The Countess Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  She pulled as far away from John as she could and tried to regain her control. He was far too smart and far too insightful for her to fool without having all of her wits about her.

  “Your Grace,” she said, curtsying to him.

  “I thought you dead these last three years. I am glad to see you are not.”

  She did not meet his eyes. She knew they would be cold and lifeless.

  “The last time I saw you…let me think on this…was just days before your brother’s death.”

  “I remember not, Your Grace. My memories of that time are gone.”

  “Gone?” he said as he lifted her face to his. “I think not.” He stepped closer, bringing his body to hers and trapping her between himself and the door in the tiny room. “I think you remember much of our special time together. It is because I am sure of that that I come to you now seeking that which I am also certain you still possess.”

  Steeling herself against the physical reaction his nearness and even his voice caused within her, she repeated her words. “My memories of the time before the convent are gone, Your Grace. The nuns said the head injury I sustained…”

  “Lying bitches, every one of them. And you, too, Catherine. You see, I know that William stole the papers from me and I know that he sent them to you. He told me so when I presented him with a token of your blood to wear into his battle with the earl. He said that since you had already given yourself to me, you might as well stay my whore. He died that day knowing you’d betrayed him.”

  She could not stop the tremors that pulsed through her. She must be calm. She must not give away anything to him or he would use it to break her. This time, at least, she knew his methods.

  “I know not of what you speak, Your Grace. I have nothing of yours. My memories—”

  “Of that time are gone. You continue to say that but I know it is false.” He lifted his hand to her face and rubbed the back of his finger over her cheek. “I must say I would feel very insulted if you did not remember my touch….” His hand moved lower, to her mouth now. “My kisses…”

  His mouth was so close to hers that if she spoke, their lips would touch. She pressed harder against the door, trying to gain space between them. He slid his hand boldly over her breasts and stomach, holding at the top of her thighs. He drew circles over the area, sometimes touching and sometimes not, until finally, as she expected, he thrust his hand roughly between her legs.

  “You must remember the day you offered me your virtue, Catherine. The day you begged me to take you? The day I marked you as mine with the blood of your maidenhead? Surely you remember it?”

  She had repeated the words over and over in her thoughts as he taunted her and tried to weaken her resolve against him. Some of the ability she’d developed to block out his words and deeds reasserted itself, and she was able to stay detached as he groped her. Finally, she met his cold eyes.

  “I fear my memories of that time are gone.”

  Before he could retaliate, she heard her name being called in the corridor. It was Constance. Before John could stop her, she called out in answer. He stepped away, allowing her to open the door, but before she could move from his grasp, he whispered to her.

  “I know you have it. I want it back. Give it to me and I swear on my soul that this ends now. You can marry Langier and continue with your story of not remembering our time together.” He circled his fingers around her upper arm and squeezed so painfully that she gasped. “If you do not give it to me, I will get you back in my custody. Then I will turn you over to someone who will make you beg me to punish you for this disobedience. His methods of pain will make you plead for me to take back what you stole. And when I have it back, he will make you ask for death ten times over before I grant it to you.”

  Her legs buckled under her and she fell against the door. He pulled her back up and opened the door himself. She could hear Constance coming closer, still calling for her. Before Prince John thrust her out in the corridor, he used his final threat, the one she knew he must.

  “The Dumonts must also pay for their involvement in trying to keep you from me. I will not forget their part in this.”

  He shoved her and she stumbled into the hallway.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Constance found her as she regained her feet.

  “Catherine, what happened?”

  She shook out her gown and hid her trembling hands by rearranging her veils and caplet. “I heard something in that storage closet and looked in to see what it was. When I heard you calling, I turned and my gown caught on the door. I nearly landed on the floor.” She laughed nervously.

  “You should take more care. You could have been hurt,” her friend. “Now come, for the queen is waiting for you.”

  Catherine followed Constance to the queen’s chamber. All she truly wanted to do was find her bed, climb in it and cry the hurt out. Mayhap she was wrong about all of this? Mayhap John would honor his word if she gave him back the papers he wanted so badly? She needed to be resolved in her plan.

  They entered the queen’s chamber and Catherine dropped into a curtsy before her. Eleanor did not give her permission to rise, and so she stayed as she was. From the sounds of footsteps around her, she could tell that the queen had ordered her chamber cleared. Finally, her name was spoken and she rose.

  “You do not look well, Catherine. Pray, be seated here and have something to drink.”

  Catherine sat down where the queen directed and accepted the cup of wine offered by the queen’s lady-in-waiting, who then left the room, as well. Sipping it, Catherine closed her eyes and tried to calm herself after the encounter with the prince.

  “Do you wish to tell me how the outline of a hand became imprinted on your gown? Should I call the guards?”

  Horrified, Catherine looked down and saw what Eleanor was referring to. The pale-colored gown could not hide the handprint on the front of it, or on the sleeve where John had taken hold of her. “’Tis of no consequence, Your Grace.” She swallowed more wine, hoping to calm her rattled nerves.

