Page 192

She snickered bitterly at the thought.

*

It was towards mid-afternoon on the day after the battle, and repairs were in full swing under a bright blue sky and soft winds.

Seated in her solar and repairing a pair of her breeches that had been torn in a previous battle, Josephine heard a shout from the inner ward.

Visitors were arriving, and she set her things aside and quickly headed out to the keep entry where several servants were congregating.

“Who is here?” she demanded.

A young maid with bad teeth and hair bound up in a kerchief snapped her head in her mistress’ direction and curtsied quickly.

“Donald Muir, my lady,” she said.

Josephine looked in the direction of the entry door as if to see the inner ward beyond. “Excellent,” she said, pleasure in her expression. “Find Lady Justine. Inform her we have a guest. I want the great hall prepared for a grand feast this evening. Now, run!”

The servants scattered and Josephine went to stand in the entry.

Outside, in the inner bailey, the entourage of young Muir was just coming to a halt.

Josephine smiled at Donald, who caught sight of her immediately from atop his silver-gray destrier.

The wind caught her emerald silk surcote as she descended the stone steps, causing it to billow out behind her and revealing her pretty legs from the knees down.

Young Donald was pleased at the unexpected view of her legs but said nothing.

He dismounted with a smile on his face, chivalrously extending his hand.

Josephine placed her hand in his, and he flipped it over and brought the tender side of her wrist to his lips.

She smiled reproachfully at the devilish look on his face.

He was blond, tall, very handsome, and was two years older than she.

“Master Muir,” she said. “What brings you to my humble, if not slightly destroyed fortress?”

Donald removed his gauntlets and slapped the leather against an open palm.

“I would say Torridon is more than just slightly destroyed,” he said, passing a practiced eye over the ward.

“We received word of yer attack late yesterday. Father sent me with one hundred men-at-arms to see if we could be of assistance.”

She smiled gratefully. “How I wish you had come yesterday,” she said softly. “But the siege ended at dusk. Your father is very kind to have sent you but, as you can see, the storm has passed. But you will stay, of course, and feast with us tonight.”

“Of course,” he said agreeably. “Ye do not think I really came to fight, did ye? I only came to gaze on yer beauty.”

He was arrogant, and a flatterer, but a good friend and Josephine liked him a great deal.

Donald extended his arm and she took it, leading her off across the compound as his followers disbanded.

It was a well-known fact that the son of the neighboring lord was wildly in love with Josephine, but she considered him nothing more than a childhood friend.

Pity, too, for they made a handsome couple.

Sully entered the inner bailey from the stables in time to see Josephine and Donald stroll leisurely towards the opening into the outer bailey.

He could tell that Josephine was showing him the damage.

She was pointing to the destruction as Donald nodded his head.

An expression of impatience crossed Sully’s face; as much as he liked young Muir, he felt a distinct twinge of jealousy at the sight of the two of them arm-in-arm.

He knew Donald’s feelings for Josephine; everyone knew.

Although she showed him no interest, the lad wouldn’t give up.

Perhaps that’s what bothered Sully the most; the fact that Donald never seemed to understand Josephine’s position on the matter. He thought he still had a chance.

Foolish whelp .

Casually, Sully followed the pair just to make sure young Donald behaved himself.

*

Early in the evening, a sumptuous spread was served of roast venison, mutton, roasted pigeon in plum sauce, and waterfowl.

Whatever problems Torridon Castle may have had, food was not one of them.

With their own herds and gardens, they always had plentiful fare.

Fresh loaves of bread with butter and honey crowded the tables.

The enormous great hall was warm and brightly lit. The servants moved among the boisterous diners, making sure their cups were never empty of sweet Spanish wine. A quartet of minstrels, who were actually soldiers from Torridon’s ranks, played lively music from one corner of the room.

Even though the feast had already commenced, Josephine was just finishing dressing.

For this evening, she had selected a gown of red silk.

The gown hung dangerously low on her chest, greatly accentuating the swell of her luscious breasts.

The sleeves started midway down her upper arm and extended down to her tapered wrists.

