“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
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
