September 10th, 1614

Though ostensibly neutral, the borderlands were rather more fluid in their allegiances than those who lived within Coimbra or Francia. Here in Darroch, there was a good deal of anti-Coimbran feeling, melded together into the determined defense of one Frankish knight who had been ambushed not so very far away. He was their greatest secret, and to keep him safe - and to ensure that their laird had all the facts to hand - the people of Dunfayre and Darroch had conspired to send a messenger into Francia, right under the noses of the Coimbran skirmishers who still haunted their land.

Certain that this would make sure that Joslin de Lonnare's family were aware of his survival, as well as strengthen her father's hand in his delicate negotiations, Juliana had concentrated firmly on helping Joslin to heal as quickly as was safe for him. Eight days after he had awakened from his fever - eight days spent in each other's company - she declared him fit to walk about with the aid of a stick to support his weight on his injured leg, and gave him the freedom of the keep to enjoy as he liked.

With Joslin free to roam within the walls at his own pace, Juliana took to inviting him to keep her company as she worked, whether it was dealing with petitions from her people, grinding herbs in her workshop, or any other task that she turned her hands to. It seemed that in the borderlands there was no such thing as a noble lady's work. She did what was necessary, when it was necessary, and today, that included pinning a sheep in place for the old keeper to inspect it. There was something surprisingly entertaining about watching an ostensibly noble lady wrestling with a sheep and winning.

Joslin realized as he hobbled about the grounds of the keep that life here was not so different as it was back home. But for the mixed language of Coimbran and Frankish, people were friendly and seemed to welcome him with open arms. He was slowly coming to not only know these people but respect them, not only for the hard life they lived on the border, but also for their friendly disposition, despite the war between the countries they were sandwiched between.

He was slowly becoming a familiar face around the keep, people greeting him with a welcoming smile and calling him by name. He was especially fond of the time he spent with the lady of the keep, accompanying her while she went about her duties, impressed that she was not afraid to get her hands dirty, unlike some of the lords and ladies back home. Unfortunately for him, today's chores included sheep wrestling, and not being well enough yet to help, he could only laugh as she tried to pin the squirming, indignant sheep in place - even if it hurt too much to laugh.

It said a lot for the day to day running of the keep that no one batted an eye at the sight of the laird's daughter in the pen, her skirt hooked up into her belt, gripping a ewe firmly by the forelegs as she heaved it up and into a rough sitting position. Joslin's laughter made her smile, throwing a grin over at him as the old man who kept the sheep inspected the creature closely. "Glad to see you're enjoying yourself," she called to the knight, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

"I always enjoy myself when I'm with you, my lady," he called back, offering her a courtly half-bow, as he was unable to bend over far enough yet to bow to her properly. The words slipped out of his mouth without thinking, honest though they were. If there was one thing about the young knight, he was honest to a fault, and held himself to a high degree of morality and ethics, as was evidenced by his courtly charm and manners.

Juliana blushed at the compliment, ignoring the quiet chuckle from the old man beside her. Everyone at the keep had been watching the lady and the knight, and it would take a fool not to be able to see the attachment growing there, at least on her side. Despite her best efforts, she found herself very much enjoying Joslin's company, and wanting more of it, which in turn left her feeling guilty for feeling that way about him at all. After all, there was his girl back home to think of, and no matter what Juliana might be feeling, she would not allow herself to hope for anything more than friendship with the Frankish knight who was their temporary guest. "You have a silver tongue, sir," she countered, adjusting her grip, and muttered to the old keeper to get on with it. The ewe was starting to fight back again.

"A silver tongue?" he echoed, clutching his side with one arm and the walking stick with the other, chuckling further at her remark. "I suppose you would like it if I recited poetry then or sang you a ballad," he teased back. Perhaps it was only the fact that she had put herself in danger by harboring him there, but he found his heart slowly opening to the charms the lady of the keep had to offer, despite knowing how unlikely such a pairing might be.

"Ah, but you are a knight, sir," she pointed out laughingly. "Your Justine would not be played fair if you spoke as such to me. I am just a border laird's daughter, after all." She grunted as the ewe kicked out, releasing the creature quickly as the keeper nodded to her.

