“Now,” he said, trying to ignore the heat blooming in his loins. “There are things we must speak of. The situation is going to change quite rapidly around here very soon.”
Josephine wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tickling the back of his neck. She sensed his change in mood.
“When are you leaving to confront your brother?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not merely confront, love,” he said. “Kill. I am going to kill my brother.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow,” he said softly, reaching up to push a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “I shall leave before dawn and it will take me a little more than two days to reach Haldane Castle. I will tell you what I have told Thane. If I have not returned in seven days, assume I am not coming at all. Thane has instructions to take you to my cousin, Roan, at Castle Questing, home of William de Wolfe. Roan serves de Wolfe and he will protect you, but much depends on de Wolfe. If the man does not want you there because of the trouble you will undoubtedly bring with you, then Thane has orders to take you south to Cornwall and give you over to another cousin of mine, Dennis. Dennis commands a very big castle and he will ensure you are protected. He will not fear the King of Scotland or my foolish brother.”
Listening to Andrew speak of contingency plans made Josephine realize just what an undesirable commodity she would become should Andrew perish in his quest to save her from his brother.
“I do not want to put so many people in danger,” she said quietly. “I could just as easily flee to France and lose myself there. Andrew, truly, I do not wish to put your entire family at risk from the wrath of the king.”
Andrew looked at her, seeing that she was earnest about it. She was so terribly brave, this woman, something he admired so much. But there was such a large part of him that didn’t want her to be brave. She shouldn’t have to be brave. He should simply be able to protect her, always, so that she never had to worry about it.
But the truth was that there was a very real chance that he might not return for her. The thought of Josephine running from the king and from his brother for the rest of her life made him feel sick inside. God, he didn’t want her to have to worry about it. He just wanted to marry her and get on with their lives.
“What the king is doing is wrong, Joey,” he said. “Even if I did not love you, I would still figure out a way to help you. The king betrothed you to my brother, with the full knowledge that you and I were betrothed, so he is the one in the wrong. We are fighting for what is right and true and good. You must believe that. And when you are fighting for what is right, risk is not a consideration.”
He made it sound so very noble. Josephine put a soft hand against his cheek, watching him kiss her palm.
“Had you not come to Torridon, I would still have been pledged to your brother with no one to warn me what a horrible man he is,” she said. “Your arrival was divine intervention, I think. God knew what was about to happen. He knew I would need you.”
He smiled faintly. “And if the king did not arrive but I had still come, would you still think it divine intervention?”
She grinned. “There would have been no need for Sully to marry my sister, nor me to marry you,” she said. “I suppose we would still be trading insults and arguing about who would lead Torridon’s defenses.”
He shook his head firmly. “We would not have been arguing,” he said. “I would have had command and control, in all things.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
Now, she scowled. “You are an arrogant man, Andrew d’Vant. You assume too much.”
He eyed her. “Not nearly as much as you do.”
Josephine couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but the glimmer in his eyes caught her attention and she realized that he was toying with her. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to climb off his lap but he grabbed her, pulling her close against his chest. Before Josephine could utter a word of protect, his lips slanted over hers, hungrily.
Andrew intended to shut her up, and he did. Josephine was caught off guard by the kiss but, very quickly, she responded. Her arms went back around his neck and she held tight as the man kissed her furiously, with passion and hunger that made Josephine’s heart race. When he began to caress her through her clothing, first her back and then her arms, she was hoping he might do something more, although she wasn’t exactly sure what more. He seemed to be rather tame about his kisses, especially when she’d heard the maids talk about how aggressive the soldiers could be. They touched women’s breasts and even put their mouths on them. She wondered if Andrew was going to be as bold as all that.
She soon found out.
As Andrew suckled her lips, his hands moved for her breasts. He was rather subtle about it at first, coming up from her torso, pretending to be stroking her ribs when his hands brushed up over her breasts. Josephine trembled but she didn’t stop him, so he became bolder and put a big hand over her right breast, squeezing gently. She rather liked the feel of it; he could tell when she arched her back, pressing her breast into his hand. When he began to play with a nipple through the fabric, the woman reacted like a wanton and groaned. Her breathing began to come in pants.
Andrew took that as an invitation to disrobe her. She wasn’t stopping him and he didn’t want to be stopped. He’d bedded many women, too many to count, and they were all simply a means to an end – the end being his pleasure. He couldn’t even recall one woman that had been remotely special to him because he simply didn’t have that mindset. He’d never been looking for anyone special.
But now, he had a special woman in his arms and she consumed him like nothing else. The stays on her surcote were ties, and he managed to untie most of them, yanking the cote right over her head. The shift came next, very swiftly. Josephine gasped as he bared her naked skin to the warm, dark chamber.
Quickly, she was up in his arms, and he swept her over to the bed, laying her gently upon the mattress. Josephine was a little startled by it all, perhaps even apprehensive, but not enough to tell him to stop. She didn’t want him to stop. In fact, when he suddenly turned and headed for the door, she was very disappointed. She thought he was going to leave. But she saw him throw the bolt on the door, ensuring their privacy, and her excitement knew no bounds. She knew that her maidenhead, the thing most of value to a woman, was about to be given over to the man she loved.
