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Without so much as a pause, the music began again, as lively and melodic as before. People began to turn back to their conversations and the dancing resumed. Slowly, Sully removed his hand from Josephine’s mouth.

“Are you calm?” he asked.

Her mouth was twitching. “Aye.”

He still had her about the waist, pulled close against him. Just inches below his mouth was the tender nape of her neck and her creamy white shoulders. The temptation was almost overwhelming, but Sully forced himself not to think about it. Still, he didn’t let her go.

“Can I trust you not to run after those men if I release you?” he asked.

Josephine pulled herself irritably from his grasp. “Of course, Sully,” she snapped. Then she caught sight of Donald Muir being attended by Christoph. “Donald! What happened to him?”

Sully’s eyes followed her as she ran to Donald and fussed over the man. The lad had gone down quickly in the fight, he noted with a bitter chuckle. He was a good swordsman, but not much with his bare knuckles. Josephine had fared better in the fight than young Muir had. God’s Bones, she was feisty.

Sully rather liked that.

But Sully was forgotten, as was the feast, as Josephine helped Donald to his feet.

She had greater concerns on her hands now than a foolish sister and a lascivious soldier.

With her guest of honor injured, she felt terrible about the entire event and escorted him to a guest room to recuperate.

She suspected that his nose was broken with the pain he was experiencing.

Donald tried to joke about it, but she could see the blue circles forming underneath his eyes already.

Deeply concerned for her friend, Josephine left the chamber to seek the old physic, Dewey.

The old man who had been at Torridon long before the House of de Carron took charge of the castle was in his room at the top of the east tower of the keep.

It was a dark and eerie tower, smelling of strange odors, and most people avoided going into the tower altogether.

But not Josephine; she knocked loudly on Dewey’s door and entered hesitantly, peering into the room as the ancient oak door squeaked open.

As children, she and James and Justine had been absolutely terrified of coming up here, and they used to threaten each other with the prospect of it often.

It was a cold, dank, and weakly-lit room; even on the brightest of days.

Josephine called Dewey’s name softly and slowly entered into the forbidden chamber.

It was a large room littered with tables, and the tables were heaped with paraphernalia she did not recognize.

Among Dewey’s many talents, he also practiced the ancient art of alchemy.

She gingerly examined the contents of the nearest table, noticing the foul odor emitting from it.

Disdainfully, she backed away and called Dewey’s name again just as the old man appeared out of the darkness behind her. When he put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped with fright.

“Oh!” She put her hand to her chest. “You startled me. Dewey, Master Muir has been injured and requires your attention.”

“Of course, my lady,” he smiled his ancient crooked grin at her. “Let me get my medicaments.”

Josephine waited while he retrieved his enormous woven basket laden with potions, herbs, and mysterious salves.

With a swish of his cloak, he preceded her out of the room and she followed eagerly, glad to be out of his private abode.

Glancing over her shoulder as she descended the stairs, she could swear unseen eyes were watching her from the walls of the old tower.

Dewey’s tower had that effect on everyone.

Shaking off her uneasy feeling, she continued quickly down the steps, following the tiny physic all the way to Donald’s chamber.

As it turned out, the young man did, indeed, have a broken nose, according to Dewey, who tended the young man as best he could.

Josephine stood by, helping the old man if he needed it, all the while feeling a building rage towards her sister.

Justine and her ridiculousness had caused all of this, after all, and the more she watched Donald wince, the angrier she became.

By the time Dewey was finished with him, Josephine had worked up a righteous fury. As far as she was concerned, this would be the last time Justine behaved so poorly. This time, Donald was injured but, next time, there was no telling what the consequences would be.

Josephine made a decision that there were to be consequences, no more idiocy, even if she had to throw her sister in the vault to prove it.

This night, Justine’s foolishness was at an end.

*

When Josephine returned to her chamber after helping tend Donald, Sully was waiting for her in the corridor outside of her room. But she swept past him without so much as a glance on her way to Justine’s room, next to hers. Sully watched her breeze by, then followed her.

He had a feeling what was coming.

Reaching Justine’s door, Josephine pounded on it loudly.

Her sister screamed for her to go away, but Josephine ignored the command completely and burst into the chamber, seeking out Justine.

She spied her huddled up in a ball in a chair by the fireplace.

Justine’s eyes were red-rimmed as she looked at her sister in surprise.

Josephine’s anger was unchecked. She intended for Justine to feel the full force of her wrath. Marching up to the chair, she put her balled fists on her slim hips and glared down at her sister.

“Well?” she demanded. “Are you satisfied with the havoc you have wrought? Who needs Dalmellington when we have you around to destroy us from the inside?”

“Cease,” Justine propelled herself from the chair, trying to get away from her angry sister. “I will not hear your insults. Leave me alone and attend your guests!”

“I have!” Josephine fired back. “Because of your willful stubbornness, Donald Muir is now abed with a broken nose and we are less five men-at-arms. Justine, why did you not listen to me? I was not speaking just to hear my own voice, you know. I happened to know what I was talking about.”

