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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 Je
"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," Je
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 Je
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, Je
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…"
Je
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?"
Je
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, Je
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 Je
"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.
Je
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 Je
Clan Merrick's gallery, flying the falcon and crescent, was between Clan MacPherson's and Clan Duggan's. To add to Je
She took her seat in the front row, between Aunt Elinor and Bre
And all she'd had to do in order to accomplish it was to publicly humiliate and betray her husband.
The realization made her stomach cramp and her hands perspire. She'd been here less than ten minutes and already Je
And that was before the people who had crowded around her finally moved away, and she found herself the cynosure of nearly every eye across the field on the English side. Everywhere she looked, the English were either looking at her, pointing at her, or drawing someone else's attention to her.
"Just look," Aunt Elinor said delightedly, nodding at the infuriated, glaring English, "at the wonderful headpieces we are all wearing! It was just as I expected -all of us were quite carried away with the spirit of the day and have worn the sort of thing that was in style in our youth."
Je