A Kingdom of Dreams

Chapter Twenty-Two

Where are we going?" Jenny asked.

"Up there to see the view," Royce said, pointing to the steep steps that led up to the wall-walk, a wide stone ledge adjoining the castle wall that ran through all twelve of the towers, enabling the guards to patrol the entire perimeter of the castle.

Trying to ignore the guards, who were posted at regular intervals along the walk, Jenny looked out across the moonlit valley, the breeze blowing her hair about her shoulders." Tis beautiful up here," she said softly, turning to him. "Claymore is beautiful." After a minute, she said, "It seems invulnerable. I can't imagine how you ever managed to seize it. These walls are so high and the stone so smooth. How did you manage to scale over them?"

His brows lifted over amused gray eyes. "I didn't scale them. I tunneled under them, shored them up with beams and then set fires in the tunnels. When the beams collapsed, so did the wall."

Jenny's mouth opened in shock, and then she remembered something: "I heard you did that at Castle Glenkenny. It sounds dangerous in the extreme."

"It is."

"Then why did you do it?"

Brushing a stray lock off her cheek, Royce said lightly, "Because I can't fly, which was the only other way to get into this bailey."

"Then 'twould seem," she remarked thoughtfully, "someone else could get in here the same way."

"They could try," he said with a grin, "but 'twould be foolhardy. Just beyond us, a few yards from the walls, I had a series of tunnels constructed, ones that will collapse on invaders should any of them decide to try what I did. When I rebuilt this place," he said, putting his arm around her waist and drawing her against his side, "I tried to redesign it in a way that even I couldn't breach it. Eight years ago, these walls were not of such smooth stone as they are now." He nodded at the turrets that rose high above the walls at regular intervals. "And those towers were all square. Now they're round."

"Why?" Jenny asked, intrigued.

"Because," he said, pausing to brush a warm kiss upon her forehead, "round towers have no nice corners for men to use to climb them. Square ones, like those you had at Merrick, are especially easy to climb, as you well know…" Jenny opened her mouth to issue a deserved reprimand for bringing up such a subject, only to find herself being kissed. "If the enemy can't climb the walls or tunnel beneath them," he murmured against her lips, as he kissed her again, "the only other thing to do is to try to set fire to us. Which is why," he whispered as he drew her against him, "all the buildings in the bailey now have tile roofs, instead of thatch."

Breathless from his kisses, Jenny leaned back in his arms. "You're very thorough, my lord," she teased meaningfully.

An answering smile drifted across his tanned face. "What is mine, I intend to keep."

His words reminded her of things of her own she had not been able to keep-things that should have belonged to their children.

"What's wrong?" Royce asked, watching her expression turn somber.

Jenny shrugged and lightly said, "I was merely thinking that it's natural you'd want children, and-"

Tipping her face up to his, Royce said quietly, "I want your children." She waited, praying he would say 'I love you,' and when he didn't she tried to tell herself that what he had said was nearly as good as 'I love you.'

"I had a great many things-jewels and things-" she continued wistfully, "things of my mother's that by rights should have belonged to our children. I doubt my father would give them to me now. I wasn't dowerless you know, if you read the betrothal contract."

"Madam," he said dryly, "you're scarcely dowerless now."

Feeling truly belittled by the sudden realization that she'd come to her marriage with only the soiled garments she wore, she turned around in his arms, gazing out across the valley. "I have nothing. I came to you with less than the lowest serf, without so much as a single sheep as dowry."

"No sheep," he agreed dryly. "Your only possession is the most beautiful little estate in all England, called Grand Oak-because of the giant oaks that guard its gates." He saw her startled look and added with a wry smile, "Henry gave it to you as a bride gift. 'Twill be your dower house."

"How… how nice… of him," Jenny said, finding it extremely difficult to speak so of the English king.

Royce shot her a sardonic, sidewise glance. "He took it from me."

"Oh," Jenny said, nonplused. "Why?"

" 'Twas a forfeit levied on me for actions pertaining to a certain young Scottish girl captured from an abbey."

"I'm not so certain we were on the grounds of the abbey."

"According to the abbess, you were."

"Truly?" she asked, but Royce didn't hear her. Suddenly he was staring intently at the valley, his body taut and alert.

"Is something wrong?" Jenny asked, peering worriedly in the direction of his gaze, unable to see a single thing out of the ordinary.

"I think," he said coolly as he stared out at a nearly invisible speck of light far beyond the village, "our pleasant evening is about to be interrupted. We have guests." Six more tiny pinpoints of light bobbed into view, then a dozen more and then twice that many. "At least a hundred, possibly more. Mounted."

