Ridge felt the heavy silence between them as it settled. The woman had tried everything to allow her to return to Torridon – fighting, running, bargaining – and Ridge had remained firm. His sense of pity for the woman was growing, but he also felt the need to reply to her offer in order to firmly establish his position. No amount of coercion was going to force him to change his mind in any of this.
His path was set, as was hers.
“My lady, your offer is most generous, and I find, much to my dismay, that I could actually consider it,” he said. “But I regret that I cannot accept and I am truly sorry. I am sorry that my loyalty lies with our king.”
Josephine already knew that and she didn’t want to hear it from him. “As am I,” she muttered.
God… as am I!
There was no more conversation after that. Edinburgh swallowed them up and Josephine found herself looking at the dark, dirty city with many levels to it. There were streets above streets, steep roads, and pale, dirty people. It felt as if they’d entered another world, one of death and darkness and strangers who seemed more like wraiths than people. Phantoms were in every corner. It seemed to her as if they moved through a maze of avenues to reach the road that led up to the massive, fortified castle at the crown of the city.
The hill that led up to the castle was rocky and steep. As the horse made his way up the grade, Josephine’s gaze was on the massive building looming before them. It was made of stone, stained black from Edinburgh’s damp climate, but it looked to her as if the stones were bleeding. Stained and ugly, they were, and she’d never felt more intimidated or alone in her entire life. The horse finally made it up the hill and entered into the courtyard of the hilltop fortress, where they were met by a flock of attendants and soldiers.
It seemed to Josephine as if they’d been waiting for them. Hands pulled Josephine from the stallion, but Ridge was off in a flash, grasping her protectively to prevent anyone else from getting a hand on her. She was his charge until the king said otherwise.
Two figures pushed their way through the crowd, and Josephine immediately recognized Nicholas de Londres. She hadn’t even realized he’d left Torridon, but here he was, and she felt a great deal of relief at the sight of him. He looked at her with such sadness she was sure he would burst into tears at any second. The other man had black, curly hair and a thin mustache, and was of an average stature. He bowed gallantly to her.
“Lady Josephine de Carron, welcome to Edinburgh,” he said, in a thin voice that wasn’t quite Scottish, as if he’d been schooled somewhere other than Scotland. “I am William Ward, Chancellor to King Alexander.”
Josephine simply glanced at the man. She couldn’t muster anything more than that. Her attention returned to Nicholas, looking at the man as if he could help her. Nicholas’ emotions were on the surface, as they always were, and he reached out and took Josephine’s hand.
“Come with me,” he said softly, leading her away.
Like a small child, Josephine allowed Nicholas to take her across the courtyard towards the entry. In truth, she clung to him, so very relieved to be with someone she knew, someone she knew to be kind and considerate of her situation.
William watched her go as he stood next to Ridge.
“Even dressed as a man, I can see that she is absolutely magnificent,” he said appreciatively. “No wonder the king wants her.”
Ridge gave William a cold glance. “He wants to wed her to the earl,” he corrected.
William looked at him quickly. “Of course,” he said. “That was what I meant.”
Ridge wasn’t so sure. He gave Ward a nasty glare before following after Nicholas and Josephine. William, seeing that perhaps the king’s bodyguard wasn’t too keen on the situation, wondered if the iron heart of Ridge de Reyne might have a weak spot for the lady.
It was something to ponder, in any case.
The king would want to know.
*
“It is an absolute lie,” Ridge said, struggling to contain his temper. “I do not know who told you such things, my lord, but I can assure you that I hold no feelings for Lady Josephine. If I did, she would not be here.”
Standing before the king as the man sat in his private solar, a massive fire blazing in the hearth, Ridge stood tall and strong and proud before a man he was coming to hate. Now, someone had accused him of an attraction towards the very women he’d brought to Edinburgh for the king and Ridge was angrier than he’d ever been in his life.
But Alexander seemed to find some humor in it. He glanced at his numerous courtiers, who were also grinning. They all liked to taunt Ridge de Reyne because he was English, an outlander among them, but also because they knew the big man wouldn’t do a thing to them, no matter how badly they tormented him.
“No one would blame you, de Reyne,” Alexander said. He was exceedingly weary, still, from his harried flight from Torridon. He was still in sleeping clothes he’d put on when he’d arrived at Edinburgh. “She is a beautiful woman and you have spent two days and a night with her.”
He said it rather suggestively and Ridge’s jaw ticked faintly. “Because you ordered me to, my lord,” he said. “I spent two days and one night with her because you ordered me to take her from Torridon, and that is exactly what I did.”
Alexander was still fighting off a smile at his bodyguard’s indignation as he reached for a cup of warmed wine that a servant brought him.
“What did you mean when you said that if you had feelings for Lady Josephine, she would not be here?” he asked.
Ridge wasn’t sure if he should tell the king of the woman’s attempt to escape and her general revulsion of the situation. It might focus the king’s anger on her. But he wasn’t in the habit of withholding the truth from his monarch, not even in a situation like this.
“She offered me money to let her return,” he said. “If I harbored any pity for her at all, or if I was the greedy sort, I would have taken her money and returned her to Torridon. But I did not. I am loyal to my king’s wishes, just as I have always been.”
