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I t was well after midnight when Josephine retired to her room.

Justine almost had to help her up the stairs, but ever-independent Josephine would not allow it.

Her thirty pounds of chainmail felt like one hundred pounds as she reached her heavy oak door.

She pushed it open as she bid her sister a good night.

Inside, the comfortable room was lit and warmed by a blazing fire in the hearth.

Her maid, Ola, had already filled the large iron tub with steaming water, and she could smell her precious rose oil emitting from it.

It filled her senses and with the implication of great relaxation and cleanliness away from the horrors of the day, she couldn’t wait to get her clothes off.

Ola came in through the door, her arms laden with linens. She was surprised to see her mistress in the room.

“Oh!” the plump little maid cried. “My lady, let me help you!”

Josephine was too tired to even utter a word as Ola dropped the linens and began to strip her mistress of every scrap of clothing. The chainmail landed in the corner with a loud clank, followed by the tunic, undertunic, and breeches. Finally, Ola helped her weary mistress into the huge tub.

It was a routine they went through quite often, a bathing ritual that Josephine relished. But as she allowed the hot water and precious oils to steam away the sorrow and weariness, there was envy in the heart of the little maid. There always had been.

Ola had been with her mistress a very long time.

As she oiled and scrubbed the woman, she found herself wishing for her mistress’ perfect body.

Josephine wasn’t tall, only of average height, but she possessed a shape that would make God himself lustful.

Her slim neck gave way to soft, white shoulders and well-shaped arms. Her breasts were round, full, and perfect.

A taut torso blossomed into shapely hips and a deliciously rounded bottom. Oh, how Ola envied her mistress!

But it was a quiet envy, something she’d always kept to herself, as one does when one admires something unattainable. Finally, when every inch of Josephine’s body was scrubbed clean, Ola gathered her things and vacated the chamber.

Oblivious to her maid’s envious thoughts, Josephine lay back in the tub, her eyes closed.

For the first time in over a day, she was alone, with no sounds of battle or anguish filling her ears.

It was quiet and peaceful. But, God’s Toes, she ached to the marrow in her bones.

Even her aches had aches. But the warm water soothed her tired body and made her incredibly sleepy.

So before she fell asleep, she carefully pulled herself out.

Ola had left a large piece of drying linen warming by the fire, and Josephine quickly dried off.

Over on the bed lay her white lamb’s wool robe, and she pulled that on.

The robe was soft and sensual with the way it clung to her feminine curves as she went back over to the fire to dry her hair.

Laying crosswise in a sling-back leather chair, with her neck resting on the armrest and her damp hair cascading down to the floor in front of the warm fire, Josephine meant to dry her hair that way.

But she was asleep before she took two breaths, unable to hold off the exhaustion that was clutching at her.

And this was how Sully found her.

He had come up to tell her of the progress on the damaged section of wall and found her door slightly ajar.

Upon entering, he could see the back of the chair and the hair spilling over one side.

Rounding the chair, he was hit with the vision of the peacefully sleeping Josephine, her lips moistly parted in slumber.

With stolen minutes, he watched her sleep and allowed himself the luxury of exploring his feelings for her.

He simply couldn’t help it.

Sully had loved Josephine for as long as he could remember.

Even if she hadn’t been the earl’s daughter and had simply been a peasant girl, he would have loved her.

There was something about her that had always drawn him to her.

But now, it was a difficult situation. He knew her feelings were not the same for him, simply because she considered him her very best friend.

She’d told him so many times. It had been Sully who had always protected her, Sully who had comforted her when her favorite horse died, and Sully who lied to Hugh on Josephine’s behalf when she snuck out of Torridon disguised as a boy to attend the faire in the village.

He had been with her through the good and the bad, and that only made him love her more.

But there had been dark times in that one-sided love affair.

Josephine had almost been betrothed two years prior to the fat, old Earl of Kilbrennan, but it was Sully who saw through the old bastard’s facade and convinced Hugh that the earl would have treated Josephine less than desirably.