"Guest-" Jenny began, but her voice was drowned out as a guard far off to her right suddenly raised his trumpet and blew an earsplitting blast on his clarion. Twenty-five other guards, stationed at intervals along the wall-walk, turned in his direction, and a moment later, after confirming what he saw, they lifted their own clarions and suddenly the peaceful night was split with the ominous blasts of trumpets. Within seconds men-at-arms were pouring into the bailey with weapons at the ready, some of them dressing as they ran. Frantically, Jenny turned to Royce. "What's wrong? Are they enemies?"

"I'd say they're a contingent from Merrick."

Sir Godfrey and Sir Stefan bolted up the steps of the wall-walk, strapping on long swords, and Jenny's whole body began to tremble. Swords. Bloodshed.

Royce turned to issue orders to the captain-at-arms, and when he turned back to Jennifer, she was staring out at the flickering lights, her fist pressed to her mouth.

"Jennifer," he said gently, but the eyes she raised to him were wild with terror, and he realized at once he had to get her away from the scene of what obviously looked to her to be preparations for a full-scale battle.

Hundreds of torches were being lit in the bailey and on the castle wall, and the whole scene was already aglow with eerie yellow daylight as Royce took her arm and led her, down the steps and into the hall.

Closing the door to his bedchamber, he turned to her, and she looked at him in numb anguish. "Should you not be out there-with your men?"

"No. My men have been through this drill a thousand times." Putting his hands on her rigid shoulders, he said to her in a calm, firm voice, "Jennifer, listen to me. My men have orders not to attack without a command from me personally." She shuddered as if the word "attack" had been all she heard, and Royce gave her a slight shake. "Listen to me," he commanded sharply. "I had men posted in the woods near the road. In a few minutes, I'll know exactly how large a group is approaching. I don't think it's an army unless your father is a greater fool than I think he is. Moreover, he hasn't had time to put out a call-to-arms to your hotheaded Scotsmen and raise a fully equipped army. I think it's merely a group from Merrick, including Lord Hastings, Lord Dugal, and your father. Considering the awkward position I put him in when I snatched you from Merrick, it's natural he'd want to bluster in here and put up a pretence of innocent outrage. Moreover, he'll save a little face if he's able to gain entrance to Claymore even if it takes a flag of truce and an Englishman from the court of the Star Chamber to get him in here."

"And if it is a peaceful group," she cried frantically, "what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to lower the drawbridge and invite them in," he said dryly.

Her fingers bit into the muscles of his upper arms. "Please-don't hurt them-"

"Jennifer-" he said tightly, but she wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself against him. "Don't hurt them," she cried hysterically. "You gave me your word! I'll do anything you ask of me… anything… but don't hurt them."

Exasperated, Royce moved her away from him and grasped her chin. "Jennifer, the only wound that's going to be inflicted tonight is to my pride. It galls me beyond measure to have to raise my gate, lower the drawbridge, and let your father strut into my hall."

"You didn't care about his pride," Jenny argued wildly, "when you breached Merrick's tower and took me from there. How do you think that made him feel. Is your own pride so great you can't put it aside, just for a few hours, just this once?"

"No."

The single word, spoken with such quiet conviction, finally snapped Jenny from her mindless panic. Drawing a long, steadying breath, she leaned her forehead against his chest and nodded. "I know you won't harm my family. You gave me your word."

"Yes," he said reassuringly, gathering her into his arms for a swift kiss. Turning to the door, he paused with his hand upon the handle. "Stay in here, unless I send for you," he ordered implacably. "I've sent for the friar to bear witness that we're well and truly married, but I imagine the emissaries from our kings will want to see you to ascertain that you're safe and unharmed."

"Very well," she agreed and quickly added, "Father will be in a dreadful mood, but William is gentle and seldom loses his temper. I'd like to see him before they leave-to talk to him and send a message to Brenna. Will you let him come up?"

He nodded. "If it. seems wise, I will."

Masculine voices raised in anger thundered in the hall, carrying to the bedchamber, where Jenny paced, waiting, listening, praying. Her father's voice, blustering and furious, was joined by the angry voices of her brothers, as well as Lord Hastings, and Lord Dugal. Royce's deep voice, hard and authoritative, rose above the din, and then there was silence… eerie, foreboding silence.

Knowing she could observe what was happening if she left the bedchamber and went out onto the gallery, Jenny walked to the door and then hesitated. Royce had given her his oath not to harm any of her family, and all he had asked of her in return was that she remain in here. It seemed wrong not to honor his wish.

