“Very well,” he said, reluctantly letting her go. “Nothing more than a family squabble, I am sure. Now, ladies, if you will excuse me, it has been a long day. I would retire now, but we will have business to conduct on the morrow.”
Josephine nodded. “Aye, my lord,” she said. “I will have the servants show you and your men where to sleep.”
Servants with torches to light the darkened stairs of the keep were brought forth as the king and his entourage swept from the dining hall. Josephine and Justine watched, then looked at each other and the men somewhat nervously. We will have business to conduct on the morrow. But there was no hint of what that business would be, and that had Josephine – and everyone else – apprehensive. But there was nothing they could do now but retire themselves. The morning would come soon enough.
Josephine turned to Sully.
“Forgive me,” she said sheepishly. “I am sorry I became angry with you. It has been a rather overwhelming day.”
Sully’s lips twitched with a smile. “There is nothing to forgive, Josephine,” he said. “I have had a rather overwhelming day myself.”
She smiled as he used her name without the usual formality. “Indeed,” she said as her smile faded. “I can only hope tomorrow is not worse.”
Sully could only agree with her. Things were moving quickly at Torridon and they were all struggling to keep up with it all. As he turned for Justine, to escort his new wife back to their chamber, Josephine turned to Andrew.
“We have not had any time to speak away from the king since you arrived,” she said quietly. “Did he speak to you on his business here? Did he give any indication?”
Andrew shook his head; he could see how worried she was. “None,” he said. “He didn’t seem too concerned when I told him that I was your betrothed. Mayhap his business will have nothing to do with attempting to arrange a marriage between you and Dalmellington.”
Josephine pondered that. “Mayhap,” she said. “I suppose we shall soon find out.”
Andrew’s gaze moved over her. She seemed so very weary. He didn’t blame her in the least. They were all weary. He was simply glad that the king and his men had left Josephine alone for the most part. And now that they were finally alone, his focus was on Josephine completely. His protective instincts were running strong.
“I believe the best thing for you would be sleep,” he said firmly. “I will escort you, if you will permit me.”
Josephine simply nodded and, with a grateful smile, they made their way up to Josephine’s room. Up the darkened stairwell and onto the nearly-black landing, they had moved in comfortable silence. There was a level of comfort between them that had not been there before. When they reached her chamber, Andrew opened the door to admit her but stopped short of entering himself. Josephine stopped and turned to him when she realized he didn’t follow.
Andrew was leaning against the doorjamb with his massive arms folded across his chest. He was looking at her, but his gentle expression seemed to be hiding something. There seemed to be something lurking behind those brown eyes.
“What is it?” she asked curiously.
His eyebrows twitched in puzzlement. “I do not know what you mean.”
She looked at him for a moment before her eyes narrowed, suspiciously. “You do not like our king.”
He shrugged indifferently. “I do not know your king.”
She didn’t believe him for a moment. “I saw the way you looked at him,” she said. “You obviously do not like him, but I do not know why. Please enlighten me.”
She was perceptive. But how could Andrew tell her that he believed the king had something else on his mind other than betrothing her to Dalmellington? It was true that the king hadn’t given him any indication what his business was, but Andrew had caught bits of conversation between the king and his men. Nothing he heard had anything to do with Colin Dalmellington.
He sensed there was something else afoot.
Josephine had been right to believe the king had been here on business that would drastically change her life, but Andrew saw it as something else. He saw a man used to getting what he wanted in life, and he suspected that he was entertaining the thought of wanting Josephine for something other than a marriage.
There was something odd about this entire situation that made him think so.
But Josephine snapped him from his train of thought. “Did you hear me?”
Evidently, he hadn’t. “Hear what?”
She sighed, lifting her eyebrows at him. “I said that Alexander is ‘our’ king,” she said flatly. “You are in Scotland.”
“You forget I am English, Joey,” he said softly. “My loyalty is with myself and, if pressed, with the English crown.”
