“Would you give me your counsel about the potential brides?”

Would she help him to choose his wife? Pain, like a dagger thrust, pierced her heart, leaving her breathless. Could she help him choose the woman who would bear his name and his children and possibly his love?

“You ask much of me, Geoff.”

“I can only ask it of a friend, Cate. Someone whom I trust with my life.” He lifted her chin so she could not escape his dark gaze. “I know it is unfair to ask you, but I ask it 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….

The Countess Bride

Harlequin Historical #707

Praise for TERRI BRISBIN

“A lavish historical romance in the grand tradition from a wonderful talent.”

—New York Times bestselling author Bertrice Small on Once Forbidden

“Excitement, adventure, royal intrigue and a ‘what-if’ scenario that could change the world. Terri Brisbin weaves them together with the masterful touch that has become her trademark. Sheer Elizabethan delight.”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Maggie Shayne on The Queen’s Man

The Dumont Bride

“Rich in its Medieval setting… Terri Brisbin has written an excellent tale that will keep you warm on a winter’s night.”

—Affaire de Coeur

“Beautifully written and well researched, this book is a perfect ten in many ways.”

—Romance Reviews Today

Terri Brisbin
The Countess Bride

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Available from Harlequin Historicals and TERRI BRISBIN

The Dumont Bride #634

The Norman’s Bride #696

The Countess Bride #707

To my husband, Chris (because he asked me to).

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Author Note

Chapter One

Lincolnshire, England

August, 1198

She knew that the blood of six young noblewomen would be on her hands. And she knew that she would sinfully enjoy strangling the very life and breath out of each one. If they continued repeating the completely inane comments of the last hour, she would be forced to kill them all.

Catherine de Severin pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted her forehead. She did not suffer the heat well and the day had turned hot after the noon meal. Trying to be discreet, she lifted her hair from her perspiring neck and attempted to cool off before her discomfort was noticed.

Too late.

“Catherine? Are you unwell?” Emalie Dumont, Countess of Harbridge and her benefactress, leaned over and whispered to her. The softness of her voice did not hide her concern.

“I am well, my lady.”

Catherine heard the soft snickers that moved through the small group of women watching the men fight in the tilt-yard. Lady Harbridge had, as well, for her expression was one of distaste. Standing, the countess motioned to those seated to follow her.

“I fear this heat is too oppressive for me today. Come, let us seek a cooler place to gather, and something cool to drink to refresh ourselves.”

No one could remain sitting, or not obey the orders of the countess and the hostess of this keep. Catherine gathered her fan and handkerchief and stood. Before the small entourage could leave the yard, a loud, deep voice called out to them from across the yard.

“My lady?”

Catherine watched as the countess approached the fence and spoke quietly to her husband. The women had been watching the earl and some of his men practice their fighting skills in the yard as an amusement. But knowing that the younger Dumont was on his way here to choose one of them for a wife made the group nervous and excited. The mindless chatter had made the swordplay difficult to enjoy. Catherine turned and observed the earl and countess’s exchange of words.

’Twas times like this when she could see a softness in the earl’s face, an expression of love, that kept her from hating him as much as she knew he hated her. A man who loved his wife as much as the Earl of Harbridge did could not be all bad. When, in his conversation with his wife, he raised his eyes to glance over at her, the coldness filled his gaze once more and Catherine knew that Lady Harbridge had mentioned her name.

A tightening began in her stomach and grew stronger. Unease filled her as his gaze passed over her once more. She had prayed for acceptance of her fate. She had prayed for understanding. And she had prayed for the gratitude that should fill her for the earl’s sponsorship. ’Twas all for naught.

Her weaknesses in character threatened to overwhelm her. Her fears and her inability to carry on conversations in the romantic style of the court forced her to the background in most situations. Her lack of standing and lack of relatives to offer the support usually given to young women of marriageable age were appallingly obvious to those here seeking that honorable state. Even drawing on her inner reserve of practiced quiet and calmness did not lessen her anxiety when faced with outsiders whom she knew not.

The urge to return to the convent, nay, to run to the convent, nearly overpowered her for a moment. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to clear her thoughts. The countess approached and held out her hand. Taking it, Catherine walked next to the woman who offered her everything she lacked, without ever making demands on her time or on her soul.

“My lord has suggested that I seek my chambers and rest there until our evening meal. Catherine, will you join me and bring your prayer book?” Everyone present knew the lord had ordered her to her room. Gossip would begin immediately after Lady Harbridge left their presence.

“Of course, my lady.”

“I fear that this babe makes me sensitive to the heat. My lord is concerned that I not spend so much time outdoors in it.” Her whispers were loud enough for all to hear.

Catherine knew exactly what the countess was doing, and would have kissed the hem of her gown to thank her for it. But that would undo the good being done on her behalf. By announcing the news that she once more carried a babe, another heir for her lord, she drew the attention to herself.

The group behind them fell silent, but Catherine could almost hear the questions and thoughts in their minds. This would be the countess’s third child in just over three years of marriage. Catherine knew those here who sought marriage to the countess’s brother-by-marriage were wondering if he would be as demanding in the physical part of marriage as his brother was. And if they would be as fruitful.

They reached the keep, where Emalie guided Catherine in one direction while the others entered the great hall. The consummate hostess, Lady Harbridge would have servants aplenty waiting to serve her guests whatever they needed.

Catherine followed the countess up the stairs in one of the towers until they reached the earl and countess’s chambers. The countess did not stop yet, but led her through a doorway and up another flight of stairs until they returned the battlements. Walking along the top of the wall that surrounded the entire keep, Catherine could see the lands around Greystone Castle, almost to the sea in the east. The countess stood at her side, eyes closed, facing into the breezes that buffeted them.

“If I could spend my days here in the wind, I would, dear Catherine.”

“Aye, my lady. ’Tis much more pleasant than the heat of the bailey.” Catherine remembered hearing some gossip about the amount of time the earl and his countess spent high up on these walkways, and she could feel a heated blush climb onto her cheeks. It was even rumored, if one wasted time listening to that kind of talk, that the child carried by the countess had been conceived here one stormy spring night.

“They can be cruel, Catherine. I urge you not to take their words to heart.”

“Aye, my lady.” What else could she say?

“Geoffrey should arrive by this evening. He will enjoy seeing you, as he always does.”

“And I him, my lady.”

Lady Harbridge gave her the strangest look and then patted her hand. “You may seek out whatever diversions you’d like this day, Catherine. I am truly headed for my chambers now.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Catherine was still trying to figure out the meaning of her glance when Lady Harbridge added, “This babe makes me hungry and tired, and I battle between both feelings now. Could you seek out Alyce and have her send food and drink to me?” At Catherine’s nod, the countess continued. “It will be an arduous task to suffer the company of these empty-headed ninnies and their mothers over this next week, so get some rest to prepare yourself.”

She laughed with the countess at her words. They were her exact thoughts about this group of visitors. Catherine curtsied and turned to leave. The countess spoke once more.

“Geoffrey will be pleased to see you here.”

Geoffrey will be pleased to see you here.

The words swirled around inside her head as she sat in the cool stillness of the stone chapel. This was her one place of safe haven within Greystone. Not many of its inhabitants were spiritual in nature, so most times she had the quiet church to herself. Even old Father Elwood was absent now.

Wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Catherine paced the back of the chamber. Although marriage was never part of her accepted future life, she knew that it was a must for Geoffrey. Between the two Dumont brothers, they had much land and many titles to protect, both here in England and back in Poitou and Anjou.

She knew the French king was constantly testing the borders of his lands and that of the Plantagenets, and the Dumont lands sat between. Only an established marriage and an heir would serve to settle some of the tension. The current earl had supplied both, as was appropriate, but most did not know that Geoffrey stood as heir to all the earl’s Continental possessions and titles.

Catherine had discovered much about the Dumonts’ unusual arrangements with King Richard while here at Greystone and back at the convent. A second son did not expect to inherit family estates and titles, but Geoffrey would. Upon marriage—a marriage that required the consent of his brother— Geoffrey would take over control of Château d’Azure and all the Dumont holdings surrounding it. And he would be invested as the Comte de Langier.

If these “empty-headed ninnies,” as the countess called them, had knowledge of his true worth, they would have been after him long ago. But the earl kept these arrangements quiet even as he’d kept Geoffrey under control. Until now. Catherine longed to speak with Geoffrey to discover what had changed to make marriage now necessary.

Geoffrey. Her best friend. And now soon to be married. She had not laid eyes on him in almost a year, although his letters kept her entertained and informed of his progress in overseeing the workings of the many Dumont estates. When she’d last seen him he’d been maturing at an alarming rate, and Catherine could only imagine how handsome and tall he would be now.

