The Countess Bride. Terri Brisbin

      “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

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      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 name.

      A tightening began in her stomach and grew stronger. Unease filled her as his gaze passed over her once more. She had prayed for acceptance of her fate. She had prayed for understanding. And she had prayed for the gratitude that should fill her for the earl’s sponsorship. ’Twas all for naught.

      Her weaknesses in character threatened to overwhelm her. Her fears and her inability to carry on conversations in the romantic style of the court forced her to the background in most situations. Her lack of standing and lack of relatives to offer the support usually given to young women of marriageable age were appallingly obvious to those here seeking that honorable state. Even drawing on her inner reserve of practiced quiet and calmness did not lessen her anxiety when faced with outsiders whom she knew not.

      The urge to return to the convent, nay, to run to the convent, nearly overpowered her for a moment. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to clear her thoughts. The countess approached and held out her hand. Taking it, Catherine walked next to the woman who offered her everything she lacked, without ever making demands on her time or on her soul.

      “My lord has suggested that I seek my chambers and rest there until our evening meal. Catherine, will you join me and bring your prayer book?” Everyone present knew the lord had ordered her to her room. Gossip would begin immediately after Lady Harbridge