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Above all else, Andrew was immediately struck by the soft femininity of the room.

Rushes carpeted the floor and two massive tapestries graced opposite walls.

Above the huge hearth hung a flowered piece of petit poi , an elaborate scene with animals and a banquet of colorfully-clad women.

As he approached the elaborately-carved bed, he saw that she had hung a massive bouquet of dried heather on the wall and it was gaily tied with colorful ribbon.

He smiled inwardly at the significance. In Scotland, that meant good luck.

As Andrew inspected the room curiously, there were eyes on him.

Sully rose stiffly from his kneeling position beside her bed, his eyes on the big mercenary.

He didn’t like the idea of the man in Josephine’s chamber but, more than that, he noted that Justine was without the little physic that everyone was searching for. He looked pointedly at the woman.

“Where is Dewey?” he asked.

Justine could hear the stress in his voice. “The castle is in an uproar searching for him,” she said. Then, she looked at Andrew. “Sir Andrew has sent for his own healer in the meantime.”

Sully’s gaze moved to Andrew. He didn’t want anyone but Dewey touching her, especially with her life hanging in the balance.

But he didn’t want to offend the mercenary; at least not now.

He had enough to worry about and he needed Andrew handling Torridon’s defenses while he was preoccupied with Josephine.

Still… he was grateful. Any healer was better than no healer. Therefore, he nodded curtly at Andrew.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Andrew’s gaze lingered on the man, noticing the nearly hostile manner in which Sully was regarding him.

Why? He wondered. Then, he looked down at Josephine; she was as white as the sheet she laid upon.

Her luscious hair was stuck to her clammy skin and, if her chest hadn’t risen every so often, one would have believed her to be dead.

The deep red dress in which she was clad made an even greater contrast against her white skin.

He felt a strange sense of sorrow as he looked at her.

Before he could speak, however, the chamber doorway was filled with Torridon knights. Quig, Severn, and Albert were breathing heavily as they stumbled into the chamber, their focus on Sully.

“My Lord,” red-haired Albert spoke, breathing as if he’d just run up several flights of steps. “We have sighted a Dalmellington scout party not far from here. There appears to be several men on horseback.”

Sully’s nostrils flared. “In the middle of the night?”

Albert shrugged. “It is possible they saw the approach of the mercenary army and followed,” he said. “You know they are never far from us. They have spies everywhere.”

That was very true, and Sully began to realize that he may have another serious problem on his hands.

“Damnation,” he hissed, passing Andrew as he made his way to his men.

“I want twenty-five men-at-arms saddled in the outer bailey in five minutes. We’ve got to stop those bastards before they return to Burnton Castle with what they have seen. ”

The knights were gone in a flash. Sully’s jaw muscles flexed as he turned to the bed where Josephine laid.

God in heaven, he couldn’t leave her now.

He didn’t want to chase down Dalmellington spies; he wanted to be here with Josephine.

But he had little choice. He had to be present when they engaged the Dalmellington spies.

His duty was to protect Torridon. Josephine would live or die whether or not he was at her side.

Much as Sully had studied Andrew when the man had first entered the chamber, now it was Andrew’s turn to study Sully and his reaction to a night patrol.

He saw the turmoil in the man’s eyes and that was his first clue that all may not be business-related when it came to Sully Montgomery and his lovely mistress.

“Would you prefer I go?” he asked.

Sully looked at him, sharply, as if suspicious of the question. Was it magnanimous? Or was he suggesting he could do the job better than Sully could?

“Nay,” Sully said. “I will go. I know their tricks and where they hide. You would not know this.”

Andrew simply nodded. “Then I shall remain here with your mistress,” he said. “I will not leave her.”

Sully looked at him a moment before giving a reluctant sigh. He did not have any choice; his duty called. But, God in heaven, he didn’t want to leave Josephine’s fate with a man he didn’t even know.

“Very well,” he agreed. “Stay with her. I shall return as soon as I can.”

Sully blew past Justine as if she were a ghost, and her eyes turned to follow him longingly as he left the room. She knew this was all her fault, and she knew that Sully blamed her. If any chance had ever existed to win Sully’s heart, she was positive that it was gone now.

She’d poisoned the woman he loved.