She sighed as she struggled to accept what was to come. Her heart was heavy with the knowledge that this would be the last time she saw him. For once the question of his marriage was settled, she would begin preparation to take her vows.

Chapter Two

The small group of travelers reached the crest of the hill and Geoffrey called a halt. This was his favorite spot to stop and survey the Castle Greystone and its surrounding lands. With summer full upon England, the richness of the fields and forests was evident. Lifting off his helm, he savored the view for what promised to be the last time in many months.

“Your lands are just as rich, my lord.”

Geoffrey turned to face the man who was his own steward, and noticed his self-assured expression. Was Albert now reading his thoughts, as well as managing his properties?

“Oui, Albert, they are that. Or shall we say they will be when they are mine?”

Albert nodded and waited on him. ’Twould be unseemly to appear grasping when his brother’s generosity was without limit or question. And once the business here was finished, Geoffrey would hold the title and many properties of the Dumont family. He shook his head, still fearing to believe that a younger son could attain so much. But then, nothing in the last four years had gone according to the way things should go.

“One more task, my lord. And this one is not so onerous?”

Geoffrey smiled, torn by the one thing that stood between him and all he stood to gain. Marriage. Marriage with his brother’s consent. And then all would be his.

“Not so onerous, Albert. A necessary one at that.”

“I am certain that your brother will help you to choose wisely.”

The subtle leering in Albert’s glance belied the man’s calming words. Geoffrey’s somewhat colorful past with women both here and at home was well known. His brother would try to find a bride to match him in spirit, as well as titles and lands. Wouldn’t he?

“Come, then. Let me meet my fate while I still have the courage to do so.”

Joining him in mirth, the men spurred their mounts and followed him through the gates and up to the steps to the keep. Word of his arrival had spread, for his brother stood at the top of the stairway, waiting.

“My lord earl!” Geoff called out, as he dismounted and climbed the steps.

“Brother!” Christian answered, opening his arms to greet him.

They met in their usual bone-crushing manner, and Geoff once more knew that the affection between him and his half brother was strong as ever. They separated only when the soft but insistent voice of the countess interrupted their greetings.

“Geoff! ’Tis good to have you with us once more,” she said. His sister-by-marriage was becoming even shorter, but she could not be ignored. “And you have grown taller by many inches since I saw you last.” She wrapped her arms around him, giving no importance to titles and protocol, and his heart warmed at her enthusiasm.

“Countess. You look well.” He returned her hug and then stood back. He knew of her pregnancy, but did not know if the news was openly shared with their people yet. He would wait for a private moment to congratulate them both on their good tidings.

“I thought that when your arrival was delayed, mayhap you’d lost the courage to face the task before you,” Christian declared. Geoff laughed, although his brother probably did not realize how close to the truth his words were.

“And miss out on your merriment at my expense? I would not disappoint you both after your efforts on my behalf.”

“Come, then. Refresh yourself and join us for the meal. Your task can be put off that long,” Emalie said, as she pulled him into the doorway of the keep.

Geoff took a moment to look around, wondering if the one person whose presence would be a joy to him, other than his family, was there. He glanced about the bailey and into the keep, but did not see her. Not wanting to appear inattentive, he turned and walked with Emalie and Christian into the castle.

He looked at the hall with new eyes for he had grown quite a bit since his last visit here. Geoffrey could see surprise in the expressions of many of the servants as they noticed him for the first time. Looks of approval and some of open appraisal met him as he strode toward the dais at the front of the room. He smiled with true fondness at a few people, for they had been part of his growing up here these last few years. And he was met with inviting glances from several of the women who had marked his development from boy to man. No matter how inviting those looks were, this was not a visit to indulge his passions. Not with six prospective brides within the keep…and their mothers.

Even if a wife were supposed to accommodate her husband’s needs in the marriage bed and ignore his needs outside of it, he did not plan to flaunt any of his past liaisons before a bevy of possible brides. Discretion was the most important part of valor, his brother had always said.

But with every glance around the great hall, Geoffrey was disappointed. Although her letters had promised her presence here, he did not see Catherine. And nothing would give him more pleasure, especially during this time of decision making, than to talk with her. He needed Catherine’s quiet wisdom and soft sense of humor to help guide him. He wondered how she had reacted to the news of his impending nuptials. Catherine was pragmatic enough to realize that their futures would take them in different directions, or at least to different places. Christian had told him of a dowry set aside for her, so he knew that she would marry. Knowing her approach to life, he did not doubt that her choice of spouse would be done efficiently and with little of the spectacle that his would involve.

He reached his seat without seeing any sign of her among the crowd. Taking in a breath and letting it out, Geoffrey readied himself for the evening ahead. And if Emalie’s uncontrolled laughter in the solar a short while ago was any indication, it would take all of his efforts to survive it.

“Are you sufficiently recovered from your journey for us to begin?” his brother asked, motioning to the servants to begin serving the food.

“With all due respect for the countess’s efforts, I fear I will never be recovered enough for what is to come.” Geoff smiled at Christian, but he knew from the look in his brother’s eyes that Christian had read the message in his words. And he knew that underlying every action Christian took was a genuine concern for his well-being. After partaking of the food offered, Geoff wiped his fingers on the napkin next to his plate. The satisfying meal he’d just eaten began to feel unsettled in his stomach now, as he thought of what was to come.

Becoming the consummate courtier and greeting a future bride and her parents. The cream of England and France and the Plantagenet provinces sat before him, all wearing looks of great anticipation. Some simply looked hungry, and not for food….

“Emalie has some plan on how this should work, since to insult anyone’s dignity and standing would be a pitiful start for your search.” Christian smiled, but his eyes were full of disturbing glee.

“Most assuredly, my lord,” Geoffrey answered, his voice oozing with sarcasm. “Who has the most precedence among your guests?”

Christian surveyed those in his hall and nodded. “The duke there.”

“Are they enough for this evening’s work, my lady?” Geoffrey looked to Emalie, whose expression was of the most serious concentration.

“Aye. We have a sennight of their attendance. One should not rush these important matters.” Her frown became more evident. “Besides, I have several entertainments arranged on the morrow to demonstrate your talents and skills, brother.”

Geoffrey choked on the sip of wine he had just taken, and even Christian’s solid thumping on his back did not help. Surely, he and his sister-by-marriage had different skills and talents in mind?

“Dancing, my lord.” Emalie looked sharply at both of them. Christian looked even guiltier than he himself. “And a hunt. Both manly activities.”

“Of course, my lady. I but thought…” He began to tease her.

“I know what you thought, Geoffrey. Those other manly pursuits are of no interest to me.”

“Emalie,” Christian whispered, so that none but they heard his familiar use of her name. “I think those pursuits are very much of interest to you.”

Geoff watched as a blush moved up her cheeks and more than words were shared between the earl and countess. She began to fan herself as though the room had become hotter, then sat back and drank from her cup. Soon she gave a subtle nod, and several musicians gathered near the dais. Ah, the demonstration would now begin.

Geoffrey stood when his brother did, and the earl offered the countess his hand. Side by side, they strode down the steps and, with Geoff following, stopped at a nearby table. An older couple rose and met them. A lovely young woman remained seated. A trembling young woman, from what he could see of her face and shoulders. Surely she did not fear him?

“My lord. My lady,” Christian began. “May I make known to you my brother, Geoffrey?”

Knowing his part, Geoff bowed to both the duke and duchess and then smiled at their daughter, whose pale face turned a pasty white. Not an auspicious beginning. He held out his hand and she placed her shaking fingers in his. Lifting them to his lips, he barely touched her knuckles, as was required.

“Would you honor me by joining me in dance?” He had the distinct feeling that she was about to refuse when her father intervened.

“Melissande. Accept his invitation now.”

She rose from the bench, the picture of womanly beauty. Geoffrey noticed the graceful way she stepped into the line forming for the dance, her hair flowing down her back with each movement she made. And with his blue and cream tunic and hose and her cream and blue gown, their similar hair and eye color, even their appearance seemed made to be a good match. The lovely Melissande would be a fair enough choice.

Geoffrey tried to meet Melissande’s gaze through the steps of the dance, but she never raised hers from the floor. When he spoke to her to try to involve her in polite conversation, she simply looked away as though he had never said a word. Finally, he blamed her unease on this rather public first meeting and, since he knew his own level of expectation, figured the poor lass was most certainly overwhelmed.

They finished the dance and he led her back to where her parents and his brother still waited. Mayhap the rest of the introductions would go easier now that the first was done. And mayhap the other prospective brides would be more at ease, now that this first one had gone so smoothly.

He decided to be especially gracious as he ended the interval with Melissande. Geoff lifted her hand to his lips, touched it briefly and then, gaining her gaze, smiled with all the warmth and appeal that he could offer. Lady Melissande’s face flushed a bright red, her eyes rolled up into her head and she fell with a thump at his feet. This was not the normal reaction of young women when faced with his masculine charms.