A large, white collar encircled the top of the dress and the sleeves were intricately embroidered with golden thread.

The silk clung to every curve, flaring just below the hips and gracefully encircling her. Resting on her hips was a girdle of finely woven gold that came to a “V” right before her pubic mound. The dress was absolutely magnificent.

To finish the picture, Ola had pulled her great mane back, weaving it into a loose braid.

Upon her head, she wore a thinly- woven net of gold.

A layer of beeswax gave her lips a glossy glow.

As Josephine gazed at herself in her polished bronze mirror, she didn’t think she looked much like a woman who was killing men and wielding a broadsword only the day before.

She looked like a true lady, a countess in fact, who ruled a prosperous earldom.

But it was all a facade; the beautiful picture masked the weariness, the hopelessness that she felt.

The eyes that looked back at her couldn’t conceal the sorrow.

Perhaps an evening with her friend, Donald, would change that reflection.

She was hoping so, ready for some pleasantness after such terrible times.

Rising from the stool she’d been sitting on, she heard an audible gasp from Ola.

“Oh, my lady!” she breathed. “You look lovely!”

Josephine smiled, with a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

Ola opened it and in swept Justine. But this was no ordinary appearance by Torridon’s self-proclaimed white witch.

Josephine’s eyes bulged at the sight of her sister, and then she looked at Ola in disbelief.

Ola’s face was a mirror of her mistress’ distress.

Justine was dressed in a black silk dress that was so sheer, that one could see her skin right through it.

And she wore nothing underneath it. Some sort of strange silver girdle encircled her hips with odd occult markings on it.

Over her shoulders, she wore a long, silken black shawl.

Her long brown hair was pinned up in an elaborate style.

Josephine circled her sister in disbelief.

“I will not allow you to wear such a garment,” she finally said.

Justine stiffened. “I will wear what I please, my sister, with no instructions from you.”

“Then do as you please,” Josephine said angrily, “but only in your own boudoir. Not in the dining hall surrounded by oversexed soldiers!”

“I am not ashamed of my body,” Justine informed her with self-righteousness. “It is as pure as the heaven and the earth, and to gaze upon it will bring them good fortune. And, in fact, there is not one man down there that has not seen a woman’s body.”

“Oh, God’s Toes,” Josephine rolled her eyes in exasperation, letting a hand slap her thigh. “Ola, send Sully to me immediately.”

As Ola slipped out, Justine flamed. “Sully cannot tell me what to wear, either,” she declared. “Hear me, Sister. I am very powerful and you would be wise not to a-flame me.”

“Spare me the empty threats, Justine,” Josephine said, unimpressed.

“Your mind works in such mysterious ways that I cannot believe you and I sprang from the same loins. Just once– just one blessed time– I wish you would stop this pretending to be something you are not and assume your true position as chatelaine of Torridon. How on earth do you expect to find a husband if you continue acting like a brainless nymph?”

“Who wants a husband?” Justine seemed genuinely repulsed. “I must remain pure if my powers are to remain strong.”

Josephine scowled. “You will not remain a virgin if you continue to dress like that.”

Justine stepped into her sister’s face. “I am untouchable,” she said threateningly. “No man would dare touch me and risk provoking the powers of the universe.”

“Aye, Justine,” Josephine said as she put up a hand as if to push away her foolish sister. “You must be sure to remind them of that as they rip off your sheath and drive their manhood deep into your womb.”

Justine’s blue eyes flashed furiously and she opened her mouth to retort when the door opened and Sully calmly entered the room.

Josephine turned to him, her face wrought with exasperation; she didn’t need to tell him anything because he’d already heard some of it.

At Ola’s urgent message, he had raced from the dining hall in a matter of seconds and stood outside of Josephine’s door.

The only reason he chose this moment to enter was because he was afraid they had reached the hair-pulling stage.

That had happened before.

“My ladies require me?” he inquired casually.

“Sully,” Josephine said, pointing a finger at her sister. “See what she plans to wear at dinner. Tell her that it is most inappropriate.”