Snatching her hand away from the door, Jenny turned away from it, then she hesitated again. She could, however, honor his wish and still be better able to hear by simply opening the door a bit without leaving the bedchamber. Cautiously, she turned the handle, opening the door a scant two inches…

"Friar Gregory has verified that the couple is wed," Lord Hastings, the English emissary from King Henry's court was saying. " 'Twould seem Claymore adhered to the letter of the agreement, if not precisely to the spirit of it, while you, Lord Merrick, by plotting to hide your daughter away from her rightful husband, broke faith with the agreement both in spirit and in fact."

The Scottish emissary mumbled something soothing and conciliatory, but Jennifer's father's voice rose in fury. "You English swine! My daughter chose to enter a cloister, she pleaded with me to send her away. She was prepard to make the marriage, but 'twas her holy right to choose God as her lord if she wished. No king can deny her the right to pledge herself to a life of seclusion and devotion to God, and you know it! Bring her down here," he shouted. "She'll tell you 'twas her own choice!"

His words slashed Jenny's heart like a jagged sword. Evidently, he really had intended to lock her away for the rest of her life, and without ever telling her what he meant to do; he'd been willing to sacrifice her life for revenge against his enemy. When it came down to it, he had more hatred for a stranger than he had love for her.

"Bring her down here! She'll tell you I speak the truth!" her father thundered. "I demand she be brought down! The Barbarian objects because he knows his wife loathes him and that she'll confirm what I say."

Royce's deep voice was filled with such calm conviction that Jenny felt tenderness blend with the pain of her father's betrayal inside of her. "Jennifer has told me the truth, and the truth is that she never collaborated in your scheme. If you have any feeling for her at all, you will not force her to come down here and call you a liar to your face."

"He's the liar!" Malcolm bellowed. "Jennifer will prove it!"

"I regret the need to cause your wife unhappiness," Lord Hastings interrupted, "but both Lord Dugal and I agree the only way to get to the bottom of this is to hear what she herself has to say. No, your grace," he said instantly, "under the circumstances, 'twould be best if Lord Dugal and I escort the lady down here-to… er… prevent the claim of coercion by either party. Kindly direct Lord Dugal and me to her chamber…"

Jenny closed the door and slumped against it, laying her cheek against the iron banding, feeling as if she was being torn asunder.

The hall was filled with tension and hostility as she walked forward between her two escorts. Men-at-arms from Merrick, Claymore, and those from King Henry and King James lined the walls. Near the fireplace, Jennifer's father and her brothers stood across from Royce, and all of them were watching her.

"Your grace-" Lord Hastings began, turning to Jennifer, but her father interrupted impatiently. "My dear child," he said, "Tell these idiots that 'twas your

wish to flee to the solace of a cloister, rather than endure life with this… this bastard. Tell them you asked me, begged me to let you do it, that you knew-"

"I knew nothing, "Jenny cried, unable to endure the feigned look of honesty and love on his face. "Nothing!"

Jenny saw Royce start forward, saw the look of quiet reassurance in his gray eyes, but her father wasn't finished.

"Hold!" he roared, advancing on Jennifer with a mixture of fury and disbelief on his face. "What do you mean, you knew nothing of this? The night I told you you were to wed this beast, you begged me to let you go back to Belkirk abbey." Jenny paled as her forgotten plea, spoken in terror and dismissed as impossible by her father, screamed through her mind… I'll go back to the abbey, or to my Aunt Elinor, or anywhere you say …

"I-I did say that," she stammered, her gaze flying to Royce's face, watching it harden into a mask of icy wrath.

"There! That proves it," her father shouted.

Jenny felt Lord Hastings take her arm, but she jerked it away. "No, please, listen to me," she cried, her gaze riveted on the drumming pulse in Royce's cheek and the glittering violence in his eyes. "Listen to me," she begged him. "I did say that to my father. I'd forgotten I said it because-" her head jerked to her father, "because you wouldn't hear of it. But I never, never agreed to any plan to wed him first, and then flee to a convent. Tell him," she cried. "Tell him I never agreed."

"Jennifer," her father said, looking at her with bitterness and contempt, "You agreed when you begged me to let you go to Belkirk. I merely chose a safer, more distant abbey for you. There was never any doubt in my mind that you would have to first abide by our king's command that you wed the swine. You knew that, too. That is why I originally refused your request."

Jenny looked from her father's accusing face to Royce's granite one, and she knew a feeling of panicked defeat that surpassed anything she'd ever felt. Turning, she picked up her skirts and began walking slowly toward the dais as if in a nightmare.

