The Countess Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  She was his. Though it would not be without struggle or confrontation, and though he was certain his brother would not stand by his decision, she was his now.

  When he had realized the meaning and the danger in the conversation between Evesham and his man, Geoff had known he must act immediately. His original plan had been to simply remove Catherine from the convent, take her with him to Poitou and keep her there until it was safe for her to return. Once he’d arrived and spoken to the abbess, his heart had discerned his course. And now, after racing away from the convent and most likely John’s troops, here they were.

  The flame flickered, throwing light and shadows over her, and he marveled that she was now his. Covered with dust and worn out from their travels, she still looked like an angel to him. He knew it was his right to touch her, but he hesitated to even remove the scarf that covered her head. Deciding she would sleep more easily without its constraint, he reached under her hair, untied the ends and tugged it free.

  Once her golden hair was exposed, he could not help himself. Lifting the length of it from under her, he loosened the leather cord that held the ends and used his fingers to free the long tresses until it formed a pillow around her head. A tremor shook him as he ran his hand through the soft smoothness of it. The hardness in his groin was difficult to ignore.

  She was his.

  When they’d met and begun conversing with one and other, he had never thought of Catherine in terms of desire. From the beginning, they’d been friends, comrades who shared their hopes and dreams. She’d actually answered his questions about women, and Geoff realized, looking back, that she’d given him advice about pursuing them. When he’d finally discerned he loved her, that knowledge had come with the realization that he could never have her. Now, because of the whims of a king, and with their words of declaration and the signing of documents, he would have her, body and soul.

  Not for the first time since he’d claimed her earlier this day, he let his thoughts touch on the passion he felt within her. Soon he would have her beneath him in his down-filled bed at the Château. Covered only in the silk sheets that had been a gift from Sir Luc on his return from the Crusades, Geoff would make her his in all ways.

  His body clenched with desire so strong he ached to take her now. But he would not.

  He could not. Not until her questions were answered and things between them were sorted out and settled. She was not some round-heeled wench to be bedded at his whim. Catherine was his betrothed wife and he would wed her and bed her in the way a lady wife should be.

  He reached out and touched her cheek and was surprised as she turned to his touch. He moved closer to her and pressed his lips to hers. She sighed his name in her sleep and then turned on her side. Although he would like nothing more than to remove his mail and curl his body around hers to sleep, his duty to protect her was more important.

  Placing his sword on the floor next to him, he lay down on his side and faced the door. With his hand on the hilt, he permitted himself to sleep lightly, ready for any intruder or other threat. When the candle sputtered out, the night’s quiet surrounded them.

  Catherine could not help the groan she uttered as she turned onto her back. The noises of morning, the wakening birds and sounds of people in the yard outside her chamber encouraged her to open her eyes. But her abused body resisted. Every part of her hurt. The sound of a clearing throat forced her awake and she turned her head to find Geoffrey next to her on a pallet.

  “Good morrow to you, my lady.” His smile warmed her heart.

  “And to you, my lord.” She returned the greeting, then, realizing their position, felt a blush creep onto her cheeks.

  Geoffrey rolled away from her and stood up. She marveled at his strength, for he still wore the mail shirt. Walking around the small chamber, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms out, apparently loosening muscles tight from sleeping on the floor, or nigh to it, considering the thin mattress of straw they’d shared. After a few minutes, he turned and lifted his sword, replacing it in the scabbard on his belt.

  “I apologize for the meanness of these accommodations, Cate, but I feared seeking hospitality from any of the noblemen in this area. I wish not to be found yet.”

  “I am not unfamiliar with such plain chambers, so fear not.”

  She sat up and noticed that her hair was loose from its braid. Gathering all the strands in her hand, she untangled them with her fingers. ’Twas then she noticed him watching her movements, even mimicking them unconciously with his fingers and she saw the unfamiliar but recognizable glint of desire in their blue depths. Unsure of herself for the first time with him, she stopped and let her hair drop over her shoulder and into her lap.

  He strode to the door, lifted the bar and set it down, leaning it on the frame. “I will send a servant to help you dress, Cate. Come down to break your fast when you are ready.”

  She nodded, and he was gone without another word. She lifted her arms and stretched as he had, trying to work out some of the pain in her back and shoulders. She spied a chamber pot in the corner and took care of her needs before anyone arrived. Catherine was unpacking her leather satchel when the knock came.

  A few minutes later, she was washed, with her hair under control and held back with a clean wimple and barbette. At least traveling would be easier with it gathered more tightly in the woven braid that the maid created. Unfortunately, Catherine had no clean kirtle or surcoat, so the woman took her dusty clothing and shook it vigorously to remove as much dirt as possible. When she was dressed and ready, the serving woman offered to take her to her husband, but Catherine decided she could no longer wait for answers. She sent the woman back down to bring Geoffrey to the room, where they would have a measure of privacy.

