"Nearly always," Jennifer amended frantically. "I attended mass every day, except when I was ill, which was seldom, and I said my prayers every morning and every evening. Nearly every evening," she amended hastily Before her conscience could contradict her again, "except when I fell asleep before I was finished. And I tried, I truly tried to be all that the good sisters at the abbey wanted me to be. You know how hard I've tried! Lord," she finished desperately, "if you'll just help me escape from this, I'll never be willful or impulsive again."

"THAT I DO NOT BELIEVE, JENNIFER," God boomed dubiously.

"Nay, I swear it," she earnestly replied, trying to strike a bargain. "I'll do anything You want, I'll go straight back to the abbey and devote my life to prayer and-"

"The marriage contracts have been duly signed. Bring in the priest," Lord Balfour commanded, and Jennifer's breath came in wild, panicked gasps, all thoughts of potential sacrifices fleeing from her mind. "God," she silently pleaded, "why are You doing this to me? You aren't going to let this happen to me, are You?"

Silence fell over the great hall as the doors were flung open.

"YES, JENNIFER, I AM."

The crowd parted automatically to admit the priest, and Jennifer felt as if her life were ending. Her groom stepped into position beside her, and Jennifer jerked an inch away, her stomach churning with resentment and humiliation at having to endure his nearness. If only she had known how one heedless act could end in disaster and disgrace. If only she hadn't been so impulsive and reckless!

Closing her eyes, Jennifer shut out the hostile faces of the English and the murderous faces of her Scots kinsmen, and in her heart she faced the wrenching truth: Impulsiveness and recklessness, her two greatest faults, had brought her to this dire end-the same two character flaws that had led her to commit all of her most disastrous follies. Those two flaws, combined with a desperate yearning to make her father love her, as he loved his stepsons, were responsible for the debacle she'd made of her life: