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S ully balked at the idea of Josephine riding out in the dead of night to meet incoming riders.

No amount of pleading seemed to deter her as she pulled on her heavy leather boots over her woolen hose and heavy black woolen tunic with the de Carron insignia sewn onto it.

He might as well have been speaking in tongues for all of the response he got out of her, for she acted as if she didn’t hear him.

He followed her across the room and finally fell silent as she pulled her hair to the nape of her neck and secured it into a tight bun.

With Sully pacing nervously beside her, Josephine took her helm from its stand and plopped it on her head.

Her helm was different from the knights.

It was a basic style, cutting down over the ears and running higher along the base of the skull to allow for her hair.

Chainmail hung from the ears and around the neck and extended to her shoulders.

There was a hook in front where she could secure the mail to completely protect her neck, but she rarely did.

Extending from the top of the domed helm was a four-inch spike, designed to ram victims if all else failed.

Josephine rushed from her chamber, securing her sword and dirk as she went, and tied on her heavy black woolen cloak. Sully followed, hoping against all hope that she would change her mind. But given the fact that she wouldn’t even look at him, he didn’t think that was much of a possibility now.

“Fortify the wall after I leave,” she instructed Sully as they exited the keep and headed into the bailey. “Andrew is riding with me, so you will command his men until we return.”

“What of his second, Thane?” Sully asked. “What is his role?”

“He is at your disposal,” she said. “I’m taking Etienne, Albert, Burl, Severn, Henly, and John with me, plus forty men-at-arms. Andrew is bringing thirty of his men since he has more to spare. It will be a big escort party, Sully. You have nothing to fear.”

Sully doubted that seriously. A soldier brought up her beloved war horse and Josephine’s attention turned to the beast. She paused a moment, stroking the hugely-muscled neck and tickling the silky nose.

Calibas snorted in recognition of her scent and voice, shaking his gigantic head that was at least as long as Josephine’s entire torso.

With a slap to his chest, she pulled herself nimbly onto the broad back.

The darkness of the night dimmed the silver coat of the horse, but it could not blot out the glorious color entirely.

He wasn’t white, nor was he gray, but the luxurious silver that came in between.

His thick mane had streaks of black in it, as did the tail.

Calibas was twelve years old, and had been Hugh’s horse for all but two of those years.

Josephine had taken the horse after her father died, working with the animal that everyone considered meaner than Satan himself.

After much hard work and coaxing, the horse finally seemed to take to her, much to the surprise of the other knights.

Being an excellent horsewoman, Josephine controlled the huge beast with soft-spoken commands and leg pressure, as well as any man twice her size. In battle, the two fought as one.

Josephine gathered Calibas’ reins and, immediately, the horse began a nervous dance, excited to be on the move. Keeping a tight rein, she looked about her for Andrew and his men, but had yet to see them.

“Where is Andrew?” she asked to no one in particular.

“Outside the gates, my lady,” one of the soldiers told her. “He awaits you.”

It was the answer she’d been looking for. “I shall return shortly,” she called to Sully from atop the prancing beast. “Bolt the gates when I leave!”

Sully nodded as she and over forty men pounded across the inner bailey and headed for the gatehouse. He frowned to himself as she disappeared from view, deeply unhappy that she was possibly putting herself in danger.

But arguing with her would do no good. It never had. In a huff, he turned around to go about his duty but almost plowed into Justine instead. She stood behind him in her nightshift. It was a thin woolen gown. Her straight brown hair hung loose to her waist. Her blue eyes looked curiously at Sully.

“I heard the commotion,” she said. “Where is my sister going?”

“Incoming riders,” he said in a hard voice. “She is riding to meet them.”

Justine’s eyebrows drew together. “Who is it?”

Sully shrugged. “They are flying green and yellow,” he said. “Most likely the Kennedys.”

“Oh.” She looked beyond him, out to the outer bailey. “And she is going alone?”

Sully pursed his lips irritably. “She is not,” he said. “D’Vant is going with her.”

Justine simply stood there and nodded her head, still looking towards the outer bailey, but that’s not where Sully was looking at all.

He noticed that Justine was starting to shiver and her hard nipples were rising through the fabric.