The man she would marry.
As Andrew made his way back over to her, pieces of his clothing were coming off – his tunic, under tunic, boots, and finally his breeches. He’d nearly tripped trying to pull his boots off, flinging them aside as they hit the wall of the chamber. Next, Josephine realized, he was throwing himself on the bed and pulling the coverlet over them both.
Josephine wrapped her arms around him as he fell atop her, his mouth hungrily finding hers. His hands, big and warm, were all over her flesh, touching her, caressing her, as he wedged his large body in between her legs.
She was simply moving on instinct, obeying the man’s silent commands as he settled himself atop her. His mouth left hers and moved down her jaw to her neck, nibbling on her shoulders, his hand fondling her warm breast.
“I love you, Joey,” he murmured, his mouth against her flesh. “Until the end of time, I will love you and only you. You belong to me.”
Josephine gasped as he suckled a nipple. “I belong to you,” she whispered. “All of me, forever.”
Andrew’s hand moved to her pelvis, touching her where only Josephine had ever touched herself. She was uncertain with it at first but, quickly, she grew to like it. He was so very gentle with her, acquainting her with his touch. Everything he was doing to her was marvelous and delicious, like nothing she could have imagined. Gone were the thoughts of gossiping maids and clumsy soldiers; what Andrew was doing was soft and beautiful. When he finally lifted himself up and she could feel his erection pushing at her threshold, she didn’t even flinch. She welcomed it. Sh
e wanted it.
She wanted him.
Coiling his buttocks, Andrew thrust into Josephine’s quivering body, listening to her gasp as he breached her maidenhead. But he didn’t give her time to dwell on the shock or the pain of it before he was thrusting into her deeply, with full and measured strokes. He wanted her to know the pleasure, not the pain. Never in his life had he known such satisfaction. This was more than a primal mating act; this was his demonstration of his feelings for Josephine, of the love and admiration and respect he had for a woman who had very quickly consumed his being. It was more than taking what was his.
It was a melding of souls.
Beneath him, Josephine gasped with each thrust, but it was a pleasurable gasp now. He could tell by the way she was writhing beneath him. She was even starting to respond to him, to move her hips against his, and it was all Andrew could to do keep from releasing himself inside her. He wanted the experience to last, something for him to remember during the time of separation that was soon to come, but the way she was moving underneath him was bringing him to a climax whether or not he wanted it to.
Knowing his release was imminent, he put his hand down where their bodies were joined, expertly manipulating her. Very quickly, Josephine experienced her first release and Andrew joined her, filling her with his seed and, for the first time in his life, thinking on the strong sons she would bear him. Magnificent sons. Lads with his strength and her sensibilities. Surely no greater sons in all the land.
Bodies cooled and breathing slowed as he lay on top of her, he felt her heartbeat against his chest. He gathered her up so tightly in his arms that he was certain he was crushing her, but she didn’t complain. She held on to him tightly as well, her face pressed against his shoulder. He could feel her hot breath against his skin, eventually slowing and becoming more even.
Andrew didn’t even want to speak; he didn’t want any words to spoil the beauty of the moment that needed no words. He just lay there and held Josephine, feeling her steady breathing against him. When he finally thought he should say something, at least ask her if she enjoyed it, the woman in his arms suddenly let out an old-man snore. Deep and loud, she was passed out cold in his arms.
Andrew had never tried so hard to keep his laughter quiet in all his life.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The birds were loud this morning.
At least, that was Josephine’s first thought as she gradually emerged from sleep, hearing the birds outside her window, smelling the smoke in the chamber as the fire burned low. Those two events always told her it was dawn, even before she opened her eyes. Birds and the smell of smoke. Yawning, she opened her eyes.
The room was dark for the most part, with hints of sunrise coming in through her oilcloth-covered windows. It turned the room shades of gray. She lay there a moment, listening to the sounds around her and feeling more contented than she had ever felt in her life. Thoughts of Andrew immediately popped into her head and she turned her head to see if he was still in bed beside her. She knew he had been in bed with her most of the night because she’d awoken, twice, to find his arms wrapped around her and the man’s soft snoring in her ear.
But he wasn’t in bed with her as dawn broke, which was probably wise. It wouldn’t be proper and surely he wished to preserve her dignity, even if they were betrothed. But they certainly weren’t married yet and servants tended to talk, even servants that had served the family for a very long time. Ola wouldn’t talk but when she went to the kitchen to bring food for two, people would wonder why.
Therefore, Josephine wasn’t particularly disappointed to realize he’d left. It made her want to rise quickly, dress, and go find him. Tossing back the covers, she called for her little maid.
Ola quickly emerged from the alcove she slept in. Josephine wondered if the woman had seen her mistress with a man in her bed. She knew that Andrew had bolted the door the night before, but he’d had to open it to leave. Perhaps that’s when Ola had slipped in, but Josephine didn’t ask. She and Ola had been together a long time and she wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up. Did she ask the woman if she saw Andrew in her bed? Or should she simply let Ola mention it? It made for some awkward moments as Josephine got out of bed, naked, and quickly hunted down her robe.
