"Enough dissembling," Graverley snapped. "Will you or will you not comply with the king's command?"

In the space of the few moments alloted to him by perverse fate and an unpredictable king, Royce rapidly considered all the myriad reasons he would be insane to wed Jennifer Merrick, and the several compelling reasons why he was going to do it.

After years of victories on battlefields all over the continent, he had evidently ridden to defeat in his own bed atop a winsome seventeen-year-old with more courage and wit than any ten women he had ever known. Try though he might, he could not make himself send her home.

She had fought him like a tigress, but she surrendered like an angel. She had tried to stab him-but she had kissed his scars; she had slashed his blankets and sewn his shirts closed-but she had kissed him a few minutes ago with a sweet, desperate ardor that had twisted him into knots of desire; she had a smile that lit up the dark recesses of his heart, a laugh so infectious it made him grin. She had honesty, too, and he prized that above all.

Those things were in the back of his mind, but he refused to concentrate on them or even consider the word "love." To do so would have meant that he was more than physically involved with her, and that he refused to accept. With the same impartial, lightning logic he used to make decisions in battle, Royce considered instead that, given the way her father and clan Merrick already felt about her, if she returned to them, they would treat her as a traitor, not a victim. She had lain with their enemy and, whether she was already with child or not, she'd spend the rest of her life locked away in some nunnery, building dream kingdoms where she was accepted and loved, kingdoms that would never be.

These facts, added to the knowledge that she suited him in bed more than any other, were the only facts Royce permitted himself to consider in making his decision. And having arrived at it, he acted with typical speed and resolve. Knowing that he was going to need a few minutes alone with Jennifer in order to make her see reason before she leapt blindly at Graverley's offer, he forced a dry smile to his face and said to his foe, "While my man is fetching Lady Jennifer to the hall, shall we lay down the gauntlet long enough to partake of a light repast?" With a wave of his arm, he gestured toward the table where servants were trooping into the hall carrying trays laden with whatever cold fare they'd been able to assemble on such short notice.

Graverley's brows pulled together into a suspicious frown, and Royce glanced at Henry's men-at-arms, some of whom had fought beside him in past battles, wondering if they'd soon be locked in mortal combat against each other. Turning back to Graverley, he snapped, "Well?" Then, because he knew that, even after Jennifer agreed to stay with him, he was still going to have to dissuade Graverley from forcing her to leave, Royce injected a note of pleasantness into his voice. "Lady Brenna is already on her way home with my brother's escort." Hoping to appeal to Graverley's innate weakness for gossip, Royce added almost cordially, " 'Tis a story which you'll undoubtedly enjoy hearing while we eat…"

Graverley's curiosity won out over his suspicion. After a split second's hesitation, he nodded and headed for the table. Royce made a show of starting to escort him partway there, then he excused himself for a moment. "Let me send someone for Lady Jennifer," he said, already turning to Arik.

In a low, swift voice, he told Arik, "Take Godfrey with you and find her, then bring her here."

The giant nodded as Royce added, "Tell her not to trust Graverley's offer nor accept it until she's heard me out in private. Make that clear to her."

The possibility that Jennifer might listen to his own offer and still insist on leaving was beyond the bounds of feasibility in Royce's estimation. Although he rejected the notion that his decision to wed her might be motivated by anything more than lust or compassion, he always made it a point in every battle to be aware of the strength of his opponent's motivation to oppose him. In this case, he was well aware that Jennifer's feelings for him were deeper than even she knew. She could not have given herself to him so completely in bed, or honestly admitted that she'd wanted to stay there, if that weren't so. And she certainly could not have kissed him the way she had on the hill a few minutes ago. She was too sweet, too honest, and innocent to feign those emotions.

Comfortable with the conviction that victory-after a minor skirmish first with Jennifer and then Graverley-was in his grasp, Royce strode to the table where Graverley had just seated himself.

"So," Graverley said, many long minutes later, after Royce had relayed the tale of Brenna's leaving, and added every possible inconsequential detail he could think of in order to stall for time, "you let the beautiful girl leave and kept the proud one? Forgive me if I find that difficult to fathom," Graverley said, daintily chewing on a hunk of bread.

Royce scarcely heard this; he was reviewing his alternatives in the event Graverley refused to accept Jennifer's decision to remain at Hardin. Having alternatives-and being ready to choose the best one in any volatile situation-was what had kept him alive and victorious in battle. Therefore, Royce decided, in the likely event that Graverley refused to accept Jennifer's decision to remain with Royce, Royce would then demand the right to hear Henry's edict from Henry himself.

Refusing to "believe" Graverley was not exactly treason, and Henry, although he would undoubtedly be angry, was unlikely to order Royce hanged for it. Once Henry heard Jennifer say, with her own soft lips, that she wished to wed Royce, there was a strong possibility Henry would like the notion. After all, Henry liked settling potentially dangerous political situations with expedient marriages, including his own.

That pleasant image of Henry benignly accepting Royce's defiance of a command and then promptly blessing their marriage was not very likely to become a reality, but Royce preferred to dwell on it rather than consider the remaining possibilities-such as the gallows, being drawn and quartered, or being stripped of the lands and estates he'd won at the repeated risk of his life. There were dozens of other equally unpleasant possibilities-and combinations of them-and, sitting at the table across from his foe, Royce considered them all. All except the possibility that Jennifer might have kissed him with her lips and heart and body, while she meant to escape the moment his back was turned.

