The Countess Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “I like your kisses, my lord.”

  “There is no place for titles here, love,” he said as he leaned down to touch her lips. If she liked kissing, he would start there. “Let me kiss you, then.”

  He kissed her mouth and then her brows and then touched his lips to her cheeks. She sighed and he took it as agreement to go further. And so he did.

  She stood before him in a plain linen chemise that tied at the neck. Tugging on the string, he loosened the garment and let it slide down to settle on her shoulders. Nuzzling and licking his way, he followed the gentle curves of her neck and kissed her shoulders. She was soft and enticing, and the scent of something floral wafted up from her freshly washed hair as she turned restlessly under his attentions.

  With his hands at her waist, he could feel her short excited breaths and the movement of her chest and stomach. He slid his thumbs up to touch the edges of her breasts. She arched nearer to him and he thought he would explode. Her innocent passion aroused him and he wanted more, so much more. He moved his mouth down to the rising slopes of her breasts and then took one tightened nipple into his mouth. She gasped and grabbed for his shoulders as she leaned her head back and let him have his way.

  His mouth left a wet spot on the linen, which was now transparent to his sight. The enticing bud under it was still erect from his suckling. Without pausing, he took the other one and teased it in the same way. Catherine said no words, but her body told him that she was enjoying his touches and his kisses. He wanted more and he wanted her now.

  Geoffrey released her breast and took a step back. Her passion-filled eyes and swollen lips caused his own body to react, and the urge to fill her with himself and his seed grew stronger and stronger within him. Her lack of fear encouraged him and so he took the next step.

  “Let me see you,” he said, in a voice so gruff with desire that he nearly did not recognize it. Foreplay was not new to him. He had played these games with women from the time he was a squire, but never had he wanted someone this much. And he wanted her to enjoy it as much as he was.

  She nodded to him once again and he reached out and lifted the chemise over her head. She turned away in a maidenly display of modesty that inflamed him even more. The sight of her hair flowing down her back and outlining a shapely bottom and legs made him harder. As she turned to face him, he knew he was about to see heaven.

  Long tresses hung over her shoulders, but did not keep her body hidden from him. The aroused tips of her breasts peeked through the blond hair cascading over the feminine curves, and he could clearly see the enticing triangle of darker blond at the top of her thighs. Now his mouth watered and his hands itched to touch her. Just as he gave up fighting the need to grasp her, she spoke.

  “May I see you as well, my l… Geoffrey?”

  He could not have been more pleased with her request. He pulled at the ties of his tunic and swept it off, never looking away from her gaze. She had seen him shirtless before, but he worried that the sight of his erection would scare her once more. He leaned down and tugged off his boots and then undid the straps holding up the hose. Rolling them down his legs, he slipped them off and stood before her. All that was left was the short breechcloth he wore for riding, under his mail, then she would see the proof of his desire for her. Opening his arms to her, he invited her closer, and the heat of her body against his nearly melted his control completely.

  He guided them back until he stopped by the edge of the bed. Sitting down, he looked up at her. “Let me touch you.”

  “I would rather have you kiss me again,” she said.

  Taking it as a sign of her naivete and inexperience, he realized that he could touch with his lips and tongue, and so he began where he knew she meant—her mouth. Tasting her over and over, he plundered her lips until they were both breathless. Then he moved down to her breasts and suckled the tight buds again. She stirred against his mouth as he did so, and Geoff recognized that her breasts were sensitive places.

  Her palms roamed over his shoulders and back, and he liked the feel of them on his skin. He lifted his hands and held her hips so that she would not back away from what he planned. Leading with his tongue, he licked and tasted the soft curves of her stomach, moving closer to the curls at the apex of her thighs. Her legs shook at his approach, and he knew he wanted her on the bed.

  “Let me taste you.” Catherine’s frown told him that she did not know the treasure he sought. Smiling, he reassured her. “Let me taste you, Cate. Wherever I want.”

  Her tremulous smile gave him the permission he sought. He had not pushed her beyond her boundaries yet. Geoff lifted her and turned, placing her on the bed next to him. Sliding down to kneel between her legs, he looked into her questioning eyes.

  “Let me taste you,” he repeated as he placed his mouth there in the most sensitive of place on a woman’s body and teased her with tongue and even teeth. And he marveled at the ease with which she fell into it with him.

  Catherine leaned up on her elbows and watched him, gasping at his touch and arching her body against his lips even in her confusion. Chills filled her and heat poured from her with his every touch…with his every taste of her. How could he do that? She had never touched where his mouth now did, had never known the kinds of pleasure that existed there, or that kissing and caressing could cause such a chaos of feelings within her.

  A pressure built inside her, tightening and tightening until she thought she would scream. He increased the speed of his movements against that place and then he pushed deeper with his tongue, finding a spot that did indeed make her scream. Instead of stopping, he drew what he had found into his mouth, as he had her breast, and suckled it, even using his teeth. How could this be? Now her body worked on its own, pushing against him, demanding more with its spasms, and he answered its call.