In the confusion that followed, with both the duke and the earl calling out commands to the servants, and with the many other maidens chattering nervously, Geoffrey wanted nothing so much as to leave; and leave quickly. As he surveyed the great hall for a way to escape, he finally saw her.

As always, Catherine made herself blend into the background. Her dress was plain and serviceable, barely a cut above those worn by his brother’s servants. She stood against a wall just outside one of the doors leading to the stairs. Their eyes met for a brief moment and then she stepped back out of his view. She would not intrude on his time with his family. Geoff knew from past experience that Catherine would withdraw any time his brother required his presence. She always put his needs above her wishes.

And that was one more thing he loved about her.

The thought roared through his mind. A dizzying blindness struck him for a moment and he reeled with the strength and clarity of his thoughts. He did love Catherine.

“Are you unwell, also?” the duchess asked, tapping him on the shoulder. “Mayhap the beef was bad?”

Geoff shook himself and looked around at those standing near the still-prostrate Lady Melissande. “Nay, I am well. Just concerned about the well-being of our guest.”

He heard his sister-by-marriage calling out for more room, and he stepped back with the others. Although he could be cool and clearheaded in battle, a fainting or crying woman unmanned him. Let the countess handle things. And she did so, for a moment later Emalie and Melissande were standing.

“I fear my stomach was so nervous I did not eat today,” Melissande whispered in a soft voice.

“And the exertion of that particular dance was too much for Lady Melissande. Some food and rest and she will be well.”

Emalie patted the girl’s hand and released Melissande to her own mother’s ministrations. The duchess did not look pleased that her daughter would now be removed from the center of attention.

Geoffrey tried to ease the situation, for he feared some retribution would be directed at the girl for her actions here. If the duke and duchess had come all this way, they wanted a match between Melissande and him. If the girl failed to gain his favor, she could pay for it, if her parents were of that ilk.

“My lady?” He smiled and waited for Melissande to face him. “Would you join me to break our fast in the morn? And I promise no dancing at that hour!”

’Twas the right thing to say, for the frown on the duchess’s brow lifted and Melissande offered a tremulous smile at his invitation. He could not promise her that she would be his choice, but at least she would be given a fair chance to make her case before him.

Melissande dipped into a curtsy before the group and nodded. “My lord, I would be most pleased to join you.”

“Until the morn, then.” Geoffrey nodded and watched as the lady, her parents and various attendants left the room. He sensed Christian and Emalie beside him and waited for their comments.

“Too frightened for my tastes,” his brother whispered.

“But nice enough,” Emalie added.

“Let’s see what the morning brings,” Geoff suggested. “Now then, my lady. Do you have another virgin to sacrifice to me before the festivities end this night?”

If she was feeling insulted, the slight tugging at the corners of her mouth that threatened to turn into a smile gave away her amusement.

“Come, Geoffrey. Let us introduce you to the lady Marguerite. Her father is a mere baron, but of sufficient standing and property as to not insult your future dignity, or your pompous brother’s.”

Christian let out a snort and Geoffrey fought not to join him. Emalie had complained about Christian’s arrogance from the time they met, and it was obvious to him that that particular battle still wore on.

“Lead on, my lady. Let us not waste the time we have.”

Chapter Three

Moonlight streamed in through the small window high in the alcove’s wall and made it seem like day. This small refuge between the back stairs and the kitchen was largely ignored by most, but Catherine favored it when she needed a few moments alone in the castle during a busy day. And this was the place where she and Geoffrey would meet and compare their adventures when they both visited Greystone—his of one kind and hers of another.

She would have to accommodate herself to the idea that they would be even more different once this week ended. She would go on to her new life, alone, and he would go to his, with a wife in tow. Catherine sighed. She wanted too many things she could not have. Too many things that she was not entitled to. A man who could never be hers.

Looking up at the rays of light and the specks of dust that danced within them, Catherine allowed herself to dream of dancing with Geoffrey, as the first two of his prospective wives had. As she’d watched from the hallway, he had led them in the steps of two dances that she knew but had never been invited to do. He had grown so much since she’d seen him—taller, his blond hair longer and his shoulders broadened by muscles not there before. Where once was the promise of attractiveness, now there was a wildly handsome, noble warrior. As if conjured by her thoughts, she turned to find him staring at her.

“Geoffrey.”

“Catherine.”

She stared back at him, separated by several feet of air, and marveled at the changes in him. She wasn’t certain who took the first step but she suddenly found herself wrapped in his arms. Tears burned her eyes and throat, as his arms held her so close that it made taking a breath difficult. Her own arms found their way around his waist and she prayed that he would never let her go.

How long they remained in that embrace, she knew not, but the cold air of reality began to seep into her soul. Catherine understood that nothing more could be between them than this holding and she relished it for the brief lapse of judgment it was. One that would not be repeated.

Removing her hands from his back, she took in a deeper breath and let it out. He must have sensed her withdrawal, for Geoffrey released his hold on her and let her go. Now, a small distance separated them and she finally regained control of herself.

“My lord, you look well,” she said with as much calm as she could manage.

“‘My lord’ is it now? And I thought we were friends.” His voice had deepened, too. Its mellow resonance struck something within her and stirred feelings better left untouched.

“Someone needs to be aware of your titles, my lord. Who better than a friend?”

“Please,” he said, taking her hand in his. “There will time enough for formality and distance. For now, for these brief moments away from all of that, can we not simply be Geoff and Cate?”

He knew. He knew that whatever they shared would be over by the end of his visit. Her heart lurched with the pain of it, but she vowed not to let him know how sad she was about it.

“Of course. Sit, Geoff, and tell me of your journey here. Was it a smooth crossing?” Catherine loosened her hand from his, stepped aside and let him sit down on the stone bench in the alcove. They would have shared the bench for their talks in the past, but now there was no room for her next to him.

“’Twas a good journey, though accomplished with some trepidation about the destination.”

“You worried about coming here?”

“Well, it would be nearer the truth to say that Emalie’s plans made me worry.” He paused and smiled at her. “She is more devious than my brother.”

“They want only the best for you, Geoff.” She almost reached out to touch his shoulder, but stopped herself. They needed to rebuild the distance between them, now that it had been challenged.

“Cate, I do know that or I would have pulled up the drawbridge at Château d’Azure and never left it.”

The image of him doing that, closing himself in his castle and not coming out, reminded her of the boy she’d met on her first visit to Harbridge. Or mayhap that was her on her first visit here from the convent? The worldly estate where life pulsed so fully had terrified her and she had been tempted to never return. It had been only the gentle requests of the lord’s brother that had convinced her to come back.

“But, my l… Geoff, when did you ever resist a challenge?”

He moved to one side of the stone seat and beckoned her to sit. She thought to refuse, but that part of her that knew it was over between them could not. Gathering her skirts close, she slid against the wall, seeking to press against it and not him.

“Everything changes with this visit, Cate. My life, my duties. I step into the larger stage of the world when I marry and accept the titles I am destined to receive. I have no misunderstandings of the importance of the lands I will hold on the Continent,” he said. He leaned his head back and let out a deep grumble of frustration. “Langier lands stand between those who would rule all of France and England, and I do not know if I am equal to the task of holding them and managing them.”

He had given her his deepest secret. He showed his manly bravado and outgoing nature to the world, even to his brother, but he had gifted her with his innermost fear. She must give him something in return.

“You have listened well to your brother and his lessons of administration?”

He nodded.

“And you have surrounded yourself with wise men to counsel you?”

He nodded again.

“And you plan on using the wits and intelligence that God gave you, and not acting like a witless fool?” Those words gained a smile and eased the frown on his brow.

“Then I am certain that you will be successful in keeping the trust your brother places in you. The earl does not give it easily and would never take this step if he did not believe you were ready.” Geoffrey laughed then. “’Tis amusing?”

“’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.

Melissande, Marguerite, Mathilde and Maude. The names did not bode well for him, for he had to always struggle to remember them. Now he was saddled with meeting strangers and trying to keep their names and faces in his memory.

Had his sister-by-marriage forgotten the lessons she’d learned about the letters of the alphabet? Even he knew that there were more letters than simply M and certainly women whose names did not begin so. Apparently, the only suitable women who had been invited to Greystone were those whose names began with an M.

“No, my lord Geoffrey, I did not limit my search for suitable wives to women whose names began thus. ’Twould only seem so.”

Surprised that he’d said the words aloud, he noticed the mischievous grin that teased the corners of Emalie’s mouth. Seeing the matching glint in her eye, he was not convinced that it was unintentional. For confusion? For levity? Her reasons he knew not, but they were there somewhere.