  “So, you are from Anjou, then? The de Severin family has a proud history going back many generations. You are the last?”

  “Aye, Your Grace.”

  “Your marriage to Geoffrey now of Langier is an advantageous one for you. How did you accomplish it?”

  “You have heard the story of it, Your Grace.”

  “Along with many lies, I suspect,” Eleanor said bluntly. “This is your opportunity to give me the truth. Once John begins, there is no telling where this will lead.”

  “’Tis as I told you on our first meeting. I have lived at the convent these last three years and fell in love with my lord Geoffrey on visits to his brother’s estates.”

  “You are not related to the countess, then?”

  Catherine shook her head. “Nay, Your Grace. They gave out that explanation, since it is an acceptable one. No one asked questions about the destitute female relation who lived on the earl’s mercy. The earl and countess always knew who I was.”

  “Why were you not betrothed or married?”

  “I thought that was why my brother summoned me to England. I was ten-and-five and of marriageable age. I believed he would arrange it, as was his due.”

  “That is not what happened? How came you to my son?”

  How much should she reveal to his mother? Did Eleanor really want to know of his depravity and baseness? Unsure of where Eleanor’s loyalties would lie, Catherine continued with her excuse.

  “My memories of that time are gone, Your Grace. I find only darkness when I search my mind for them.” She drank from the cup again.

  “But surely, Catherine, you must remember something? There is an entire year missing from your life—does not a speck of it remain within you? Can you not remember feasts or traveling or spending time with your brother?”

  The entire year from anticipated beginning to horrific end raced through her mind in a mere moment, despite her efforts to reconstruct the wal
l of protection around it. She flinched at the onslaught and then realized that Eleanor was watching her closely.

  “Nothing, Your Grace.”

  “Did you not retain anything, any possessions from that time? Did you come to the convent empty-handed?”

  “Only a box with some clothing.” Which I burned before they could stop me.

  “Most perplexing, Catherine. What do you think of John’s claim to your wardship?”

  “I know nothing of it, Your Grace. The earl took me under his protection and I knew only that my brother was dead. The nuns made certain that I learned of the earl’s generous behavior, and I thank God each day for it.”

  “Generous, yes, but I find it difficult to believe that the earl supported this marriage. Considering his history with your brother and your lack of property and title, it is unlikely.”

  Catherine knew she must speak the truth on this. She stood and walked to the table where wine and other beverages sat. Pouring another cup for herself, she offered Eleanor one as well, but the queen declined. Catherine sat back in the chair and put herself and her love for Geoffrey before the queen.

  “Geoffrey and I did not expect a marriage between us. Although there was love, there was also the understanding and acceptance that he would marry as appropriate to his status on accession of his title.” She paused for a moment. “And I would marry elsewhere. The earl set up a small dowry of gold so that I was not precluded from that honored state. As I discovered quickly, I wanted to marry no other and preferred the convent to being wife to someone else.”

  “But you are not in the convent, are you?”

  Catherine permitted a smile to break through as she remembered Geoffrey arriving at the convent and taking her out of the path of danger. Now, of course, she understood the danger and she knew it—he—had followed them across the Channel.

  “No, Your Grace. Although I did return there intent on taking my vows. Geoffrey—my lord Geoffrey—came the next day and announced his intention to marry me. His first obstacle was the reverend mother, though. Once convinced of his honorable aims, and presented with his orders from the king, she approved the betrothal contract and stood as witness for me.”

  “Approved it? Not the earl?” Eleanor seemed confused over this aspect of the arrangements.

  “She has papers that name her and the earl as my guardians, and so she stood in stead for the earl and signed the contracts.”

  If that had seemed strange before, Catherine had not dwelled on it. The queen’s interest in the topic brought a frown to her regal face, but after a moment’s hesitation Eleanor looked at her and smiled. Catherine sipped from her cup again as she waited for the questioning to continue. There were some important queries that had not been asked yet.

  Eleanor pointed to the table and Catherine poured some wine for her. After handing it to her, she walked around the chamber while waiting on the queen.

  “The earl supports the marriage now, even going so far as to add to your dowry. Why did he change his opinion on it?”

  “I have not asked the earl his reasons. I understood his opposition—he was justified in seeking a better match for his brother. But with words or actions, my lord Geoffrey has been able to convince him of the rightness of this.”

  “Why does my son want you? He does not bestir himself from England or into his brother’s presence unless there is some pressing need. That he is here, speaking to Richard to gain your custody and risking the anger of the nobles of Poitou and Aquitaine by interfering in matters of one of their own, says much about your importance to him.”

  Could she reveal the truth to the queen? Would Eleanor protect her against John’s wishes? Could Eleanor stand against her son for someone not of Plantagenet blood? The facts included in the letters pointed the finger of guilt at many nobles and even some in the royal family. Should she hold on to that proof or relinquish it to the queen and hope for the best?

  Catherine met Eleanor’s gaze and shook her head. “Your Grace, I know not why the prince seeks my custody.”

  Eleanor closed her eyes for a brief second and then shook her head in turn. “You can trust me, my dear.”