  All thoughts fled as he directed so much attention there on the aching flesh that her body did explode, in waves and waves of pleasure and throbbing. He followed the signs her body gave him and continued until there was no more tension left within her. Exhausted by the pulsing and release, she fell back and tried to regain her breath.

  But he was not done. Stripping off the cloth he wore, he climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs. He leaned forward and entwined their hands and then stretched himself over her, touching chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thighs to thighs. Catherine felt his manhood against her and knew that this would be the claiming. Her body still pulsed with the arousal he had caused, and she opened her legs to him.

  Before he could enter, he paused and asked his question again. “Let me have you, Cate. All of you.” He had placed the decision with her, and part of her was ready, open and accepting of his possession. But something else in her soul was not.

  This action would fulfill their betrothal. There would be no turning back, no denial or release from the promises once he pierced her maidenhead with his flesh. Geoffrey’s options—to compromise with his brother, or to make another selection—would be severely limited and costly to change if he claimed her in this way. And she would rather risk angering him over it now than facing his disappointment later when she did come between him and his brother, or between him and his duty.

  “No, Geoffrey. We must wait.” She tried to slide from under him, but his weight and position made it impossible. “If you change your mind later after speaking to your brother or to the king, this will make it difficult for you.”

  Her words both startled and angered him, for his eyes grew dark and intense. He never lost control, though, for his body stayed perched at the opening to hers and never ventured in. He stared at her, searching her face, and he took in deep breaths. After a moment or two, he pushed his hardened flesh beneath her bottom and, with a groan, spent himself without entering her.

  A deep sadness filled her as she realized that he had honored her denial. She lay, covered in sweat and his body, and waited. After a minute or two, he lifted himself off her and stood by the bed. Pushing the hair from his fac
e, he walked to the now-cold tub of water and dipped a cloth in it. His movements and his expression were rigid now, as she watched him wipe off his manhood and then rinse the cloth and bring it to her.

  Without a word, he turned her on her side and, when she would have objected, wiped her bottom and lower back clean of any remnants of his release. Then Geoff released his hold on her, tugged on his hose and tunic and boots and left the room without another word to her. She had ruined this as surely as she had ruined his life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Slamming himself down at a corner table in the inn’s public room, Geoff cursed himself for the fool he was. And for things done and left undone. A serving wench brought over a cup of ale, waiting for him to drink so she could refill it at once from a pitcher. He must have that look about him that told of a need that must be met. Finally, at his wave and with an added penny for her troubles, she left the pitcher for his use, and tugged her blouse down to expose her ample bosom and her willingness to satisfy another type of need.

  When he closed his eyes, he could feel the suppleness and heat of Catherine’s flesh against his. He could hear her moaning as he kissed and licked his way down her body to the place where he would plant his seed. He had been so close, so very close, to making certain no one could challenge this betrothal when she’d called a halt for the same reasons. He knew she had her doubts, but his were something new to him. And that he stopped was the biggest surprise of all.

  Drinking the cup dry and then filling it once more, he considered his actions with her. They had been moving toward this consummation for all the days since he took her from the convent, and they both knew it. She had not resisted him—well, not after she became accustomed to his touch and his kiss. She’d accepted all he gave, and with her actions asked for more.

  Another cup of ale was gone and the pitcher nigh to empty before he realized why her questions were so troubling. For days he’d told her that nothing would come between them, that she was his choice, both Christian and the king would accept her, and this was meant to be. And for days he had believed it. Indeed, he had pushed aside any lingering doubts and decided that this night would be the one when they were joined in all ways. His instructions to his man who made their arrangements—that he wanted a place big enough for a private chamber—had made his intentions clear to one and all.

  Even Catherine in her naivete had known what would happen this night. And she’d welcomed him until that last moment. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and leaned back against the wall. Nay, she would have welcomed his possession of her if he had not prevaricated at that special moment. In giving pause, he had given voice to his own doubts. And she would not let him take that step if he doubted the rightness of it.

  Damn him! He lifted the cup to his mouth again and swallowed deeply from it. He did have doubts; he did fear what Christian would say and do at their next meeting, and he did wonder whether he had acted in defiance of his brother’s edict rather than for his love of Catherine. He had managed to keep all of those uncertainties out of his way when he thought her to be in danger. Now, when it was time for him to claim her, those qualms raised themselves.

  If he had just taken her and not stopped. If he had simply pushed through her maidenhead and claimed her as wife in all ways. If he had just… He raised his cup again, but his arm was stopped before he could drink.

  “Is aught amiss, my lord?” His man Aymer sat down next to him. “I did not expect to see you until morn or later.”

  He and Aymer had been friends for these last two years, finishing out their service as squires in his uncle’s household before both being knighted in a tournament several months ago. They had fought together, practiced together, even drank and wenched together. When this plan had begun short days ago, and they had ridden off to protect Catherine, Aymer had given his full support. Aymer, another second son who would inherit nothing, was his man and planned to swear fealty to Geoffrey when they arrived at Château d’Azure.

  “’Tis well. I just came down for something to drink.”

  Aymer lifted the pitcher to fill his own cup and found it empty. Geoffrey looked at him and knew that his friend guessed things had not gone as expected. “’Twould appear that you have indeed had something to drink.”

  When Geoff waved to the serving maid for more ale, Aymer stopped him. “I have not had enough yet, Aymer. Summon that wench back here.”

  “My lord… Geoff,” he said, placing his hand on Geoff’s arm, “you have had enough. I suggest that you go back to your chamber and close whatever breach has opened between you and your lady.”

  “You are right, friend. But I know not how to do it without compounding my mistakes with more of them.”

  “Do you want her to wife?”

  Geoff felt the haze of drink sneaking up on him. Of course he wanted her. He had taken all these measures to insure her safety and to keep her at his side. Of course she would be his wife. He nodded at Aymer’s question.

  “Do you want her in spite of your brother’s objections or to spite your brother?”

  And there it was. The bald truth. The deepest fear. Now put into words by his closest friend, he could ignore it no longer.

  Had this been about him and Chris, and not about Catherine at all? Was Geoff so full of his own esteem that he had tumbled recklessly into this misadventure and dragged Cate in with him?

  He truly needed another cup of ale.

  He did not answer, for he knew not what the answer was. Although he hoped his actions had been for the best of reasons, part of him, the part that was grateful to Cate for saying no to him, saw the challenge of a younger brother to an older one in it. The need to prove himself a man to one who had always been the man of the family.

  Merde.

  His head hit the wall behind him and he hoped the pain would clear his thoughts. It did not. Closing his eyes, he thought about Catherine.

  He loved her. He did. Without doubt or reservation, he wanted her to wife even though she was not his brother’s choice for him. He had loved her even when there seemed to be no way for them to be together. He had simply taken advantage of the opportunities and made it happen.

  “Doubts would be expected, Geoff. Neither you nor I were raised to inherit such as you have. Now that you have, I think a bit of uncertainty will dog your steps for a while. Lose not sight of what is important to you, and I think things will turn out for the best.”

  His head and thoughts began to clear as some of the fear of these revelations seeped away. What was important to him? Upholding his duty to the king. Upholding the restored honor of the Dumonts. Most important was upholding his word, his pledge to the woman who lay in the chamber overhead. His doubts were not completely gone, but he felt as though they were manageable now.

  “My thanks, Aymer. Are you settled for the night?”

  Aymer laughed and nodded across the room at a lovely young woman who sat watching them. “Aye, my lord. Have no worries on my behalf.”

  Standing, Geoff gained his balance and then watched as Aymer was welcomed into the willing arms of the buxom lass. Without delaying further, Geoff strode to the stairs that would lead him to Catherine and the reckoning he had brought on himself.

  He pushed on the door and peered into the room before entering. Several candles still flickered, throwing shadows around the chamber. Quietly, he opened the door wider and stepped inside. Trying to move without noise, he placed the bar in the bracket to secure the door for the night.

  Her sigh caught his attention and he turned to face her. She slept on, curled in a tight ball in the middle of the bed he had so carefully requested for them to share. He walked closer and watched her for a few minutes.

  Guilt tore through him as her breath hitched several times, telling him clearly that she had cried herself to sleep on his account. The path of her tears tracked down her cheeks and he reached out to touch them. Once more, she’d shamed him with the honesty of her feelings. And the dishonesty of his own
.

  With only a thin blanket over her, she would not last the night without taking a chill. The stone walls kept the chamber cool in most weather, even the heat of summer. Spying her chemise on the floor where he’d thrown it, he picked it up and shook the dust from it. Then, when there was no alternative left to him, he touched her shoulder to wake her so she could put it on and get under another layer or two of bedcovers.

  “Cate. Wake up, love,” he said softly, not wanting to startle her. Her swollen eyes opened slowly, not seeing him at first, but then she pushed away from him, dragging the thin coverlet with her. He watched as the confusion of sleep left her and she took in her surroundings, then looked back at him. Her expression was blank and he could not think of how to begin. She did it for him, in the worst possible way.

  “My lord, I beg forgiveness. I did not mean to refuse you. I am ready now if you want to…if you want…” Her words trailed off and he felt like the biggest villain. Tears spilled from her lovely blue eyes once more and her hair was a tangled mess. And somehow, through his stupidity, he’d made her believe this was her fault.

  “Catherine, please listen to me,” he began, handing her the crumpled gown. “There is some fresh water in the pitcher. Come,” he said, gathering the gown together and placing it over her head. “Wash up and then we can talk.” He helped her from the bed and guided her to the basin.

  It took a few minutes, but soon she was back in the bed, under the covers, looking far better than when he’d found her. Once she was settled on the side away from the door, he sat with his back against the headboard and took her hand.

  “I think I liked this better when we were Cate and Geoff.”

  “So you think this was a mistake, after all?”

  “Nay, Cate, not that. ’Tis just that things are so different between us now and I do not know how to proceed in these more delicate matters we’ve never had to face before.”