“You mentioned six prospective wives. Two seem to be missing.”

Although Emalie’s lips tightened at his comment, his brother’s snort of amusement was loud enough to be heard by those below table, as well as those at it.

“The ladies Petronilla and Phillippa are late risers, my lord. They tend to like the activities of the afternoon and evening far more than those in the morn.”

Ah. Well, four were easier to manage than six, so Geoffrey would use this early time to meet the two who were not present at the meal and dancing last eve, before meeting the others, the P ladies, later in the day.

“Emalie,” he whispered to her after realizing she used the title not yet known by those here. “I thought we’d decided that I was simply a knight for now?”

“’Twould seem, brother, that word of our bargain with Richard has escaped, in spite of our best efforts.” Christian looked neither pleased nor displeased by this lapse.

Gazing around the tables, Geoffrey now understood why there was so much wealth and beauty on display. As much as he hunted a bride, their families hunted him.

“So, I am worthwhile now that they know I am a marquis?”

Christian snickered and leaned across Emalie to answer. “And worth far more when you inherit the title of Comte de Langier and become the sole owner of the lands that lie between Anjou, Poitou and Aquitaine.”

“Do not spare me, brother. Why are they truly here?” Geoff gnashed his teeth at his change in status. Not now. He wanted time without the pressure of his true title being known.

Christian threw him a look that confirmed his suspicions—he was more valuable than any of the women to be considered. Their fathers wanted him for the lands and titles he would have upon his investiture, and the connections to the Plantagenet crown and the proximity to the French one.

“The hunter has become the prey, I fear, brother,” Christian answered. “All of my hopes to accomplish this before your inheritance was known are for naught.”

“Has anyone asked outright?”

“Nay, no one yet, although many hints have been dropped in initial discussions.”

Geoffrey broke off another chunk of cheese and chewed it. Leaning back as he washed the food down with some ale, he considered his choices. He could ignore the inevitable gossip or he could have Christian make the announcement of the terms of Richard’s agreement with the Dumont family. The news would be known as soon as negotiations began in earnest with the family of whomever he chose, so mayhap disclosure was best now. Subterfuge made him uncomfortable, a failing that Christian warned him about.

“My apologies, Geoff. I knew that word was out as soon as the rest of them gathered together in the hall this morn. Their visits and times of introduction were to be spread out over several days, not made into a marriage market like this.”

He nodded as his brother continued. “But none would allow another an advantage in showing off his daughter to you unchallenged. So, here they are.”

The speculation in the gazes that met his told the story. Those assembled wanted or needed him more than they wanted to hold on to their daughter or the wealth they would need to give away in the bargain.

A marriage to Melissande of Quercy would produce a united border with the south and west of France and make the duke more valuable to Philip Augustus. Marguerite of Brittany would strengthen the Plantagenet hold on that area and stem the tide of support for the French king. The count from Navarre would gain a foothold deep in the Plantagenet provinces and secure his borders with Gascony. The marquis who held lands near Orleans and owed fealty for those lands directly to the king of France would gain esteem for capturing a favorite of King Richard’s as his son-by-marriage. Marriage to either of the English heiresses would put more of England and Wales under Richard’s vassals’ control.

The watchful gazes and intense scrutiny made Geoff feel very much the prey here. Christian cleared his throat, gaining the attention of all in the room. He stood and spoke to them.

“On behalf of my brother, I thank you for answering our invitation. My family and I are honored by your presence and pleased that you could be here to meet with him. The countess and I have planned some entertainments for you all and I hope that your stay is comfortable and…” Christian paused and then acknowledged the real reason for this debacle. “May it result in a marriage and a joining of families.”

Geoffrey forced a smile to his face and nodded at the polite applause that greeted his brother’s words. From the undisguised greed on several faces, he guessed some of the visitors were already planning ways to ensure that their daughter was chosen. The only one wearing an undecipherable mask was the Baron of Evesham, whose friendship with Prince John was known. Geoff watched as the baron’s piercing gaze rested on each of the young women under consideration and then flicked back to the empty seat at his side, empty due to the absence of his daughter.

Geoffrey’s observations were interrupted by his brother’s announcement. “The stable master informs me that the horses are at the ready for our hunt. Come.”

Geoff joined Christian and the other noblemen and made his way to the stable yard. They would hunt with dogs this day, but he knew that Emalie enjoyed using the hawks and would plan a hunt for men and women using those. Soon, amid the barking and yelling and dust and men in the yard, he lost all thoughts of a bride and faced the challenges of a hunt.

Catherine sat at the longest of the tables near the kitchen hearth, finishing a bowl of steaming porridge. With most of the men leaving for the hunt for much of the day, she would have a chance to complete some arrangements. Supplies of food and wine and ale would travel with them so they could eat in the forest rather than coming back for the noon meal. The fruits of their labors would grace the table tonight. Catherine stood when Emalie approached.

“Nay, Catherine. Sit and finish your meal.”

Emalie walked to another table and examined the foods laid out on it. Nodding, she inspected the quality and quantity of the breads and wheels of cheese. The cook arrived at her side. Now Catherine did join them, anxious to assist in any way she could.

After a short time, Emalie and the cook had agreed to the dishes that would be served at the night’s feast, and arrangements had been made to retrieve any game or animals captured in the hunt. Catherine walked at her side as they left the kitchens by way of the back courtyard. She did not ask their destination, but followed along. Soon they arrived at the small graveyard where many of the Montgomerie family were buried.

But they were not there to show respect for the dead. This was also one of few places that offered any privacy in the sometimes frenzied world of Greystone Castle. And privacy was needed to discuss the startling contents of the reverend mother’s latest missive regarding Catherine. They stopped near the low stone wall, and Catherine waited until Emalie had taken a seat on the bench next to the wall before sitting, as well.

“I would like you to attend the feast tonight, Catherine.” Although she clearly tried to soften her tone, it was more of an order than a request.

Catherine shook her head as she answered.

“’Tis not possible, my lady. I have no place there.”

“You are my ward, Catherine. You do belong there.”

Catherine faced her and let the sadness she carried within show on her face. ’Twas something she had never seen before in this strength, so Emalie knew Catherine trusted her.

“I still do not understand how you can look at me at all, let alone with the generosity you do, my lady. We both know that I am the sister of your enemy, an orphan without family or connections and without wealth. I would be happier—”

“Taking the veil?” Emalie interrupted.

Catherine blushed and stammered and then just stopped and waited. Emalie could see her trying to regain control as she realized that her secret was known.

“My lady, I would have told you myself once I was sure.”

“The decision is not made, then? The reverend mother misunderstood your words?”

If there was anyone less suited for the convent than Catherine, she knew her not. The vitality and curiosity that was just beginning to reappear would wither and die in religious life. This girl, denied too many years of life, needed to be among people and to enjoy life and to find love.

Catherine’s eyes filled with tears and she bowed her head, not meeting Emalie’s gaze. Emalie thought, and not for the first time since bringing Catherine to Greystone, that mayhap she had handled this badly. Had it been cruel, as Christian had warned, to bring her here and give her a sample of a life she could never have? But then her husband had established a small dowry for Catherine, so marriage was not out of the question for her.

Emalie shifted on the hard seat and took Catherine’s hand in hers. Would the dowry so generously established now pay Catherine’s entry into the convent in Lincoln? Would she never know the joys of bearing children and having a husband to care for? As if in answer to her silent question, Catherine spoke.

“The reverend mother understood me well, my lady. This is to be my last visit to Greystone. My studies are nearly done and I am ready to take my vows.”

“Why, Catherine? Why enter the convent and spend your life as a Gilbertine sister?” Emalie waited for an answer. She suspected that she knew the truth of this and wondered if Catherine trusted her enough to share it with her.

“The reverend mother and sisters at the convent have been so kind to me. They cared for me during my…illness and have encouraged me since. They have taught me so much, not only from books, my lady, but in their practices and their life.” A desperate undertone laced her words, as though she were trying to convince herself and not Emalie.

“Those are all reasons to give thanks and generous donations and to offer prayers to God so that the sisters may continue their good works with others. But Catherine, those are not the reasons why you should enter their life. Tell me why you should join them.”

Discomfort flashed over the girl’s face and Emalie felt a pang of guilt for causing it. But if this was Catherine’s choice, she would support her in this desire to join the religious life. If it was not…

“Have you not thought of marriage for yourself?”

A terrible expression of loss haunted Catherine’s eyes and a soul-deep despair was now clearly written on her face. It was so obvious that Emalie’s own heart hurt from it. This was not about beginning a new life as a nun. This was, as she had suspected, about losing Geoffrey.

“With no family?” Catherine asked. “With no memory of my past other than what you or the reverend mother have shared with me? How can I enter into a marriage contract under the false pretenses in which I live? What do I offer a prospective husband?”

