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L ater that night, Andrew sat inside his tent on the perimeter of Torridon, sipping a great goblet of red wine.

His thoughts were on his actions of the day, of the decisions made, and on Josephine’s effect on him. He had finally reached the point where he could admit to himself that he wanted her. Her beauty and the body that undoubtedly accompanied it roused him more than any woman ever had.

He propped his long legs on a stool and took another drink.

He and Thane had a long talk after he had informed his second-in-command of the impending marital plans.

At first, Thane had been shocked and had made several points as to why marrying the heiress of Torridon might not be such a good idea.

But the reasons were fairly weak and, eventually, he had laughed slyly and congratulated Andrew of his cunning in his betrothal to the Mistress of Torridon, and all of her wealth.

But after that, the conversation turned uncomfortable for Andrew. Thane said several things that greatly disturbed him. He spoke of bleeding Torridon, of acquiring the dowry and using it to increase the size and strength of the army. No wife was going to tie The Red Fury down!

Indeed, Andrew was planning to continue his lifestyle.

When he was sure Josephine and Torridon were safe from any more Dalmellington attacks, he would leave and continue with his army and his vocation.

Josephine, of course, would remain at Torridon, and he would visit when time permitted.

It would be a good arrangement, for neither of them had any interest in a marital relationship.

… did they?

But foremost was the question of why; why did he do it?

Why did he offer to marry Josephine de Carron to save her from marriage to her enemy?

Andrew had to laugh at himself because he really didn’t know why.

He was very attracted to her, more than he had been to any other woman.

And, of course, the fact that she was very wealthy didn’t hurt.

But that wasn’t his chief motivation. Then, there was Torridon, one of the largest fortresses in Scotland.

But strangely, that wasn’t a factor either.

So… what was the chief reason behind his offer?

Andrew had remembered his initial reaction when he saw Josephine in the grips of the gypsy man.

Joey . He had felt such a sense of protectiveness towards her that it had threatened to destroy his cover.

He wanted to rush forward and strangle the bastard with his bare hands for even touching her.

Andrew had been surprised at himself for so strong an emotion.

The only person in his life who had ever managed to provoke feelings of such power had been his mother.

Andrew came to the conclusion that, for the reason of his own sanity, he had to offer to marry Josephine rather than see Dalmellington abuse her.

He knew that if she did marry her enemy, he could not sleep at night wondering at her fate.

He couldn’t let Josephine suffer.

Therefore, it was a most noble sacrifice coming from a man who never thought of himself as being very noble. Perhaps by preventing Josephine’s imprisonment, he was somehow compensating for being unable to control his mother’s.

Odd that he would look at it that way.

Lost in thought, he was gradually aware of a commotion outside his tent and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. Straining his ears, he could hear snippets of a soldier’s voice and then an angry female voice.

He thought he recognized the female voice.

Andrew’s feet came off the stool and he rose on his powerful legs, but his sharp ears were still focused.

God’s Bones, it was Josephine. What in the hell was she doing in a mercenary camp?

With a frown, he took a step towards the door just in time to see Josephine propel herself in through the tent flap.

Her cheeks were flushed and her nostrils flared with exertion. She was still dressed in the same dress she had been wearing for the evening meal, rather thin of fabric, and with the evening’s chill, her erect nipples showed obviously through the material.

Surprised to see her, Andrew nonetheless looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and desire. His hand came away from his sword.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, my lady?” he asked pleasantly.

Josephine didn’t mince words. She’d had time to work up a righteous anger between the keep and Andrew’s encampment.

“I have been told that you have sought… comfort with my servants,” she said.

He looked amused. “And if I have?”

Her jaw fell open in shock. “Then you do not deny any of the rumors?”

He shrugged and laid his sword on the table. “I do not confirm them, either.”

“Do not play me with riddles, Andrew d’Vant,” she told him angrily. “Tell me if the rumors are true.”

He crossed his arms as he faced her. “Why is it so important that I admit that I slept with a maid?”