"My Justine?" he echoed, the smile fading as she turned serious. Why did she keep referring to his sister in such a way that presumed ....And suddenly, after eight days of enjoying her companionship, he suddenly realized her mistake for the very first time. Was it any wonder when he'd been calling for her in his fevered sleep, was carrying her handkerchief, and had insisted on writing her a letter" He had referred to her brother in nearly the same way, and yet, he'd known he was her brother. "You think Justine and I ...?" He chuckled, leaving the rest of the thought unspoken as yet.

Not knowing what was funny, Juliana climbed out of the pen, wiping her hands clean before unhooking her skirts from her belt. "You should not laugh so," she warned Joslin gently. "No woman likes to know she is the source of merriment behind her back, especially no woman who has given her token and her heart to the man who is laughing."

He stepped forward to help her from the pen, though he had to set his walking stick aside to do so, and his side was aching miserably from his laughter. "Ah, oui," he replied, unable to hide the smirk from his face and the gleam of amusement from his eyes, despite the stitch in his side. "I am sure my sister would be glad to know you are worried about her honor, especially when it comes to one such as I."

Juliana almost stumbled when he corrected her mistake, color rising in her cheeks as she turned wide eyes to the handsome knight beside her. "Your sister?" she repeated, biting her lip as she realized what a fool she had made of herself. "But I thought ....the handkerchief, ladies don't give tokens to family. Do they?"

He could help but grin at her, clearly amused by her misunderstanding. "It is not a token. It is merely something for me to remember her by when I ride into battle. It gives her comfort to know some part of her is with me when I am away. My sister and I are ..." There was no easy way to explain this, and he sighed softly, a small frown on his face. "She is all the family I have left."

Mortified by her mistake - though admittedly given some hope by it as well - Juliana's expression softened with understanding as he sighed his way through his explanation. Her hand covered his gently. "You do not need to explain," she assured him. "I am sorry for your losses, but glad, too, that you have family still in the world. This sister of yours, is she not wed?"

"No, she is not wed. We are ..." His frown deepened and he glanced to the sheep keeper uncertainly, though he doubted the man would care much to hear what he had to say. "We are not of noble blood," he admitted, which was the same as saying they were commoners.

Her head tilted as a faint smile touched her lips. "That is not true," she pointed out. "You have been ennobled, Sir Joslin. Both you and your sister are nobles now, no matter what you were born as. Surely someone has asked for her hand" Or is she waiting for love?"

"She has had several suitors, but she insists she will not marry until I do the same. She seems to think it is her duty to take care of me, even when I insist it is not." He sighed, tucking her arm into his as though it belonged there, before taking up his walking stick again.

"Ah, you'll never convince her," Juliana assured him with a low chuckle, letting him tuck her arm through his but making sure she put none of her weight onto him. "Not until she sees for herself that someone else has taken the care of you. Perhaps then she'll allow herself to love and to wed, aye?"

"It is the religion that frightens me," she admitted, crouching down beside him where he now sat, concerned that he was in pain. "Men can be reasoned with; fanatics can't. My mother was killed in a Coimbran raid, three years ago. She hid me, but she didn't hide herself. They destroyed her, in the name of their religion. I bear no real love for the fanatics, but the ordinary people ....they're just like us."

"Oui," he replied. "And that is why we are not like them. When this war is over - and it will be over one day - we will not hurt the common people. We will not harm their women and children, but we will not stand by while they murder and destroy our lands and our people. We will fight to protect those we love and those who need our protection." And by that, he meant the borderlands.

"I know I am lucky to have been born on Lonnare's border with Coimbra," she nodded with a wry cast to her smile. "Your former duke acknowledged my father as laird; your people have always been willing to trade fair with us. Others on the border are not so lucky, I know that." She studied him for a long moment, rising to her feet to offer him her hands. "Come, let us have you by the fire in a chair more suited to comfort."