Emalie watched as silent tears slipped down Catherine’s pale cheeks. So much pain for someone who had not lived a score of years. She reached up and brushed a few strands of hair from Catherine’s damp cheeks.

“You have much to offer. You are an intelligent woman with much learning. You have handled many duties of the keep while here with me, so I doubt you would have any difficulty handling the tasks of chatelaine for a husband. You are of a suitable age to marry and there are no physical impairments to keep you from bearing children. You would make any man a more than acceptable wife.”

Catherine thought on the countess’s words. The problem for her lay within them, for she did not want to be “suitable” or “acceptable.” She did not want to be “without impairments.” She wanted to be loved. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted to be pursued for her own value and not the purse or land that came with her.

What foolishness to think such things! Even she knew such thoughts were ridiculous. ’Twas simply the way of things that women were wanted for what they brought and men for their abilities to manage and protect. Marriages among the noble class were simply that—contracted arrangements. And her biggest folly was to even consider for a moment that she could be Geoffrey’s wife.

Catherine removed her hand from the countess’s grasp and stood. The day was early, but already the heat was building. A breeze moved the smaller branches of the tree that provided them with some shade, and Catherine walked to its trunk and leaned against it. Pulling out a linen square from her sleeve, she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and cheeks.

These overwhelming feelings must be some last moment of weakness and unresolve within her. She was content with her decision. She had thought about all the questions that the countess had raised, and knew she had but one choice for her life. If she could not marry Geoffrey, she wanted to marry no man. And so the convent was her only option, nay, her only refuge, to avoid an unwanted marriage.

“I am content with this decision, my lady. The reverend mother will accept me and she knows my heart on this.”

“Have you told Geoffrey of this? Does he know?”

Swallowing against the tightening within her throat, Catherine could only shake her head in reply. Closing her eyes, she fought for control.

“He knows that this visit is our last, for his choosing a wife will settle things for both of us.” She whispered the words that declared her fate as well as his.

“And the love you share? Have you spoken of it with him?”

She gasped at the question and its implications. Others did know. As much as she tried to hide it, and thought her efforts enough, apparently ’twas not so.

In a moment, the countess was at her side. “’Tis obvious to those of us willing and able to see it.” Her voice was soft and soothing. “Geoffrey has not spoken of it to you?”

Catherine realized the question at the heart of her words. Words spoken. Promises made. Betrothals were arranged on less than that.

“His honor would not permit anything to be spoken between us, my lady. He knows his duties, as do I.”

The countess muttered under her breath in reply, but the words “the earl” were clear. Oh no! She did not mean that the earl knew of her feelings for his brother? No wonder he hated her. ’Twas not because he thought her a burden on his wife. He probably thought Catherine would do whatever she could to trap Geoffrey into a marriage that would be advantageous to her.

The air around her began to flicker before her eyes and Catherine felt faint. Dropping to her knees, she leaned forward and tried to breathe. She could feel the countess touching her shoulder, but then the sights and sounds around her began to fade. Just when she thought she would lose consciousness, everything began to clear and she could hear the birds in the tree above her and the noises in the yard behind her. After taking a few breaths, she felt strong enough to stand.

“My lady, I beg forgiveness if I have given any offense to the earl in this. I meant no disrespect to him or to his family and I do not claim that any promises were made between Lord Geoffrey and myself. Please tell the earl. Please—”

“Catherine, you misunderstand my words. Here—” the countess sat back down on the bench and pointed to the place next to her “—sit and let us talk about this. I would not have you mistake my meaning and my comment about the earl’s knowledge in this regard.”

Catherine felt the need to run growing within her. In a moment it would be irresistible, and so she excused herself from the countess’s presence. Shame and guilt welled within her over her thoughts and even her dreams of happiness, a happiness she did not deserve.

“My lady? May I be excused for a short time?” Catherine walked to the gate even as she uttered the words.

“Of course, Catherine. You are not a servant here. Go now, but come to see me later.”

Chapter Five

She did not even slow down to hear the countess’s reply. Instead, her feet moved quickly until she was almost running through the yard and out through the portcullis. If anyone watching thought it was strange that the countess’s companion was leaving in such a hurry, no one thought to stop her. Soon she was on the road to the village, passing peasants and villagers traveling in both directions. Still, she ran on, for in truth, when these feelings came upon her, she could do nothing but walk or run from them.

When she could no longer breathe due to the painful strain in her side, and when her legs were beset with tremors, Catherine slowed to a walk and then found a spot off the path to sit down. Her hair, now loosened from its braid and coif, flowed over her shoulders. Tugging the coif free, she gathered her thigh-length hair and tossed it over her shoulders again.

That would soon change.

When she took her vows, her hair would be cut, and for the first time never be permitted to show at all. No decorative coifs or fancy braids would ever decorate her blond tresses again. A simple white habit would be her clothing for the rest of her life, and no one would ever wonder what color hair lay beneath the white wimple, coif and veil.

Catherine’s breathing slowed and she sat in the shade of the tree, listening to the sounds around her. This path was one she’d taken before; it followed the course of a small stream and ended near the fields of one of the villeins. She would have privacy here. And she was safe.

There was no explanation she knew that caused these anxious feelings to build within her. So strong did they become, however, that the urge to escape grew unmanageable to her. She lost control and had to get out and walk or run until the tension left her. The reverend mother seemed to understand, as did the countess, but Catherine herself did not. Usually, she followed the impulse as soon as she became aware of it. Walking around the convent grounds and praying was acceptable behavior for the residents there so it did not draw undue attention. And here at Greystone, the countess made it clear that it was with her permission that Catherine walked where she would and when she would.

Another flaw in her character, certainly, but to find the cause she would need courage she did not have. Many times she had thought to confront Lady Harbridge or the reverend mother about the dark spaces in her memory, but a physical fear made it impossible. There was a reason she could not or would not remember from the time she came to live with her brother until she awoke one night at the convent in some sort of convalescent stay. There had to be.

Catherine climbed back onto her feet and looked toward the castle on its high mount, nearly half a league away. The walk back would give her time to collect her thoughts and ready herself for what she must face. The least she could do in return for the generosity and support of the Dumonts was to attend the banquet this evening. She would need to overcome her discomfort at being in large groups as well as being with people she did not know. She would blend into the background as she usually did, and no one but the countess need even notice she was there.

Catherine decided that she needed to face these next days and their challenges with a lighter mood. Had not the good sisters taught her that a sacrifice or good work done with a heavy heart or in regret was not worth doing? Neither the one performing the act nor the one who should benefit would, if the deed was not carried out with a pure heart.

Her love for Geoffrey would sustain her through this time of trial. She knew her place and his, and once he had chosen a bride, she herself could move on and settle in her life. Feeling her sense of calm and balance restored, Catherine decided it was time to go back to the responsibilities she had accepted in service to the countess. And to explain herself to Lady Harbridge.

Picking up her coif from where it lay on the ground, she shook it free of dust and tucked it in her sleeve. There would be plenty of time to replace it before reaching the main road to the castle, and she would enjoy the feel of the breezes lifting the hair on her shoulders and neck.

The horses were upon her almost as she set her foot on the road. Reeling back, Catherine stumbled and would have fallen, had not one of the three men vaulted from his mount and grabbed her arm at the last moment.

“Here, demoiselle. Allow me to help you,” he said, as he slid his hands along her arm. Catherine knew his grip was stronger than was necessary to give her support. When his hand brushed her breast, she knew the move had been deliberate. She tugged away, trying to loosen his hold, but he was bigger and stronger than she.

His companions dismounted and approached her, and her stomach began to clench in fear. Their manner was threatening and she knew their intent without any statement of it. She was the prey.

“You have a familiar look about you, my sweet. Surely, we have met before this?” The tallest of the three stood before her and, leaning close to her, lifted a few of her curls and wrapped them around his fingers. “Although I should remember someone so beautiful and with such charms.” She shivered as his gaze moved over her from head to hips and then back.

The third man, of shorter and bulkier build, moved in from behind, closing off the one avenue of escape. His fetid breath on her neck caused her stomach to heave, and she feared she might lose the food she had eaten a short time before.

“So, tell us, demoiselle, are you truly out here alone?” The first man pulled her closer and almost whispered the words in her ear. “Could it be that you were waiting for us?”

Catherine shook her head. “I am not alone,” she said, hoping they were fooled. Never in all her time spent as Greystone had she feared for her safety among the villagers or the castlefolk. She had walked alone many times and never been bothered or accosted in such a manner. Her momentary surprise turned to fear as the men moved even closer.

“A sweet morsel like this for us, Garwyn? I think not. Ones like this—” the tall one now wrapped more of her hair around his fist, making it impossible for her to pull away “—are not for the likes of us unless we take them.”

