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J osephine sat at the king’s table in the great hall of the castle, but she was too distressed to eat.

God help her, this was the worst thing she’d ever faced.

When the king would turn in her direction, she would dutifully put small pieces of bread in her mouth and struggle to chew it.

The king sat on her right, watching her with great interest as he sipped his wine.

She was well aware that she was being watched and was vastly uncomfortable at his attention.

In fact, she was vastly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

It was horrible and disorienting. The noise in the hall was deafening because there were easily five hundred people in the hall; all eating, belching, laughing, and farting.

Josephine was a little overwhelmed by all of the commotion and that contributed to her lack of appetite.

But more than that, she simply didn’t want to be there. She felt like a prized mare on display.

Nicholas sat on Josephine’s left throughout the evening and he could see that, clearly, something was very wrong.

She wasn’t the same happy, sweet person he’d met at Torridon.

She was sad and quiet. So, he spoke to her gently throughout the meal and tried to make her laugh with small jokes.

She would smile weakly but rarely more than that as he tried very hard to cheer her. Sadly, it was a losing battle.

As Nicholas tried to entertain Josephine, there was another important player at the table who had only been introduced.

Marie de Coucy, wife of Alexander, sat to the right of her husband, a darkly handsome woman with a weathered look about her.

She and the king had been married for fifteen years and she had provided him with an heir.

Even so, there were a half-dozen royal bastards running about, which deeply humiliated the woman of royal blood.

But Marie was a realist. She had long ago resigned herself to endure her husband’s liaisons with quiet ignorance.

She had too much dignity and pride to acknowledge her husband’s many indiscretions, even when the results were paraded in front of her.

She wasn’t entirely holy, though. She was as cold as stone and possessed what some had characterized as an evil streak.

Whispers in the castle said Marie was worse than her husband ever was.

Josephine hoped she wouldn’t ever have to find that out for herself.

She had been introduced to her at the beginning of the meal, but the woman had barely acknowledged her.

In fact, Josephine was acutely aware of the queen’s cutting glances as the meal went on.

Josephine was afraid of very little but, for some reason, this woman frightened her.

There was something in her eyes that suggested something dark beneath.

Down on the floor below the dais, Ridge sat at the table for senior soldiers and officers, watching the dynamics happening at the king’s table.

He had cleaned up since his arrival to Edinburgh, clean-shaven and in fine clothing now.

But he watched Josephine as she brooded over her supper and saw Nicholas’ attempts to engage her.

Since the moment she’d been taken away from him in the castle yard, he found himself increasingly concerned with her fate.

Then at the same time, he was disturbed that he seemed to personally concern himself with it.

He wasn’t in love with her, even if he did find her extremely attractive, but he sensed that she was a rare woman.

It was hard for him to describe, even to himself, how he felt.

The closest he could come was a brotherly sense of protectiveness.

But sometimes, those were the most fierce.

As he sat there and mulled over Lady Josephine’s situation, the music started loudly and a group of acrobats flooded forward, putting themselves on the empty floor between the dais and the rest of the diners.

They flipped, juggled, and gyrated, but Ridge wasn’t watching them.

He was looking at Josephine as she noticed him and was now looking back at him.

He thought he could see the condemnation in her eyes.

Ridge watched as she tore her eyes away from him and glanced at the king, who was totally enthralled with some half-nude female dancers.

As the man was so distracted, she turned to Nicholas and whispered something to him, and they both rose and quietly slipped from the table and discreetly left the room.

Ridge stood, took a deep gulp of wine, and followed.

Unaware that Ridge was trailing them, Nicholas and Josephine left the noise and lights of the feast and wandered out into evening.

Across from the hall, tucked up against a rise in the natural rock, was a garden of sorts with a reservoir and organized plants.

The night was surprisingly mild and the smell of greenery floated on the air as they strolled among the darkened area with growth and the reservoir.

Nicholas glanced at Josephine, hoping her mood was lightening somewhat.

“Do ye have a garden at Torridon?” he asked.