She turned serious at his comment. “But Scotland is my home,” she said. “Torridon is my home. Are you planning to take me out of Scotland after we’re married?”
He would just as soon cut out his own heart than take her from her beloved Torridon. Even having only known her a few days, he had seen what lengths she was willing to go to in order to protect her home. Yet, oddly enough, his heart ached to know she would not accompany him on his travels, for he had no intention of laying roots. He had no intention of staying in one place with her.
… did he?
“Nay,” he said after a moment. “I will not take you from Torridon.”
He was right; she was very perceptive, as if she could read his mind. “But,” she said as she cocked her head thoughtfully, “you will not stay here with me. I can see it in your eyes. After we are married, you are planning to leave me alone, unprotected, while you go traipsing off across the countryside.”
Now he entered the room. “I would hardly consider you unprotected,” he said. “Besides, no man would dare threaten the wife of The Red Fury, including and especially Colin Dalmellington.”
So it was true; he didn’t intend to remain with her after they were married. There was a part of her hoping he would deny what she was sensing. She was hurt that he did not intend to stay with her, but wasn’t stupid enough to believe marriage would change him. He was The Red Fury, and he wasn’t meant to be caged, not even by marriage.
But perhaps she didn’t wish to be caged by marriage, either, to a man who had no intention of making a life with her.
“Mayhap I no longer wish to become the wife of The Red Fury,” she said, turning away. “Mayhap I shall marry someone who I know will stay with me – someone like Donald Muir.”
Andrew knew she was bluffing, but the marriage feasibility of Donald Muir could be considered very real. Donald was a little older than Josephine, was very wealthy, and his family held the same standing. It was such a real threat that he didn’t want to hear it, even in jest. In four strides he was upon her, grabbing her roughly by the upper arms.
“He is not man enough for you,” he growled. “You are a passionate, physical woman, and I suspect that tradition will continue in the bedroom. You’d have the little man Donald in his grave before the month is out.”
He embarrassed her with that assessment; and she gasped and pulled away from him.
“What a terrible thing to say!” she scowled.
He stood his ground. “Does the truth upset you?”
Her scowl grew. “Do not speak of me as if I were a common whore.”
He backed off graciously. “I apologize,” he said. “I did not mean to infer that you were. I simply meant that you are a strong and passionate woman. Men like Donald Muir do not deserve a woman like you.”
“But men like you do?”
“Without question.”
She fell silent after that, making it clear that she wasn’t certain whether she would forgive him or not. Andrew knew the conversation had ended and he went to the door, bidding her a good night before closing the door behind him.
She didn’t answer him.
But that didn’t discourage him from what he saw as his right and his duty. Taking off his sword, he sat down on the floor with
his back against her door. He rested his head back, drawing up a knee and propping an arm on it.
He exhaled, trying to get comfortable for the night. There was nothing in the world that could drag him away from her door tonight, and he planned to repeat the routine like a faithful watchdog until the king left.
He had no doubt that he and the king would meet on her threshold before that time.
Andrew’s eyes were closed, but he did not sleep. He heard a door close softly down the corridor and footsteps as they approached him. The footsteps slowed until they were a few feet from him, seeming to stop.
Faster than a blink of an eye, Andrew brought his sword up and pointed the long, serrated blade steadily at whoever was standing there. Somewhere in the process, he had opened his eyes.
Sully stood looking down at him.
“Do what you must,” he told Andrew. “It could be no worse than what I have already been through this day.”
Andrew smiled and laid the sword down. “I thought you were the king,” he said. “Sit down, man.”
Sully obliged, sinking wearily to the floor a few feet from Andrew. He sat for a few moments, staring out into space, while Andrew looked at him curiously.
“I never did ask why Josephine was so hell-bent on beating you tonight,” he said finally.
Sully sighed. “Because Justine said I hurt her.”
“Other than the obvious, did you?” Andrew asked.
