Page 229
Story: Knights, Knaves, and Kilts
H ad King Alexander not found Josephine de Carron so utterly lovely, he might have been truly annoyed at her tardiness. Instead, he poured her a cup of wine himself and indicated for her sit next to him at the massive table where the de Carron knights would meet.
Josephine accepted his invitation graciously, already on her guard and so very grateful that her beloved awaited just beyond the door.
Although her heart was still fluttering with delight from her conversation with Andrew, she made a sincere effort to focus on the king.
After all, he wanted to speak with her about something evidently serious.
She needed her focus.
“Now, Lady Josephine,” the king said as he sat back comfortably in her father’s chair, the chair that Josephine usually sat in.
“The time has come to reveal the purpose of my visit. I know that you are unmarried, and I had not heard of your sister’s marriage until my arrival.
The latter revelation has disturbed my plans somewhat, but not entirely. ”
Josephine was somewhat disgusted to realize that, indeed, she had been right when she’d guessed the purpose of the king’s visit. Marriage! But she sat silently, with no indication of what was going on in her mind.
Failing to draw a reaction from her, Alexander sat forward and put a clamping hand on her arm.
“I see now that you are a most valuable asset,” he said. “I cannot believe that rumors of your beauty had not reached me. The men around here must be blind.”
Josephine sat stone-faced through his monologue, watching him closely. Had he uttered the same words this morning, she would have hung on every word, but not now. Now she knew what her future held and whatever happened, she had the love of The Red Fury. He would be her only husband.
Although the king had been told of the betrothal, it was clear he intended to ignore it.
He continued. “You see, my lady, I have been having a great deal of trouble with some of my Highland barons,” he said.
“They insist upon running their own clans and the surrounding country as if it were their own private country. They have no respect for their king and they fight my armies with a vengeance. It makes ruling Scotland rather difficult.”
Josephine knew all of this. King Alexander had been an ineffective ruler because the petty barons refused to acknowledge the rule of his family.
But it had been the same for King Alexander’s father.
Neither one of them had been successful.
Both had had a hard time gaining support, but being related to the man, she had to support him completely whether or not she wanted to.
“I am trying to seek support through other means,” Alexander was saying. “Since I cannot depend on my own countrymen, I am going outside the realm. Which is where you enter my plans.”
Josephine was still sitting ramrod straight in the chair, but her expression was no longer one of casual interest. She was looking at the king with open apprehension.
He had said nothing of Dalmellington, or of Torridon, or of Burnton Castle.
He was talking about an alliance outside the country and an ominous feeling filled her mind.
“Outside of Scotland?” she repeated. “I do not understand.”
The king smiled benevolently at her. “My lady, you have been pledged to an English earl who has sworn his allegiance to me,” he said. “He brings with him a three thousand man army. You will be a vital link between the throne of Scotland and the throne of England. Are you not pleased?”
So now, it came. This was the reason for the king’s midnight visit to Torridon. Josephine could only stare at him in shock; not only because he had pledged her to an English earl, but because Colin Dalmellington had no part in the purpose of the king’s visit.
“But… my lord, what of the Dalmellingtons?” she stammered. “I believed that you came to solve the feudal war between us.”
“Silly lass,” he chided. “Your feud is of no concern to me. It will eventually burn itself out. What concerns me is the state of my court, and your marriage to the earl will help me greatly.”
Josephine was reeling. He didn’t care for her or for Torridon, only his own bloody throne.
Everything she had done, everything she had forced on the others had been based on a wrong assumption.
But how could she have been so wrong? Now, because she jumped to a false conclusion, her sister was married to Sully.
He was Master of Torridon, and she was betrothed to the mercenary, The Red Fury.
The king was waiting for her gratitude but she was struggling with her composure.
“My lord,” she said as steadily as she could. “You are most generous. However, I am betrothed to Andrew d’Vant. We plan to wed soon.”
That statement brought about the king’s displeasure. “So I have been told,” he said. “Did your father do this?”
“Nay,” she said. “I did. He is a suitable match, and as Mistress of Torridon, it was my right to agree to such a proposal.”