There had always been rumors, but it was Sully who had done some digging.

He had discovered that Kilbrennan had a deviant sexual streak.

The earl used to like to watch his now-dead wife and daughters as they engaged in sexual acts with more than one man at a time, and sometimes with objects of the earl’s choosing.

It had been a disgusting discovery and Hugh had been exceedingly grateful to Sully for that information. Josephine had never known about it, of course. But yet again, Sully had saved her from a horrible fate.

He was always there for her.

Josephine stirred in her sleep, disrupting him from his thoughts, and a portion of the robe fell away, revealing one shapely leg and a portion of the other as they hung over the side of the chair.

Sully was only human. He would have liked nothing better than to run his hands up the silken limbs, but he knew he couldn’t.

His main duty in his life was to protect Josephine, especially from himself.

There was something in him that wanted to nurture and pamper her.

Even take care of her. Like now, he knew she would sleep much better on a bed and not a chair, so with infinite tenderness, he picked her up and carried her over to her bed.

Gently laying her down, he pulled the coverlet over her, and Josephine snuggled down in her sleep and sighed contentedly.

Sully smiled at the sight, wishing with all of his heart that he could have crawled into the bed next to her.

But he couldn’t. She was an heiress, and he was not of her station. Josephine was as she always was– unattainable.

Quitting the chamber, Sully shut the door quietly behind him, leaving his mistress her well-deserved sleep.

*

The next morning

Josephine sat at the head of the massive oval table in what used to be her father’s chair.

The chamber was the Knight’s Haven, a long, rectangular room that was located off of the great hall where Hugh would meet with his knights.

Now, it was the place where Josephine met with the very same men, men that had become her knights.

The room was rich with the heritage of Torridon Castle.

The de Carron banner of two black serpents facing each other against a field of white hung high above the head of the table.

It smelled of smoke, of rushes, and of the special aromatic wood her father had liked to burn in the hearth.

Josephine always felt closest to her father here, and today that feeling was especially important.

She prayed that Hugh would understand what she was about to say.

She’d come to a decision.

It wasn’t an easy decision, but a necessary one. She’d been mulling it over for months. But after yesterday, she knew she had to do something. She could no longer sit back and watch the Dalmellingtons destroy her beloved home.

Dressed in a rich surcote of emerald silk over a white underdress, Josephine’s beauty hid the power of her distress.

The dress hung low on her shoulders, revealing their tempting lines and a hint of cleavage.

A gold linked belt hung low on her hips, and her thick hair was pulled back loosely at the nape of her neck and was secured with a golden ribbon.

It was a beautiful picture, deceiving to the men who were now entering the chamber.

There was something on the wind.

The knights entered the room in a group, taking their usual places about the table.

Josephine sat straight in her chair, waiting until all were seated before she spoke.

But first, she glanced at the faces of her most loyal knights– Sully, Burl, Albert, Henly, Simon, Rickard, and Bruce; sitting on her right.

Etienne, Severn, Geoffrey, Stephen, John, Quig, and Christoph were to her left.

There were fourteen of them, a rather large number, but the Earl of Ayr’s estate demanded such skilled protection.

Hugh had made sure his lines were well-fortified with expensive knights.

It was something that he could afford. Each one of the knights looked at Josephine with unquestioning loyalty, which made what she was about to say more difficult.

But the time had come.

“My faithful friends,” she began. “I realize the hour is early and you have your duties to attend to, but thank you for coming at my summons. I wanted to say that you were all magnificent yesterday in the latest Dalmellington attack, and you have my undying gratitude. But the damage we sustained yesterday was beyond anything we have seen up to this moment and the task of rebuilding is sorely stretching our resources and our subjects. I fear that it will only get worse.”

Josephine paused a moment, watching their reactions. Everyone seemed to agree. Folding her hands, she collected her thoughts and continued.