The Countess Bride

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.”