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I t was morning on the day following Josephine’s abduction from Torridon and Ridge had stopped to let Josephine stretch her legs and relieve herself, dismounting to keep an eye on her while she disappeared into the brush on the side of the road.

“I will not follow so long as I can see the top of your head!” he called to her.

She shot him a cold look but complied. The last thing she wanted was him following her into the bushes to watch her piss.

The breeches she wore were leather but underneath them, she wore very thin cotton hose to protect her sensitive legs from the leather.

She wished fervently that she had one of her gowns on as she fumbled with the layers of clothing.

It occurred to her that she had absolutely no personal possessions with her– no comb, no soap, and no clothes. She wanted desperately to wash.

Josephine was calmer now about Torridon and its fate.

She had had ample time to resign herself to the fact that what was done was done and even if she could return now, it would not change anything.

But the ache of sadness was great in her heart and the fear of the unknown was greater.

Who was alive? Who was dead? Did Andrew realize what had befallen her?

She knew he would soon figure it out for himself and come for her.

There wasn’t much to do but wait and fight the king and the earl anyway she could.

God, she missed Andrew.

She secured her trousers and emerged from the bramble.

They were nearing Edinburgh and the hills were becoming softer as the foliage decreased.

She had been to Edinburgh only once as a child, and did not remember much of it.

But in realizing they were coming closer to a major city, her sense of unease had dramatically increased.

It was the unknown that she was most fearful of.

The unknown of a future with too many variables to count.

Ridge was adjusting the breastplate of his destrier as she walked up, brushing her hands off on her pants.

“If you were going to kidnap me, you could have at least had the foresight to raid my wardrobe first,” she said. “I do not have anything decent to wear.”

Ridge gave her side glance. “Forgive me, my lady,” he apologized to appease her. “I shall do better the next time.”

“You plan to make a habit out of abducting maidens?” she asked, as she leaned back against the massive brown animal. “It’s not a very dignified line of work for the king’s bodyguard. I should think you are better than that, de Reyne.”

She’d struck a nerve with him. Ridge didn’t like kidnapping her any better than she did. He was a man of principle, and he was serving a man who had none at all. As Ridge geared up for a reply, he wasn’t aware that she had been watching his face and she saw his change in expression.

She saw the darkness sweep him.

“Then why do you serve him?” she asked quietly.

He looked at her, with his hand gripping the harness. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you serve Alexander if you hate him so?”

Ridge released the leather and pretended to busy himself with the saddle. Josephine moved out of the way and stood by the horse’s head as the animal turned to sniff at her.

“I serve him because I have no choice,” he said. “I was gifted to the king. It is a prestigious position.”

It was only a half-truth and she knew it. He was trying to make his role sound better than it was. Ridge just didn’t strike her as one of the king’s spineless pigeons, but she didn’t press the issue further.

The destrier’s soft, whiskery lips tugged at her sleeve and she made soft clucking noises at it.

“What is your horse’s name?” she asked. “He is magnificent.”

“Cabal,” Ridge replied.

Josephine raised her eyebrows slightly. “You know something of Arthurian lore?”

Ridge shrugged and looked at her. “I know that Cabal was his dog and Excalibur was his sword,” he said. “My mother was from Devon. She raised us on stories of Arthur, Gawain, Lancelot, and Percival. Mayhap that is why I became a knight; to continue their noble deeds.”

“But those knights did not steal women,” Josephine said lightly, hoping he would take it in jest. She no longer wished to be cruel to him for carrying out his duty, but she was not about to let him forget the deed.

“They did a host of other things that were, mayhap, not entirely noble, but stealing women wasn’t one of them. ”

He looked thoughtful. “Lancelot stole Guinevere, in a sense,” he said. “But from what my mother says, the knights of the realm were holier than God Himself. They probably did not even possess ballocks.”

Josephine laughed as he realized the foul language he had used in her presence. She had learned long ago not to be upset by a soldier’s crude humor. Ridge laughed a little, too, when she did, noticing her straight, white teeth and curvy smile. She was very pretty.

“I have some watered wine if you are thirsty,” Ridge said as he unstrapped a leather pouch from his saddle.