“Of course not,” Sully replied. “Mayhap I did get a little rough with her when she would not cooperate, but it was nothing more than tying her hands to the bed.”
Andrew put his head down and his shoulders jerked with laughter. Sully looked at him, fighting off the giggles.
“What was I supposed to do?” he demanded. “She kept hitting me; therefore I tied her to the bed. Besides, she was making consummating the marriage most difficult. She gave me little choice.”
Andrew tried to control his laughter, but the mental picture was hysterical. If Sully were truly upset, he would not have laughed at all but, truly, Sully seemed to be making light of the situation as well.
“Yet, I am to assume that you won this tremendous battle and that the marriage was duly consummated?” Andrew asked.
“Aye,” Sully nodded. “In the end, I carried out Lady Josephine’s wishes.”
Both men sobered, knowing how much the de Carron women were sacrificing to preserve Torridon. Somehow, both Andrew and Sully had been sucked into the vortex, with Sully having no choice, and Andrew by choice. That made a strange yet strong camaraderie between them, something that was becoming increasingly apparent.
“Are you still going to marry Lady Josephine?” Sully finally asked.
Andrew nodded slowly. “Aye,” he said. “Come what may, she will be my wife.”
Sully looked at him. “You love her.”
It was not a question. But Andrew appeared amused. “Love?” he repeated, then looked thoughtful. “Lady Josephine de Carron is as exquisite a woman as has ever existed. She’s beautiful and is remarkably intelligent for a woman, and she possesses an indomitable spirit. She intrigues me.”
Sully felt a little irritated at the superficial observation of Josephine. “She is a very deep woman,” he said. “She has great sensitivity and a tremendous sense of duty. I have known her since she was twelve years old, and believe me when I tell you she possesses more than simple physical beauty.”
Andrew knew that, but to admit to it would be to show that he had a weakness – and that weakness was Josephine de Carron. But, somehow, in admitting it to Sully, he knew it would go no further.
“My life has been spent with a single goal, Sully,” he said quietly. “That goal has been to avenge my mother and kill my brother. But with Josephine, I find her a tremendous distraction and she brings out a side of me that wants to laugh and to love. It’s a side that frightens me and excites me at the same time. Have you ever had a woman affect you as such?”
Sully knew the man was confiding in him on the deepest level. It was an awkward conversation, considering Andrew was speaking of the woman he loved, but it was also strangely empowering in the sense that Josephine deserved a man who greatly admired her, if not loved her outright. It was much easier for Sully to deal with a man soon to be Josephine’s husband who actually had some feeling for her. But in that empowerment was some bitterness as well.
He wished he were the one to marry Josephine and he suspected that he always would.
“Aye,” Sully said after a moment. “I have.”
Oblivious to Sully’s inner turmoil, Andrew found great interest in that answer. “And were you not weakened by those feelings?”
“Nay,” Sully smiled faintly. “On the contrary, they inspired me. Give in to your feelings, Andrew, and you will understand. Do not be afraid of something that can give you the greatest strength of all.”
Andrew stared off into the darkened corridor, digesting that statement. It seemed so alien to him. “I do not know what I am feeling,” he said after a moment. “All I know is that I feel blind rage whenever I see the king for what he has brought on her and I cannot stand the thought of her in someone else’s arms. I should have never come here, yet I am glad I did.”
It was quite an admission coming from the legendary mercenary. Sully wasn’t quite sure what to say, so it seemed best to say nothing.
For quite some time, Andrew and Sully sat in the darkened corridor, each man to his own thoughts. So much had happened to them, and between them, actions and events that had brought them together when they could have very well made enemies out of them.
That, in and of itself, was something to ponder.
With the exception of a distant voice now and again, the fortress was as quiet as a tomb. It was nearing dawn but Andrew remained wide awake with Sully beside him, keeping silent company as their respective women slept behind closed doors. But suddenly, from somewhere in the direction of the king’s chamber on the floor above, came the sound of approaching footsteps. Down the stairs and drawing closer, heading directly for them.
