A Kingdom of Dreams Read online

  " 'Tis meant to be," said Lord Melbrook, obviously not sharing his wife's distaste for it. "But then, I have assumed exactly the same position before King Henry, so you see, 'tis not quite the debasing gesture you ladies obviously find it. However," he amended after a moment's additional thought, "perhaps it feels different where you're a noble bending your knee to a king."

  As soon as the last vassal had knelt and sworn his fealty, Jenny quietly excused herself and slipped upstairs. Agnes had just finished helping her into a bedgown of soft white lawn embroidered with pink silk roses when Royce knocked on the door to her chamber and entered. "I'll just go down to the Lady Elinor and see if she needs me," Agnes said to Jenny, then she bobbed a quick curtsy to Royce.

  Realizing the linen gown was nearly transparent, Jenny snatched up a silver velvet dressing gown and hastily put it on. Instead of mocking the modest gesture—or teasing her about it—as he might have done when they'd been happy together, Jenny noticed that his handsome face remained perfectly expressionless.

  "I wanted to talk to you about a few things," he began quietly, when she had belted the robe. "First of all, about the badges you handed out to the villagers—"

  "If you're angry about that, I don't blame you," Jenny said honestly. "I should have consulted with you or Sir Albert first. Especially because I handed them out in your name. You weren't available at the time, and I—I don't like Sir Albert."

  "I'm far from angry, Jennifer," he said politely. "And after the tournament I'll replace Prisham. Actually, I came in here to thank you for noticing the problem and for solving it so cleverly. Most of all, I wanted to thank you for not letting your hatred for me show to the serfs."

  Jenny's stomach lurched sickly at the word hatred, as he continued, "You've done the opposite, in fact." He glanced toward the door by which Agnes had just departed and added ironically, "No one crosses themselves any more when they walk near me. Not even your maid."

  Jenny, who had no idea he'd ever noticed that before, nodded, unable to think of what to say.

  He hesitated and then said with a sardonic twist to his lips. "Your father, your brother, and three other Merricks have each challenged me to a joust tomorrow."

  The sensual awareness of him that had been plaguing Jenny ever since Katherine had remarked on Royce's alleged tenderness toward her was demolished by his next words:

  "I've accepted."

  "Naturally," she said with unhidden bitterness.

  "I had no choice," he said tautly. "I am under a specific command from my king not to decline if challenged by your family."

  "You're going to have a very busy day," she remarked, giving him a freezing look. It was common knowledge that Scotland and France had each picked their two premier knights, and that Royce was to confront them as well tomorrow. "How many matches have you agreed to?"

  "Eleven," he said flatly, "in addition to the tournament."

  "Eleven," Jenny repeated, her scathing voice filled with frustration and the endless pain of his betrayal. "Three is the customary number. I take it you require four times the amount of violence as other men to make you feel brave and strong?"

  His face whitened at that. "I have accepted only those matches which I was specifically commanded to accept. I've declined more than two hundred others."

  A dozen sarcastic retorts sprang to her lips, but Jenny had no heart to speak them. She felt like she was dying inside as she looked at him. Royce turned to leave, but the sight of William's dagger lying upon the chest against the wall suddenly made her feel almost desperate to defend her dead brother's actions. As her husband reached for the door handle, she said, "I have thought it through, and I think William must have reached for his dagger not because he meant to use it, but because he was cautious of his safety while alone with you in the hall. Or perhaps he feared for my safety. 'Twas obvious you were enraged with me at the time. But he would never have tried to attack you—never from the back."

  It was not an indictment, simply a statement of conclusion, and although Royce didn't turn to face her, she saw his shoulders stiffen as if bracing against pain while he spoke. "I reached the same conclusion the night it happened," Royce said tightly, almost relieved to have it out in the open. "From the corner of my eye, I saw a dagger being drawn at my back, and I reacted instinctively. It was a reflex. I'm sorry, Jennifer."

  The woman he had married would not accept his word, nor his love, but, oddly, she accepted his apology. "Thank you," she said achingly, "for not trying to convince me or yourself that he was an assassin. 'Twill make it much easier for us—for you and I to…"

  Jenny's voice trailed off as she tried to think what lay ahead for them, but all she could think of was what they had once shared—and lost. "For you and I to—treat each other courteously," she finished lamely.

  Royce drew an unsteady breath and turned his head to her. "And that's all you want from me anymore?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "Courtesy?"

  Jenny nodded because she could not speak. And because she could almost believe the look in his eyes was pain—a pain that surpassed even her own. "That's all I want," she finally managed to say.

  A muscle at the base of his throat worked as if he were trying to speak, but he only nodded curtly. And then he left.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Jenny clutched at the bedpost, tears streaming from her eyes in hot rivers. Her shoulders shook with violent, wrenching sobs she could no longer control; they tore from her chest and she wrapped her arms around the post, but her knees would no longer support her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Canopied galleries with chairs placed on ascending levels lined all four sides of the enormous tournament field and were already crowded with gorgeously garbed ladies and gentlemen by the time Jenny, Brenna, Aunt Elinor, and Arik arrived. Flags flew from the tops of each gallery, displaying the coats of arms of all the occupants within it, and as Jenny looked about, searching for her own banner, she immediately confirmed that Katherine had been correct: the galleries of her countrymen were not integrated with the others but were set facing the English —locked in opposition even now.

  "There, my dear—there is your coat of arms," Aunt Elinor said, pointing to the gallery across the field. "Flying right there beside your father's."

  Arik spoke, startling the three women into near panic with the sound of his booming voice, "You sit there—" he ordered, pointing to the gallery flying the Claymore coat of arms above it.

  Jenny, who knew this was the giant's order, not Royce's—which she wouldn't have obeyed anyway—shook her head. "I will sit beneath my own coat of arms, Arik. Wars with you have already emptied our gallery of many who should have been there. Claymore's gallery is packed."

  But it wasn't. Not quite. There was a large, thronelike chair in the center of it that was conspicuously empty. It had been meant for Jenny, she knew. Her stomach twisted as she rode past it, and the minute she did, all six hundred guests at Claymore and every serf and villager within sight of the field seemed to turn and watch her, first with shock, then disappointment, and, from many, contempt.

  Clan Merrick's gallery, flying the falcon and crescent, was between Clan MacPherson's and Clan Duggan's. To add to Jenny's mounting misery, the moment the clans across the field saw that she was riding to their side, an ear-rending cheer went up that continued growing in volume the closer she came. Jenny stared blindly ahead and made herself think only of William.

  She took her seat in the front row, between Aunt Elinor and Brenna, and as soon as she was settled, her kinsmen, including Becky's father, began patting her shoulder and calling proud greetings to her. People she knew—and many she didn't—from the galleries around her lined up in front of her to either renew their acquaintance or ask for an introduction. Once she had longed only to be accepted by her people; today, she was being worshiped and petted like an adored national heroine by more than a thousand Scots.

  And all she'd had to do in order to accomplish it was to publicly hu