  “I trusted my brother and you see how that turned out.”

  She could have bitten her tongue as the words escaped. She’d let her bitterness seep in, and had lashed out without thinking. Would Eleanor recognize the gaffe?

  “I suggest that you keep yourself in these apartments for the remainder of this day. I will send my maid to you with a sleeping draught, for I can see that you need to rest. Richard will decide this in the morning.”

  “Aye, Your Grace,” Catherine said, lowering herself into a curtsy. As she reached the door, the queen spoke again.

  “I knew not that William had a sister.”

  Something in the queen’s tone made her feel as though an apology had just been offered to her.

  “Eleanor has confined her to her chamber.”

  “I know you do not want to hear this, but ’tis safer for her that way, brother.”

  They sat not at the high table but together with Luc and Aymer on the main floor of the great hall. Although Geoff would rather have missed this meal completely, Christian had convinced him of the wisdom of being seen there by the king. Geoff simply wanted to be with Catherine.

  The meal continued, but each course served tasted bland and indistinguishable to his palate. Geoff knew it was him and not the food. Before the last dish was brought out, he become aware of Lady Constance trying to get the attention of Aymer. Geoff nudged him into noticing, and the knight followed the lady’s gestures into the corridor. After a short time, he returned, his face grim.

  “What is it?” Geoff asked.

  “The prince has approached Catherine, my lord.”

  Fury built inside him as he thought of the damage John could do to her. Without memories to guide her, she would be vulnerable to any lies the prince told her.

  “When? Where?” he demanded through clenched teeth.

  “Near the queen’s rooms. Earlier today. Constance was sent looking for her and found her staggering in the corridor.”

  “If he has harmed her…” Geoff began.

  “Brother, calm yourself or you will give him another weapon.” Geoff accepted Christian’s words of warning.

  “What else did the lady say?” Had she witnessed the exchange? he wondered.

  “She escorted Catherine to the queen and observed John leaving the room near where she’d found Catherine.”

  Geoff pounded his fist on the table, so hard that their cups shook. “He is too bold!”

  “He is a prince,” Christian said. “Do not forget that. And he comes this way.”

  John stepped down from the dais and came directly to their table. Geoffrey tried to think of his brother’s earlier warnings as the prince spoke to them.

  “Stay, friends, do not let me interrupt your meal,” he said. “I come to bring you some friendly advice for your use on the morrow.”

  “And what would that be, Your Grace?” Geoffrey asked, preparing himself for the worst.

  “Do not believe her words, for she lies like the rest of the de Severins.”

  “I have never found her deceitful, Your Grace. In these last three years, she has been kind and modest and all things that are hoped for in a woman and wife.” He tried to play the game, tempering his rebuttal with a respectful tone, but his head pounded from the fury building in his blood.

  “No matter what her assurances are to the contrary, my lords, she knows exactly what we did in our time together. She whored in my bed even while her brother whored on the battlefields for me. Still, ’tis my fervent wish that she has demonstrated some of her more charming skills for you before she returns to my custody.”

  Geoff could not help himself. In that next instant he shoved away from the table and stood, moving to confront John directly. “You will not insult my betrothed wife in this way.”

  “I am trying to save you and your family from more s
candals involving your choices of wives. There is time to dissolve this and leave her to me.”

  Geoff felt Christian come to his side now. “There is no reason for your concern or for your involvement,” his brother stated.

  “I have never met men who are so willing to take another man’s leavings before. Tell me, does a royal plowing make the path smoother for those who follow? I suppose that the lack of a maidenhead does make for a better fuck, does it not, my lord?” John laughed and continued in a lower tone, unaware of how close to death he was. “Does she still scream in that throaty voice when she reaches her peak?”

  Geoff’s hand was on his sword and he felt it sliding from the scabbard before he even thought about it. He would kill John for heaping such insults not only on Catherine but on Emalie, as well. The sound of metal scraping on metal brought every gaze to where they stood. His only regret was that this death would be too quick to make the prince suffer, as he surely deserved.

  “Do not draw your sword on the prince, my lord.” Aymer held his hand fast so that his blade could not escape the scabbard. “’Tis treason to do so.”

  With the blood seething in his veins, it was difficult for Geoff to hear or see anything. Everything in him wanted to strike out at this whoreson who claimed such lies about Catherine and her past.

  “My lord,” Aymer insisted. “Do not break the peace of the king’s hall. Do not draw on the prince.”

  John stood before him with his arms at his sides and a knowing smirk on his face, which Geoff longed to remove. But Aymer’s warnings forced him to diffuse the situation. He stepped back, slid the sword completely into its scabbard and lifted his hand from its hilt.

  He realized that Luc was holding his brother back as well, and Geoff knew they needed to leave the hall before his control was overwhelmed. As he turned his back on the prince, an insult in itself to one of royal blood, he heard John’s final words.

  “What better way for her to seek revenge for her brother’s death than to marry his killer’s brother and end their line with her barren womb? Think on that as well, my lords.”