"You don't think they'll come inside?" he asked, taking her hands and moving to follow her. There was a worried look on his face, not so much for himself, but for her and her people. If it came out that they were harboring a Frankish knight, there would be hell to pay, and there was little he could do to protect them, wounded as he was.

"If they look to be coming to the keep, a runner will tell us in enough time to hide you," she promised him, leading him across the hall and into one of the side rooms - the family room, as she had called it. Here the chairs were more comfortable, and in general, it was a far more homely space. "I don't expect them to come, we're just keeping you out of sight in case a stray eye looks toward us. Don't look so worried, Jos. We'll protect you."

"I'm not worried for me," he replied, though that wasn't entirely true. He didn't really want to end up a Coimbran prisoner, tortured and killed as an example to others. The very thought of it sent a chill down his spine. "This isn't their land, Juliana," he said, a hint of anger in his voice, perhaps to temper the fear. "They have no right to be here, no right to treat your people as they do. I will make sure the King hears of this, and something will be done." Though what he wasn't sure. They were already at war with Coimbra. What more could be done than that"

"Aye, and we've no soldiers to hold this land by force," she reminded him gently. "We get on with both sides because we must, because there is always a patrol of one or the other in the area. When the war settles again, we'll have peace and no more to worry about but the raids that come now and then. This is the way of life for us, Jos. There's only so much your King can do."

"My King can send soldiers to protect you and to protect the villages and keep the Coimbrans away." The borderlands didn't belong to either Coimbra or Francia, but maybe they should, he thought. "Please tell me we do not mistreat your people the way Coimbrans do," he said, lowering himself slowly into a chair by the fire, the tone of his voice almost pleading.

She helped him sit. moving to pour him a glass of wine to put some color back into his cheeks. It was a quirk of her character that she rarely, if ever, lied, and when asked a question like that, she would never feel the inclination to lie. "Soldiers are soldiers, and not all of them are men of honor," she pointed out, handing him the glass before taking a seat herself. "The worst we've had were deserters from the Frankish army. They thought they could take what they wanted, including our girls. We dealt with them in our way. You may have heard of that group - we stripped them naked, tied them to their horses, and sent them galloping back to Francia." Her lips twitched a little in amusement at what they had done to those violent men. "The Coimbrans raid frequently, and it isn't always their soldiers. When they prepare for war, they leave fields untilled, animals uncared for, and the farms along the border are a tempting target for starving people. This is what it is to be a borderman, Jos. We understand both sides, but we won't tolerate being mistreated."

He arched a brow. Of course, he had heard of it. Everyone in Francia had heard what had happened - at least those who lived in Lonnare. Once they'd reached Francia, they had been arrested for desertion and punished accordingly. "They deserved no less for what they did," he replied darkly. "War is not meant to be pleasant, Jules," he remarked, though she knew this already. "If it was, there would be no point in waging it," he said, in a voice that didn't sound terribly fond of war. A knight he might be, but that didn't mean he relished killing, like some men. He eyed the glass of wine thoughtfully before taking a sip. "I cannot stay here overlong. Charles and his bride are due in Arindale any day. He needs know what is happening here." Yes, he'd sent word, but word could be lost.

"You are not leaving here until you are well and able to travel," she informed him sternly. "Don't make me force you to stay. We've rooms that lock up tight from the outside with bars on the windows if that becomes necessary." She clearly meant it. After spending almost two weeks getting him upright again, Juliana was not about to send him off to travel over a hundred miles alone without being absolutely sure he'd be able to make it.

"You could come with me," he said, though he was smiling a little now at her threat. He didn't doubt she'd follow through with it, but that didn't worry him so much as what the Coimbrans would do if they found him there.

"Aye, well, when you marry me, I will," she told him with a low chuckle. "Seems the only way you'll manage that is to wait for my father to return. I've you over a barrel and you know it." Her eyes sparkled teasingly as she cocked her head, listening to the sounds of the keep outside the window. "Danger's passed, it seems. They weren't coming to us, just passing by."