But if Ola had seen Andrew in her mistress’ bed, she didn’t give any indication. She went immediately to stoke the fire and put on water to warm for her mistress’ toilette. Meanwhile, Josephine went to the massive wardrobe that contained her clothing and started to sift through the surcotes hanging on pegs, looking for something pleasing to wear.
Today was a special day.
It was the first day that she truly felt like a woman, loved and possessed by a man in the most intimate way possible. When she smelled her hands, she could still smell him on her flesh and it made her heart flutter. It was a pity to wash off that smell. She could have inhaled it all day.
She located a cote of brown wool, light of weight, with a fashionable shift that went underneath it. It was very pretty with a braided belt that went with it. But she couldn’t dress until Ola brought her the warmed rose water, so she walked over to the window, pulling back the oiled cloth to see daybreak over the vibrant green countryside. A new day was upon them. At least, that was what she expected to see.
But that’s not what caught her eye.
An army was out there in the distance. She could see them, lined up in the distant fields like a rows of ants. Tiny, dark specs. Panic filled her. She wondered if anyone else saw the army because, down below, her men didn’t seem to be manning their posts and there weren’t any archers on the walls. Josephine thought that perhaps they didn’t have the view she had, since her chamber was higher than the walls. It was, therefore, her duty to tell them.
“Damnation!” she spat.
Thoughts of dressing in the lovely brown cote were pushed aside as she ran for the attire she usually wore to battle. Leather breeches went on, as did a heavily-padded tunic that hung to her knees. There didn’t seem to be time to dress in her full protection, as she usually did, but her mail coat was on a frame by the wardrobe and between her and Ola, they managed to get it on fairly quickly. Her heavy boots went on her feet and as Ola was fastening the ties on the boots, Josephine pulled a black and white de Carron tunic over her head, the same black and white tunic that all of her men wore.
The smell of battle was in the air.
Collecting her sword, she was heading out of the door with Ola following, trying to braid her mistress’ hair and tie it off with a leather strip so it wouldn’t be in her way. But Josephine had no time for hair dressing; she had to get down to her men, who clearly didn’t see they were about to be set upon.
Taking the steps to the foyer far too quickly, she nearly tripped as she hit the bottom of the stairs. There was so much fear in her heart that it was difficult to breathe. Bursting through the entry door and out into the inner ward, the first person she saw was Etienne. She called to the man.
“Etienne!” she shouted. “There is an army on the horizon! Prepare the men!”
Etienne came to a sudden halt when he heard her, turning to her just as she ran upon him. “We know there is an army, my lady,” he said calmly. “The sentries spied it before dawn.”
Josephine was puzzled by his response. “You know?” she said. “We must shore up the gates! The men must be positioned on the walls and…”
Etienne cut her off, but not unkindly. He had a rather unhappy look to his eye. “The king has instructed that we not prepare our defenses, my lady,” he said. “He is at the gatehouse with Sir Sully. They are currently in discussion about the situation.”
When Josephine realized the king had ordered Torridon to stand down, her eyes widened. “Is he mad?” she hissed. “It is the Dalmellington army. They will slaughter us if they make it into the castle!”
Etienne sighed heavily. “I know, my lady,” he said, lowering his voice. “Sully has sent me to secure the keep and the inner bailey, and that i
s what I intend to do. If the king wishes to leave the outer bailey exposed, then that is his pleasure. But we will protect the keep at all costs.”
Josephine was pleased to hear that Sully had ordered caution in spite of the king’s directive, but she was still furious. Furious and frightened. The king had no idea what the Dalmellingtons could do and she intended to tell him that.
“The king is at the gatehouse, you say?” she asked.
Etienne nodded. “Aye, my lady.”
“Is Andrew with them?”
“Aye, my lady. They are all there.”
“Then that is where I am going also,” she said, pushing past the French knight. “The king is going to hear of his foolishness from my own lips.”
Josephine didn’t see Etienne’s grin as she rushed from the inner bailey and into the partially repaired outer bailey beyond. She rushed to find Andrew and Sully, her heart pounding in her chest. Surely the king could not be serious? Not defend Torridon in the wake of a Dalmellington approach? King or no, she would fight Dalmellington with her last breath, as she knew Sully and Andrew would, as well.
She found the men standing in a group immediately outside of the gatehouse. They were all there; Andrew, Thane, Sully, Donald and Nicholas, and finally the king were surrounded by several of the king’s men and several Torridon soldiers. They were all huddled together in conference.
Josephine almost felt as if she were intruding, but she squared her shoulders and charged forward, deciding to pretend as if she had never had the conversation with Etienne.
“What goes on?” she demanded sharply. “Why have you not set up defenses?”
All eyes were on her, the littlest soldier. Andrew and Sully looked angry and distressed, and she could see simply by their expressions that Etienne’s words were true. The king, eyeing her, stepped forward.
Mercenaries and Maidens: A Medieval Romance bundle Page 27