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S ully 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 will 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.