Catherine began to struggle in earnest and had opened her mouth to scream when a voice came from across the clearing. “The lady is under the protection of the Earl of Harbridge, who would take offense at your treatment of her.” Catherine recognized Sir Luc Delacroix, Greystone’s castellan and the earl’s friend, and offered a quick prayer of thanks at her rescue.

“And who are you that we should not take our pleasure where we may? We are guests of the earl.” All three men turned to face Sir Luc, and the two who did not hold her placed their hands on their swords in direct challenge to him.

“I am the earl’s man, as are these,” Sir Luc said, as a small group of men-at-arms on horseback moved closer. “From the insignia you wear ’twould seem that you are Evesham’s men?”

“Aye, we are Evesham’s men.”

“Then release the girl and find your lord where he hunts game in the forest on the other side of the castle.” Sir Luc pointed off in the distance.

Catherine feared they would resist his orders, but after seeing the numbers against them, the men muttered oaths under their breath and let her go. Shaking from the terror of the averted attack, she sank to her knees as they regained their saddles and goaded their horses to a hurried pace.

“Leave the earl’s people be, for I know where to find you,” Sir Luc called out just before they moved onto the road.

The hands that touched her now were safe ones, as Sir Luc assisted her to her feet and held her up for a few minutes while her legs and breathing steadied. Then he led her to his horse. After mounting, he reached down and pulled her up behind him. Tucking her hands around his waist, he motioned to his men to ride.

“My thanks, Sir Luc.” It was all she could force out through teeth clenching against the fear still pulsing through her.

“’Twas foolish of you to come out so far unattended, Catherine,” he said to her over his shoulder. “There are too many strangers among us now for it to be safe.”

“Yes, Sir Luc,” she whispered, slumping at his rebuke. He had always been kind to her, even though his lord did not treat her that way. Now even he turned against her.

“Your pardon, for my words were too harsh, Catherine. The lady Emalie told me of your leaving and asked me to see to your safety due to just this possibility. She worries over you and I would not want to face her if you had been injured.”

Catherine did not reply immediately, but simply held on as they approached the castle gates. When the panic overtook her, she did not think of safety. She did not think at all—she reacted. She only knew that she must escape the confines that held her and did not take time to reflect on all the possibilities. She must learn to control this weakness within herself.

“I understand, Sir Luc. I do not want to trouble the countess.”

He stopped, and one of the stable boys came over to hold his horse as he first handed her down and then dismounted. Dismissing his men with a nod, he turned to her and lowered his voice.

“Did they look familiar to you, Catherine? I heard one mention that you did to him.”

“No, Sir Luc. I know them not.” Did he think she had lured them to that spot for…for seduction?

“Worry not on this,” he said in a softer tone. “If you need to leave the yard or go to the village, ask one of my men to accompany you.”

“I will, Sir Luc.” He was about to leave when she touched him on the arm to gain his attention. “Will you report this incident to the earl?”

“I see no need for that,” he replied. His eyes revealed the lie of his words, for he looked away for a moment even as he reassured her. “Now, go and refresh yourself, for the countess awaits you in her chambers and bade me tell you to seek her out before attending the solar.”

He turned and left without another word, so she sought out the room assigned to her during her stays here, and washed her hands and face, only then remembering the coif in her sleeve. Taking several minutes, she brushed her hair, gathered it in a braid and replaced the coif to cover it. Finding a light veil, she laid it over her head and placed a small cap on top to hold it in place. Now she felt more in control.

Leaving her room, she walked up to the countess’s chambers and knocked. Alyce, the lady’s maid, opened the door and motioned her inside. The countess sat on her bed, engrossed in conversation with her daughter, the oldest of her two children. Young Isabelle, called Bella, was a bright child of who had over three years. Her nurse stood nearby, smiling at her charge’s words to the lady. After a few more moments, the child slipped off the bed, took her nurse’s hand and turned to leave.

Spying Catherine at the door, Bella ran over and hugged her around the legs. “’Tis grand, Catherine. Maman says I can sit at table at Uncle Geoffrey’s wedding!” Bella jumped up and down, still holding on to Catherine’s skirts.

“Remember, Isabelle, only if you behave as a lady should.” Although the countess’s face was serious, a smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Bella stepped back, releasing her hold, and smoothed her gown. In a motion reminiscent of the six prospective brides, she lifted her hair, flung its red-blond length over her shoulders and shook her head so that it flowed down her back. Catherine tried not to smile at her precocious antics.

“Yes, Maman,” Bella said as she curtsied to her mother.

Emalie nodded to the nurse, who opened the door and led the child out. The door was fully closed before the countess laughed aloud.

“She has been watching the visitors closely and learning from them. I just wish she would pick up a good trait from them and not these frivolous ones.”

“I noticed she resembled Lady Melissande with her flowing hair,” Catherine added, trying to lighten the moment.

“If she copies Melissande’s skill with the needle and thread, I would not be unhappy. That one has talents that even I envy.” The countess slipped off the bed and adjusted her own gown. “So long as Bella does not pick up her propensity to faint at the least provocation, which could prove to be a problem.”

Catherine smiled, enjoying the countess’s insight into the woman under consideration. Emalie had chosen with care to try to find a suitable match for Geoffrey. This was as good a time as any to broach the subject of Geoffrey’s marriage and Catherine’s own future.

“My lady, I beg your pardon for my behavior earlier and would speak to you about your…my lord’s…the marquis…”

“Geoffrey’s marriage plans?” the countess offered softly.

“Aye, my lady.”

Without a word being spoken, Alyce left the room and pulled the door closed quietly behind her.

“Sit, Catherine,” the countess said.

When she had also taken a seat on a chair, Lady Harbridge nodded at her to continue. Catherine took a deep breath and folded her hands on her lap. Where to begin?

“I felt some connection with Geoffrey at our first meeting nigh on two years ago, but thought it more about our nearness in age. He spoke to me as no one here did, and seemed to be interested in my thoughts and concerns. You did the same, but it was different somehow with him.”

The countess looked at her and nodded once more, but said nothing.

“We would meet on the back steps at the end of our day and tell each other stories. He answered my questions and guided me in those terrifying days on my first visits here. And—” she smiled as she remembered his cajoling “—he always made me promise to return again in spite of my fears of this place and all it involved.”

“Catherine, I had no idea your fears ran so deep. You never spoke of them to me.”

“I feared speaking of anything, my lady. The reverend mother warned me to never speak of my past or of who I really was, and I worried that any word spoken would give away those secrets. So ’twas easier to say nothing.” She looked up and saw understanding in the eyes of her benefactress.

“He was so confident and accomplished and handsome even then. He goaded and prodded and was encouraging and happy. He was the first man…” She paused as a fleeting memory of her brother crossed her mind. “He was the first man to treat me in that way. And in spite of knowing from the beginning that we could not be together, I fell in love with him.”

“These Dumont men are hard to resist.” The lady smiled as she spoke. “Arrogant and prideful, but honorable and irresistible at the same time.”

“Aye, just so.”

“Go on, Catherine.”

She stood and walked to the large window in one wall and looked out as she continued.

“Ever honorable, my lady. I believe he feels love for me, although we both skirt around speaking of it openly or candidly. We have cloaked our feelings in friendship, for we both know what is expected of us.” Could her pain be heard in her words? The slicing sting of denied love hurt even now. “So, no promises were made other than that we would remain friends.”

“And is it the knowledge of the responsibilities he has to his brother and his king that makes it possible for you to accept that he marry another?”

“Aye, my lady.” She smiled again, despite the tears burning her throat and her eyes. “If things were other than they are, I would hope for something more between us. In spite of my present circumstances, I come from an old and noble family, one with previous ties to royalty on the Continent. But without those family ties, I know I am not suitable for the titles he will hold soon.”

“Catherine, these arrangements were not made to deprive you of a future marriage. Indeed, with the dowry provided to you, a good marriage could be made for you.”

“I know that the earl saved my life, my lady. And, contrary to my behavior at times, I appreciate everything he and you have done for me.” Catherine turned to face her again. “There is a terror inside me when I think about marrying someone other than Geoffrey. I do not understand it and I cannot explain it, I just know that it is there.”

The countess’s face paled a bit as though she understood more than she would say. “And so the convent is your choice?”

“Aye, my lady. I will find some measure of contentment there. I have accepted this, even though it did not appear so this morn.”

“This is a big decision, Catherine, one that should be about running to something and not running from something else. Do not think you must rush into taking your vows. Speak to Father Elwood. Speak even to my husband, who can be helpful when least expected. And know that you would always have a place here at Greystone or even at one of the other Harbridge estates if you needed it.”

