She did not expect her father, or the rest of her clan, to forgive her, but she needed to try to explain. In fact, she rather expected to be treated like a pariah, but as she drew up before the Merrick tents, she could see at once that this was not going to be the case. Her father came to the doorway of his tent, and before Stefan Westmoreland could dismount and help her alight, Lord Merrick was reaching up for Jennifer's waist himself. Others of her clan emerged from their tents, and suddenly Jenny was being enfolded in hugs and having her hand patted by Garrick Carmichael and Hollis Fergusson. Even Malcolm put his arm about her shoulders.

"Jenny," Brenna burst out when she could finally reach her sister. "I've missed you so," she added, hugging Jenny fiercely.

"And I've missed you," Jenny said, her voice hoarse with emotion over the kindness of her reception.

"Come inside, my dear," her father insisted, and to Jenny's shock it was he who apologized for misunderstanding her desire to go to a cloister rather than dwell with her husband. Which should have made her feel better, but, instead it made her feel more guilty.

"This was William's," her father said, handing her William's ornamental dagger. "I know he loved you better than he loved any of us, Jennifer, and he would want you to have it. He would want you to wear it tomorrow in his honor at the tournament."

"Yes-" Jenny said, her eyes blurred with tears, "I will."

Then he told her how they'd had to lay William to rest in an ordinary grave in unhallowed ground; he told her of the prayers they'd said for the courageous future lord of Merrick who had been slain before his prime. By the time he was finished, Jenny felt as if William had died all over again-so fresh was it in her mind.

When it was time to leave, her father gestured to a trunk in the corner of his tent. "Those are your mother's things, my dear," he told her as Becky's father and Malcolm carried the trunk outside. "I knew ye would want to have them, especially since you must dwell with the killer of your brother. They will be a comfort for you, and a reminder that you are and will always be the countess of Rockbourn. I have taken the liberty," he added, when it was time for Jenny to leave, "of having your own banner, the Rockbourn banner, flown beside ours on our pavilion at the tournament tomorrow. I thought you would want it there, above you, while you watch us fight your beloved William's butcher."

Jenny was so dazed with pain and guilt she could scarcely speak, and when they walked out of her father's tent in the waning afternoon light, she discovered that everyone she had not seen when she'd arrived was waiting now to greet her. It was if the entire village surrounding Merrick had come, along with every male relation she possessed. "We miss ye, lassie," the armorer said.

"We'll make you proud tomorrow," said a distant cousin who'd never even liked her before. "Just the way you make us proud by bein' a Scot."

"King James," her father announced to her in a carrying voice that could be heard by all, "has bade me send you his personal regards and an exhortation that you never forget the moors and mountains of your homeland."

"Forget?" Jenny answered in a choked whisper. "How could I do that?"

Her father hugged her long and tenderly, a gesture so out of character for him that Jenny almost broke down and begged not to have to return to Claymore. "I trust," he added as he guided her to her horse, "that your Aunt Elinor is taking excellent care of everyone?"

"Care of us?" Jenny repeated blankly.

"Er…" he amended quickly and vaguely, "that she's making her tisanes and curatives while she's with you? To ensure you stay well."

Jenny nodded absently, clutching Malcolm's dagger, vaguely thinking of Aunt Elinor's many trips to the woods for her herbs. She was about to mount her horse when Brenna's desperate, pleading look finally reminded her of the carefully worded message Brenna had sent to her last night. "Father," she said, turning to him, and she did not have to feign her longing,

"would it be-possible for Brenna to return with me and spend the eve at Claymore with me? We'll ride to the tournament together."

For a moment her father's face hardened, then a small smile appeared at his lips and he nodded instantly. "You can guarantee her safety?" he added almost as an afterthought.

Jenny nodded.

For several minutes after Brenna and Jenny had ridden off with their armed escort, the earl of Merrick remained outside his tent with Malcolm, watching them.

"Do you think it worked?" Malcolm said, his icy, contemptuous gaze riveted on Jenny's back.

Lord Merrick nodded and replied flatly, "She's been reminded of her duty, and her duty will overcome whatever lust she has for the Butcher. She'll sit in our pavillion and she'll cheer for us agin' the English while her husband and all his people look on."

Malcolm made no effort to hide his loathing for his stepsister as he asked snidely, "But will she cheer while we kill him on the field? I doubt it. The night we went to Claymore, she practically flung herself at him and begged him to forgive her for asking you to send her to an abbey."

Lord Merrick swung around, his eyes like chips of ice. "My blood flows in her veins. She loves me. She'll bend to my will-she already has, though she doesn't realize it."

The bailey was ablaze with orange torchlight and packed with smiling guests and fascinated serfs, who were watching Royce knight Godfrey's squire. For the sake of the six hundred guests and three hundred vassals and serfs in attendance, it had been decided that this part of the ceremony would take place in the bailey, rather than within the chapel.

On the sidelines near the front, Jenny stood quietly, a tiny smile touching her lips as her sorrows were temporarily overcome by the ceremony and pomp that accompanied the ritual. The squire, a muscular young man named Bardrick, was kneeling in front of Royce, clad in the symbolic long white tunic, red mantle and hood, and black coat. He had fasted for twenty-four hours and spent the night in the chapel praying and meditating. At sunrise, he had made his confession to Friar Gregory, heard mass, and partaken of the holy sacrament.

Now the other knights and several ladies who were guests were participating in his ceremonial "arming" by carrying each piece of his shiny new armor forward, one at a time, and laying them beside him at Royce's feet. When the last piece of armor had been laid out, Royce looked over at Jenny, who was holding the golden spurs that were the ultimate symbol of knighthood, since they were illegal for any but knights.

Picking up the long skirt of her green velvet gown, Jenny walked forward and placed them on the grass near Royce's feet. As she did so, her eyes were drawn to the golden spurs on the heels of Royce's knee-high leather boots, and she suddenly wondered if his knighting on the battlefield at Bosworth had been anything so grand as this.

Godfrey smiled at her as he went forward carrying the last and most important piece of equipment: a sword stretched across his hands. When that had been placed beside Bardrick, Royce bent forward and asked him three questions in a low, stern voice which Jenny couldn't clearly hear. Whatever Bardrick answered had evidently satisfied Royce, because he nodded. The traditional accolade came next, and without realizing it, Jenny held her breath as Royce raised his hand in a wide arc and struck Bardrick a resounding slap across his face.

Friar Gregory quickly pronounced the blessing of the church on the new knight and the air was rent with cheers as "Sir" Bardrick stood up and his horse was led forward. In keeping with tradition, he made a running mount of the steed without touching the stirrups, then he rode about the crowded bailey as best he could, tossing coins to the serfs: