By Grace Possessed (25 page)

“Oh, yes, and with what result? Being branded a harlot after spending a night alone with you, or being handed to Trilborn, instead, by Henry’s decree? No, I thank you!”

Ross set his hands on his hips. “You preferred me.”

“Of course I did, being possessed of my full wits,” she fairly spat at him. “Not that it signifies in the least.”

“Except you could have let me die of a putrid knife wound, but did not.”

Her face flamed as she recalled sponging him to lower his fever, enjoying the glide of a cloth over his body, uncovering him to see how he was made. “I felt responsible. You were injured while coming to my aid.”

“And later, when you came to my chamber?”

“I thought you might die before…that is, before the marriage could be consummated.”

“Thoughtful of you,” he drawled, his eyes narrowed.

“Wasn’t it?” She glanced at him, then away again. “And all for nothing, because you were hale and hardy both before and after the wedding.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

“I’ve no idea. Mayhap because you had no belief in the curse, or because it was Trilborn who first asked Henry for me, so the malice was directed at him.”

Ross’s eyebrows lifted. “Now there’s a thought, though you did your part to bring his treasonous intentions to nothing.”

“Not from malice,” she said quickly.

“Nay, only for the king.”

She lifted her chin. “And for you. Trilborn meant to kill you in the confusion of battle.”

“In addition to dispatching Henry. An ambitious turncoat.”

“But neither of you believed me when I told you.” It
was a grievance that had troubled her then, and did so still.

Ross crossed his arms over the broad width of his chest. “We believed you, but it was necessary to convince Trilborn otherwise. We preferred that he strike as planned instead of getting cold feet.”

“You might have let me know.”

“So we might, except that it was you he was watching, you who could best convince him that it was safe to act.”

“Oh, aye, but I was not safe.”

“No,” Ross agreed, his voice sober, “which is why I would leave you here, in Braesford’s care.”

She stared at him for long moments while the summer breeze tossed the roses above them, releasing their sweet scent along with a shower of pink petals. “Braesford is an excellent brother-in-law and fine husband,” she said finally, rising to her feet and taking a step forward, “but not the one I married.”

Ross set his jaw, though wariness came and went in his eyes. “He is better able to keep you safe.”

“Did I ask to be safe?” she inquired with an edge to her voice. “Mayhap it’s not my will. Besides, you came after me when Trilborn forced me to go with him. You named me your wife then. You prayed that I would not die. Over and over, you prayed it.”

Dull color rose under the darkness of his skin. “You heard.”

“As in my most fervent dreams.”

“You had saved my life with your warning. To come after you was the least I could do.”

“You said to me, ‘later,’” she reminded him, moving toward him with footsteps that grew more certain as she came closer.

“Later?”

“When I would have told you how I felt about your death.” He’d said it other times, as well, she remembered, especially when there was something he didn’t wish to discuss.

“It wasn’t the right time then.”

“Because you came upon me with Trilborn and knew not what had passed between us, what he might have done to me?”

“That had nothing to say to it,” he returned with a scowl. “’Twas because I was a bloody-handed Scotsman fresh from battle, and you an English lady. It’s still true.”

Relief brought a lump to her throat that she swallowed with difficulty. “But has even less to say to it now. I believe you are overnice in your ideas of English ladies, Ross Dunbar.”

“You are one of the Graces of Graydon.”

“And only a woman for all that. It means nothing—unless you fear me because of it?”

“Nay, never!”

“So I thought. I also think you claimed me after Stoke, prayed that I would live, because you love me. You’ve been unaffected by the curse because you loved me from that night in the New Forest, when you nearly set the world ablaze to keep me from freezing. You allowed me to come to you because you loved me. You married me for the same reason and no other. It’s why you stayed away so long at Grimes Hall—because you dreaded that
I should see it. It’s why you kept me with you, marching with the army.”

“No,” he said, his voice hard.

She jerked, as if that single word had been a blow. “No?” she whispered.

Slowly, he shook his head as he reached for her like a man in a dream who fears a vision will disappear. “I loved you from the moment I saw you face the outlaw leader with that puny poniard in your fist. The courage of it stunned my heart. It nearly killed me later to think, even for an instant, that you might have turned it against me. And then knowing you had been forced to use it against Trilborn, that I had failed to protect you, made me see I wasn’t worthy, had never been worthy of the bride Henry gave me.”

“I thought…” She had to pause to clear her throat before going on. “I thought I was not a fit bride for a Scotsman.”

“Don’t be daft. My father would be your slave within an hour of meeting you. Aye, as I was. As I am.”

It was no doubt an exaggeration, but she would not hold that against him. “Then should we not make certain he does?”

“Should we?” Ross asked, his thumbs smoothing her upper arms through her silk sleeves. “When you may not stay?”

She drew back a little, the better to see his face. “Why would I not?”

“I claimed you as my wife. You have not claimed me as a husband.”

“Of course I did,” she said, frowning, “every time I came to you.”

A smile, fleeting as a memory, came and went across his face. “Was that what you were doing? I rather thought it was something else.”

“No,” she whispered, stepping closer until her breasts brushed his chest.

“I don’t suppose you would care to…nay. The priests say it’s forbidden while you’re carrying the baby, and after the birth. For two long years.” He sighed.

“The priests,” she said, running a finger along the opening of his shirt for the delight of touching him, “know little of breeding, having never carried a babe under their hearts.”

“True.”

“They’ve never given birth to one, either.”

“No. Do you think…”

“That this is more of their perversity to prevent our pleasure? I do, yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“I am.”