Catherine walked to the countess, took her hand and, bowing her head, touched her forehead to it. “I am more grateful than you will ever know.” Stepping back, she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“One more question before we must join the others in the solar,” the countess said, as she stood and smoothed out more of the wrinkles in her gown caused by her daughter wriggling on her lap. “Geoff knows of your love, but does he know of your plans?”

“Nay, my lady. He knows not and I would prefer it that way. He has enough to consider in these next weeks.”

“When you had words the other night, you did not share this with him?”

So, they had been seen. The heat of a blush crept into her cheeks. “Nay, my lady.”

“Then, may I ask of what you spoke?”

“He sought my help.” She was reluctant to reveal Geoff’s request.

“For? Come, Catherine, you need not fear giving me the truth of this.”

“He asked my advice in choosing a wife.”

The words hung in the air, with nothing but the sound of the countess’s huff in reply.

“Men can be so…so…”

Lady Harbridge’s hands fisted and released several times and her mouth opened and closed. She seemed to be having difficulty selecting a word, so Catherine offered several. “Stubborn? Exasperating? Stupid? Transparent?”

Laughing, the countess nodded in agreement with all of them. “Transparent? So you know his real reasons, then, for his request?”

“I know it is contrived, my lady. If I accept his request, it gives him an excuse to seek me out and it gives me a reason to be present for this time. We both know this is the last time we will see each other.”

The countess’s own heart broke at the situation, but if Catherine could accept it with such honor, then Emalie would support her in this. She reached out and lifted Catherine’s chin.

“You demonstrate such honor and sense and true love in accepting this and in helping Geoffrey. Surely it will all turn out for the best.” Before they both broke out in tears, Emalie knew she must do something. “Come now, Catherine. The women await us in the solar and I would influence the advice you plan to give him about his choice of wife.”

“A boon, my lady?”

“If it is in my power to grant you, Catherine, I will.”

“Before I take my vows, would you give me the truth of these last three years? The whole of it?”

Emalie could feel the smile leave her face, and tried to simply nod in reply. But this was something that was owed this young woman. “When that time comes, Catherine, if you wish me to tell you, I will. For now, though, will you accept my counsel and not dwell on it?”

Catherine nodded in turn, but said nothing. She opened the door and stood back, so that Emalie could leave first. Alyce waited outside to accompany them about their activities. Emalie thought to ask Catherine about attending the evening banquet, but decided not to press for much more from the girl, given the disclosures made in these last few minutes.

Walking down the stairs that led to the solar, Emalie was disturbed that she had no way of helping Catherine and Geoffrey’s plight. For although she was convinced that Catherine would make a wonderful wife for Geoff, she knew well the responsibilities he bore with the titles and lands he inherited, and the people who would count on him for protection and their living.

Her husband had warned her not to get in the middle of this and she knew she must not. So, if everything in this matter was so clear, why did she feel so miserable about its probable but necessary outcome?

Chapter Six

He knew he should take this selection more seriously, but after spending most of his day chasing game and being chased, ’twas a difficult thing to do. Five cups of the special wine brought from Château d’Azure also made it difficult to keep all the details he’d learned about the women clear in his mind.

Melissande was the beautiful “fainter” from Quercy. Marguerite had brown hair and was from Brittany. Mathilde with her olive complexion and black hair came from near the land of the dark-skinned Moors. Maude was the one he’d met before at her father’s court in Orleans, and so he remembered her without help. And the two P ladies were plump.

Geoff grimaced to himself. That was not completely true, but it helped him keep their names separate from the others. Phillippa had brown hair like his mother’s cousin Phillip, and Petronilla was simply the other one.

Leaning back in his chair, he could look to his left and his right and see each of them. They smiled at him, nodded and even preened before him. He had danced with each one tonight, spoken to each, and yet they still remained as a group in his thoughts. Not one of them stood out as someone to marry. None of them. This was not an auspicious beginning to choosing a wife.

His gaze was drawn to the tables below, where Luc and Fatin sat. Luc was laughing at something his wife said, and as he moved closer to her, Geoff could see Catherine. ’Twas a surprise, for she seldom took part in meals like this one, usually withdrawing whenever the hall was filled with more than just the people of Greystone. Even from here, he could see her discomfort. He looked around and noticed that he was the only one studying her.

“Emalie?” he whispered to his sister-by-marriage. “What did you threaten to get Catherine to attend tonight?”

“I but invited her to join us, Geoff.”

“I do not remember the last time she willingly ate in the hall.”

“Nor do I,” his brother said, leaning into their conversation. “I, too, wondered at her appearance here tonight. Emalie?”

“I assure you, my lord, I but invited her to eat with us. There is nothing nefarious in her sharing a meal, is there?”

Not wanting to be the cause of, or in the middle of, another disagreement between his brother and Emalie, Geoff decided to take advantage of Catherine’s presence and ask her to dance. Since he had already danced with each of his prospective brides, another dance with one would single that one out in a way he did not wish to do. Dancing with Catherine would help him avoid that.

Standing as the musicians began playing a lively tune, he nodded to his brother and walked from the high table, down the steps to where Catherine sat. From the corner of his eye he saw Emalie grab at Christian’s arm to keep him in his seat. It did not matter. Geoff had danced with many women in this hall in the past few years and this would be no declaration to anything or anyone.

He knew the significance of it—he would share, for the first and last time, a dance with the woman he loved. Only they need know the importance of this. He caught her gaze as he approached, and for a moment he thought she would run. She did not.

He held out his hand to her and waited. It took but a moment for her to place hers in his, but in that burst of time, he prayed and hoped as he never had before that she would grant him this favor. She did. He led her to the clearing on the floor where other couples lined up in preparation for the dance. Geoff purposely joined the line in the middle so that they were neither first nor last, for those dancers drew the eyes of onlookers.

Side by side, with hands in the air, they waited. He would not speak to her until the steps began, for conversations during the dance could be hidden behind turns and steps and bows. With much laughing and noise, the dance started and they moved along with the others.

“I feared you would refuse me this dance,” he whispered as one of the steps brought them face-to-face for a few moments.

“I could not refuse you, my lord.” Her enigmatic smile gave him no clue to her thoughts.

“My name is…” he began.

“My lord Dumont,” she finished. He realized that others were straining to listen to their words.

The dance moved faster and they parted and returned several times before he could speak to her again. Her face was aglow from the exertion of the dance, and Geoff realized how lovely she was. The others struggled to put on a pleasing appearance for him, but Catherine did nothing to enhance her beauty.

“I do not remember seeing you dance before, Catherine.”

“You have it aright, my lord. I have never danced before. Not here at Greystone, that is.” She turned, their hands entwined, and they slid across the floor as one.

“And yet you know this dance?” She moved effortlessly with him, never appearing to count, as he did, to keep himself in step with the other dancers.

“I have watched it many, many times, my lord.”

“I am pleased that you have allowed me to share your first dance…here at Greystone.”

The words blurred together as he suddenly imagined the other things he would like to share with her. They had already shared their first forbidden kiss in the alcove the other night. Their first dance tonight. Unfortunately, for all his wanting, ’twas for naught, for this would be the end of what could be between them.

He lost his step in the dance and tripped, dragging Catherine with him. She stumbled, but he caught her with his arm around her waist. He enjoyed the moment of holding her in his arms, knowing that it and all contact with her would end soon.

He gritted his teeth and clenched even tighter the arms of the chair in which he sat. His wife flinched, so he knew she was watching the debacle unfold before their eyes. And if they noticed, then the rest of those at the high table saw it, as well.

“If you would stop growling, my lord, ’twould not draw everyone’s attention,” Emalie whispered as she lay her hand on top of his, most likely to mask his grip on the wood.

Christian Dumont was angry. In spite of his warnings, it would seem that his wife was meddling where she should not—following his orders only when she pleased.

“He should not be dancing with her in front of our guests.”

“She is our guest, my lord,” Emalie said through her own clenched teeth. “Worry not, for this means nothing.”

“Your words do not reassure me, lady wife, for you said yourself that they are in love.”

“The reverend mother wrote to me today that Catherine desires to take her vows, my lord. Catherine confirmed her intentions to me, as well. On Geoffrey’s marriage, she returns to the convent to prepare herself. This is goodbye for them, Christian. Can you not permit them this moment together?” Her voice trembled as she pleaded for his permission.

He could never resist her pleas when they were so heartfelt. She did not know the full extent of the situation with Catherine and he would keep it from her if he could. Allowing this little time, in front of so many, would not be harmful. A niggling feeling in his gut told him otherwise, but he ignored it for Emalie’s sake.

“Fine, lady wife. They may have their moment for now. However, I would strongly suggest that you convince Catherine to return to Lincoln sooner rather than later.”