  With no place to sit but the pallet, she stood and waited. The sound of his feet on the steps leading to the room made her hold her breath. Her palms dampened and she wiped them on her surcoat. Swallowing against the bile that surged in her stomach at the questions that must be asked and answered, she took a breath as he opened the door.

  “Are you well? The servant said I should come to you.”

  He strode into the room and she noticed that his hair was wet. There had not been time enough for him to bathe, so he must have found some barrel or bucket and dunked his head in it.

  Geoffrey took her hands in his and looked her over from head to feet. “You appear refreshed, but I vow only a bath and a night spent on a real bed will truly make you feel better.”

  The mention of such personal things brought the heat of a blush into her cheeks. “I would speak with you before we leave,” she began.

  “We have little time, Cate.” He opened the door wider for her to leave.

  Catherine took hold of the door, closed it and leaned against it. “We must use it well then, for I can go no farther until I learn the truth of our situation.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she hoped he would realize how serious this was to her, and give her what she wanted and needed—an explanation of how they’d become betrothed and why they were fleeing from Lincoln.

  “Cannot or will not?” he asked, as he too crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  She swallowed again, nervous about his reaction. Before today, as friends, they’d stood as equals, but as his betrothed wife she was now under his domination. He owed her no explanations, and she owed him everything, including obedience to his commands and demands. Their world had shifted and she worried about how he would treat her now.

  Shaking her head, she thought of the countess’s words to her about the Dumont men needing women who would stand up to them when they were in a mood to plow ahead, and she smiled. This was Geoffrey before her. She should not worry. Catherine decided that to offer him less than she was, for fear of something being different between them, would indeed cause the difference to happen.

  “Will not,” she said, standing up a bit straighter before him. Then, in an afterthought, she added, “My lord.”

&nbs
p; His smile lightened her heart. Then he laughed. “Do not change, Cate. You never took pity on me or deferred to me before, so I hope you will not begin now. This can only work for us if we are honest.” He held up a finger to her and then moved her from the door. Opening it, he called out to one of his men, who must have been standing in the stairway, and then he offered her his arm. “We must talk and you must eat, so let us take our food into the yard where my men prepare our mounts. Come, we will settle things between us now.”

  She allowed him to assist her down the steps and out into the yard, filled now with the activities of the day. Catherine walked at Geoff’s side until they reached a small clearing next to the stables. With the sun barely up, the air was cool and fresh and gave no indication that another summer’s day was on its way.

  A young boy approached carrying a tray and, at Geoffrey’s order, he placed it on a tree stump and left them. Then Jean, Aymer and Michel took what they wanted and walked back to where their horses stood tied to a railing. Catherine watched as they ate, insulted each other in the way of men and continued to prepare for their journey.

  “I thought that knights needed their squires.”

  “Aymer and I squired together at the keep of his uncle and are not so far removed from it that we forget how to do our own work. Worry not for them and their self-respect, Cate. Once we arrive in Caen and the rest of our men arrive from Poitou, they will have their squires and the appropriate amount of attention due them as esteemed knights.”

  She looked at the food, and the sounds emanating from her stomach reminded her that she had not finished her dinner the night before. Geoffrey walked into the stables and brought back a low stool for her to sit upon. Breaking the still-steaming loaf of bread left to them, he held out half of it to her. “So, ask your questions.”

  “Tell me the tale of what happened yesterday. The earl did not give me details when he ordered me returned to the convent.” She bit into the crusty bread and chewed it as she waited on his answer.

  “My brother summoned me to tell me that he had you taken back to the convent. He gave me little explanation except to say that the danger that caused you to stay in hiding these last few years was Prince John.” Geoffrey paused and then looked off into the distance as he asked, “Why did you never tell me who you were?” His voice shook as he asked the question, and she thought he might be hurt that she’d kept the truth from him.

  “I did not want you to hate me.”

  Now he turned to her and reached for her hand. “Why would I hate you, Cate?”

  “You and everyone at Greystone knows that answer better than I.” She looked away. “No one would tell me the whole of it and to this day I know it not. I heard only that the earl killed my brother in a challenge and that my brother was the villain and deserved to die for what he’d done to the countess and to the earl.” She felt her throat tighten as it had all those months ago when she’d heard the gossip for the first time. Shame at her brother’s actions, whatever they were, overwhelmed her once more.

  Geoff was at her side in a moment and put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. “I know not even the full account of the causes of that challenge. I was a youth then and interested more in…well, the things that interest young men.” His eyes sparkled as she looked into them.

  “A youth, indeed, my lord. I have heard tales of what interested you during your early days at Greystone, and their names are Marie and—”

  He placed his hand over her mouth to stop her from speaking. Then he laughed out loud, gaining the attention of his men. Taking a chunk of cheese from the tray, he continued. “Cate, until this morn I knew only what Christian and Emalie told me of you—that you were some distant relation to Emalie, orphaned and placed at the convent due to some illness. As you recovered, you were brought to Greystone for visits, and that is when we met.”

  He released his hold on her shoulders and lifted her chin so that she was looking at him directly. “I fell in love with the penniless orphan and care not that she had a brother who is long dead.”