“Ah!” she crowed. “So you admit it? Allow me to inform you that I will not permit you to bed any more of Torridon’s female servants.”

“Why?” he asked, not at all concerned with her outrage. In fact, he found it rather amusing. “Would you prefer I bed the mistress?”

She scowled. “You’ll not lay a hand on me,” she seethed. “I’d just as soon bed a stable hand; it would bring me as much pleasure.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “We are to be married tomorrow,” he said. “Do you think you can keep your husband from your bed?”

She stood her ground, pointing a finger at him. “And may I remind you that this is a marriage only of convenience?” she said. “I intend to remain…”

He cut her off. “Remain what? A virgin?” His face and voice took on a hardness. “Josephine, we are to be married. Whether or not I deflower you is not the issue. Do you think that anyone decent would marry a divorced woman, providing the church and I grant you a divorce? Is that what you think?”

She was stunned into silence by his words.

She hadn’t thought of it that way. Aye, she was attracted to him, terribly so, but she realized that she didn’t want to marry a man who would look at the union as a business arrangement.

That’s never what she wanted. God, she didn’t know what she wanted now.

All she knew was that she didn’t want a man who would bed the servants as well as her. It was wrong; shockingly wrong.

She wanted a man who would remain true to her.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned from him while her mind mulled over his words. Then, wiping the tears before they rolled down her cheeks, she turned back around.

“Then there will be no wedding,” she said hoarsely.

“I will hold off the king and his men until I discover his true intentions. Andrew, you will choose two hundred of your best men and prepare them to ride at dawn. We will meet King Alexander on the road and, there, I shall discuss his intentions. While we are out, Sully will position the rest of the men in defensive positions in anticipation of our return and a massive attack by the king’s forces.

I will die and see Torridon in ruins before I marry you or Colin Dalmellington. ”

He fought off a smile. He knew she was angry, but he also knew she wasn’t serious.

Torridon meant too much to her. Still, there was something at the bottom of her fit that rather touched him.

Was it possible she was jealous he’d bedded the help?

Was it possible she wanted him all to herself, as a wife would?

He rather hoped that was the case.

“As you wish. I’ll get my money either way.” He reclaimed his wine goblet in a thoughtful move. “I wonder if Dalmellington can use my services after Torridon has been purged of the de Carron Clan.”

That was enough for Josephine. She flew at him in a rage, with her little fists. But Andrew caught her by the arms before she could do any damage, pinning them behind her and pulling against his warm, hard body. Josephine twisted and squirmed. But she eventually realized her resistance was futile.

He had her exactly where he wanted her.

“Let me go,” she growled.

“Nay.”

Furious, she looked up, realizing that he was bent over her and his face was an inch from her own, his breath warm on her forehead.

But his expression was not one of rage; there was something warm and seductive in his face.

In spite of her fury, Josephine found herself relaxing against him because he felt so good.

There was something about being held close to the man that made her heart leap wildly, the joy and comfort of a man of extraordinary strength.

She liked it.

“Now, Joey, my sweetling,” Andrew purred.

“Listen to me and listen well. There will be a wedding because I want you, and you want Torridon. Tomorrow, you will become my wife and by tomorrow night I will take you bodily. We will truly become man and wife. And if the king and Dalmellington still want Torridon, they will have to go through me to get it.”

His words made her heart race faster and she was spellbound by his eyes. She tried to respond but found she couldn’t. There was nothing she could say by way of argument or anything else. What he said was exactly what she wanted… wasn’t it?

As she watched, his face loomed closer and, suddenly, his lips were covering hers, softly and gently as if he had all the time in the world.

His stubble tickled her skin as his lips did marvelous things to her mouth.

Warm… soft… delicious…. his tongue opened her lips to lick the pink insides of her mouth and run itself along her straight, white teeth.

It was more than she could take. Josephine collapsed against him completely, totally oblivious to anything else but the delight of his kiss. He was holding her close, possessing her for the first time, truly making his mark on her. She could’ve cried with the sweetness of it.