Alexander sipped at his wine, eyeing William Ward as he did so. It had been Ward who had told him of de Reyne’s apparently sympathy towards the lady. But Ward was a gossip with the best of them and half the things he said could not be trusted.
“Of course you are, Ridge,” Alexander said. “I was only jesting with you. Do not be too angry about it.”
Ridge didn’t reply to that. He wasn’t about to forgive a man who liked to torment and shame him when the whim hit him.
“Will that be all, my lord?” he asked.
Alexander could see that Ridge was offended, still. “It will not,” he said flatly. “I have more business with you before you retire. While I realize you must be weary from your journey, I wish to know when you left Torridon and what state it was in.”
Ridge was essentially standing at attention in front of him, his eyes ahead. He wouldn’t look at him. “I left several hours after you did, my lord,” he said. “I had to wait for the right time to capture the lady, and that was difficult.”
Alexander grew serious. “Did d’Vant see you?” he asked. “Were you followed?”
Ridge shook his head. “I was not seen nor was I followed, at least to my knowledge,” he said. “I was able to leave by a postern gate in the kitchen yard, one that had been bolted but was not manned, at least not when I went through. Torridon sits on a rise and since I did not wish to be seen, I immediately headed to the east, through a heavy forest, and then found a smaller road that headed north.”
Alexander digested that. “And Torridon? What was the state of the fortress when you departed?”
“Still intact. The siege had not started yet.”
Alexander sat back in his chair, pondering the situation. “They still have several of my wagons,” he muttered, glancing at his courtiers, some of whom had accompanied him there. “If they know I have taken their lady, and I am sure they will figure that out, then I wonder if I shall ever see them ag
ain.”
It was a fairly flippant comment, as if he didn’t take Torridon, their troubles, or what he’d done, seriously at all. As his courtiers grinned, most of them well into the wine that was being passed around, the king turned his attention to William Ward.
“Word has been sent to Alphonse, has it not?” he asked. “The man may be at his townhome in Liberton. He knew I was going to Torridon to seal the betrothal with the lady and he further knew I intended to bring her back to my castle, so he may have remained close to Edinburgh.”
Ward had a ready answer. “He is, indeed, at Liberton, my lord,” he said. “I have been in contact with the man and, already, he has sent gifts for his betrothed. The young woman is being tended and shall be well dressed this eve, in clothes provided by her future husband.”
Alexander had a mental vision of a properly dressed Lady Josephine. “It is about time,” he grunted. “The woman favors the clothes of a soldier, unfortunately. That is a habit that will have to stop. I doubt Alphonse will tolerate it.”
“He wishes to meet his betrothed soon.”
“He is eager, that one,” Alexander said. But he didn’t want the man coming too soon because Alexander wanted to spend time with the lady also. He’d hardly had time back at Torridon. “I am coming to wonder if Lady Josephine is too good for him.”
“From what I saw, she is too fine, indeed, my lord.”
Alexander’s attention was lingering on his cousin, who was primed to make a fine royal mistress. He’d already broken one betrothal for the lady; it would be nothing to break a second. But that might provoke Alphonse’s wrath and he was unwilling to do that.
Ridge stood there and listened as the king and his chancellor continued to discuss the lady as if she were nothing more than a commodity. In truth, women were chattel and that was simply the way of the world, but Ridge couldn’t help the pity he felt for the lady, increasingly sorry to have been part of the king’s plan. But there was nothing he could have done – he was a pawn in this as much as Lady Josephine was. They were all following orders.
The orders of a fool.
*
Josephine sat submerged up to her neck in the biggest copper tub she had ever seen. The water was strongly scented with lavender, with tiny purple petals floating in the steaming water. She had been scrubbed to within an inch of her life by several female servants and her hair had been soaped and rinsed three times, with the final rinse consisting of flat, dark beer.
Now, she lay back, allowing the warmth of the water to seep into her weary muscles and to clear her mind. God’s Toes, how she needed to collect herself. So much had happened in a very short amount of time and she was still reeling from it.
Nicholas, bless him, had brought her up a back route in the castle, avoiding all of the usual king’s men and the king himself. He could see she was tired and defeated, and that she needed a chance to collect herself before going head-to-head with Alexander. He had taken her to what had once been the room of a former princess, or that’s what he’d told her, where a flock of maids greeted them. The apparent leader of the group, a pretty and robust young woman named Madelaine, promptly chased Nicholas away and began drilling her peers like a soldier.
In came the tub, the water, the soap, and the oils, and off went Josephine’s filthy clothes. Madelaine was preparing to burn them until Josephine stopped her, asking instead that they be washed and set aside.
All of this happened within the first hour she was there. Washing, scrubbing, and the like. The beautiful room she was in, the Princess Room, was actually part of a three-room suite. It was a massive chamber with twelve-foot ceilings and a carved marble fireplace that was taller than Josephine was. Rich rugs from mysterious places covered the floor and there was an intricately carved couch upholstered in blue silk with two matching chairs. The walls were covered with rich tapestries to create a barrier against the stone walls.