  Catherine was almost willing to accept his explanation, but she feared that he knew much more than he was admitting to her.

  “You must see that neither the penniless orphan nor the sister of the disgraced William de Severin is suitable as your wife.”

  His face betrayed a momentary flash of guilt, and she knew that he had considered both of those reasons as obstacles to this match. “I have been told that the de Severin family has a noble history, one that would rival even the Dumonts’ legacy. ’Twas not so long ago that the Dumonts were in disgrace with this king, but our fortunes changed. Mayhap the de Severins will see such a change with this marriage?”

  “But my lord, I do not understand why the prince is against me. Did the earl give you any reasons why I have earned Prince John’s ire?”

  “Only in some vague connection with your brother. Did you know that William served as John’s champion for several years?”

  Her body reacted before her thoughts could. A tremor shook her entire being, causing icy shivers down her spine. Had she known that her brother was champion to John? She thought she might remember that and thought it might be the reason she’d been called to England. The same confusion and darkness that filled her whenever she tried to peer back into that time happened once more, and she shook her head. “I am not certain.”

  “Cate, we will play these Plantagenets the way they play each other and keep you safe by aligning with the king and Queen Eleanor. ’Tis how Christian gained Emalie and Harbridge.”

  “Why do you believe that the king will stand by this? And the earl cannot be supportive of it, for I spoke to him the morning I left. He fully expects you to marry one of the heiresses. I assured him that I would not…” She paused, remembering the assurances she’d given to the earl the morning before.

  “…I do not wish to come between you and your brother…. I have no intention of declaring my love for him or making him choose between me and the responsibilities he carries for you and your family.”

  “What did you tell Christian?”

  “I told him I would not come between the two of you.”

  “Cate, you will not come between us. Once the marriage is formalized, he and I will reach an understanding over this. You forget, I am not his little brother, the second son, any longer. The king has recognized my rights and I make this decision. You are my choice.”

  Geoffrey stood, put the cheese back on the tray and offered her a cup of ale. She sipped it as she pondered how to broach the most disturbing of her questions, or rather, her secrets. So little of that time between her arrival in England and her awakening in the convent did she remember. Bits of memories, words and feelings were there, but most of it was a terrorizing blank to her.

  “You do not look convinced of my words.”

  “My lord…” When he frowned at her, she began again. “Geoffrey, there is so much that you do not know about me. Much I do not know myself. Mayhap we should wait?”

  “Worry not, Cate. There will be time enough for us to discover that which we know not about the other. We are joined and I will take you to the king for his formal acceptance of our marriage and my vow of fealty.”

  Geoff reached for the chunk of cheese again and broke it, handing her one of the pieces. Although she wanted with her heart and soul to be his wife, she feared that the truth of her missing years, whatever it might be, could tear them apart. If this marriage was solemnized, there would be no recourse for them.

  “So, what are your plans?” Deciding to put off her fears for the moment, Catherine needed to know what faced her in the coming days and weeks.

  He smiled at her. “I am pleased that you trust me in this, Cate. We ride as soon as we are finished here, and meet up with the rest of my men in Oakham, then on to Bedford and through London. I would wish for a quicker path, but we must make for the Cinque Ports and its ships to take us to Richard and keep out of John’s sight before we reach there. ’Tw
ill take us at least a sennight plus three days on land before taking a ship to the Continent.”

  “Ten days of riding?” She rubbed her back at just the thought of that much time spent on the back of a horse.

  He laughed aloud again. “I would make it as comfortable for you as I could, but a cart or wagon for you would slow us down too much.”

  She shook her head. “I will survive this journey, my lord. I am hardy enough to face it.”

  “That’s my girl! Come now, finish your food and we will be on our way.” Geoffrey glanced over at the stables. “The horses are saddled.” His men approached, leading their mounts. “If the weather and roads hold, we should make it to Oakham by dark. Are you ready?”

  He held out his hand to her and she paused before accepting it. Was she ready? If she was to be his countess, she needed to demonstrate the courage he was showing her, the commitment to him and to a marriage that she’d never thought to have and the love she knew they shared. Holding her chin a bit higher, she reached out and grasped his hand.

  He pulled her to him and kissed her fast and hard on the lips. Then she found herself on the back of the same horse she’d ridden the day before, heading out of the small yard in front of the inn. And they rode.

  Chapter Twelve

  The winds whipped her hair free of its covering, but she stood at the highest place in the keep and let herself be buffeted by them. The force of them usually soothed her, and she waited for that relief now. ’Twas not to happen this time. She’d sought this refuge several times over the last two days and had not found the comfort she needed.

  With his path illuminated by an almost-full moon, Emalie nodded as the guard passed her yet again on his rounds of the battlements and then turned back to the wall’s edge. Sighing, she knew that until she spoke to her husband and told him the contents of the missive from the reverend mother, she would have no peace. Of course, once Christian discovered what had occurred, Emalie would have no peace, either.