But he didn’t envy d’Vant one bit.
Unfortunately, Josephine had a temper that she didn’t often control, and a tongue to match. She bolted out of her chair, the skirt of her garnet-colored gown billowing as she rounded the corner of the table and came to stand in front of Andrew. He was so tall she had to tilt her head back to look up at him, nothing but rage in her expression.
“You conceited, piss-hearted lout!” she barked. “How dare you insult me?”
Andrew’s eyebrows went up. “Conceited?”
Across the table, Sully’s eyebrows went up. “Piss-headed?”
Josephine ignored the comments, stomping her foot angrily. “Let me tell you something, Andrew d’Vant,” she seethed. “You will not order me about in my own home. I have been fighting and defending Torridon since my father died, and not once have I even received a nick. This is my castle and should I choose to bear arms to defend it, then it will be my choice and not yours. Is this in any way unclear?”
Andrew was watching her rather impassively, although he was thinking that she was quite beautiful when she was enraged. She was also quite unruly. He wasn’t about to let this woman order him about, even in her own home. She wanted his help? Then she was going to have to do as he asked.
“I would have you safe in the tower in the event of another attack.” It was not a request.
Without hesitation, a little balled fist came up and caught him squarely on the jaw. There was a dull popping sound when the fist made contact and Andrew’s head snapped to the right. His hand came up and he began rubbing his jaw as he eyed her. Across the table, Sully was on his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword as he prepared to defend his disorderly mistress.
But Josephine didn’t care how angry Andrew was. All that mattered was that the man understand her position, on all things. She was nothing to be trifled with but, by God, he was certainly trying.
“And I would have you keep your stupid male notions to yourself,” she said, jabbing a finger at him. “I can fight with the best of them, Andrew d’Vant, and I’ll not have you tell me otherwise.”
With that, she breezed past him and flew from the room, leaving everyone in stunned silence. No one knew quite what to say, or how to react. They could not believe that little Lady Josephine de Carron just punched The Red Fury. Sully seemed to find his legs first, and went over to Andrew. Their eyes met and he looked at the tall man questioningly. Andrew continued to rub his jaw.
“She has a good strike,” he admitted. “Did you teach her that?”
“No,” Sully shook his head. “She learned that on her own. Now, I believe, we need to get you and your men settled for the night. You may move your army to the perimeter now, as you have requested. Will there be anything else you require?”
Sully was desperate to change the subject away from his rowdy mistress, hoping that encounter didn’t change d’Vant’s mind about taking on the defense of Torridon. He hoped if he pretended that it was simply business as usual, Andrew would be more focused on the job, and the reward, rather than the little spitfire he was working for. It must have worked because d’Vant motioned to his men, still standing in the shadows, and the group began to head to the chamber door.
“Not that I can think of, but I shall let you know,” he said. “And Montgomery?”
“Aye?”
“Do not think I shall forget this.”
With that, he walked away, leaving Sully to wonder what, exactly, he meant. He would not forget that Josephine struck him? That a woman refused to lay down her arms now that he was here?
He wondered.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sully topped the stairs just as Justine came from her sister’s room, quietly closing the door behind her. She looked up and saw Sully coming close, and their eyes met. Justine could see his face etched with concern and she felt a tug of jealousy.
But it was a familiar feeling, especially where her sister was concerned. That was because Justine had loved Sully since she had been very young and the years had only served to deepen and enrich it. Justine was not foolish, nor was she blind. She knew Sully had eyes only for her sister and, perhaps, that had driven Justine’s attention to the magical arts – it was a way to ease her pain and occupy her mind, to forget about the man she could never have.
The man whose heart belonged to another.
“Is she asleep?” Sully asked her.
Justine nodded. “Aye, I gave her something to help her sleep,” she replied softly. “What on earth made her so angry? I have never seen her so agitated.”
He ignored her question. “Something to help her sleep?” he repeated suspiciously. “What did you give her?”