Andrew knew the sounds of heavy war boots when he heard them. A soldier is coming. He shifted casually on the floor, then rose slowly. Sully followed suit.
“We have company,” Sully said quietly.
“I know,” Andrew murmured. “Are you armed?”
“Always,” Sully replied coolly.
“Excellent, my friend,” Andrew said, facing the approaching party expectantly. “Then this shall be quick and painless.”
Three of the king’s guards, armed and in full mail armor, approached. The flickering torches in the corridor cast dancing phantoms along the walls as they moved and the bootfalls were hard and sharp, and soon the facial features became evident.
“Who goes?” the first soldier demanded harshly.
Andrew didn’t hesitate. “I am Andrew d’Vant, betrothed of Lady Josephine de Carron, and commander of the mercenary army beyond the walls of Torridon,” he replied with authority. “And my companion is Sir Sully Montgomery, Master of Torridon and wife to Lady Justine.”
The soldiers looked at each other. Then, the first shoulder shrugged.
“The king wishes to see Lady Josephine in his chamber,” he said. “Now.”
Andrew had known all along that this demand would be forthcoming and now it was here. He stood his ground.
“For what purpose?” he asked.
The soldier wasn’t to be dissuaded. “That is between the king and Lady Josephine.”
“And me,” Andrew said. “She is my betrothed.”
“Then you will do well to ask the king,” the soldier said. “Now, out of my way.”
As the soldier took a step towards Josephine’s door, he suddenly found that Andrew’s sword blocked the way. He hadn’t even seen it coming, but simply heard the singing sound of metal and then a thumping sound that the point made as it embedded itself in the stone wall. Andrew was attached to the hilt of the sword, his expression anything but tolera
nt.
“Now that I have your attention,” he said in a low voice, “go back and inform King Alexander that Lady Josephine has retired for the night. She will be honored to see him on the morrow. But not tonight.”
The older soldier wasn’t the least bit intimidated, at least not outwardly. “Move that sword, man,” he growled.
Andrew shook his head. “I will not.”
The air fairly crackled with tension. For quite some time, no one dared move. They simply stared at one another, silent threats filling the air, yet no one was moving to carry out those threats. Andrew would not be the first man to act violently, but he’d be damned if he was going to let these men into Josephine’s bedchamber.
But the soldiers were acting under direct orders from the king, and if they had to fight The Red Fury and the Master of Torridon to carry out those orders, then so be it. The soldier stepped back and drew forth his sword.
“You’ll eat those words, The Red Fury or no,” he promised.
Sully didn’t remember who cast the first blow, but it was only a matter of seconds before the sounds of metal on metal filled the corridor. Sully had his hands full with one soldier. He had only a small knife and was concentrating on not being impaled by the other’s sword. Andrew, on the other hand, was fending off two of the king’s best.
The king’s soldiers weren’t like the normal soldiers, men poorly trained and even more poorly armed. These soldiers had dedicated their lives to the king and were at the height of their profession. Andrew, of course, was a professional soldier and was paid to win, but the two imperial soldiers were giving him a good fight.
The two soldiers had managed to back him into a wall, but Andrew didn’t appear in distress. With a huge right arching sweep, he caught both of their swords at once and knocked them off balance. In the split second that it took for them to recover, he drove his sword deep into the side of the man nearest him.
Sully saw the soldier fall and did a flying somersault across the floor, coming up with the dying man’s sword in his right hand. Now the odds were even in the fight.
Clang… clang… clang… clang! The battle grew in intensity and neither Sully nor Andrew were straining in the least, but the king’s soldiers were fighting furiously. It was simply a matter of letting them wear down before turning on them, a classic battle tactic. And when the soldiers seemed to be tiring, Andrew seemed to come alive.
The Red Fury Page 21