"Will he demand a long courtship?" he asked, curiously, visibly relaxing as she declared the danger had passed. He didn't know her father and had no idea what he might demand from a Frankish knight who wished to marry his only daughter.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Och, no," she assured him. "We do things different here. If you're bound to it, we could be wed the day he arrives, and on our way the next. Life is short on the borders; we like to make the most of it. Of course, we also hold that if, after a year, the marriage isn't working, then it can be dissolved with no ill intent on either side."

"Why would I not be bound to it?" he asked, fingering the glass of wine, almost to keep himself from reaching for her hand. "My mind is set. I will not change it," he assured her with grave conviction.

"Neither will I," she agreed, her smile softening. "I won't lie to you, Jos. I don't love you, but I like you, a great deal more than any other I've met. We're good for each other, in more ways than one, and I can see my future with you a part of it. Who's to say love won't grow from our friendship?"

Most men would be disappointed to know the woman they had pledged to wed did not love them, but Joslin was not most men. "I choose to count my blessings, not my losses. If we are only ever friends, I will be a happy man," he told her. After all, how many suffered through arranged marriages with spouses they detested" To marry someone whose company he enjoyed was a blessing, even if she never loved him.

"Tell me about your home, your lands," she asked him then, curious about the place that would be her own home in the not-too-distant future. "You say they are modest. What does that mean?"

"I own a small manor not far from Arindale, with the rights to the surrounding land. The villagers work the land in exchange for my protection. It is nothing grand or elaborate, but I daresay you'll be comfortable there, and I'm sure the people will be more than happy to welcome you. I know I am rather young and inexperienced compared to some, but I pride myself on being a fair and just lord, and I've had few complaints. We are like a large extended family in La Roche. I hope that you will be happy there."

"Perhaps you're right," he said, that smirk still in place on his face. "If you are hoping for a dozen sons, we may not have time for much else." Though he did not say so, that included the conceiving of those sons.

"So we won't need to worry about what to talk about for at least a year or two," she mused thoughtfully. Catching his eye, she suddenly realized what it was they were talking about, and a deep blush spread over her cheeks as she glanced away, trying not to giggle like a fool. "Och, you're as bad a tease as I am."

"We have that in common, it is true," he admitted with a smile, still fingering his glass of wine, which he'd only half drained. The smile faded as he turned serious, his gaze contemplating his glass as he spoke. "I am not much of a ladies' man, I'm afraid." He did not expound on what that statement meant, but he did not really believe himself to be as fine a catch as she might think.

Turning her eyes back to him, Juliana considered him for a long moment. "You know ....I wouldn't have said yes if I thought you were," she pointed out softly. "I'm not putting myself on the market to be nothing but a wife in name only, you know. If I thought you had a lass everywhere you went, you'd have my friendship and no more."

He had not thought of it that way, but she was right. "You do not need to worry about me having a mistress," he admitted, though he wasn't sure what she thought of him otherwise. Certainly, he was honest and had a manor and lands to his name, and they seemed to enjoy each other's company, but he had no idea what else she thought of him, nor did it seem to matter. "There are only three women in my life who I need to please - you, my sister, and my housekeeper." A small smile spread across his face at the mention of the last woman on that last. "Because if I do not please my housekeeper, she will make my life miserable."

Juliana snorted with laughter. "I understand that," she assured him. "I will try not to upset her too much. We can only hope that she won't mind having a lady who spends hours every day up to her elbows in muck and dirt."

"I am rather fond of her," he admitted, a warm smile on his face at the thought of the woman, which turned serious as he explained further. "She lost her husband and son in the war and we are the only family she has left." He took a deep swallow of his wine, enough to drain it of its contents at last. So, whether Justine was the only family he had left, there seemed to be other people who were also a close knit part of his life.

"I'd not turn her out," Juliana assured him with a faint frown. "I won't try to change anything unless it needs to be changed. The people who live and work your home become your family, I know it well. Every woman and man here, I know like my brothers and my father, and they know me. I would like it to be the same, in your home."

"No, I think you will like her. She is ....rather a maternal figure. Her name is Matilde. Madame Matilde," he corrected himself, though it seemed he knew her well enough to call her by her first name. "She was a friend of my mother's," he added for good measure.