The slight breeze caught the gown, gently caressing it against her body and lifting tendrils of her hair.

He’d never really looked at her like that before– like a man looks at a woman– but given their intertwined destinies, he supposed he had a right to look at her like that now. As a woman.

As a wife.

And he had to admit that her hard nipples were rather tantalizing.

But before he burst forth with a demand that she retreat back into the castle, he found himself evaluating the rest of her.

With her hair loose, and her cheeks slightly colored from the chill, she was rather pretty.

Quite pretty, actually. At closer scrutiny, he noted that her eyes were a darker shade of blue; like a warm summer sky.

In this light, she looked a bit like her sister. Nearly every bit as lovely.

But the fact remained that she needed to go inside before any of these soldiers also enjoyed the fact that her nipples were poking through her shift. He cleared his throat.

“Inside, my lady,” he ordered quietly. “It is too cold out here for you.”

But Justine put up her hand. “Wait,” she said, some concern in her tone. “Shouldn’t my sister be…”

Sully cut her off by grasping her by the shoulders and spinning her in the direction of the door. “Do not argue, Lady Justine.” He gave her a shove, perhaps a little harder than he should have.

But Justine wouldn’t be pushed around. “I am not arguing,” she said. “I am simply concerned for Josephine. Stop pushing!”

He put a hand to the small of her back firmly. “One more word, my lady, and you go over my shoulder.”

She jumped away from him and stomped her foot. “Stop shoving me, Sully,” she said angrily. “You are an ill-mannered clod and if you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll…”

She didn’t quite finish her threat and he crossed his big arms expectantly “You’ll what ?”

Justine scowled at him, forgetting her concern for her sister and focusing on Sully’s taunting face. A handsome taunting face. Truth be told, she couldn’t think of a threat serious enough. Her scowl turned into a smug expression.

“I’ll turn my sister loose on you and then you’ll be sorry!” she finished.

Sully feigned fear. “Say it is not so!”

Justine didn’t appreciate his humor. It was then he realized she had been serious. Uttering a small cry, she flew at him in a white blur. He dodged her easily, squatting down in the process so that she fell conveniently across his left shoulder like a sack of flour with the force of her momentum.

With his bundle screeching in outrage, Sully carried her into the keep and up to her chamber, waiting until she was in the room before depositing her onto her bed. But Justine wasn’t finished with him; she glared at him furiously, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Get out before I take a sword to you,” she growled.

Instead of arguing, he bowed gallantly and turned for the door.

He liked her much better when she wasn’t pretending to be a witch.

She had spirit like her sister and she wasn’t willing to surrender easily.

Perhaps this marriage wouldn’t be so much hell after all.

It might actually be rather fun. With his thoughts lingering on the coming marriage, he turned for the chamber door but paused before leaving.

“May I ask a question, my lady?” he requested.

She looked at him, her angry expression having turned into a pout. “What is it?”

Sully tried not to grin at her expression. “What are you planning to wear for our wedding tomorrow?”

The question took Justine by surprise and the petulant expression faded. “I… I do not know,” she said. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

It was a lie. Ever since she’d agreed to the marriage, her wedding gown was all she had thought about.

She didn’t know why she lied; maybe it was because she didn’t want Sully to think she was looking forward to the union.

But when he simply nodded and opened the door, preparing to leave, she stopped him.

“What would you have me wear?” she asked, somewhat eagerly.

Sully looked at her a long moment, then Justine swore she caught a glimpse of color in his cheeks.

“Don’t brides usually wear pink as a symbol of purity?” he asked.

“Yes,” Justine said hesitantly. “But I do not own anything pink. Will blue do?

“Blue?” he repeated thoughtfully.

She nodded as she took a step towards him. “It is the most delicate shade of light blue,” she said. “Of course, if you hate blue, I can always wear black.”

“Nay!” Sully put up his hand as if to stave off the mere thought. When he saw her rather startled expression, he forced a smile. “Blue would be most acceptable, Justine. I am sure you will look beautiful in it.”

I am sure you will look beautiful . Justine’s heart began to race. Was it possible he actually thought she might be beautiful? Her Sully, the man she had dreamed of for so long?

“Then I shall wear it if it pleases you,” she said, fighting off a rather giddy smile.