The king was impatient. “I realize that,” he said. “But as Mistress of Torridon, an earl is a much better match than a mercenary leader.”
Josephine was struggling against a righteous panic.
She found it was difficult for her not to jump up and scream at him.
“But I am no longer the Mistress of Torridon or Lady Ayr, my lord,” Josephine countered.
“I gave it all over to my sister as a dowry when she married. She and her husband now rule the fortress. The papers were drawn up by my steward and signed by the priest. It is done.”
The king took another glance at Josephine, seeing her through different eyes. She was not an empty-headed wench, to be sure. She had a head on her shoulders. But he was angered by her seeming defiance of his wishes. Women and intelligence were an annoying combination. He was through humoring her.
“Your betrothal is dissolved,” he said flatly. “You will leave with me the day after tomorrow, and I personally shall deliver you to the Earl of Annan and Blackbank, to whom you shall be wed.”
Josephine knew that name; God help her, she’d heard it before.
From Andrew. She had to grip the arms of her chair to keep from falling out of it.
The king had not only destroyed her betrothal, but he had pledged her to Andrew’s mortal enemy, his brother, Alphonse.
Dear God, was this even possible? She wanted to shriek and curse and faint, all at the same time.
But the only sound that escaped her lips was a strangled gasp.
“The… the Earl of Annan and Blackbank?” she repeated, just to make sure she heard correctly.
Alexander nodded. “A very powerful border laird,” he said. “His father was English and his mother Scots. He has been a great supporter of mine and you will be a suitable reward.”
Josephine was having trouble breathing. There had been no mistake.
Of all the lords in England and Scotland, Alexander had to pick that one.
He has been a great supporter . Josephine had never even heard of the man until Andrew came along and the story she’d heard from him was enough to terrify the hell out of her.
She wanted no part of it.
“What… what is his name?” she asked hesitantly.
“I told you,” the king said with exasperation. “The Earl of Annan and Blackbank. The family name is d’Vant. In fact, is that not the same name as The Red Fury? Andrew d’Vant?”
Josephine knew she was pale. “Aye.”
“Are they related?”
“They are brothers.”
The king was surprised by the coincidence. “Is that so? I was not aware of this,” he said. “Alphonse d’Vant has been allied with me for a few years but he never mentioned his brother, not ever.”
Josephine swallowed, hard. “That is because they do not speak, my lord.”
The king gave a chuckle. “Then this is an awkward situation, taking the betrothed of one brother and giving her to the other.”
“Please, my lord, if I can only…” she began.
The king cut her off, rather rudely. “There will be no discussion, Lady Josephine,” he said. “This is my wish and the subject is closed. Even if you do not marry one brother, you can marry the other. Now, will you join me for a ride?”
Riding with the man was the very last thing she wanted to do. It was a struggle not to tell him that.
“Nay,” she said, deliberately leaving out any form of formal address. “I… I must begin preparations if I am to leave in two days.”
He nodded. “Of course,” he said graciously. “Then you are dismissed.”
Josephine rose swiftly, rushing from the chamber on quaking legs. Spilling out into the hall, she failed to notice Andrew leaning against the wall until she was almost upon him. His smile faded when he saw the expression on her face.
“What did he say?” he demanded.
Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears. Then she rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck and wept pitifully. Andrew’s mind exploded with the possibilities facing them. But instead of pressing her, he swept her into his arms and carried her out of the hall.
Through the bailey they went, ignoring the looks of the men they happened to pass.
Into the keep they went and up the dark, stone stairs to the upper floors.
Josephine’s chamber was on the third level and Andrew kicked the door open, sweeping inside where he sent Ola away.
As the maid scattered, he sat Josephine gently down on a chair near the hearth and poured her a cup of wine.
He forced her to take a couple of sips to calm her crying.
“Now,” he said gently. “Tell me.”
“Oh, Andrew,” she gasped, teary-eyed and sobbing.
“I-It is so horrible that I cannot fully comprehend it. He had no intention of betrothing Justine or me to Colin. He only cares about his damnable throne and who he can persuade to support it. He doesn’t give a damn about me, or Justine, or Torridon, and the fact that the House of de Carron has always supported the throne. ”
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