The Countess Bride. Terri Brisbin
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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