Читать книгу The Countess Bride - Terri Brisbin, Terri Brisbin - Страница 10

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.