Page 269

Two days later

J osephine couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.

It was this night she would meet her betrothed, as she could no longer put him off.

She’d managed to avoid the king, the earl, and most everyone else all day yesterday and most of the day today, her only visitors being Sully and Justine.

She didn’t even let Nicholas in, not even when he begged.

Andrew had been missing since the night he left her, and no one could seem to locate him, not even Sully when he made a sweep of the tavern where they had been staying and most of the taverns in the immediate area.

Andrew and his possessions were missing, and no one seemed to know where the man had gone.

Josephine tried not to panic over it. She knew that wherever he’d gone, he must have had a good reason for it, but Sully had no hope or advice to offer about it.

Andrew was gone and, as the hours passed, Josephine struggled against despair.

She needed him now, more than ever, but he evidently had something else in mind.

She would have to trust that the man would show himself at the right time.

So, she tried very hard not to think about it and soldier on.

But on the second day of Andrew’s absence, William Ward had made an appearance in the afternoon telling her that she was expected at the feast that evening to meet her betrothed and that the king would no longer accept any excuses.

Ward seemed rather angry as he delivered the message, but Josephine didn’t rise to it.

She simply eyed the man until he left in a huff. When he was gone, she rolled her eyes.

So, her womanly cycle excuse would no longer be tolerated.

She wondered if it was because Madelaine, or any one of the number of other servants, had noticed she was not actually on her cycle and reported back to the king.

Other than the discolored stain on the bed the night Andrew had bedded her, there had been no other evidence.

Therefore, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.

She had to attend the feast.

Another note had come from the earl himself, telling her to wear the white dress, but she would not comply. Although it was mended and hanging on a peg in her wardrobe, she made sure to tear it again. She wasn’t going to be forced into wearing the thing. Instead, she chose the black dress again.

As she’d told the king, black was for sadness. The message would be clear.

As dusk consumed the land and the great hall was already noisy with guests and fragrant with the smells of fine foods, William Ward came to escort her to the feast. When Madelaine opened the door, Ward was accompanied by six armed men.

Josephine had to laugh at that, inwardly of course; she wondered if the men were there because the king was expecting a fight.

But she gave them no fight. She willingly went with Ward down to the hall, only to be met by Alexander at the entry door.

The king greeted her politely but didn’t say anything about seeing the black dress again.

It seemed that he was being particularly kind, which was strange for the man.

But Josephine could tell he was eyeing the black dress.

Perhaps he didn’t say anything for fear of upsetting her and sending her right back up to her chambers.

He had her where he wanted her and he wasn’t going to upset the balance.

So he simply smiled, took her hand, and proceeded into the great hall.

When Josephine entered the hall on the king’s arm, all noise and movement stopped. Six hundred pairs of eyes devoured and admired the strikingly pale woman in black. Josephine was somewhat self-conscious as she was led to her seat on the dais, feeling the hot stares of the room on her back.

But it was nothing compared to the fear she felt when she was finally introduced to Alphonse d’Vant.

She was seated right next to him and found herself looking up at a mountain of a man; enormous, with a pockmarked face and black eyes.

He looked like everything hellish she’d ever heard about him.

Big hands, a big nose– everything about the man was big.

His gaze was fixed on her during their introduction.

His expression suggested that he wasn’t disappointed in what he saw.

When he spoke, however, his tone was anything but pleased.

“What happened to the white dress I sent to you?” he growled as she took her seat. “I told you to wear that.”

That was his greeting to her and Josephine’s palms began to sweat. God’s Toes, the man scared her. But she searched her soul and found courage; courage from Andrew, and she drew on it. She had to be brave, even if she didn’t feel it.

“Forgive me, my lord, but the dress was damaged,” she said. “There was no time to repair it before dinner, so I chose another dress that I hoped would please you.”

Alphonse studied her, his eyes glittering evilly. Josephine couldn’t tell whether or not he believed her and was relieved when a pretty maid bearing honeyed fruit distracted him. In that moment, she took the time to observe her surroundings.