“Poppy,” Justine told him, hurt by the tone of his question. Didn’t he trust her? “I made a sleeping potion from one of Dewey’s powerful medicine books. It promises to promote a deep and peaceful sleep. To the poppy you must add a bit of hemlock and.…”
“Hemlock?” he said with shock. “But that is poison.”
“Not if given in small doses. But I gave her a little more because she was so restless.”
Sully shoved past her. “Mother of God,” he hissed. “Are you trying to kill her?”
He threw open the door and rushed to the bed where Josephine lay. It was dark in the room, the fire burning low in the hearth. He looked down upon Josephine, noticing she was still in the garnet wool dress. But she was very pale and her breathing was labored. Sully dropped to his knees, grasping the woman by the shoulders.
“Josephine?” he whispered urgently. “Josephine, awaken!”
“Sully?” Justine asked fearfully, standing behind him. “What are you doing?”
He ignored her, trying to rouse Josephine. “Josephine?” he said. Then he hissed, “Joey? Wake up!”
Josephine didn’t stir. Sully lifted up an eyelid and saw that her eyes were rolled up to the top of her head. His heart jumped into his throat with nothing short of panic. He turned to Justine.
“Go get Dewey,” he commanded, trying hard to maintain his control.
“But…!” Justine started to protest.
“Go!” he roared and Justine visibly jumped. Quickly, his eyes sought out Ola, standing quietly in the doorway of the alcove where she slept. “You, Ola – go with her. Run!”
The women rushed out without hesitation and Sully cradled Josephine’s neck on his right forearm. He was in a fear-stricken haze as he looked at the woman he loved so much. Oh, God in heaven… hemlock! What in the hell was Justine thinking? Curse that little novice witch! His left hand came up and grasped Josephine’s limp left one. He simply sat there and held her; he didn’t know what else to do.
Sully never felt so helpless. Grief and anxiety tore at his gut and he could feel sweat starting to bead on his forehead. If she died… if she died…. what would he do? His head began to spin with the thought, but he shook it off. He couldn’t think about that; not now. He looked back down at her pale, unconscious face and felt his throat constrict.
One thing was certain… Justine would answer for it.
*
Andrew was in the outer bailey with Thane, beneath a blanket of stars as they walked towards the main gates, when they happened to overhear one of the Torridon knights. Lady Josephine was dying and he was frantically looking for someone named Dewey. Andrew came to a halt, looking at the knight who had been wandering the outer ward anxiously. It was John, the youngest knight of Torridon, and his youthful face was on the brink of panic. Instead of heading out of the ward as he’d planned, Andrew made his way to the young knight.
“You, there,” Andrew said, catching John’s attention. “What is this nonsense about Lady Josephine dying?”
John’s wide blue eyes bespoke of his terror. “Her sister says she was poisoned,” he gasped. “I must find Dewey!”
“Poisoned? By whom?”
The young man shook his head vigorously. “I do not know,” he said. “Lady Justine is in the inner bailey with some other women. She wi
ll tell you more.”
With that, he was gone. Andrew turned a perplexed face to Thane, who shrugged at his commander.
“Let us go find this Lady Justine,” Andrew said. “I wonder if they think I poisoned her.”
Thane shook his head as they started towards the inner bailey. “Lord knows, you had enough reason to.”
Andrew grinned. “It was a love tap,” he said. “Baby’s breath is more forceful than her fist.”
“Love tap?” Thane looked at him. “I saw no affection in that gesture. Mayhap you are wishing there was, eh?”
Andrew snorted. “I think we would likely kill each other with our love taps,” he said. “But I must confess that she is the most beautiful woman I have ever had the fortune to look upon.”
He sobered suddenly and he did not know why. Perhaps it was the thought of that feisty, beautiful woman now evidently at death’s door. But Thane didn’t notice Andrew’s sudden change in demeanor; he was in the process of heartily agreeing with Andrew’s last statement.
“She is that, my lord,” he said. “I could not believe my eyes when I saw her. Who in the hell would want to poison such a creature?”