Justine had never felt such despair as she turned to look back at her sister.

In the process, her eyes fell on Andrew.

He was watching her like a hawk and, simply by his expression, she knew that he had discovered her secret.

Her love for Sully . Justine thought she might die from embarrassment from Andrew’s knowing gaze, but he turned away quickly and focused his attention on Josephine.

Justine was very relieved.

There were strange forces at work at Torridon; Andrew had quickly come to that conclusion.

Just in the past few minutes, he’d witnessed Sully’s longing expression for Josephine and Justine’s longing expression for Sully.

It all seemed rather foolish to him, but none of that mattered.

As long as they paid him what they promised him, he didn’t care what these people did.

He had a job to do.

Now, his focus was on Josephine. She hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d entered the chamber.

With Sully gone and the other two women in the room standing back in the shadows, he had his first opportunity to get a good look at the lovely Mistress of Torridon.

For a few stolen moments, he looked his fill of her.

If God could have asked Andrew his idea of a perfect woman, he would have described Josephine down to her ladylike ears.

Her face was absolutely perfect, and he felt an impulsive urge to run his fingers through the silken tresses and inhale their scent.

His eyes drifted to the creamy white swells that disappeared beneath the tight silk bodice.

Even lying on her back as she was, her breasts were pleasingly large.

Beyond the narrow waist, he could tell no more, but he somehow knew the rest of her was just as perfect.

He decided that should she survive this bout, he would not forgive her for hitting him.

He would, however, allow her to make it up to him.

People were entering her room now, distracting him from thoughts of Josephine. He turned to see Thane entering, his sword rattling against his side. Behind him, almost hidden within the folds of a huge gray cape, was a small figure. Andrew pointed swiftly to Josephine on the bed.

“She has been poisoned,” he said to the figure. “See what you can do for her.”

The shape moved quickly and knelt beside the bed, with the cape billowing to form a wide circle. A fragile white hand shot out from the cape and checked the breathing, the heart, and the eyes.

“How long since the poison has been ingested?” the voice said; it was tiny and fairy-like.

Andrew looked to Justine, who stepped from the shadows, her eyes wide. “About a half of an hour,” she said, concerned.

The figure pulled the hood from its head as it turned to Justine.

A tiny woman with a mass of wild white hair fixed her beady eyes on Justine, and the girl felt a bolt of something shoot through her.

Whether it was from the shock of seeing a dwarf or from the actual power emitting from this woman, she didn’t know.

But she was suddenly afraid and confused.

“What did you give her, darling?” the tiny woman asked gently.

Justine’s mouth popped open in surprise. How did she know? Then it dawned on her. The other man, the blond giant, had been present when Justine confessed to Andrew. He must have told her. Yet, even that knowledge did not erase the eerie feeling she had, like the tiny woman could read her mind.

“Poppy in straight wine, laced with hemlock,” Justine replied. “I only meant to help her sleep.”

The woman did not seem the least bit upset by the knowledge.

She calmly removed her gloves and cape as Justine watched with growing anxiety.

Why was she not doing something? She wondered.

Why is she being so calm? Justine glanced at Andrew anxiously, who also appeared to be calmly watching the woman as she settled herself down on the bed, all quite calmly moving about.

Justine could not believe her eyes. Where was the sense of urgency? Had they all gone mad?

“You did not give her hemlock,” the woman finally announced.

Justine’s eyes widened. “Of course I did!”

Andrew interrupted, his voice full of concern. “How do you know, Oletha?”

“Simple,” Oletha said as she stood up from the bed and moved to pull a small stool over to the bed. “If she were given even the slightest amount of hemlock, with her size, it would have killed her within minutes. Hemlock is an extremely fast-acting toxin.”

Andrew glanced at the pale woman on the bed. “Are you certain?”

Oletha nodded as she sat on the stool. “Of course,” she said. Then, she looked at Justine. “Now, we must determine exactly what you did give her. Can you show me what you used?”

Justine nodded unsteadily. She was overwhelmed at this revelation. Was she really so stupid and incompetent as to not know what hemlock was when she saw it? Dewey had it in a jar, clearly labeled. When she drew it forth, she believed it to be hemlock. She’d seen it a thousand times.

But if it wasn’t hemlock, what was it?