Josephine accepted it and took a few sips. Ridge watched her for a moment before taking back the bladder.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I have some jerky if you would…”

“Nay,” she shook her head. “I am not hungry.”

“You have not eaten since yesterday. You probably should.”

She simply shook her head and turned away, clearly moody.

Ridge watched her, a tremendous sense of guilt filling him.

He felt very bad for Josephine and for what awaited her.

She seemed to be a decent girl and she did not deserve what fate the king had planned for her.

The more he thought on it, Ridge actually found himself feeling protective towards Josephine, but he very quickly dismissed the emotion.

It was not healthy or wise, and he was a man who obeyed orders above all else.

Feeling sympathy for Josephine could only lead him to harm.

He sobered after a moment and stepped away from Cabal, holding out the stirrup. “Shall we go?” he said. “It is not more than another hour’s ride.”

Josephine didn’t want to proceed, but there was no choice.

Truth be told, she felt she was going to her death.

Quite possibly, she was. But she proceeded to mount with a little help from him, and he pulled himself up on the horse behind her.

Poking Cabal with a spurred right boot, the horse broke into a bouncy trot and they continued up the road.

Somewhere during the morning, the clouds drifted away and a warm sun appeared.

In fact, it was remarkably warm, and Josephine began to sweat beneath her clothing.

She pulled at her tunic and scratched, blowing her hair from her face.

Ridge understood her discomfort because he was uncomfortable as well.

The weather was unseasonably warm. Edinburgh was just coming into view and the castle loomed high above to the north, so there was no point in stopping.

They had nearly arrived at their destination, so Ridge pushed through.

Josephine saw the castle before she even noticed the city, and her heart sank.

The reality of it came crashing down on her and she felt like a trapped animal.

As much as she wanted to fight Ridge again and make a run for it, she knew that she couldn’t.

There was nowhere for her to go that he wouldn’t catch her.

It was a heartbreaking realization.

Feeling exhausted and defeated, she turned away from the sight of the castle and the city, and tried to take her mind off of what was to come.

“How old are you, de Reyne?” she asked.

“I have seen thirty-four years, my lady,” he replied. “And you?”

“Nineteen years,” she muttered as visions of dark castles lingered in her mind. “Are you married?”

“Nay,” he replied with a chuckle. “I have no time for a wife, nor any desire.”

“That is what Andrew believed once,” she whispered.

He almost didn’t hear her, yet caught the painful tone she used. “D’Vant?” he asked.

“Aye.”

Ridge looked away, off towards the castle he knew so well. “I still find it hard to believe that The Red Fury has feelings for anyone other than himself,” he said. “The man has a reputation as the perfect soldier.”

She sighed. “He is much more than that,” she said. Then, she paused before speaking again. “You know that he will come after me.”

Ridge’s jaw hardened. That idea did not appeal to him, for he knew that he himself would end up fighting The Red Fury to keep him from Josephine. And much like her, there was no doubt in his mind that d’Vant was more than likely already on his tail.

“I know,” he said simply.

Josephine sensed resignation in that statement, as if there he held no enthusiasm for such a confrontation.

Ridge wasn’t foolish; he knew that Andrew was a spectacular fighter.

But more than that, she sensed no enthusiasm from him for this entire endeavor.

He’d abducted her because he’d been ordered to, but there seemed to be no glee for that task.

All along, she’d sensed only duty from the man and nothing more.

His heart wasn’t in it.

“Will you fight him?” she asked quietly.

“If I must.”

Josephine didn’t reply for a moment because an idea had come to her. She wondered if it would be something that would interest Ridge. “Will you listen to me?” she asked. “I have a proposal that could prevent all of this.”

He was rather wary of any proposal. “I am listening, my lady.”

Josephine shifted in the saddle to look at him.

“I am very wealthy, de Reyne,” she began.

“Should you return me to Torridon, I would see that you are well rewarded. I promised Andrew five thousand marks to defend Torridon from Colin Dalmellington. I shall double it for you. Then, you shall be free to either remain at Torridon or leave to pursue your own dreams. Ten thousand marks will buy you anything you wish in life.”

The proposal didn’t surprise him. In truth, it was rather attractive. But he could not accept it and still keep his honor.