Andrew shook his head as they entered the inner bailey. For the middle of the night, there was quite a bit of traffic. Villeins and servants seemed to be scurrying about in a frenzy. The only people who were stationary were a few women standing atop the front steps leading into the darkened keep. Their faces were agitated and worried. Andrew could hear one woman crying. He assumed Justine was in the little group, and he approached purposefully.
“I am seeking Lady Justine,” he said.
The women all turned to him, suspiciously. Only one spoke, eyeing him hesitantly. “I am Justine,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Andrew d’Vant,” he said, as he rested a massive boot on the bottom step. “My army is in camp around Torridon. Tell me – what ails your sister?”
Whispers rippled through the women. The Red Fury! Justine was momentarily distracted by the flutter, but she put up a hand to silence them as she took a couple of steps down to look Andrew in the eye.
“My sister spoke of you,” she said. “You are the man they call The Red Fury?”
“Aye.”
Justine eyed him a moment before continuing. “She was quite angry after her meeting with you.”
Andrew remembered the smack on his jaw; the spot was sore. “So it seems.”
Justin glanced at the women behind her, nervously, before returning her attention to Andrew. “I gave her a potion with poppy and hemlock to make her sleep after her meeting with you,” she said. “It was meant to calm her nerves, but I poisoned her instead.”
Andrew looked at her strangely. “Hemlock?” he echoed. “Why on earth did you give her hemlock?”
Justine clenched her jaw. She hated admitting her failures and this one could cost her dearly. “Because I… I read of a potion in one of Dewey’s books and made a sleeping drink for her,” she said. “I know hemlock is deadly, although the book said that mixed in tiny quantities it was very beneficial to the mind. I was trying to help her.”
Andrew listened to her explanation and he believed her. She didn’t seem the malicious type, at least from what he could tell. Silly, aye, but not malicious. She certainly wouldn’t be confessing that she’d poisoned her sister if her intention had been malicious. However, if what she said was true, then he knew that Josephine needed help. Every moment that passed was another moment that the hemlock could be doing serious damage.
“Is your healer with her?” he asked.
Justine shook her head. “Nay,” she replied. “We are searching for him. Sully is upstairs with her now.”
Andrew turned to Thane. “Find Oletha,” he said. “Bring her to Lady Josephine’s chamber. And be quick about it.”
Thane barreled off across the inner bailey as he headed for the soldiers’ camp and Andrew turned back to Justine. She was looking at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity, and he found himself wanting to ease her apprehension. She looked so young and confused. He smiled a little, treating Justine to a glimpse of the big dimple in his cheek.
“All will be well,” he said quietly. “I have sent for my healer. She will know what to do.”
“That is kind of you.”
“Will you take me to your sister?”
“I will if… if you promise not to anger her again.”
Andrew fought off a grin. “I swear it.”
Justine was in motion before he finished his sentence, calling for Ola to follow. The plump little maid dashed after them, following the enormous mercenary into the keep. They entered the cool, quiet foyer and traveled up the narrow stone stairs, built into the thickness of the wall. Josephine’s chamber was on the third level and Justine opened the door quietly and entered, with Andrew following closely. Ola slipped in behind them and stood silently by the open door.
Above all else, Andrew was immediately struck by the soft femininity of the room. Rushes carpeted the floor and two massive tapestries graced opposite walls. Above the huge hearth hung a flowered piece of petit poi, an elaborate scene with animals and a banquet of colorfully-clad women. As he approached the elaborately-carved bed, he saw that she had hung a massive bouquet of dried heather on the wall and it was gaily tied with colorful ribbon. He smiled inwardly at the significance. In Scotland, that meant good luck.
As Andrew inspected the room curiously, there were eyes on him. Sully rose stiffly from his kneeling position beside her bed, his eyes on the big mercenary. He didn’t like the idea of the man in Josephine’s chamber but, more than that, he noted that Justine was without the little physic that everyone was searching for. He looked pointedly at the woman.
“Where is Dewey?” he asked.