He was about to stand, when Luc approached him from behind, leaning down to whisper near his ear. “Evesham’s men recognize her.”

“You are certain?”

“Aye, Chris. They saw her today and they watch her even now.” Luc gave a small nod of his head, which Christian followed, spotting the men Luc spoke about.

“Bloody hell.” He leaned back and looked over the room. Fatin still sat at the table where Geoffrey would soon return with Catherine. “Have Fatin draw her from the hall and make certain she is safe in her room before coming to me.”

“Aye, my lord,” his man answered as he left.

Emalie sat stiffly next to him. She knew something was happening, but did not know what or how to inquire of him.

“I was afraid of just this when she came this time. Would you return to our chambers so we might speak there?”

Without waiting for her agreement, he motioned to her maid to come to her. Rising now, he helped Emalie from her seat and gestured for Alyce to accompany her. But before he rejoined her he had some arrangements of his own to make.

Confirming his worst suspicions, a few minutes later one of the men identified by Luc climbed up the dais and approached Lord Evesham. As one, they watched Catherine leaving the hall with Fatin and Luc.

Bloody, bloody hell.

’Twas all Christian could do not to scream out in anger at this. He had promised on his honor to protect de Severin’s sister from Prince John, and now their masquerade had been found out. He’d let down his guard for a moment, reacting to his wife with his heart and not his good sense, and now Catherine was in danger.

The safest place for her was the convent. If the worst happened and John came to claim her, Christian would not be able to refuse a royal command. The reverend mother could. She could use the power of the church and her office at the convent to prevent John’s actions…at least until something else could be done. Would Richard help in this matter? The king was on his lands in Normandy now, and too busy holding together the fragmented Plantagenet kingdom and plotting against Phillip to involve himself in the affairs of some girl wanted by his brother John.

Christian stood and took his leave of his guests. Seeing the captain of his guards in the hall, he motioned to the man to meet him outside. A small contingent of men, not sizable enough to draw notice, would escort Catherine back to the Convent of Our Blessed Lady in Lincoln on the morrow. With her safely ensconced there, Christian and Geoffrey could turn their attentions back to the reason his brother was there—to make a suitable marriage.

His most difficult task was still ahead of him, for he had to convince his wife of the rightness of his actions without giving her a full accounting of his actions in the past. ’Twould be much easier to honor his vow if the dead would only stay dead.

Chapter Seven

He was in his chambers, preparing for an afternoon of hawking with the lady Marguerite and her retinue, when the call from his brother came. Albert, his steward, and Girard, the captain of his company of men, presented themselves at his door with Christian’s request to join him in the solar. Geoff pulled off the heavy leather gauntlet and left it with the page assigned to him to take to the stables.

“Why did my brother have you bring this message to me?” he asked of his steward.

“I know not, my lord. Only that we were summoned and told to come with you.”

This was very strange, but they would arrive in the solar in a few minutes and he would have his answers. As they walked down the corridor, Geoff noticed a messenger sitting on a bench outside the solar. From the livery he wore—three golden lions on a red field—Geoff knew he was from the king. Visibly exhausted and covered with dirt from what must have been a grueling journey, the man stood at Geoffrey’s approach and began to speak. Christian interrupted before he could do so.

“Geoffrey, come in. If you would grant me a few moments with the marquis before you speak to him?” he asked the messenger.

Geoff watched as the man nodded and sank back on the bench.

“Colby, see to his needs.” Christian moved back for Geoff to enter the solar, but stopped his men with a whispered word. The door closed and Geoff turned to face his brother.

“I wanted to speak to you in private before you receive the king’s messenger.”

“So, ’tis from the king then?” He could feel the level of tension in Chris growing, and wondered at its source.

“Aye.” Christian paused and walked over to one of the high-backed chairs near the hearth. Sitting down, he rubbed his face with his hand several times before speaking again. Although tempted to rush him, Geoff waited for the news he knew must be bad.

“I wanted you to hear this from me.”

Geoff walked closer. “Go on then and tell me.”

“I have sent Catherine back to the convent.”

“You what?”

“I sent her back to Lincoln this morn. ’Tis for her own good that I did so, Geoff.”

He felt his blood begin to heat. Did his brother not trust him to honor his word? Or did he suspect that their true feelings lay beneath the surface, ready to push through?

“Her own good? Explain this to me, Chris. How is this punishment of her for her own good?”

“She is not who you think her to be,” Christian began, pouring a cup of wine from the pitcher on the table between them. Holding it out to him, he continued, “She is not who most think her to be.”

“Then who is she?” Geoff took the cup and drank from it as Christian poured his own and took a swig.

“She is Catherine de Severin, sister of William.”

“You told me she was Emalie’s cousin, an orphan who needed sanctuary. Wait! You killed de Severin….”

“Aye. And I promised on his death that I would protect his sister from Prince John. She was the instrument of William’s downfall, and I pledged to him on the field, even as I struck the death blow that took his life, that I would see to her care.”

Geoffrey huffed out his breath, feeling as though Christian had punched him in the gut. He dropped the cup on the table and it wobbled precariously before settling. “That is the basis of your hatred for her? The reason why you treat her so roughly when she is here?”

“I do not hate her, Geoff. I am not happy that Emalie brings her here. I think of her brother and all of his evil when I see her, and I admit to not being able at times to separate her from him.” He sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “But I do not hate her.”

Catherine was de Severin’s sister? ’Twas difficult to accept that her goodness was connected to that villain, who had nearly succeeded in destroying everything here in Greystone Castle, including its lady. No, this did not make sense. How could Emalie befriend Catherine, indeed even create a link that did not exist, with the sister of the man who had dishonored her and tried to seize her lands and titles on Prince John’s behalf? How could Catherine keep the truth from him?

“But how could Emalie accept her if she is de Severin’s sister? I do not know all of it, but I know that he tried to claim Emalie and Greystone….”

Chris sighed and met his gaze. “Emalie feels a kind of bond with Catherine, since both of them were caught in John’s web of deceit. She is content in her life and would see that same contentment in Catherine’s, so she works with the reverend mother to encourage her and give her the opportunities that were stolen from her.”

“And all of this in secret?”

“It must be so, Geoff. John is not known for accepting defeat well nor for allowing his plans to fail. He is ever questing for revenge on those who cross him. Until now, John believed that I’d had her killed on the same morning I killed her brother in battle.”

“Until now?” A sick feeling grew in his stomach.

“One of Evesham’s vassals was involved in her imprisonment and one of his men recognized her yesterday. Evesham saw her last night and even now sends a messenger to John. Her only safety is at the convent.”

“There is another way.” Geoff knew marriage to himself could protect her as well. “I could—”

“Nay,” Christian shouted. “Do not even say the words, for I will not consider them.” He pushed himself up from his chair and began to pace the room. “She has no wealth. She has no family. She brings nothing to a marriage but herself and the small dowry I have set aside for her. She is unsuitable. You must marry one of the women from the Continent in order to strengthen our claim and our position between the Plantagenets and the Capets.”

“The de Severins were a noble family. I could do worse in choosing a bride.” Geoff could feel the emotions seething in his brother. How could he convince him of the rightness of a match with Catherine?

“The de Severins were wiped off the face of the earth three years ago by me, in order to protect what is mine and what will be yours. To admit now that she lives will be exposing my actions and my honor to disrepute, and that is something I will not do. I risked my life and saved yours to regain all that we lost because of our father’s treachery against Richard. I will not stand here and see you threaten all I have worked for because you think that love is sufficient reason to bring her back from the dead.”

Christian had it right, at least in part. He had risked all to reclaim their name, their lands and their honor. If Chris was correct, the unstable situation on the Continent would continue and worsen. The pope had made his feelings about the unrest and fighting and destruction known, as had most of the various princes, dukes and counts who ruled the lands. Now, a strong alliance with one of the heiresses from one of the provinces held by Capet vassals would allow the Dumonts to keep their lands and titles no matter which king controlled the country.

But if this was at the cost of a woman’s past and future, how could it be honorable? Why did Catherine have to suffer and lose all because of the battle among the royal families?

“I do love her, Chris. I know that for a certainty.”

His brother stopped and stared at him from across the room.

“And it is not right nor honorable to make her to pay for the sins of her brother.” Geoff glared back, his anger over Catherine’s treatment growing. But he tried to offer a compromise. “If we tell no one her true identity, she will be acceptable as Emalie’s relation. The de Severin girl died three years ago and can remain dead.”

“I have done all that I can to keep her safe. She has been educated and thrives in her new life, Geoff. She has accepted her future, and now you as well must make your decision.”

“I have made my decision, Chris. I would have her to wife. And if I must relinquish that which you hold for me now, so be it. She may not be suitable for the Comte de Langier, but she is more than acceptable for the second son of Guillaume Dumont.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.