"You can stay at the abbey if you wish, and I'll ask Mother Ambrose for an escort so I can continue on home sometime today or tonight. Father will surely think we're hostages here, so I must reach him at once, before he accepts their terms. Besides, he'll have questions to ask about how many men there are here, what arms they bear-things like that, which only we can answer."

Brenna nodded, but that was not the entire reason Jenny wished to go in person to Merrick keep, and they both knew it. More than anything, Jenny wanted to do something to make her father and her clan proud of her, and this was her golden opportunity. When and if she succeeded, she wanted to be there to see it in their eyes.

The guard's footsteps sounded outside, and Jenny stood up, a polite, even conciliatory, smile fixed on her face. Brenna stood up, looking like she was about to face certain death.

"Good morning," Jenny said as Sir Godfrey escorted them toward the woods. "I feel as if I haven't yet slept."

Sir Godfrey, a man of perhaps thirty, cast an odd look at her-undoubtedly, Jenny thought, because she'd never spoken a civil word to him; then she stiffened as his frowning gaze seemed to drift down her habit, padded now with men's clothes beneath it.

"You slept little," he said, evidently aware of their late-night efforts with a needle.

Their footsteps were muffled by damp grass, as Jenny walked on his left with Brenna stumbling along on her other side.

Feigning a yawn, she cast a sidelong glance at him. "My sister is feeling rather peaked this morn from our late hours. 'Twould be very nice for us if we were permitted a few extra minutes to refresh ourselves at the stream?"

His deeply creased, sun-bronzed face, turned to her, watching her with a mixture of suspicion and uncertainty, then he nodded agreeably.

"Fifteen minutes," he said and Jenny's spirits soared, "but I want to be able to see the head of at least one of you."