"Matilde, aye, I'll remember it," she nodded, though there was a certain amount of trepidation in her expression for a brief moment. Until they had begun to talk about it, she hadn't really considered what it would be like to leave this home she had known all her life and enter another, a hundred miles away, to become the lady of the house there. "Your sister, Justine ....will she like me, do you think?"

He seemed to sense her trepidation. It was a difficult thing to ask a woman to leave all she had ever known and loved to travel to a place where she had never been, where she knew no one but him, not knowing if she would be happy there. "I think she will. She has been after me to be married, though she balks at the idea of marriage for herself."

"Could be she's not met a man yet who challenges her," Juliana suggested mildly. "Waiting for love to strike, perhaps, as a knight's lady should in all the stories. Or perhaps she feels that the men of the right rank look down on her for having been raised with her brother to the rank you now hold. Nobles are a pompous bunch, on the whole."

"If she were a man, she would be a knight. When we were small, she cut her hair short and wore trousers, much to our mother's dismay, but Father only indulged her. He taught her to ride and to shoot, just as well as any man. She insists she will not marry until she meets a man who can cook and clean and have babies."

"Och, then she's waiting for a man who can best her," his companion said with enviable confidence. "If she even wants to marry at all. There'd be no point in marrying a man who couldn't best her at such things - what could he have to teach her" And there aren't many men that want a wife who can wield a sword better than they."

"Not best her, perhaps, but keep up with her. We were inseparable when we small, and I don't think she has ever forgiven me for leaving her behind and becoming a knight." He frowned a little at the thought of his sister, hoping his message would reach her before she started to worry about him.

"Aye, well, there's scarce little for a woman to occupy herself with in our world," she admitted with a sage nod. "If I were to take up a bow or sword, my father would be ashamed of me for thinking it. Man's work, he says fighting is, and trained my brothers to do it well. But if I had been able to defend myself, my brothers might not have had to join the Coimbrans on their march through to Francia."

"Do you wish to learn?" he asked, with a look on his face that was entirely serious. Once they were away from the keep and safely on his own lands, she would have the freedom to do as she pleased without her father's permission or acceptance. He could give her that.

"Would there be time to teach me?" she countered with a faint smile. "There's much to do, and with the winter coming on, there won't be much opportunity to learn without endangering the rooms of your hall. Do I truly need to know how to defend myself in your home in Lonnare?"

"Rooms?" he echoed, chuckling a little. "Do you think I would teach you inside the manor when we have all of the lands to roam?" Or perhaps she was afraid of being seen doing what was mostly considered men's work. If Justine could do it, he thought there was no reason she could not - unless she didn't want to.

"You've no shame in being seen to teach a woman to fight?" she asked, genuinely surprised and rather pleased to learn this. Her father and brothers had always been very against even the idea of her carrying anything more weapon-like than her belt knife. "Do you not want a wife who needs protecting, like so many others?"

"Juliana, please understand," he started, setting his glass aside and leaning painfully forward to take her hand between both of his. "Lonnare is safe. Arindale is safe. La Roche is safe. You need not fear attack from Coimbra there, but I would rather have a wife who knows how to protect herself when the needs arises than bury a wife who does not, comprendre""

Startled by how much he seemed to want to teach her this skill that he shared with his sister, Juliana held his gaze, her hand caught between his. "I understand," she said softly. "You're very different to the men of the border, Jos. I did not mean to offend you by asking; I meant only to be certain that you were sure."

By the time they reached the top of the stairs, he knew he was going to need that rest, worn out from the walk and the conversation and the struggle up the stairs. He sighed impatiently, a rarity for him. "One can hope," he said, more to himself than to her.

"Frustration's a good sign," she chuckled, steering him toward the nearest door, behind which was the room in which he had been sleeping over the past week or so. "The more badly behaved the patient, the better they're healing, in my experience. Not far now, and you can settle on the bed, Jos. You're doing well."

"You think so?" he asked, curiously. He had known a few knights in his day who had made terrible patients but had healed in time, so perhaps she was right. "Should I smash a few bottles in hopes I will heal faster?" he asked, that teasing tone back in his voice, even if he was moving like an old man.