“Ah, Cate.”

The heat that rose like blue flames in his eyes warmed her to her toes. She gave a small laugh, then a relieved sob as he swept her against him with sure strength. His mouth came down on hers in a kiss that devoured, but also cherished, possessed, bestowed trust, love and fidelity. When he released her for an instant, she rested her forehead against his chest.

“What of your father, the laird?” she asked with a sigh, “and the escort he sent for you?”

“They can wait. It was his idea to disown me. I see no hurry about returning to his good graces.”

She glanced up, an anxious frown puckering her brow. “But you will go? I would not keep you from your family and friends.”

“You would have me be a border reiver again?”

“If…if it pleases you,” she said, though her distraction was caused by his thumb rubbing over the crest of her breast, rather than by the threat.

“I am an English baron like yon Braesford now, by Henry’s grace, and own fine, wide lands. I have no time for reiving, even had I the urge. But there is a desire of mine that could be satisfied in Scotland.”

Her eyes were heavy lidded as she met his. “What might that be?”

“To have you among the heather and bracken, with naught but the sky above us and my plaid beneath.”

“So,” she said with a catch in her breathing, “we will go soon?”

“Who can say?” he drawled, his gaze on the tight, tight bud of her nipple beneath the linen of her gown. “Mayhap when I am tired of making love to you on English soil, say in fifty years or so. Or it could be only after our babe is born.”

“A long time for your poor escort to wait.”

“Aye. He can return alone.”

“I misdoubt he will want to face the laird of Dunbar without you.”

“By God’s teeth, no,” Ross said, with a chuckle. Yet there was respect in his voice as well as humor.

“Such a fearsome man,” she said, trailing her hand
along Ross’s neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. “I believe I must meet him for myself before too long.”

He smiled down at her with a quirk at one corner of his mouth. “If it pleases you.”

“We leave today, then?”

“Nay, not today.” He cupped her breast as if testing its perfect fit in his palm. “Tomorrow?”

“I misdoubt I’ll be ready.”

“When do we ride?”

“Tonight, sweeting, and it be your desire.”

“To Scotland?” she asked in all innocence, while wild heat rose in her face and dampness seeped between her thighs.

He whispered his answer against her hair.

Cate laughed, gasping, as she heard it, but did not gainsay him.

I’m grateful beyond words to the creators of Project Gutenberg and Google’s Public Domain book online service for making it possible to access ancient volumes on the life and times of Henry VII and his contemporaries. To be able to read these books that actually reside in one-of-a-kind copies on the dusty shelves of far-flung libraries has been an incredible boon; to download them instantly and read them in the comfort of my office was nothing short of amazing. I am also indebted to the originators of the many websites dedicated to medieval history in general and the Tudors in particular. Their expertise and generosity is fantastic. These include, but are not limited to www.henryvii.org/; historymedren. about.com; luminarium.org; www.britannia.com/history; www.medievalhistory.com; www.tudorplace.com.ar; www.the-tudors.org.uk; tudorhistory.org; history.wise.edu/sommerville/361/361-04.htm.

To the various authors, ancient and modern, who have treated on these subjects, as well, my most heart-felt thanks for their labors, which have made mine easier:
Bacon’s History of the Reign of King Henry VII,
Francis Bacon;
Famous Men of the Middle Ages,
John Henry Jaaren and Addison B. Poland;
Henry VII,
S. B. Chrimes;
Henry VII,
Gladys Temperley;
Lives of the Princesses of England,
Mary Anne Everett Green;
Lives of the Queens of England from the Norman Conquest,
Agnes Strickland;
The Battle Abbey Roll
by Catherine Lucy Wilhelmina Powlett, Duchess of Cleveland;
The King’s Mother,
James Underwood;
The Making of the Tudor Dynasty,
Ralph Griffiths and Roger S. Thomas;
The Reign of Henry VII from Contemporary Sources,
Albert Frederick Pollard;
A Source Book of Medieval History,
Frederick Austen Ogg;
Albion,
Jennifer Westwood;
Daily Life in the Middle Ages,
Paul. B. Newman;
Dictionary of British History,
J.P. Kenyon;
History of England,
James White;
Life in a Medieval Castle,
Frances and Joseph Gies;
Life in a Medieval City,
Frances and Joseph Gies;
Life in a Medieval Village,
Frances and Joseph Gies;
London and Westminster, City and Suburb,
John Tombs;
Marriage and Family in the Middle Ages,
Frances and Joseph Gies;
Medieval People,
Eileen Power;
The Cambridge Medieval History,
John Bagnell Bury;
The Castle Explorer’s Guide,
Frank Bottomley;
The History of Normandy and England,
Sir Francis Palgrave;
The History of the Ancient Palace and Late House of Parliament at Westminster,
Edward Wedlake Brayley;
The Knight, The Lady and The Priest,
Georges Duby;
The Ordnance Survey Guide to Historic Houses in Britain,
various editors;
The Steel Bonnets, The Story of the Anglo-Scottish Border Reivers,
George MacDonald Fraser;
The Time Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England,
Ian Mortimer;
The Waning of the Middle Ages,
J. Huizinga; and
Westminster,
Walter Besant.

I’m indebted to my editor, Susan Swinwood, and
her colleagues at MIRA Books for their expertise and superlative efforts on my behalf, and to my agents, Richard Curtis and Danny Baror, for advice and their continuing support. To my family, surely the most understanding people in the world—thanks for your forbearance and being there. And to my husband, Jerry, for his quiet and eternal support, plus cups of coffee when most needed, love and gratitude always.