Justine could hear the stress in his voice. “The castle is in an uproar searching for him,” she said. Then, she looked at Andrew. “Sir Andrew has sent for his own healer in the meantime.”
Sully’s gaze moved to Andrew. He didn’t want anyone but Dewey touching her, especially with her life hanging in the balance. But he didn’t want to offend the mercenary; at least not now. He had enough to worry about and he needed Andrew handling Torridon’s defenses while he was preoccupied with Josephine. Still… he was grateful. Any healer was better than no healer. Therefore, he nodded curtly at Andrew.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Andrew’s gaze lingered on the man, noticing the nearly hostile manner in which Sully was regarding him. Why? He wondered. Then, he looked down at Josephine; she was as white as the sheet she laid upon. Her luscious hair was stuck to her clammy skin and, if her chest hadn’t risen every so often, one would have believed her to be dead. The deep red dress in which she was clad made an even greater contrast against her white skin. He felt a strange sense of sorrow as he looked at her.
Before he could speak, however, the chamber doorway was filled with Torridon knights. Quig, Severn, and Albert were breathing heavily as they stumbled into the chamber, their focus on Sully.
“My Lord,” red-haired Albert spoke, breathing as if he’d just run up several flights of steps. “We have sighted a Dalmellington scout party not far from here. There appears to be several men on horseback.”
Sully’s nostrils flared. “In the middle of the night?”
Albert shrugged. “It is possible they saw the approach of the mercenary army and followed,” he said. “You know they are never far from us. They have spies everywhere.”
That was very true, and Sully began to realize that he may have another serious problem on his hands. “Damnation,” he hissed, passing Andrew as he made his way to his men. “I want twenty-five men-at-arms saddled in the outer bailey in five minutes. We’ve got to stop those bastards before they return to Burnton Castle with what they have seen.”
The knights were gone in a flash. Sully’s jaw muscles flexed as he turned to the bed where Josephine laid. God in heaven, he couldn’t leave her now. He didn’t want to chase do
wn Dalmellington spies; he wanted to be here with Josephine. But he had little choice. He had to be present when they engaged the Dalmellington spies. His duty was to protect Torridon. Josephine would live or die whether or not he was at her side.
Much as Sully had studied Andrew when the man had first entered the chamber, now it was Andrew’s turn to study Sully and his reaction to a night patrol. He saw the turmoil in the man’s eyes and that was his first clue that all may not be business-related when it came to Sully Montgomery and his lovely mistress.
“Would you prefer I go?” he asked.
Sully looked at him, sharply, as if suspicious of the question. Was it magnanimous? Or was he suggesting he could do the job better than Sully could?
“Nay,” Sully said. “I will go. I know their tricks and where they hide. You would not know this.”
Andrew simply nodded. “Then I shall remain here with your mistress,” he said. “I will not leave her.”
Sully looked at him a moment before giving a reluctant sigh. He did not have any choice; his duty called. But, God in heaven, he didn’t want to leave Josephine’s fate with a man he didn’t even know.
“Very well,” he agreed. “Stay with her. I shall return as soon as I can.”
Sully blew past Justine as if she were a ghost, and her eyes turned to follow him longingly as he left the room. She knew this was all her fault, and she knew that Sully blamed her. If any chance had ever existed to win Sully’s heart, she was positive that it was gone now.
She’d poisoned the woman he loved.
Justine had never felt such despair as she turned to look back at her sister. In the process, her eyes fell on Andrew. He was watching her like a hawk and, simply by his expression, she knew that he had discovered her secret. Her love for Sully. Justine thought she might die from embarrassment from Andrew’s knowing gaze, but he turned away quickly and focused his attention on Josephine.
Justine was very relieved.
There were strange forces at work at Torridon; Andrew had quickly come to that conclusion. Just in the past few minutes, he’d witnessed Sully’s longing expression for Josephine and Justine’s longing expression for Sully. It all seemed rather foolish to him, but none of that mattered. As long as they paid him what they promised him, he didn’t care what these people did.
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