Free By Grace Possessed by Jennifer Blake

months at court, where she was free to enjoy the licentious atmosphere while under strict royal protection. She recognized the base motives of those around her, but was somehow above them.
    “Dunbar!”
    Ross pushed away from the battlement’s crenellated wall. He turned without surprise to see his old enemy bearing down on him with his cloak flapping at his heels and a petulant glare on his smooth, aristocratic face.
    “Trilborn,” he said with scant politeness. Dealing with the arrogant fool was the last thing he needed. The sight of him, still wearing the black and silver he’d had on early that morning, set Ross’s teeth on edge.
    “Who would dream you’d be up here? I’d think you’d have had your fill of cold wind.”
    “What do you want?”
    If the bluntness of the question registered with Trilborn, there was no sign of it. “Precisely what you’d expect, I’m sure. I want to know how matters stand between you and Lady Catherine. Is there to be a wedding?”
    He should concede nothing, Ross knew. The temptation to tweak his enemy’s pointed beard, at least in a manner of speaking, was just impossible to resist. “The king sends to discover if the laird of the Clan Dunbar can be persuaded.”
    Trilborn eyed him with disfavor. “And you are overjoyed.”
    “Why not, given so lovely a lady?”
    “So wealthy, too, though there is always the curse to consider. Come, Dunbar. You can’t mean to accept this arrangement. What will you do about it?”
    Ross allowed a small smile to curl one corner of his mouth. “What would you? I wait on my father.”
    “You could take a horse and ride out of Winchester. No one is likely to stop you. They’ll scarce even notice you’ve gone.”
    “I make no doubt you would supply mount and escort.”
    The man’s eyes narrowed to conceal their glint of triumph. “Why, yes, if you like.”
    “It grieves me to disappoint you, but I must decline. I gave my parole, and cannot go back on my sworn word.”
    “What do you care, when it was given to an English king?”
    In that was an echo of his thoughts about his father’sword, Ross saw with an internal grimace. “What matters is that I gave it of my will.”
    “At the behest of others, for matters of state that would not touch you otherwise.”
    “The reasons make not a whit of difference.” That was also true of his betrothal to Lady Catherine, he saw with inescapable clarity. He had vowed not to marry her, and must now abide by that promise.
    If simplicity was what he craved, he should be well pleased. Odd, how little that was so.
    “So you would take a Sassenach wife, no matter what your father answers.”
    Ross turned his head to study Trilborn. “Instead of leaving her to you, you mean? You think with me gone, Henry may give her to you?”
    The Englishman fastened upon him a look of purest detestation. “It was discussed between us. He would have agreed to it soon enough, but for your interference.”
    “If you think Henry is swayed by anything other than what may benefit the crown, you don’t know him.”
    “So you think he’ll push Cate—that is, Lady Catherine—into your arms for the sake of a tie with Scotland? The conceit of it beggars the imagination.”
    Cate. Ross tested the shortened name in his mind. It suited her. Even as the thought occurred, however, another arrived full blown in his mind.
    “My interference?” he inquired without inflection.
    “The honor of rescuing her should have been mine!” Trilborn said in savage indignation.
    He was not talking about his arrival this morning, for that was scarce a rescue at all. Was it possible Trilbornhad known Lady Catherine would fall behind the hunt? Had his old enemy, just possibly, intended an abduction, followed by a night in his company and a wedding shortly thereafter?
    It was feasible. Everyone knew she was reluctant to be present at the kill.
    So what had prevented him from carrying out his intent?
    The boar. Yes, of course. Trilborn