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J osephine slept late the next morning, waking a little before midday. It was unusual for her to sleep past sunrise, but she was desperately tired and needed the rest.

Ola had the tub filled with steaming rose-scented water. The little servant moving about the chamber had finally awoken her. Josephine laid on her side, watching her maid as she brought linens and soap, and laid out a rich, deep-blue surcote with white panels in the skirt.

The little maid seemed to be in more of a hurry than usual, running back and forth like a scampering mouse. When she finally ceased, she faced her mistress expectantly.

“My lady, the king demands an audience as soon as you are ready,” she said hurriedly. “Will you not rise now?”

Josephine sat straight up. “Why did you not awaken me sooner?” she demanded, throwing off the bed covers and yanking her night tunic over her head. “How long ago did he ask for me?”

“Not long, my lady. But Sir Andrew told me to let you sleep.”

Josephine’s agitated movements slowed and she peered at the woman. “He did?”

“Aye, my lady.”

Josephine wasn’t sure what to say to that; had he assumed too much? Or was he just being kind? But she couldn’t think too much about it because the king was waiting to conduct his business with her. She was eager to discover, finally, why the man had really come to Torridon. She had to hurry.

The bath was brief but invigorating. Ola scrubbed quickly and dried her so roughly that Josephine was certain the woman had removed skin.

But there was a sense of urgency in the air and the little maid could feel it.

Very shortly, Josephine was clad in the blue gown with soft slippers on her feet, and her hair was pulled to the nape of her neck and gathered in a gold net as fine as a spider web.

Her neck glittered with a gold and sapphire necklace her father had given her.

When she felt presentable enough to face her king, Josephine exited the room swiftly and headed for the great hall. It was nearly noon, and she assumed everyone would be gathered there.

As she rushed, her stomach was twisting with anxiety.

Before the day was through, she would know her fate and the thought of that knowledge scared her.

It was the not knowing that was the worst. Once she reached the outskirts of the great hall, she took a deep breath for courage and said a quick prayer.

God help her with what was about to happen.

Truth be told, she was a little terrified.

The hall was crowded with people eating a meal of bread, cheese, and cold meats at midday.

Donald Muir sat with the king on the dais, deep in conversation, and Josephine was almost surprised to see him.

She had nearly forgotten he was still at Torridon, keeping to his room as he was because of his swollen face.

Nicholas de Londres, the king’s nephew, sat on the other side of his uncle, and his eyes immediately riveted to Josephine as she entered the hall.

She had not seen him at the feast last night, for he had been in charge of overseeing the king’s caravan, but now that she could see him better in the light, she noted he was a very handsome young man.

He was Donald’s age, perhaps having seen a little more than twenty summers, with a beautiful head of red-gold hair.

He had big, blue eyes, slightly droopy, but very comely.

He smiled as she approached and it was a handsome smile.

But conspicuously absent were Justine, Sully, and Andrew.

Josephine was hoping to find them in the great hall and was rather disappointed to realize they were not present.

She couldn’t go look for them because she had already been sighted by Nicholas, so it would not do for her to suddenly turn around and run off.

Nay, she would have to face the king now. She’d come this far.

Reaching the head table, she bowed deeply to the king. He immediately pulled away from Donald and cast appreciative eyes on the vision in front of him.

“Ah, Lady Josephine,” he said. “It is, indeed, a pleasure to see you again. Will you join me for the meal?”

She smiled. “Your majesty is very kind. Thank you.”

The king shoved his nephew down a seat to make room for Josephine. She accepted the chair graciously, informing a nearby steward to bring in the meal and to send for Sully and Andrew. As the man scurried off to do her bidding, she looked around the table.

Nicholas was smiling pleasantly at her and she smiled in return. All the while, however, she was keeping an eye out for Sully and Andrew. She spied Burl and Severn several feet away and she motioned to them when they looked at her. They came quickly, saluting smartly to her and the king.

She leaned close to Burl, whispering, “Where are Sir Andrew and Sir Sully?”

“At the knight’s training field, my lady,” he told her.

She tried not to eye the king but she cast her eyes in his direction, hoping Burl would catch on. “Find them,” she said. “Tell them I want them here, now.”

Her knights obeyed instantly. Feeling somewhat comforted now, she sat against the back of her chair as a servant brought her watered wine. As she took a sip, she could feel the king’s eyes on her. Bracing herself, she forced a smile and turned to him.

“You said we had business to discuss, my lord,” she said politely. “Shall we discuss it now?”

Alexander had been staring at her rather heavily, the slope of her torso and the shape of her face. When she posed the question, he had to pull himself away from thoughts and feelings that were, perhaps, more lustful than they should have been.

“Aye,” he said. “But after we eat. Right now, I can smell the lamb and am famished.”

So much for revealing the mysterious subject.

Josephine wasn’t even hungry as the meal was served.

Lamb, pigeon in plumb sauce, peas and onions, and pies with fruit were brought out to please the royal appetite.

In truth, the smells overwhelmed Josephine and she found that she could eat something as everyone began eating with gusto.

As she picked at her food, eating little bites, the conversation around the table grew loud and sometimes gregarious.

The king seemed determined to engage her and Donald in conversation, speaking on various barons, his favorite wine from France, and anything else that appeared to pop into his mind.

Nicholas joined in the conversation as well, telling stories about the summer he’d spent in France with a widowed old aunt who had a mustache and liked to gamble.

That brought laughter from both Josephine and Donald, and the conversation lightened. Alexander possessed a decent sense of humor, but even if he hadn’t, they would’ve laughed anyway. He also competed with his nephew for attention. If Nicholas told a story, Alexander had to tell a better one.

Also throughout the course of the meal, Josephine discovered that Nicholas was somewhat of a poet and spoke fondly of his love for it.

But Alexander couldn’t compete with him on that level.

Although he was extremely fond of the lad, it was clear that he had no tolerance for the poetry and reading the boy had put so much energy into.

Apparently, he believed his nephew’s time would be better spent in the warring pursuit.

Once the king was finished scolding his nephew for his scholarly pursuits, he turned his attention to Donald, who was quite advanced in his warfare training.

As Donald and the king discussed tactics, Josephine looked over at Nicholas as he picked at his turnips.

He looked like his feelings were hurt by the king’s criticism and she felt a twinge of pity for him.

“I’d like to hear your poetry sometime,” she said quietly.

He looked up at her in mild surprise. “Would ye?” he said. “I… I would be honored, my lady.”

She smiled. “What do you like to write about?”

He looked a little embarrassed. “I write about many things,” he said. “Things that inspire me or touch me in some way. It could be a lake, or a bird, or a meadow, or a beautiful lady.”

His voice trailed off and his embarrassment seemed to grow. Josephine fought off a smile at the young man who was evidently a dreamer. “You will have to read your prose to me before you leave,” she said. “I would enjoy it very much.”

Her kind words soothed his embarrassment. “I would truly be honored. Thank ye.”

Andrew and Sully picked that moment to enter the room. Josephine looked to Andrew and, immediately, their eyes locked. He came directly to her. Taking her hand over the table, he kissed it gently and her heart leapt wildly from his touch.

“My lady,” Andrew greeted her fondly, then he glanced down at Nicholas sitting beside her. He growled. “Move, boy.”

Nicholas looked completely surprised, but jumped up and moved to the next chair. He was not about to argue with The Red Fury, especially in territorial matters of a woman. Josephine, however, was mortified. She put out a hand.

“Wait,” she said, looking to Sir Nicholas. “Return to your seat.”

Nicholas was too fearful to obey her. “I am happy to give my seat over to Sir Andrew,” he said. “Truly, it is my pleasure.”

He grabbed his wine and took a healthy drink, looking away and pretending to be interested in other parts of the hall. But Josephine knew it was because he was frightened of Andrew and she turned her scowling face to the mercenary.

“You had no cause to address him in that manner,” she said quietly. “You will apologize to Nicholas.”’

Andrew looked as if he were actually mulling over her demand, but the truth was that he was rather offended. Still, he would not show it, not in front of the king. To show a rift would be inviting a wedge, and he wouldn’t do that. They had to present a united front, in all cases.

Therefore, he did what most normal males would have done when faced with an angry lady– he swallowed his rather large pride and bowed politely to Nicholas.