The Countess Bride

“’Twould seem you know my brother well, for those were nearly the same words he used to me.”

“I am gladdened that you have shared your fears with him and that he has tried to reassure you of your nature and your abilities.” She chose her words carefully, so as to not let her true feelings for the earl show. Apparently, she did not do it as well as she hoped.

Geoffrey reached over and took her hand once more, entwining his fingers with hers this time. “I know not what is at the base of this dislike you have for him and he has for you, but I am touched that you both go to such lengths to disguise it and keep it hidden when I am here.”

Catherine could not find words at that moment, for this seemed to be a time of sharing truths, and there were none that she could share with him. At least none that would not make this more difficult than it already was.

He stood, drawing her up at his side, not releasing her hand. With his other hand, he reached up and brushed away to loose wisps of hair that always seemed to be separated from her orderly braid. Her breath caught and she could feel the heat in her skin where his fingers had touched.

“You should retire, for it is late and I know that you will be kept busy with the countess tomorrow.”

“Aye. She tires easily now and I am glad to give her whatever assistance I can.”

“Would you give me aid, as well?”

“Anything, Geoff. But what could I do for you?”

He paused as though trying to frame his request. Was it something dishonorable? Of course it could not be! Something dangerous? He would not put her in danger.

“Would you give me your counsel about the women who are to be considered for marriage?”

Would she help him to choose his wife? Pain, like the thrust of a dagger, pierced her heart, leaving her without breath. Could she help him choose the woman who would bear his name and his children and possibly his love? The woman who would live with him and be his countess? It could never be her, but could she help him pick who it would be?

“You ask much of me, Geoff.”

“I can only ask it of a friend, Cate. Someone who I trust with my life.” He lifted her chin so she could not escape his dark gaze. “I know it is not fair to ask you, but I do so all the same.”

“I will,” she said, knowing the impossible task she set for herself.

She wanted to untangle their fingers and leave quickly, but still he did not release her. As his head tilted down, she feared and prayed for the same thing. His lips touched hers with a gentleness that broke her heart again. Their warmth had barely been shared when he pulled away.

“Promise not to leave without a farewell when this is done.”

Had he read her thoughts? Saying goodbye would tear her to pieces. She shook her head, not certain if it was in agreement or denial of his request.

“Promise me,” he insisted.

“I promise,” she said.

A noise in the corridor caused them to step away from each other. Was someone there? She heard nothing more, but it roused her from the confusion she felt and made her realize that their behavior was inappropriate at best.

“My lord, I bid you a good evening.” Cate curtsied before him.

“’Till the morrow, Catherine.” Geoff replied with a polite bow. He winked at her as he turned to leave. He was the same as always.

With the moonlight pouring over her, she’d looked like an angel. Geoff caught her unaware as she’d stood staring up in the bright moonlight. Surely she had not changed in appearance or demeanor in the months since their last visit? Ah, he realized, he was the one who had changed and now looked at this place and its people differently.

In the last year, he had fought and won his first tournament, met the nobles who ruled those lands adjoining his and had even been introduced to the royal family of France. And he had known grave disappointment as the reality of his duties to his inheritance forced the truth on him—he would not marry the woman he wanted when he inherited.

Catherine, a distant cousin of Emalie’s, orphaned and with but a small dowry, might be acceptable as a bride for Geoffrey Dumont, the younger brother of the Earl of Harbridge who had no aspirations of titles or lands, but she would never be acceptable as the bride of the Comte de Langier. Without family connections, titles, wealth or lands, Catherine could never be his. And he would never ask her to lower herself in any other way, to be his without the blessing of marriage.

No matter how much he wanted her. No matter how much he loved her. And not even knowing for a certainty in his soul that she loved him.

So why did he carry out this folly and ask her to help him choose a bride? Why cause them both the pain he knew would result?

He simply could not let her go yet. He needed to share whatever time he could steal with her before he left to take his wife home to Poitou. It would be better this way. Love had little place in a modern marriage and so he would remember his first love and know not to expect more than the affection from a spouse who understood their relationship as he did. Even as he let the thoughts free, he knew them for the sham they were.

He would not lie to himself—he would keep company with Catherine when he could and would use the task she’d agreed to in order to keep her near until the last possible moment. Then they would part. If it were to be difficult in this next week, then so be it. He would be with Cate and that would make it worth the pain.

Geoff strode through the great hall and made his way to his chambers.

“They are in love.”

“It has no bearing on what is to come.”

Emalie sighed. How could her husband be so obstinate, even after their own trials? Turning to face him in the shadows where they stood, she thought of how best to approach this problem.

“Love means nothing to you?” Sometimes she needed to prod him out of his arrogance and into realizing the value of the intangibles that surrounded him. ’Twas ever his failing.

“Your love has meant everything to me and you know it. But as we found it after we married, so will Geoffrey. If he accepts our guidance in the matter of a wife and chooses well, love will come.” Christian held out his arm to her and she placed her hand on it.

She sighed again. How could such intelligent and powerful men be such fools? She had seen this coming almost from the first time Catherine had visited from the convent and met Geoffrey. Soul mates. Two halves of the same soul that were meant to be joined together. How could her husband not see that?

“You are too quiet. That does not bode well for me, wife.”

“She was a victim as well, Christian. Do you hold her accountable for his sins, too?”

“She has no family….” he said. Emalie thought to correct him, but his growing anger was apparent. “She has no family, no wealth and no titles. She is not suitable to marry my brother.”

Emalie began to answer him, but Christian drew to a stop and pointed at her. “Do not think to meddle or gainsay me in this, wife. I have my limits.”

She looked away and let him lead her to their chambers without further argument. She knew he thought he had won this one, but she would have the last word. Catherine had suffered much and did not deserve to be held in dishonor because of her brother’s actions. Even if those actions had been against Emalie’s own person.

Emalie stopped at the door to her room and blocked her husband from following her into her sleeping chamber. His puzzlement was clear and she was glad. Mayhap it would make him think about his unkind attitude and words.

“Even after three years and countless steps forward, you are still a prig.”

She slammed the door closed and forced herself not to laugh at the astonished look on his face as she did so.

Chapter Four

Melissande.

Marguerite.

Mathilde.

Maude.