Justine glared frightfully at her sister and, for a moment, Sully again feared that they would come to blows. But Justine, showing a ray of intelligence, turned away from her sister and stared into the fire.

“Leave me, Joey,” she said dully. “I have no wish to listen to your words tonight.”

“Is that all you have to say to me? That you do not wish to listen to my words?”

Justine was starting to tear up again. “What would you have me say?” she asked. “That you were correct? That I should have listened? That I am sorry for what happened to Donald? Of course I did not plan that. I am more sorry than you know.”

“Are you? Enough to listen to me the next time I tell you something for your own good?”

Justine sighed heavily and looked away; there was such defeat in her features.

As Josephine looked at her sister’s expression, she began to calm down.

She could see that Justine was repentant and she was coming to suspect that there was nothing she could say that Justine didn’t already know.

Perhaps, the humiliation of the evening was enough of a lesson for one night. God’s Bones, she could only hope so.

Therefore, she was coming to think it was best if she simply left. As she reached for the door she paused, her gaze moving to her sister’s profile.

“Justine,” she said hesitantly. “I only want the best for you. I do not try to make your life miserable. You are my sister and I love you. No matter what… please always remember that.”

Justine turned to her and, for a brief moment, Josephine caught a glimpse of a normal, rational woman who would someday make a fine wife. That woman was there, buried deep inside Justine’s complex persona. Josephine hoped that she would come out someday, sooner rather than later.

“I love you, too,” Justine whispered.

In silence, Josephine quit the chamber with Sully on her heels. He escorted her back to her chamber and poured her a cup of mulled wine, thinking that she probably needed it. Josephine accepted it absently, her mind still on her sister.

As she went to sit by the hearth, Sully poured a cup for himself, watching his mistress’ face as she sat.

He knew she was taxed with Justine adding to her already insurmountable burdens.

It was a large load for one so young to handle, but she was strong.

And she had to continue being strong until a permanent solution was found to the Dalmellington problem.

As of tonight, Sully hoped he had the answer.

This was the moment of privacy he’d been hoping for.

“My lady,” he said quietly. “I sent out four messengers today; one in each direction. They are instructed to find The Red Fury and deliver the message that five thousand marks await him and his army if they will defend Torridon Castle against the Dalmellington onslaught. The Red Fury is usually encamped this time of year near Dumfries, so we may get lucky. He may get our message quickly and respond.”

Josephine pondered that information for a moment. “I thought you said it would cost me ten thousand marks,” she said, staring into the flames of her hearth.

Sully shrugged lightly. “I left room for negotiation.”

She tore her eyes away from the fire and looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. “But what if it is not enough?” she asked. “What if he will not come?”

He puckered his lips in a silent whistle and went to stand by her chair. “Five thousand marks is still a great deal of money,” he said. “It will be enough to get his attention. I believe it will be enough to garner his attention.”

Josephine looked at him with uncertainty, but so wanting to believe him. Sully was always right, wasn’t he?

“Oh, Sully,” she looked into his ice-blue eyes as she lifted her cup to him. “May you always be right.”

Sully found himself lost in her eyes, her lips, and her hair.

The dress, in a sitting position, strained against her breasts.

Common sense screamed at him to get the hell out of the room before he did something they would both regret.

Swiftly, he turned away from her and deposited his cup on the table as he hastened for the door.

“Sully!”

Josephine called to him and he froze with his hand on the door latch. Josephine set her goblet down and rose from her chair. In the next second, she was standing next to him and he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“Thank you,” she whispered sincerely. “Thank you for taking such good care of Justine and me. I shudder to think what would have become of us had you not been here.”

Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Sully was plunged into a tumultuous abyss; he had no idea how to respond. She was warm, soft, and fragrant, and the only thing between their bare bodies was a silk dress and his linen tunic and leather doublet.

This was where he’d always wanted to be.

Still, he wrestled with keeping his arms to himself.

He was afraid of what would happen if he let himself go.

Yet he knew she was expecting some sort of response and his arms came up, hesitantly, and wrapped themselves around her waist. He squeezed her quickly before releasing her, moving away so that she was forced to release him, also.

God in heaven, he had to get out of there!

“Sleep well, my lady.” It was the only reply he could manage.

Sully left her without another word. Outside in the corridor, he rushed to the stairs and descended them two at a time. His cheeks were hot, his heart pounding in his ears, and he just had to get the hell out of the keep.

In the great hall, the feast was still going on, as it most likely would all night.

Sully could hear faint strains of the flute as he strolled out into the night on his way to the knight’s quarters.

He found himself wondering which one of the whores would fill his bed tonight.

They were women who warmed the beds of the knights and who gave them a particular peace in a world that didn’t have much.

There were seven of them and Etienne had named each one after the seven deadly sins– Gluttony, Lust, Greed, Pride, Sorrow, Wrath, Vanity, and Sloth.

He was feeling particularly lustful tonight.