The Red Fury

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “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 sta
ying?

  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.”