Behind her, Lord Hastings cleared his throat and said to her father and Royce, " 'Twould seem this has been a case of grave misunderstandings between all the parties. If you will be so kind as to provide us with lodgings for the night in the gatehouse, Claymore, we'll depart in the morn."

Booted feet hit the stone floor as everyone filed out. Jenny was nearly at the top of the steps when shouts and a bellow from her father made her blood freeze: "BASTARD! You've killed him! I'll kill-" The sound of Jenny's thundering heart drowned out everything as she turned and started running down the stairs. As she raced past the table, she saw men bending over something near the door, and Royce, her father, and Malcolm being held at sword point.

And then the men huddled near the door slowly stood up and stepped back…

William was lying on the floor with a dagger hilt protruding from his chest, a pool of blood spreading out around him. Jenny's scream split the air as she raced to the prone figure. "William!"

Throwing herself down beside him, moaning his name, she felt wildly for a pulse, but there was none, and her hands rushed over his arms and his face. "William, oh, please-" she cried brokenly, imploring him not to be dead. "William, please don't! William-" Jenny's eyes riveted on the dagger, on the figure of a wolf etched in its hilt.

"Arrest the bastard!" her father shouted behind her, trying to lunge at Royce while being restrained by the king's man.

Lord Hastings said sharply, "Your son's dagger is on the floor. He must have drawn it. There's no arrest to be made. Unhand Claymore," he snapped at his men.

Royce came to stand beside her, "Jenny-" he began tautly, but she whirled on her heels like a dervish, and when she came up in a crouch, she held William's dagger in her hand.

"You killed him!" she hissed, her eyes alive with pain and tears and fury as she slowly straightened.

This time Royce did not underestimate her ability or her intent. With his eyes riveted to hers, he watched for the moment when she would strike. "Drop the dagger," he said quietly.

She raised it higher, aimed at his heart, and cried, "You killed my brother." The dagger flashed through the air, and Royce caught her wrist in a vice grip, twisting the dagger free and sending it spinning to the floor, but even then, he had all he could do to restrain her.

Wild with grief and pain, she launched herself at him, striking at his chest with her fists when he jerked her tightly against him. "You devil!" she screamed hysterically as they carried her brother out. "Devil, devil, devil!"

"Listen to me!" Royce ordered tautly, grabbing her wrists. The eyes she raised to his were sparkling with hatred and glazed with tears she could not shed. "I told him to stay behind if he wanted to talk to you." Royce let go of her wrists as he finished harshly, "When I started to turn back to take him upstairs, he was reaching for his dagger."

Jennifer's hand crashed into the side of his face as she slapped him with all her strength. "Liar!" she hissed, her chest heaving. "You wanted vengeance because you believed I conspired with my father! I saw it on your face. You wanted vengeance and you killed the first person who got in your way!"

"I tell you, he drew his dagger!" Royce bit out, but instead of calming her, that enraged her-and with good reason: "I drew a dagger on you, too," she cried furiously, "but you took it away as easily as a child's toy! William was half your size, but you didn't take his away, you murdered him!"

"Jennifer-"

"You're an animal!" she whispered, looking at him as if he was obscene.

White-faced with guilt and remorse, Royce tried once more to convince her. "I swear to you on my word, I-"

"Your word!" she hissed contemptuously. "The last time you gave me your word 'twas that you'd not harm my family!"

Her second slap crashed against his cheek with enough force to snap his head sideways.

He let her go, and when the door to her chamber slammed, Royce walked over to the fire. Propping his booted foot on a log, he hooked his thumbs into the back of his belt and stared down into the flames, while doubts about her brother's intent began to hammer at him.

It had happened so quickly; William had been close behind him as Royce stood near the door watching his uninvited guests depart. From the corner of his eye, Royce had glimpsed a dagger sliding out of its sheath, and his reaction had been instinctive. Had there been time to think-or had William not been so damned close to his back-he would have reacted with less instinct and more caution.

Now, however, in retrospect, he remembered perfectly well that he'd sized the young man up before inviting him to remain to see Jenny, and that he'd thought him nonaggressive.

Lifting his hand, Royce pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, but he could not shut out the truth: either his original instincts about William not posing a threat had been wrong, or else he'd just slain a young man who'd been drawing his dagger merely as a precaution in case Royce was tricking him.

Royce's doubt erupted into almost unbearable guilt. He'd been judging men and the danger they represented to him for thirteen years, and he'd never been wrong. Tonight he'd judged William harmless.