But there was more. Behind Josephine, against the wall, stood a massive mahogany wardrobe, and two carved stands flanked the bedchamber door and displayed twin alabaster vases. Surrounded by these riches, she had no doubt that she was in the castle of a king, and she found herself in awe.
After the scrubbing and washing, the servants were nowhere to be seen until she stirred in the bath and sat up. Then, they poured in from another room and rushed in with towels, brushes, and lotions. They didn’t touch her until she actually stepped out from the tub, and then she was vigorously dried and oiled, and then wrapped in a magnificent purple robe. Madelaine then led her to a chair by the fire where her hair was gently combed out. A young servant girl brought her a tray of wine, bread, and fruit, and Josephine proceeded to devour the entire plate. She had not eaten since yesterday and she was famished.
As Josephine ate and the servants brushed and dried, Madelaine, the maid, stood back and watched the situation carefully. She admired the lady’s luxurious hair as it dried, noticing its myriad of colors and the unearthly shine. Having been in the house of the king since she was very young, Madelaine had seen women come and go, and she wondered who this beautiful lady was and further wondered why she was here. She had heard nothing, nor had she been told anything, with the exception of Nicholas de Londres’ orders to prepare these particular rooms for a guest.
But it seemed to be a very special guest. Madelaine, of course, would never dream of speaking to the solemn young woman; it simply wasn’t proper. She was a maid from a long line of maids and she knew how to behave. Service was silent. But the young lady seemed very sad and Madelaine wished she could say an encouraging word to her without overstepping her bounds.
As Madelaine pondered the mysterious young woman, more activity started in the chamber. Three young maids came into the room, each bearing several richly-colored surcotes. Madelaine directed them to the giant wardrobe where they began carefully hanging the garments on the pegs, shaking them out to smooth the material.
As Madelaine supervised the garments, she happened to glance at the young woman for whom they were intended. She could see interest on the woman’s face.
“Does my lady see a cote she would like to wear?” Madelaine asked respectfully.
Josephine was caught off guard by the question. No one had spoken to her since her arrival in the chamber, so she hadn’t been expecting the softly-uttered question. She had no idea where the gowns came from, but she was certain the king had something to do with them. That being the case, she had half a mind to put her combat clothes back on, to display her complete dissatisfaction with the king’s decision and to protest the manner in which she was being used.
But she knew that wouldn’t go over well and she truly had no desire to fight tooth and nail with the king, at least at this point. She was in his house, surrounded by his men, and things could go very badly for her. She was defiant but she wasn’t stupid. She would only fight a battle she could win and, right now, there was no chance of that.
But her chance would come.
“I have no preference,” she said, looking away from the garments displayed. “You choose for me.”
Madelaine did. She ordered the maids working over Josephine and drying her hair to work faster. The lady must be dressed, she said. As the servants began to move with a more clipped pace, Madelaine thoughtfully selected a garment she believed would suit the lady quite well.
But Josephine paid no attention; her mind was turning from the king and his complete control over her to Andrew and Torridon. In truth, her thoughts were never far from them. They’d been heavily on her mind for the past two days and continued to be. Most of all, she wondered what was happening with them at this moment. She was saddened beyond words, feeling anguish that she could do nothing about.
All she wanted to do was go home.
But that was not to be at this moment. She had to face the king and the situation at hand. Madelaine broke her from her train of thought as she came to her with a beautiful emerald-green silk with gold trim. As the woman held it up for her, Josephine realiz
ed the woman wanted to dress her in it. So Josephine stood reluctantly and allowed the woman and her little minions to dress her in fine, white shift with an embroidered bodice, another shift that was heavier and had a ruffle along the hem, before having her step into the green silk.
In truth, the surcote was as fine as any she had ever seen. With the snug V-shaped neckline accentuating her full breasts and with the long sleeves hugging her long arms, she found the gown to be most beautiful. Madelaine took a matching green ribbon and tied it about her head, pulling her hair from her face. On her feet were placed matching shoes and stockings.
It was quite a production and Josephine had never had so much help dressing. All she had to do was stand there and let the maids do all of the work. A knock at the door shattered the calm efficiency of the room and Josephine could feel her heart leap with fear. Who had come for her? Fully dressed, she moved over towards the windows, as far as she could get away from the door, while the servants scattered back into the shadows. Madelaine was left to open the door.
It was Nicholas. He entered and immediately caught sight of Josephine in the voluminous surcote. He smiled gently as he went to her, his eyes brushing over her.
“Ye look as beautiful as I have ever seen ye,” he said.
Josephine smiled modestly and looked down at the gown. “Are you to thank for this?”
“Nay,” Nicholas shook his head. “This is a gift from yer future husband. I understand more are on the way.”
Josephine’s smile vanished and she turned away. Nicholas, knowing her distress and confusion, ordered Madelaine to leave so they could have some time alone. It was only a matter of time before the king demanded audience with her and, after that, Nicholas had no way of knowing. He’d heard that Alphonse was on his way to the castle. When he came, Nicholas might not ever see her again. The mere thought made Nicholas feel ill.
When everyone was gone, he went and stood next to her, following her eyes as she looked from the window to the yard below.