Jenny's amusement vanished and she retreated a step, then she stopped and made herself hold her ground.

"I want answers to some questions. How many men-at-arms does your father keep at Merrick castle?"

"I don't know," Jenny said flatly, then she spoiled the effect of her bravado by taking another cautious step backward.

"Does your father think I mean to march on him?"

"I don't know."

"You're trying my patience," he warned in a silky, ominous voice. "Would you prefer I ask these questions of your tender little sister instead?"

That threat had the desired effect; her defiant expression turned desperate. "Why wouldn't he think you're going to attack him? For years, there have been rumors that you're going to do it. Now, you have an excuse! Not that you need one." Jennifer cried, frightened past all reason when he began advancing on her again. "You're an animal! You enjoy killing innocent people!" When he didn't deny that he enjoyed it, Jenny felt her insides cringe.

"Now that you know that much," he said in a dangerously soft voice, "suppose you tell me how many men-at-arms your father has?"

Jenny hastily calculated that there must be at least 500 left. "Two hundred," she said.

"You stupid, reckless little fool!" Royce hissed, grabbing her arms and giving her a hard shake. "I could break you in half with my bare hands, yet you still lie to me?"

"What do you expect me to do?" Jenny cried, quaking all over, but still stubborn. "Betray my own father to you?"

"Before you leave this tent," he promised, "you'll tell me what you know of his plans-willingly or with some help from me you won't enjoy."

"I don't know how many men he's gathered," Jenny cried helplessly. "It's true," she flung out. "Until yesterday, my father hadn't seen me in two years, and before that he rarely spoke to me!"