"Why did you let her go if she was such a beauty?"

"I told you," Royce said shortly, "she was sick." Trying to avoid talking further to Graverley, Royce made a great show of being hungry. Reaching forward, he pulled his own trencher of bread toward him and took a large bite. His stomach lurched in protest to the bread, which was covered with rancid goose and soaked with its grease.

Twenty-five minutes later, it was taking a physical effort for Royce to keep his growing tension from showing. Arik and Godfrey must have given Jennifer Royce's message and she was evidently balking; as a result they must be trying to reason with her and delaying bringing her into the hall. But would she balk? And if she did, what would Arik do? For a horrible moment, Royce imagined his loyal knight using physical force on Jennifer to make her acquiesce. Arik could snap Jennifer's arm in two with no more effort than it would take another man to break a tiny dry twig between his fingers. The thought made Royce's hand shake with alarm.

Across the distance of the rough-hewn planks that formed the makeshift table, Graverley was looking about him, his suspicion of trickery growing. Suddenly he leapt to his feet. "Enough of waiting!" he said sharply, glowering at Royce, who was slowly coming to his feet. "You're playing me for a fool, Westmoreland. I can sense it. You've not sent your men for her. If she is here, she's being hidden, and if that's the case, you're a greater fool than I thought." Pointing to Royce, he turned to his sergeant-at-arms and ordered, "Seize this man and then begin searching the castle for the Merrick woman. Tear this place apart, stone by stone if necessary, but find her! Unless I miss my guess, both women were murdered days ago. Question his men, use the sword if necessary. Do it!"

Two of Henry's knights stepped forward, under the apparent misapprehension that, as the king's men, they would be permitted to reach Royce without opposition. The moment they moved, Royce's men instantly closed ranks, their hands on the hilts of their swords, forming a human barrier between Henry's men and Royce.

A clash between Henry's men and his was the last thing on earth Royce wanted to happen, particularly now. "Hold!" he thundered, well aware that every one of his knights was committing a treasonous act merely by obstructing the king's men. All ninety of the men in the hall froze at the bellowed command, turning their faces to their respective leaders, awaiting the next command.

Royce's gaze slashed over Graverley, shocking the older man with its blazing contempt. "You above all dislike being made to look absurd, and that's what you're doing. The lady who you think I've murdered and hidden, has been taking a pleasant stroll-without a guard-on the hill behind the castle. Furthermore, far from being a prisoner here, Lady Jennifer enjoys complete freedom and has been accorded every comfort. In fact, when you see her, you'll find she's lavishly garbed in the clothes belonging to the former chatelaine of this castle, and around her throat is a strand of rather priceless pearls-also owned by the former chatelaine here."

Graverley's mouth fell open. "You gave jewels to her? The ruthless Black Wolf-the 'Scourge of Scotland'-has been lavishing his ill-gotten gains on his own prisoner?"

"A coffer full of them," Royce drawled blandly.

The look of amazement on Graverley's face at that revelation was so comical that Royce was torn between the urge to laugh and the more appealing urge to smash his fist into the other man's face. However, at that moment, his chief concern was to prevent an outbreak between the opposing forces in the hall and avert the unthinkable repercussions of such an act. To achieve that goal he was willing to say anything, confess to any folly, until Arik appeared with Jennifer in tow. "Furthermore," he continued, leaning his hip upon the table and affecting an attitude of complete confidence, "if you're expecting Lady Jennifer to fall at your feet and weep with joy that you've come to her 'rescue,' you're in for a disappointment. She will want to stay with me-"

"Why should she?" Graverley demanded, but far from being enraged, he was, for the moment, evidently finding the situation highly diverting. Like Royce Westmoreland, Graverley knew the value of alternatives, and if all this rubbish about Lady Jennifer Merrick's willingness should prove to be true-and if Royce could persuade Henry to hold him blameless-then all this diverting information about Westmoreland's tender treatment of his captive would still provide enough hilarious gossip to keep the English court laughing for years. "I gather from your proprietary air that Lady Jennifer has been cavorting in your bed. Evidently, because she has, you think she'll now be willing to betray her family and her country because of it. It sounds to me," Graverley finished with open amusement, "that you've begun to believe all the court gossip over your supposed prowess in bed. Or was she so good to lie with that you've lost your wits? If so, I'll have to invite her for a tumble with me. You won't mind will you?"

Royce's voice was like icicles. "Inasmuch as I intend to wed her, 'twill give me an excuse to cut your tongue out-something I'll look forward to with considerable relish!" Royce was about to say more, but Graverley's gaze suddenly shifted to a point beyond Royce's shoulder.

"Here's the faithful Arik," he drawled with amused insolence, "but where's your eager bride?"

Royce swiveled around, his gaze riveting on Arik's harsh, craggy face. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"She's escaped."

In the frozen silence that followed that announcement, Godfrey added, "Judging by the looks of the tracks in the woods, there were six men and seven horses; she left with no signs of a struggle. One of the men was waiting in the woods only a few yards from where you sat with her today." Only a few yards from where she kissed him as if she never wanted to leave him, Royce thought furiously. Only a few yards from where she used her lips and body and smile to lull him into leaving her there alone …