Free Again by Diana Murdock

in, lending a hand to tie the laces at the back of the dress and then to tuck Catherine’s hair into a tight braid.
    Signaling for her maid to keep quiet, Catherine headed for the stairs leading to the kitchen, preferring to avoid the great hall where many of the guests would lie, having fallen asleep in their drunken stupor.
    The cook, a jolly, plump woman, was the only one about, busy preparing breads and meats for Lord Roberts and his guests that morning.   Startled by the sudden presence of her mistress, she dropped into a deep curtsy.   Catherine waived it away as she hurried out the door to the courtyard.
    Catherine focused on the two figures ahead of her, Elizabeth and Jarrid, who obediently stood holding the horses.   She could hear Emelie’s panting breath behind her as Catherine’s long strides brought her fast to the stables.   Without a word, Catherine took Jarrid’s hand as he assisted her onto her saddle and looked around impatiently, waiting for Emelie to mount her horse.   Confident that no one was watching them depart, Catherine urged her horse toward the gates.   It was not until their horses were a good distance from the castle walls that Catherine began to relax.  
    Turning her head, she hid a smile.   What, Catherine wondered, must Emelie be thinking? One moment she was awoken from sleep, the next moment the poor girl is atop a horse, all before the birds had stirred.   Still, Catherine had not offered her any explanation, for her reasons to leave the castle this morning were her own.   Lord Oakley would be staying with them for a few days and Catherine had no desire to feel the lecherous eyes of Lord Oakley dirty her any more than she was required to.   She turned her horse for the port, determined to put as much distance between them as possible.
     
    ≈
     
    Galen had awoken early that morning, still sorely agitated from Lord Oakley’s goading.   He felt helpless at not being able to strike back at Lord Oakley for his words, his lewd expressions toward Catherine, and the smug looks that Lord Oakley directed his way.   Under the table Galen had found Catherine’s hands, clenched in tight fists, and held them in his, trying to protect her as well as he could.   Loathsome or not, Lord Oakley was Lord Roberts’ guest, and by Lord Roberts’ law, all guests were to be treated with respect.
    He put his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Today would be a hard day of training, Galen thought, sharpening his skills as well as the squires’.   He would fashion a post and hay in the likeness of Lord Oakley, and shred it to ribbons.   Though it would bring immense satisfaction to him, it would do little to ease Catherine’s mind.   She spoke little last night, but he knew only too well the contempt she held for Lord Oakley.
    It was no secret that Lord Oakley had an interest in Catherine.   It was apparent that Lord Roberts had no intention of entertaining Lord Oakley’s repeated requests for Catherine’s hand in marriage, but that did little to put Galen at ease.   Lord Oakley was a constant thorn in his side.
    Catherine is mine, Galen thought fiercely, and always will be.
    Unable to lie still any longer, he got up and crossed his chamber to the chair where his clothes lay.   As he passed the window, movement at the gate caught his eye.   His brow furrowed as he watched Catherine’s and Emelie’s horses race away from the castle.

 
     
    Chapter 9
     
    “Ok, Eryn.  I guess we can stop now.”  Troy began unhooking the gear he had strapped to his waist. “I’m sure you have plenty of shots I can use.”
    Eryn rolled her neck to loosen up the muscles.  The past three hours had been a new and welcome experience for her, having never before explored the sports side of photography.   She was actually excited about the pictures she’d gotten.   The strain of gripping the rock, his arms and legs pushing his body upwards, showed off the contour of Troy’s lean, hard