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The first thing the king did was push through the broken door, positive he was going to find a broken, dead woman on the floor of the chamber, but was vastly surprised to find Josephine relatively unharmed but for an angry red hand print on her left cheek. With great concern, Alexander went to her.

“Are you well?” he asked. “Did he harm you?”

Josephine was very relieved to see him. “He did not harm me, at least not intentionally,” she said. “But he gored Nicholas. Is he all right? Will he live?”

Alexander sighed heavily, great distress on his face. “He is dead,” he said. “There was nothing to be done for him.”

Josephine’s eyes filled with tears at the death of her sweet, gentle poet friend. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, the tears spilling over. “He did not even have a weapon. The earl burst through my door and stabbed Nicholas when he tried to protect me.”

Alexander’s features tensed and he turned to Alphonse, who was still in the doorway and unable to move forward because of so many armed men. As Josephine turned away and wept over her lost friend, Alexander went into a rage.

“You killed my nephew,” he cried, grabbing Alphonse by the arm and trying to force the drunken giant to face him. “I should kill you myself!”

Alphonse wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t rise to the threat. “What nephew?”

“The man you killed in this chamber tonight!”

Alphonse barely remembered Nicholas. “He threatened my life!” he boomed. “Am I not allowed to defend myself? He was also in my betrothed’s chambers, where he should not have been. I have a right to protect what belongs to me!”

Alexander was beyond enraged. But above that rage, the sage politician was able to think clearly.

He knew that imprisoning the earl would bring with it an abundance of trouble and, in truth, he didn’t need or want that kind of trouble.

Poor Nicholas deserved justice, but in the world of political dealings and political balance, Alexander wasn’t willing to make an enemy out of Blackbank.

Not even for Nicholas. But, God, this relationship was becoming more complicated, and more unsavory, by the minute.

He was starting to wonder if the alliance was worth the trouble.

“You will leave Edinburgh tonight,” Alexander snarled. “I want you out of my home. Go back to Haldane and be grateful that I do not seek revenge for what you have done to my nephew. But know this, the betrothal between you and my cousin is dissolved. I will not pledge her to such a fiend.”

That wasn’t something that Alphonse wanted to hear. A massive hand shot out, grabbing the king by the neck as his men surged forward and tried to separate them. All the while, Alphonse was snarling in Alexander’s face.

“She belongs to me ,” he said. “I will take her with me or I will destroy this castle with my army. You will have a battle on your hands if you do not give me what you promised me!”

Men were shouting and jostling around, and somewhere in the middle of it, Josephine suddenly appeared.

She had heard the king’s command and it occurred to her that if she did not go with Alphonse, not only could Andrew not challenge the man once he left Edinburgh, but there may very well be a huge amount of trouble here at Edinburgh with an enraged Earl of Annan and Blackbank and the somewhat large contingent of men he’d brought with him.

Men would die if there was fighting in the castle and Josephine wasn’t willing to chance that. She couldn’t see Donald or Sully or even Ridge or Andrew suffer because of her. She would have to trust Andrew to catch up to them as they traveled back to Haldane.

She knew the man would save her.

It was the only choice.

“Nay, my lord,” she said to Alexander as he struggled in the midst of a sea of men. “I will go with him. That was the promise and it is not worth men’s lives to break that promise. Nicholas has already paid the highest price. I would not see more men dead because of me.”

The jostling and shouting came to a halt as all eyes turned in her direction.

Alexander, in particular, appeared stunned by her words.

His face was red from where Alphonse had grabbed him around the neck and he was, in truth, still in Alphonse’s grip.

But he looked at Josephine as if she had lost her mind.

“Are you mad?” he asked. “You begged me not to betroth you to this man and now you wish to go with him?”

Josephine looked at Alphonse, who had the look of a killer spread over his face. “My lord,” she said quietly. “Release him. I must speak to him.”

Alphonse eyed her; what was the little witch up to?

But he was rather softened by her pretty face and the fact that she said she would go with him.

She was willing. That alone caused him to break his grip on the king and as men pulled him back, boxing him in and restraining him, Josephine took the king by the hand and led him over to the hearth, quickly, where they could speak in private.

“Why would you say such a thing?” Alexander hissed at her. “Do you truly wish to be wed to such a man?”

Josephine shook her head, still wiping at her eyes from the weeping she’d done for Nicholas.

“Nay, I do not,” she whispered. “But if you do not let me go with him, it will tear Edinburgh a part. He has many men with him, my lord. You know this. If he is angry enough, men will die as he fights to take me back to Haldane. Nicholas was already far too high of a price to pay for that and I do not wish for any more men to die.”

Alexander could see that she was very serious. “I am sorry I broke your betrothal with The Red Fury,” he said. “I see now that my choice, although something I felt strongly about at the time, was wrong. Blackbank is a beast; a beast who killed Nicholas.”

It was a surprising apology about the betrothal. Josephine could see, in that moment, that he was grieving for the nephew he had been so hard on. She felt sorry for the man.

“Then let me go,” she murmured. “But when I do, you must tell Andrew and Sully what has happened. They will come after me, have no fear, and Blackbank will be no more. In their actions, you shall have your justice for Nicholas. And for me.”

It began to occur to Alexander what she was saying. “They will kill him?”

She nodded firmly. “It is something Andrew must do,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“It is something he has sworn to do since Alphonse sent him away from Haldane when he was a youth. Andrew has carried this vengeance around with him all of these years and he cannot fail. Will you do this, then? Tell them I have gone with Alphonse. Sometimes, one man can do what an entire army cannot. Andrew will know what needs to be done. He has been waiting all of his life to do it.”

Alexander could see the logic. The thought of The Red Fury punishing Blackbank for what he’d done to Nicholas was overwhelmingly satisfying.

“If The Red Fury will do this for me,” Alexander said quietly, “then I can promise you that Torridon will never again have trouble with Colin Dalmellington.”

Josephine could see what a beneficial deal this was for both of them.

The only problem was that she was going to have to put herself in mortal danger before any of it could be accomplished.

But somehow, it didn’t seem like danger.

She’d faced the enemy and she’d established a rapport with him.

She felt confident she could hold the man off, at least until Andrew arrived. And he would arrive.

She was sure of it.

“For Nicholas,” she said softly, feeling tears sting her eyes again.

Alexander nodded, suddenly looking very old and very sad. It was apparent that his nephew’s death was more than he could bear.

“For Nicholas,” he whispered.

By midnight, Josephine was moving out with the Earl of Annan and Blackbank’s army, disappearing into the foggy Edinburgh night.