A Kingdom of Dreams (Westmoreland, #1)

by Judith McNaught

And in that unlikely moment, as she held his dagger poised high, ready to strike, Royce Westmoreland thought she was the most magnificent creature he’d ever beheld;

“If I were your daughter, how would you feel?” Jenny demanded indignantly. “Cursed,” he said bluntly, ignoring her wounded look. “In two days, you’ve shown me more resistance than I encountered at the last two castles I took by force.” “I meant,” Jenny said, her eyes filled with ire, plunking her hands on her slim hips, “if I were your daughter, and your sworn enemy kidnapped me, how would you want me to behave?”

“Good heavens, your grace, I shouldn’t wish to rile your temper!” she said with deliberately exaggerated alarm. “Were I to do that, I might suffer a horrible fate at your hands. Let me think, now—what dire things could you do to me? I know! You might compromise my reputation. No,” she continued as if considering the matter impartially, “you couldn’t do that because you compromised it beyond recall when you forced me to stay with you at

Hardin without my sister there. I have it!” she cried, inspired. “You might force me to lie with you! And then, you could arrange it so that everyone in two countries knows that I shared your bed! But no, you’ve already done those things—” Each barbed word she spoke pricked Royce’s conscience, making him feel like the barbarian he was oft called, and still she continued hammering at him with her words: “I have it at last! Having done all that to me, there’s only one thing left to do.” Unable to stop himself, Royce said with feigned unconcern, “And that is?” “You could marry me!” she exclaimed in pretended triumphant delight, but what had begun as a jibe directed at him, now seemed to Jenny like a painful joke on her, and her voice shook with bitterness and pain,

“You could marry me, and in so doing, take me away from my home and country and bind me to a life of public humiliation and scorn at your hands. Yes, that’s it! It’s exactly what I deserve, is it not, my lord, ...

near an abbey and putting myself in the way of your marauding brother!” With sham disdain she said, “Why—considering the enormity of my crime— having me drawn and quartered is much too kind! It ...

And do not worry,” she added breezily, noting Royce’s draining color. “The fact that Jenny’s mother died in childbirth is nothing to be concerned about” Royce’s tankard crashed to the stone floor.