Читать книгу The Countess Bride - Terri Brisbin, Terri Brisbin - Страница 13

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.