Laughing, Juliana gently twisted to get him onto the bed, only letting him go when she was certain he wasn't going to pitch off and onto the floor. "You smash my medicines and I'll dose you so you can't even open your eyes," she threatened teasingly, bending to help him lift his injured leg up onto the bed with the rest of him.

He gritted his teeth once again as she helped get him settled, but it was nothing compared to the trek up the stairs. Settled finally against a pile of pillows, a smile touch his lips, though his face was still ghostly pale. "Is this where you tell me a bedtime story?" he teased back, folding his hands against his middle.

"I don't know any stories suitable for bedtime," she admitted, smiling as she shook a light blanket over him. She paused, easing onto the edge of the bed to face him as she bit her lip. "I may have something better, if you trust me to do it."

"I trust you in all things, Jules," he replied seriously as she settled herself beside him. The blanket seemed to stop him from trembling, though he wasn't cold. He had no idea what it was she was about to ask of him, but he knew in his heart, he would do whatever she asked.

"Well, if we're to be married ..." Blushing, she inched a little closer, raising her hand to gently brush his tousled hair from his brow. There was a shy look of mischief in her eyes as she leaned in, daring her own courage as much as his tolerance to very softly touch her lips to his. It was just a kiss ....her first kiss, and if she was lucky, he would be the only man she ever kissed like this.

The kiss surprised him, but pleasantly so, his lips surprisingly warm and soft against hers as he returned her kiss, as all too brief and chaste as it was. Her touch was doing strange things to his insides - a strange feeling of nervous excitement like nothing he'd ever felt before with anyone, all at once both pleasant and startling. He had shared countless kisses during the course of his lifetime, all of them forgettable, all of them paling in comparison to this one, though it was only a brief touch that was over far too soon. He lifted a hand from the blanket to touch her cheek, his fingers rough, but his touch gentle. "I fear I am in danger of losing my heart," he whispered quietly, his lips still close to hers.

She was trembling as their lips parted, the touch of his fingers seeming to burn against her skin as she looked into his eyes. In danger of losing my heart, he said, and she knew what he meant without needing him to explain. "As am I," she whispered back to him tenderly. "But I do not fear it."

"No," he replied, quietly, wishing he had not chosen his words so poorly. "I welcome it. If ever I lose my heart, I would give it gladly to you," he told her, his fingers in soft caress of her cheek. He did not love her yet, but he knew he was falling, and it was a feeling he had never experienced before, but she was right - he was not afraid, so long as she was there to catch him.

"When time comes, I will give you my heart to hold, so I may never lose it," she told him, unconsciously echoing an old saying in the borderlands that her mother had been very fond of. You cannot lose what is freely given. Her fingers skimmed his cheek briefly before she reluctantly drew back. "You need to rest, Jos. I'll not be far."

"And I will keep it safe for always," he promised in return, so close he could feel her breath, warm and soft on his cheek. It was not love - not yet - but for the first time in his life, he had met someone he could imagine spending the rest of his life with, someone who could make him happy.

Juliana's smile was almost charming in its innocence, a promise that no man had ever made her feel so wanted, even if they weren't in love yet. "Aye, I believe you would," she agreed with him softly. "Now shush, and close your eyes. You've need of more rest than you'll get with me hovering over you."

"Getting bossy with me already," he teased, smiling as his eyes drifted closed, more weary than he cared to admit. It was tragedy that had brought him to her, but that tragedy was slowly changing to something else - something wonderful.

"You need someone to look after you," she murmured, her fingers gentle in his hair as she watched him drift off to sleep. As loving as his sister might be to him, Juliana knew she could care for them both the way they deserved. She was so much giving up her home as transferring her affections, and she was happy to do it. Her father wouldn't be able to argue when he returned; though losing his daughter might be a wrench, she would be moving into Francia, away from the border that had shown its teeth in the last few months, with a man who could protect and provide for her easily enough. Put like that, there was no reason to think that there wouldn't be a wedding in just a few short weeks. Now wasn't that a lovely dream"