Josephine shook her head regretfully. “Nay,” she said. “Once, my mother had the beginnings of one, but it died when she did because no one took care of it. I have never had the time or the inclination to start another.”

“But ye had time to paint,” Nicholas said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I am still very much interested in seeing more of yer work. It is something ye should continue, Josephine, truly. Such talent is rare.”

She shrugged modestly. “Mayhap, one day, I shall,” she said. “Considering the state of my future, continuing a hobby seems so far away. Foolish, even.”

They found a stone bench next to the reservoir, which turned out to be more of a pond with fish in it, and sat underneath the nearly full moon. Strains of music and laughter floated through the air and could be heard in the distance as they sat in silence.

Off to their left, leaves rustled and crunched.

It was clear that someone was approaching.

Nicholas rose in alarm, clutching at the dirk at his side, and Josephine stood, her face full of concern.

As the noises came closer, Nicholas visibly tensed and Josephine looked about her to see what would make a good weapon.

But Ridge pushed through the bushes, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the look on Nicholas’ face, and Nicholas exhaled sharply.

“Good Christ, Ridge,” he exclaimed softly. “Ye nearly gave me fits!”

Ridge fought off a smile. “Good eve,” he greeted casually, then nodded at Nicholas’ waistband. “Were you planning to use that?”

Nicholas sheathed the dirk. “If I had to,” he said. “What brings ye out into the gardens?”

Ridge shrugged, looking up into the diamond sky. “I longed for peace away from the screaming and twitching of the great hall,” he said. “All of those people writhing about on the floor look as if they are experiencing a bad batch of ale.”

Josephine laughed softly as she sat down on the bench again. Ridge watched her appreciatively.

“If I may be so bold, my lady, you look as lovely as the flowers that surround you,” he said.

Nicholas rolled his eyes as Josephine nodded graciously. He knew Ridge well and had never heard him utter such ridiculous prose. In fact, he and Ridge were friends and he liked the man a great deal. But the poetry from his mouth was nonsense.

“Sweet words do not suit ye, Ridge,” he said.

“Shut your lips, Nicholas,” Josephine snapped good-naturedly, then looked at the soldier. “You speak them as if they were born to you. Ignore Nicholas.”

“I always do,” Ridge said dryly, eyeing Nicholas. “Yet in spite of my efforts, he never completely goes away. So, I am forced to associate with him and call him friend.”

“The same is said for ye, de Reyne,” Nicholas said, sitting back down next to Josephine. “Now, why are ye here?”

But Josephine was just coming to realize the two knew, and liked, one another. “I did not know you were friends,” she said. “Nicholas, you spent all of your time with Donald whilst at Torridon. I never saw Ridge with you at all.”

Nicholas lifted his shoulders. “Because he is my uncle’s bodyguard,” he said. “When we travel, Ridge never leaves his side, not even for a moment.”

She looked at Ridge. “Yet you leave his side now?”

Ridge nodded. “There are others in the hall who protect the king,” he said. “He does not need me at the moment. Besides, when I saw the two of you leave the hall, I had to come follow. You should not be left unchaperoned with Lady Josephine, Nicholas. She is spoken for.”

Josephine’s smile vanished and Nicholas shot Ridge a nasty look. It was a very blunt statement that had displeased them both and reminded them of why Josephine was really here. Here to face a horrific beast of a betrothed. When Ridge realized he’d been insensitive, the jesting ceased.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to sound so callous.”

“He cannot help himself, Josephine,” Nicholas put in. “He is a cad.”

Ridge nodded readily. “I am, indeed.”

Josephine looked at him with sad eyes. “I would believe that,” she said. “But even so, I do not sense ill from you. I never have. Somewhere beneath that knightly exterior, I would imagine you are a man of morals and character.”

Nicholas nodded before Ridge could respond. “He is,” he said. “And my uncle torments him for it.”

Josephine looked at Ridge with concern. “Is this true?”

Ridge looked uncomfortable, asked a question he did not want to answer. But out of politeness, he was forced to come up with some manner of response.

“I serve the king,” he said simply. “He is not obligated to treat me any way other than how he wishes to.”