Page 188

Torridon Castle

Five miles southeast of Ayr, Scotland

“L ady Josephine! Watch !”

The warning came in the nick of time. Lady Josephine de Carron brought her heavy sword up with amazing speed and grace, stopping what would have surely been a deathblow from the avenging Dalmellington soldier.

With a grunt, she dropped to the ground and rolled directly into the soldier’s legs, throwing him off balance enough to topple him.

Leaping to her feet, which was no easy feat considering the heavy chainmail she wore, she pounced on the man and drove her sword into the leathery skin of his neck.

Withdrawing the blade with a grunt of effort, she charged towards the outer bailey, not waiting to hear the enemy soldier’s last bloody gurgle of death.

Here she was, again, facing a battle.

Facing death.

God, it was a nightmare. The outer bailey of Castle Torridon was in shambles.

If it was wood, it was burning. If it was stone, it was crumbling.

The sounds of death and destruction assaulted her senses, and the smell of smoke and blood filled her as she searched for her second in command.

Fatigue pulled at her body and mind as her eyes scanned the yard.

But it was more than exhaustion she felt; it was devastation.

The battle had been long and bloody, and the anger at the Dalmellingtons for yet again another attack on her home of Torridon Castle was eating at her.

They seemed determined to destroy what they could not have.

The Dalmellingtons had once been allied with the House of de Carron, a long time ago.

But that was so long ago, and times had changed.

Changed from the glorious alliance that had once been in place, now reduced to ashes.

It hadn’t always been like this. Gazing over the destroyed bailey, Josephine retreated to those times when her home had been peaceful.

It all started with Josephine’s father, Hugh, when he had left his home in the north of Scotland and traveled south to Dalmellington to stay with his mother’s cousins when he was very young.

Several years and several colorful campaigns later, including the granting of an earldom from King Alexander, Hugh had been given a small stronghold.

He had taken the stronghold, renamed it Torridon Castle from his home in the Highlands, and built it into one of the most powerful fortresses in Scotland.

With the title, Earl of Ayr, came the usual privileges, and Hugh in his prime was courted by the father of every eligible woman in Scotland.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that Hugh was distinguishingly handsome and had a tongue from whence flowed words of honeyed wine.

Women seemed to swoon at the sight of him.

Eventually, he was courted by the king himself on behalf of the king’s niece, Afton.

Hugh hadn’t been too keen on the match until he saw the lady.

One look was all it took.

Hugh and Afton had a love match from the start and their first child came less than a year later, a son named James. Their happiness only seemed to take on an increased dimension when, the following year, Afton gave birth to a daughter, Josephine, and two years later, a daughter named Justine.

But with Justine’s birth, something went terribly wrong.

After the midwife delivered the lusty infant, Afton began to hemorrhage.

Within minutes, she was gone, leaving Hugh with three very small children and a grief that ate at his very soul.

He never recovered from his lovely Afton’s death, and he never married again.

Instead, he preferred to lavish attention on his children, especially Josephine, for she was a mirror image of her mother.

Whereas James was a strapping and handsome blond and Justine a dark-haired beauty, Josephine had a beauty so uncommon that it brought a sigh of joy from any man who was fortunate enough to lay eyes on her. She was perfection.

Hugh took comfort in his daughter and in his children in general.

Life, for the most part, was good. When James de Carron had reached sixteen years of age, he was betrothed to young Marie Dalmellington.

It was a very desirable contract, for the Dalmellingtons were very wealthy, as were the de Carrons, and it promised to strengthen an already strong family bond.

Fortunately, James and Marie liked each other very much, and the contract looked as if it had created a love match.

But it was not to be. That very reason was why Josephine was standing in her bailey, looking at the destruction and agonizing over the cause behind it.

Two years after James and Marie’s betrothal, James de Carron drowned trying to save a young peasant from the river that flowed near Torridon Castle.

Hugh had been devastated, as had been Josephine and Justine.

They felt his loss to the core of their existence, but to Hugh it was much more.

He had lost his male heir and feared for the continuation of the de Carron line.

His only choice, though he loathed the very thought, was to take another wife and produce another son.

Young Marie Dalmellington had taken the news of James’ death with no outward emotion.

After accepting the news from her Uncle Colin, who was the head of the House of Dalmellington, she quietly excused herself to her room.

Once inside the chamber, she went immediately to her great cedar chest and withdrew the bejeweled dirk her grandmother had given her.

Without as much as a prayer, she plunged the blade deep into her chest, and was dead before she hit the ground.

In that action, Marie cemented a permanent rift between the Dalmellingtons and the de Carrons, for Colin openly blamed the de Carrons for her death and set out to destroy his cousin.

There was blood on his mind, as bloody as the dirk in Marie Dalmellington’s chest.

But he was too late. Hugh de Carron, on the road to Edinburgh to see the king and discuss the death of his heir, was attacked and murdered by common bandits.

He, one of his knights, and three men-at-arms succumbed to the group of outlaws that swarmed upon them like vermin on a dog.

Hugh had fought valiantly, but even his strength and experience wasn’t enough against their sheer number.

In an instant, he was gone.

Now in command of Torridon, Josephine dealt with the deaths of her brother and father in her own way; silently and stoically for the benefit of her subjects.

But as time passed, she realized she must take the reins of power decisively so that none would question who truly ruled Torridon.

Her father had worked exceedingly hard for this magnificent fortress, and she felt his spirit filling her with courage.

She’d been born with the will of ten head-strong men, and with the intelligence to accomplish most anything she set out to do, and she was determined to carry on in her father’s stead.

She firmly believed that he would’ve wanted it that way, and she swore that none other than a de Carron would rule Torridon while there was breath left in her body.

If nothing else, she was foolishly determined. But she had to start somewhere.

Summoning her courage, she’d had Sully teach her the finer arts of swordplay and fighting.

At her initial request, the man had been speechless.

Sully Montgomery was her father’s closest friend as well as the captain of his guard.

He was also a soldier to the core; the only women he had ever seen fight were more man than most men, not refined ladies like Josephine de Carron.

But when he opened his mouth to refuse, he caught a look of such resolve in her eye that he promptly shut it.

If his lady wanted to learn to fight, then so be it.

Josephine spent the next few weeks intensely training with Sully and the other knights; from sunup to sundown.

Sully had never seen anyone work harder and struggle against difficult odds.

When she was knocked down, she would bounce back up again.

And when she was hit, she wouldn’t shy away.

Josephine knew she had to be strong, especially in the eyes of her father’s men, because she needed their respect not just as their lady, but as a warrior.

She got it.

Sully and the other knights’ opinion of Josephine de Carron doubled and they looked at her with new eyes in those weeks of training, and swore new loyalty to her.

Only Hugh de Carron’s offspring could fight with such raw courage and awakening tactical intelligence.

It was a good thing, too, because, soon enough, the trouble started to come.

The first Dalmellington attack came five weeks after the death of Hugh de Carron.

Colin Dalmellington decided that two females running Torridon made it ripe for the picking.

His arrogant mind decided that Torridon Castle should rightfully be his through his dead niece and her departed betrothed, the heir to Torridon.

Colin’s mind became twisted with his only niece’s death, and he vented his rage on Torridon.

But what he didn’t count on was the unity between Hugh de Carron’s daughter and the knights of the castle, and the fierce determination they possessed to defend what was theirs.

He withdrew the first time, but he kept coming back again and again, like an evil plague.

And they were back, again, on this day.