"No," Royce snapped. The flap dropped down, smacking her in the backside, and Jenny bolted forward in angry surprise, then let out a stifled scream when an unseen hand shot out and caught her arm, but it was merely one of the dozen guards who were posted just outside the Wolf's tent.

By the time Jenny returned to their tent, Brenna was ashen with fright at being left alone. "I'm perfectly all right, I promise," Jenny reassured her as she awkwardly lowered herself to the ground.

Chapter Four

Fires burned at periodic intervals in the valley where the Wolfs men were still encamped that night. Standing in the open doorway of the tent, her wrists bound behind her, Jenny thoughtfully studied the activity going on all about them. "If we're going to escape, Brenna-" she began.

"Escape?" her sister repeated, gaping. "How in the name of the Blessed Mother can we possibly do that, Jenny?"

"I'm not certain, but however we do it, we shall have to do it very soon. I heard some of the men talking outside, and they think we'll be used to force Father to surrender."

"Will he do that?"

Jenny bit her lip. "I don't know. There was a time-before Alexander came to Merrick-when my kinsmen would have laid down their weapons rather than see me harmed. Now I don't matter to them."

Brenna heard the catch in her sister's voice, and though she longed to comfort Jenny, she knew Alexander had so alienated clan Merrick from their young mistress that they didn't care about her any more.

"They do love you, however, so it's hard to know what they'll decide or how much influence Father will have on them. However, if we can escape soon, we could reach Merrick before any decision is made, which is what we must do."

Of all the obstacles in their way, the one that worried Jenny most was the actual trip back to Merrick, which she estimated to be a two-day journey on horseback from here. Every hour they would be required to spend on the road was risky; bandits roamed everywhere, and two women alone were considered fair game even by honest men. The roads simply were not safe. Neither were the inns. The only safe lodgings were to be found at abbeys and priories, which was where all honest, respectable travelers chose to stay.

"The problem is, we don't stand a chance of escaping with our hands bound," Jenny continued aloud, as she gazed out at the busy camp. "Which means we either have to convince them to untie our wrists, or else manage to escape into the woods during mealtime when we're not bound. But if we do that, our absence will be discovered as soon as they come to collect our trays before we're very far away. Still, if that's the only chance that presents itself during the next day or two, we shall very likely have to take it," she announced cheerfully.

"Once we slip into the woods, what will we do?" Brenna asked, bravely quelling her inner terror at the thought of being alone in the woods at night.

"I'm not certain-hide somewhere, I suppose, until they give up looking for us. Or else we might be able to fool them into thinking we went east instead of north. If we could steal two of their horses, that would increase our chances of outrunning them, even if it made it more difficult to hide. The trick is to find some way to do both. We need to be able to hide and outrun them."

"How can we do that?" Brenna asked, her forehead knotted deeply in futile thought.

"I don't know, but we have to try something." Lost in contemplation, she stared unseeing past the tall, bearded man who had stopped talking to one of his knights and was studying her intently.

The fires had dwindled and their guard had collected their trays and retied their wrists, but still neither girl had come up with an acceptable scheme, even though they'd discussed several outlandish ones. "We can't just remain here like willing pawns to be used to his advantage," Jenny burst out when they were lying side by side that night. "We must escape."

"Jenny, has it occurred to you what he might do to us when-if," she amended quickly, "he catches us?"

"I don't think he'd kill us," Jenny reassured her after a moment's contemplation. "We wouldn't be any use to him as hostages if we were dead. Father would insist on seeing us before agreeing to surrender, and the earl will have to produce us-alive and breathing -or else Father will tear him to shreds," Jenny said, deciding it was better, less frightening, to think of him as the earl of Claymore, rather than the Wolf.

"You're right," Brenna agreed and promptly fell asleep.

But it was several hours before Jenny could relax enough to do the same, for despite her outward show of bravery and confidence, she was more frightened than she'd ever been in her life. She was frightened for Brenna, for herself, and for her clan, and she hadn't the vaguest notion how to escape. She only knew they had to try.

As to their captor not murdering them if he caught them, that much was likely true; however, there were other-unthinkable-male alternatives to outright murder that he had at hand to retaliate against them. Her mind conjured up an image of his dark face all but hidden by at least a fortnight's growth of thick, black beard, and she shivered at the memory of those strange silver eyes as they'd looked last night with the leaping flames from the fires reflected in them. Today his eyes had been the angry gray of a stormy sky-but there had been a moment, when his eyes had shifted to her mouth, that the expression in their depths had changed-and that indefinable change had made him seem more threatening than ever before. It was his black beard, she told herself bracingly, that made him seem so frightening, for it hid his features. Without that dark beard, he'd doubtless look like any other elderly man of… thirty-five? Forty? She'd heard the legend of him since she was a child of three or four, so he must be very old indeed! She felt better, realizing he was old. 'Twas only his beard that made him seem alarming, she reassured herself. His beard, and his daunting height and build, and his strange, silver eyes.

Morning came and still she'd come up with no truly feasible plan that would satisfy their need to make all speed as well as hide and to avoid being set upon by bandits, or worse. "If only we had some men's clothing," Jenny said, not for the first time, "then we'd have a much better chance, both to escape and to reach our destination."

"We can't very well just ask our guard to lend us his," Brenna said a little desperately, as fear overwhelmed even her placid disposition. "I wish I had my sewing," she added with a ragged sigh. "I'm so jumpy I can hardly sit still. Besides, I always think most clearly when I've my needle in my hand. Do you suppose our guard would secure a needle for me if I asked him very nicely to do it?"

"Hardly," Jenny replied absently, plucking at the hem of her habit as she gazed out at the men tramping about in war-torn clothes. If anyone needed a needle and thread, it was those men. "Besides, what would you sew with the-" Jenny's voice dropped but her spirits soared, and it was all she could do to smooth the joyous smile from her face as she turned slowly to Brenna. "Brenna," she said in a carefully offhand voice, "you're quite right to ask the guard to secure you a needle and thread. He seems nice enough, and I know he finds you lovely. Why don't you call him over and ask him to get us two needles."

Jenny waited, laughing inwardly as Brenna went to the flap of the tent and motioned to the guard. Soon she would tell Brenna the plan, but not yet; Brenna's face would give her away if she tried to lie.

"It's a different guard-I don't know this one at all," Brenna whispered in disappointment as the man came toward her. "Shall I send him to fetch the nice guard?"