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Alphonse simply stared at him, too stunned to speak.

My brother is The Red Fury ? He’d never even heard that, not in the nineteen years that his brother had been gone from Haldane.

Once Andrew had run, he never heard from the man again.

He hadn’t kept track of him, uncaring what happened to his younger brother.

All he cared about was the fact that his brother was gone for good.

Since he’d not heard from his brother in so long, he had assumed the man was dead. God, how wrong he’d been.

It seemed as if the joke was on him.

Suddenly, he burst out laughing, as if he’d just heard something incredibly funny. Still laughing, he sheathed his sword.

“ My brother is The Red Fury?” he said. “That is the most astonishing thing I have ever heard of. I do not believe it!”

Alexander wasn’t sure the man’s laughter was that of real humor. There was something innately disturbing about it. “It is true,” he said. “You were not aware?”

“I was not. By God, I was not.”

Alexander watched the man as he seemed to relax a great deal, still chuckling over the news. “Then you know what I say is truth should you harm the lady,” he said. “Treat her well, Blackbank, or you shall have to answer to a great many people.”

With that, the king went back to his seat and back to his meal.

He was finished dealing with arrogant lords.

But Alphonse didn’t follow him; he’d eaten his fill, anyway, and he’d had far too much to drink.

What he needed now was a woman, but it was clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his betrothed.

She had too many people concerned for her and, until he could remove her from Edinburgh, he wasn’t going to make a move against her.

Not much of a move, anyway.

Still laughing about his brother, Alphonse’s thoughts turned towards his bed and the women he intended to put in it this night. Too much food and wine always fed his libido, and that libido was voracious at the moment.

Leaving the great hall, the hunter went in search of prey.

*

That night after the feast, Andrew had still not made an appearance, and Josephine went to bed with a heavy heart, only to be awakened by wailing in the night.

Mournful, shrill wailing that sent shivers up her spine as she sat bolt upright in her bed.

The silver moonlight splashed against the coverlet and the wall, and she was spooked into believing she was hearing a ghost.

The wailing sounded again and Madelaine, who was sleeping near her this night, rose from her pallet in the alcove, amazingly level-headed as she went for the door.

“Where are you going?” Josephine demanded.

“To see who is ailing so,” her maid informed her. “I shall return.”

Madelaine threw open the door only to find Ridge de Reyne planted firmly in the arch.

“Close it!” he boomed, and Madelaine complied fast as a wink.

By this time, Josephine was out of bed and snatched a wine-colored bed robe from the bottom of her bed. Something was going on and she was going to find out what. Jerking open the door, she jabbed a finger at Ridge before he could snap at her.

“You will not order me, de Reyne!” she told him sharply. “Find out what the matter is and ask if we can lend assistance.”

“My lady…” he began firmly.

She cut him off. “Go, you big ox!” she pushed at him. “We can protect ourselves for the moment!”

He glared at her. “I am not leaving you.”

But Josephine would not be deterred. “I told you to go,” she said again, as she made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Find out what is happening!”

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Ridge marched off down the hall, muttering to himself on how very badly Lady Josephine needed a good spanking.

He’d done it once; he was about to do it again if the woman didn’t hold her tongue.

But he dutifully went to see where the screaming was coming from, even though he had a good idea.

It wasn’t something he was looking forward to discovering.

Josephine, with Madelaine behind her, stood in the doorway as he headed into the darkness, watching and listening. They could hear distant moaning and shrieking, and wondered curiously what was going on.

Several long minutes passed and the wailing subsided. The torches in the hall flickered softly, with shadows dancing on the walls and across Ridge as he returned.

“Well?” Josephine demanded.

Ridge did not look pleased. “The sound is coming from the Earl of Annan and Blackbank’s rooms,” he said. “But the doors have yet to open. I do not know what has happened.”

Suddenly, two female servants came running down the hall as if the devil himself were chasing them. Ridge put out a large hand and caught one of them like a fish on a hook.

“Halt!” he ordered. “Where are you going? Why are you running?”

The caught woman stopped struggling long enough to recognize Ridge. “My lord!’ she cried. “Oh… it is terrible! Simply terrible!”

“What?” Ridge snapped.

Both women were crying. “The English earl,” the woman sobbed. “He killed a girl!”

“How do you know?” he asked, less sternly.

“A servant girl.” The women were clinging to each other, talking in unison. “He took a maid to his bed. He was so… so demanding that he killed her!”

Josephine’s face went white as a sheet as she looked to Ridge, who was still looking at the servants grimly.

The women continued, breaking into tears.

“He was too large for her and tore her asunder!” one of the women said as the other one wept.

“She bled to death in front of him, while he ate mutton and watched! It was she who was wailing!”

“Oh, my God,” Josephine whispered, reeling back into her rooms.

Ridge glanced at her, seeing her reaction to the news, before turning back to the hysterical women. “Go and hide yourselves,” he instructed quietly. “Come out for no one. Tell them I told you to do it. Tell any other women you see to do the same. They must all hide from Blackbank.”

The women nodded and fled into the night. Madelaine went with them to help them round up all of the female servants that they could. This night was not safe for any of them.

Ridge entered Josephine’s room, bolting the door behind him. Josephine stood across the room with her back to him, gripping her arms tightly. He went to her quietly.

“My lady…” he began softly.

“Get me out of here,” she hissed, breaking down in tears. “I do not care about the king or my standing. I do not care anymore! I will not marry that beast! Help me, de Reyne, please !”

He grasped her gently. God’s Bones, he wanted to help her, but he was desperately torn between duty and doing what was right. “I cannot,” he muttered. “You know that.”

She exploded. “Damn you, De Reyne!” she yanked herself from his grasp. “You heard what happened. And by God, you have seen what the man is capable of doing to me in the presence of others. Think of what he will do to me in private!”

Ridge didn’t want to think about it because the more he did, the more his resolve to his duty began to crumble. “He was drunk tonight, and angry,” he said, trying to make excuses when he knew it was futile. “It is possible that…”

She cut him off, grasping at him. “Please, Ridge, help me,” she gasped. “If you will not do it, then find Andrew. He will know what to do.”

It was almost too much for him to bear. Truth be told, he blamed himself for bringing her here in the first place. This was all his fault, he knew; his and his weakling king. But he swore an oath to the king, an oath that bound him to the king’s wishes over all.

Tears spilled onto Josephine’s cheeks and Ridge swore softly.

It came down to this: he was an honorable man and his king intended to do a dishonorable thing.

Alexander might as well drive his sword through her right now, for he would have just as much responsibility in her eventual death by this English earl.

As Andrew had said, this marriage was her death sentence.

Now, he knew for certain that it was the truth.

He could not let her go to her death. It simply wasn’t right.

Ridge couldn’t free her himself, but he was not going to prevent someone who wanted to. He had too much honor to knowingly let a terrible thing happen. Grasping Josephine’s face in his two big hands, he forced her to look at him.

“Stay here,” he instructed firmly. “I shall return.”

She sniffled and looked at him. “What… what are you going to do?”

He dropped his hands and rushed to the door. “Trust me, my lady. Please. I will not fail you.”

“Fail me?” she repeated, puzzled. “But…”

The door slammed in her face. She stared at it a moment before going back to her bed, but not before she clasped her bejeweled dirk to her chest. If anybody entered her room, save Ridge or Andrew himself, she would be ready.

*

Ridge pounded heavily on Sully’s door. It was a matter of seconds before the door flew open and Nicholas stood firmly in the arch.

“Oh, de Reyne, ’tis only ye,” he said as he turned away.

Ridge entered the room, his eyes searching out for the earl. The room was dimly lit, smelling of strange herbs. He saw Nicholas, and Donald, and finally Sully as he sat on a chair next to the bed where his wife lay. But the moment Sully saw Ridge, he jumped from the chair.

“How is Lady Josephine?” he demanded.

“Terrified, as she should be,” Ridge replied. “My lord, where is Sir Andrew?”

Sully was guarded. “I do not know.”

Ridge sighed. There was no time for games. “My lord, time grows short. You must tell me where d’Vant is.”

Sully cocked an eyebrow. “Why? So you can bring him to the king to be executed? I think not.”

Ridge was growing impatient. “If you want to save Lady Josephine’s life, then you shall tell me. Only d’Vant can help her.”

Sully tensed. “What in the hell is going on? Where’s Josephine?”