Read Online By Grace Possessed by Jennifer Blake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Blake
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hand, lifting it to his mouth, brushing his smooth, warm lipsacross the backs of her fingers while holding her gaze with the dark blue of his own.
Cate drew a swift breath as the muscles of her arm jerked in uncontrollable spasm. “Don’t!”
“I fear I may have to do more, though not at the moment.” He smiled down at her, his eyes heavy lidded, almost sleepy. “Try a bemused and adoring look, Lady Catherine, if you can manage it. It may be helpful just now, since Trilborn seems to be panting to know what passes between us.”
It was an instant before she caught the meaning of his last, softly murmured phrase, and glimpsed Trilborn scowling at them from where he leaned on a support post. Her reaction then had more to do with instinct than conscious thought. With the lift of her chin, she stepped closer and laid her hand upon the daring Scotsman’s wrist.
“Yes, I do see what you mean,” she murmured. “Shall we walk again? If we do not, I may be forced to sing, after all, and I promise you won’t like it.”
To act a part went against the grain, Ross thought, as he stared out over the snow-covered town and the chalk hills beyond, watching as the king’s falconer set his charge to coursing after hares in the open fields beyond the castle walls. He liked matters to be simple, preferred to state his views and intentions and stand by them come what may. That he could not do that in the matter of Lady Catherine was unsettling.
He had remained with her through the noon meal. They had enjoyed a place near the king’s table, and beenhonored by choice dishes sent down to them. The mark of Henry’s favor had not gone unnoticed. Only a blind man could have failed to guess that a betrothal was in the offing, particularly with the tale of their night spent together in the New Forest spreading through the room like a bad odor.
Lady Catherine had smiled and played the blushing bride-to-be to perfection. Her hands had been like ice, however, and she ate almost nothing. Ross pressed tid-bits upon her while seeing that her wineglass was kept filled. Afterward, he’d accepted her excuse of a headache and escorted her to the door of the hall, where her sister awaited her.
God knew she had reason enough to make an escape; he felt the strong need of solitude himself. That his strongest inclination was to take her away to a place where they could be alone again together was maddening in its lack of logic.
Worse still was the welter of emotions that beset him whenever he looked at her. She fired his blood beyond imagining; the need to have her made his body ache until his eyes watered. Her grace and courage, the way she smiled, moved, tilted her bright head—everything about her fascinated him. Yet he was the son of a contentious laird who despised everything English, and she the ward of an English king. To tie himself to her, to act the part of pawn in the game Henry played, would cut Ross off from his family and his homeland. He had sworn he would not wed her, and she depended on him to keep his word.
Trilborn wanted her and her dowry; that much wasclear. Ross resented the simplicity of the Englishman’s desire, and was determined he should not gain it. Ross wanted to think this was for Lady Catherine’s sake, because she intended to remain forever a maiden, but feared it was purest dog-in-the-manger spite. To see Trilborn gratified in any manner was anathema, but particularly when it involved so lovely a prize.
Ross had sworn not to wed Lady Catherine, but had not foresworn bedding her. He had sworn not to bow to an English king’s will, yet had said nothing of combating his own will in the matter. These facts had reared their ugly heads in those first moments after their audience with the king. They troubled him still.
Did Lady Catherine realize the self-serving distinctions a man could make in order to satisfy his desires? She was an intriguing blend of innocence and sophistication, no doubt the result of her
Cate drew a swift breath as the muscles of her arm jerked in uncontrollable spasm. “Don’t!”
“I fear I may have to do more, though not at the moment.” He smiled down at her, his eyes heavy lidded, almost sleepy. “Try a bemused and adoring look, Lady Catherine, if you can manage it. It may be helpful just now, since Trilborn seems to be panting to know what passes between us.”
It was an instant before she caught the meaning of his last, softly murmured phrase, and glimpsed Trilborn scowling at them from where he leaned on a support post. Her reaction then had more to do with instinct than conscious thought. With the lift of her chin, she stepped closer and laid her hand upon the daring Scotsman’s wrist.
“Yes, I do see what you mean,” she murmured. “Shall we walk again? If we do not, I may be forced to sing, after all, and I promise you won’t like it.”
To act a part went against the grain, Ross thought, as he stared out over the snow-covered town and the chalk hills beyond, watching as the king’s falconer set his charge to coursing after hares in the open fields beyond the castle walls. He liked matters to be simple, preferred to state his views and intentions and stand by them come what may. That he could not do that in the matter of Lady Catherine was unsettling.
He had remained with her through the noon meal. They had enjoyed a place near the king’s table, and beenhonored by choice dishes sent down to them. The mark of Henry’s favor had not gone unnoticed. Only a blind man could have failed to guess that a betrothal was in the offing, particularly with the tale of their night spent together in the New Forest spreading through the room like a bad odor.
Lady Catherine had smiled and played the blushing bride-to-be to perfection. Her hands had been like ice, however, and she ate almost nothing. Ross pressed tid-bits upon her while seeing that her wineglass was kept filled. Afterward, he’d accepted her excuse of a headache and escorted her to the door of the hall, where her sister awaited her.
God knew she had reason enough to make an escape; he felt the strong need of solitude himself. That his strongest inclination was to take her away to a place where they could be alone again together was maddening in its lack of logic.
Worse still was the welter of emotions that beset him whenever he looked at her. She fired his blood beyond imagining; the need to have her made his body ache until his eyes watered. Her grace and courage, the way she smiled, moved, tilted her bright head—everything about her fascinated him. Yet he was the son of a contentious laird who despised everything English, and she the ward of an English king. To tie himself to her, to act the part of pawn in the game Henry played, would cut Ross off from his family and his homeland. He had sworn he would not wed her, and she depended on him to keep his word.
Trilborn wanted her and her dowry; that much wasclear. Ross resented the simplicity of the Englishman’s desire, and was determined he should not gain it. Ross wanted to think this was for Lady Catherine’s sake, because she intended to remain forever a maiden, but feared it was purest dog-in-the-manger spite. To see Trilborn gratified in any manner was anathema, but particularly when it involved so lovely a prize.
Ross had sworn not to wed Lady Catherine, but had not foresworn bedding her. He had sworn not to bow to an English king’s will, yet had said nothing of combating his own will in the matter. These facts had reared their ugly heads in those first moments after their audience with the king. They troubled him still.
Did Lady Catherine realize the self-serving distinctions a man could make in order to satisfy his desires? She was an intriguing blend of innocence and sophistication, no doubt the result of her
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