Men she didn’t know were seated down the table from her, men who were looking at her rather interestedly.

She didn’t like their stares and almost turned away until she caught sight of Sully, Justine, Nicholas, and Donald, far down the table.

They were all seated together. When Josephine saw them, she nearly shouted with joy.

Her confidence returned with her friends and family sitting near her.

Friendly faces in a sea of unfamiliar, unwelcome men.

They gave her strength.

Her gaze fell on Sully as he smiled at her, and Josephine noticed the fine clothes he wore.

He was looking more and more like the Earl of Ayr.

That realization brought a stab of regret to her heart, but it quickly vanished.

Her father was dead, her brother was dead, and she could think of no better man to carry on the title.

Except for Andrew, of course. But he had his own path to follow that didn’t include Torridon, a path that she, too, would soon follow.

Now, Torridon belonged to Sully and Justine, and forever would.

But thoughts of Sully vanished when something heavy hit her trencher. Startled, Josephine turned to see that the earl had thrown a stringy piece of beef from his own trencher onto hers. Apparently, this was his idea of being chivalrous.

“Eat,” he commanded.

Though she had no appetite, Josephine took a bite. She’d already disobeyed him about the dress; she didn’t think he’d take kindly to her refusing to eat. As she chewed with some effort, the earl watched her intently.

Alphonse d’Vant, Earl of Annan and Blackbank, had been waiting for this moment.

He’d had quite a bit to drink that evening as he waited to meet his betrothed and was feeling his liquor.

With Lady Josephine in his sight, his mind wandered to the perverted and violent sexual acts he would perform with her.

God, she was gorgeous. He hadn’t expected such finery.

He couldn’t wait to watch while she masturbated with the phallic symbol he had specially made from pure gold.

It was big, like he was, and he loved to watch women as they struggled to bury it deep within their soft bodies.

Already, he had plans for his new bride. As he watched her choke down a couple of bites followed by great gulps of wine, he leaned in her direction and lowered his voice.

“Lady Josephine,” he growled. “Would you accompany me to my chambers this eve? We have much to… discuss.”

Josephine almost choked on the food in her mouth.

She hadn’t expected a proposition so soon and every instinct in her body told her to run.

The man’s foul breath and foul ambiance was enveloping her, embracing her like the grime of an unseen plague.

She could feel death about her, radiating from him.

But she couldn’t run; she knew she couldn’t.

With iron control, she managed to turn and look at him.

“Of course, my lord,” she replied evenly. “And I believe the king also wishes to discuss our arrangement. It would be ideal for all of us to meet in the privacy of your chambers.”

The earl was a bright man. He knew exactly what she was doing, calling in reinforcements so she wouldn’t have to be alone with him. But he was also an insensitive brute and could not possibly feel admiration for her bravery or her cleverness. He leaned his big head close to hers.

“I have no need for the king,” he whispered gruffly. “Unless the man wishes to help me inspect my latest acquisition.”

Josephine couldn’t help it; she visibly blanched. “I am a maiden, my lord. I shall remain so until my wedding.”

He laughed loudly, and she nearly jumped from her skin. “Liar!” he said.

Josephine flared in spite of her fear. “How dare you accuse me of untruth!” she fired back, even if he had been correct.

By this time, the dining hall had quieted considerably, watching the earl glare at his newly betrothed.

“Is that so?” he boomed. “Then we shall see!”

That was the end of Josephine’s bravery.

King or no king, Josephine shot out of her chair in an attempt to run, but no sooner did she move than the earl was on her, grabbing handfuls of hair and nearly her entire neck in one hand.

She gasped in pain, clutching at his wrist with one hand and trying to keep from stepping on her dress with the other.

Sully, witnessing the brutal move, jumped out of his chair.

His face was red and his veins throbbed violently in his temples– no one was going to treat Josephine like that, and to hell with the king.

He may be killed for his actions, but he wasn’t going alone.

That bastard earl was going to feel his sword if it was the last thing he ever did.