his gaze and shook his head. “My brother commands an earldom and all who reside within it,” he said. “That’s thousands of men, Josephine. I am not nearly powerful enough. Not yet.”
“But you are The Red Fury,” she said, as she gripped his shoulder. “You are the most feared man in Scotland and England; you have said so yourself. Surely your brother will concede rather than fight you? One mercenary is worth ten regular men.”
He smiled at her encouragement. He was deeply touched by it, too. But she was too close, too young, and too naïve. His rough, callused hand reached up and gently touched her cheek. It was baby-soft and as rosy as a petal. The issue at hand suddenly faded as he found himself consumed by the warmth radiating from her.
The effect on Josephine was equally as jolting. His gentle touch sent shivers bolting through her body and she found herself pleased at the prospect of getting to know him better, and of marrying him. If the man could make her feel like this at a mere touch, she was willing to spend a lifetime seeking his magic touch.
Magic, indeed.
“I am sorry about your mother, Andrew,” she said softly, dropping her hand from his shoulder. “And I appreciate both your candor and your generous offer. Are you sure this is what you wish to do?”
“I have no reservation.”
“Then I accept your offer. I will marry you.”
And with that, he was a man betrothed. There was some excitement in that thought, the thrill of an unexpected future with a woman he was very much attracted to.
“We shall wed as soon as you are ready, mayhap sooner rather than later if the king’s visit is imminent,” he said, realizing he sounded rather happy about the whole thing. “And, might I suggest we make it a double ceremony?”
Josephine nodded. “Absolutely,” she agreed rising to her feet. “Now, I must inform Justine and Sully. And I fear I must prepare myself for a good argument from them both.”
Andrew grinned, rising from the bed beside her, towering over her. When they stood next to one another, she came to his chest. “Allow me to accompany you to deliver the bad news, my lady,” he said, as he offered her his arm. “They might be less apt to argue with my menacing presence.”
Josephine returned his smile. “You are quite menacing, aren’t you?” she said as she accepted his arm. “But, nay. The news must come from me. And, please… now that we are betrothed, you will call me Josephine.”
Andrew felt as if he’d been waiting for that invitation since the day he’d met her. “It would be my pleasure,” he said genuinely. “You will address me as Andrew. Call me what you wish; I will answer.”
It was a sweetly giddy moment and Josephine found herself fighting off a grin. She’d never been giddy in her life, but Andrew certainly made her feel silly and foolish enough.
She liked it.
They walked out into the corridor, heading for the great hall in warm silence, traversing halls with wide, arched ceilings, halls that generations had tread before them. There were grooves in the stone floors from the traffic. Josephine’s thoughts were still quite giddy and she found herself watching her feet as they moved, feeling his big arm warm and firm in her palm.
“What’s your full Christian name, Andrew?” she asked, purely to make conversation.
“Andrew Albert Deinwald d’Vant,” he said. “And yours?”
“Josephine Alys de Carron,” she said. Then, she grinned. “When I was very small, however, I did not want to be called by my name. I insisted that everyone call me Joey. I suppose I wanted to be a boy at that time in my life. Even until his death, my father would call me Joey. Justine calls me that, too, on occasion, when she is not annoyed with me.”
“Joey,” Andrew repeated, a glimmer of a smile on his lips. “I like that.”
She chuckled and looked away. “It is a boy’s name.”
He was grinning at her even though she couldn’t see him. “Not in this case,” he said, “for you are most definitely not a boy. It is rather sweet. May I call you Joey, then?”
She shrugged, both embarrassed and flattered. “Call me what you wish; I will answer.”
He heard his own words repeated back to him, something that made him grin all the more.
“Joey it is,” he murmured.