The Countess Bride. Terri Brisbin

to loosen his hold, but he was bigger and stronger than she.

      His companions dismounted and approached her, and her stomach began to clench in fear. Their manner was threatening and she knew their intent without any statement of it. She was the prey.

      “You have a familiar look about you, my sweet. Surely, we have met before this?” The tallest of the three stood before her and, leaning close to her, lifted a few of her curls and wrapped them around his fingers. “Although I should remember someone so beautiful and with such charms.” She shivered as his gaze moved over her from head to hips and then back.

      The third man, of shorter and bulkier build, moved in from behind, closing off the one avenue of escape. His fetid breath on her neck caused her stomach to heave, and she feared she might lose the food she had eaten a short time before.

      “So, tell us, demoiselle, are you truly out here alone?” The first man pulled her closer and almost whispered the words in her ear. “Could it be that you were waiting for us?”

      Catherine shook her head. “I am not alone,” she said, hoping they were fooled. Never in all her time spent as Greystone had she feared for her safety among the villagers or the castlefolk. She had walked alone many times and never been bothered or accosted in such a manner. Her momentary surprise turned to fear as the men moved even closer.

      “A sweet morsel like this for us, Garwyn? I think not. Ones like this—” the tall one now wrapped more of her hair around his fist, making it impossible for her to pull away “—are not for the likes of us unless we take them.”

      Catherine began to struggle in earnest and had opened her mouth to scream when a voice came from across the clearing. “The lady is under the protection of the Earl of Harbridge, who would take offense at your treatment of her.” Catherine recognized Sir Luc Delacroix, Greystone’s castellan and the earl’s friend, and offered a quick prayer of thanks at her rescue.

      “And who are you that we should not take our pleasure where we may? We are guests of the earl.” All three men turned to face Sir Luc, and the two who did not hold her placed their hands on their swords in direct challenge to him.

      “I am the earl’s man, as are these,” Sir Luc said, as a small group of men-at-arms on horseback moved closer. “From the insignia you wear ’twould seem that you are Evesham’s men?”

      “Aye, we are Evesham’s men.”

      “Then release the girl and find your lord where he hunts game in the forest on the other side of the castle.” Sir Luc pointed off in the distance.

      Catherine feared they would resist his orders, but after seeing the numbers against them, the men muttered oaths under their breath and let her go. Shaking from the terror of the averted attack, she sank to her knees as they regained their saddles and goaded their horses to a hurried pace.

      “Leave the earl’s people be, for I know where to find you,” Sir Luc called out just before they moved onto the road.

      The hands that touched her now were safe ones, as Sir Luc assisted her to her feet and held her up for a few minutes while her legs and breathing steadied. Then he led her to his horse. After mounting, he reached down and pulled her up behind him. Tucking her hands around his waist, he motioned to his men to ride.

      “My thanks, Sir Luc.” It was all she could force out through teeth clenching against the fear still pulsing through her.

      “’Twas foolish of you to come out so far unattended, Catherine,” he said to her over his shoulder. “There are too many strangers among us now for it to be safe.”

      “Yes, Sir Luc,” she whispered, slumping at his rebuke. He had always been kind to her, even though his lord did not treat her that way. Now even he turned against her.

      “Your pardon, for my words were too harsh, Catherine. The lady Emalie told me of your leaving and asked me to see to your safety due to just this possibility. She worries over you and I would not want to face her if you had been injured.”

      Catherine did not reply immediately, but simply held on as they approached the castle gates. When the panic overtook her, she did not think of safety. She did not think at all—she reacted. She only knew that she must escape the confines that held her and did not take time to reflect on all the possibilities. She must learn to control this weakness within herself.

      “I understand, Sir Luc. I do not want to trouble the countess.”

      He stopped, and one of the stable boys came over to hold his horse as he first handed her down and then dismounted. Dismissing his men with a nod, he turned to her and lowered his voice.

      “Did they look familiar to you, Catherine? I heard one mention that you did to him.”

      “No, Sir Luc. I know them not.” Did he think she had lured them to that spot for…for seduction?

      “Worry not on this,” he said in a softer tone. “If you need to leave the yard or go to the village, ask one of my men to accompany you.”

      “I will, Sir Luc.” He was about to leave when she touched him on the arm to gain his attention. “Will you report this incident to the earl?”

      “I see no need for that,” he replied. His eyes revealed the lie of his words, for he looked away for a moment even as he reassured her. “Now, go and refresh yourself, for the countess awaits you in her chambers and bade me tell you to seek her out before attending the solar.”

      He turned and left without another word, so she sought out the room assigned to her during her stays here, and washed her hands and face, only then remembering the coif in her sleeve. Taking several minutes, she brushed her hair, gathered it in a braid and replaced the coif to cover it. Finding a light veil, she laid it over her head and placed a small cap on top to hold it in place. Now she felt more in control.

      Leaving her room, she walked up to the countess’s chambers and knocked. Alyce, the lady’s maid, opened the door and motioned her inside. The countess sat on her bed, engrossed in conversation with her daughter, the oldest of her two children. Young Isabelle, called Bella, was a bright child of who had over three years. Her nurse stood nearby, smiling at her charge’s words to the lady. After a few more moments, the child slipped off the bed, took her nurse’s hand and turned to leave.

      Spying Catherine at the door, Bella ran over and hugged her around the legs. “’Tis grand, Catherine. Maman says I can sit at table at Uncle Geoffrey’s wedding!” Bella jumped up and down, still holding on to Catherine’s skirts.

      “Remember, Isabelle, only if you behave as a lady should.” Although the countess’s face was serious, a smile played at the corners of her mouth.

      Bella stepped back, releasing her hold, and smoothed her gown. In a motion reminiscent of the six prospective brides, she lifted her hair, flung its red-blond length over her shoulders and shook her head so that it flowed down her back. Catherine tried not to smile at her precocious antics.

      “Yes, Maman,” Bella said as she curtsied to her mother.

      Emalie nodded to the nurse, who opened the door and led the child out. The door was fully closed before the countess laughed aloud.

      “She has been watching the visitors closely and learning from them. I just wish she would pick up a good trait from them and not these frivolous ones.”

      “I noticed she resembled Lady Melissande with her flowing hair,” Catherine added, trying to lighten the moment.

      “If she copies Melissande’s skill with the needle and thread, I would not be unhappy. That one has talents that even I envy.” The countess slipped off the bed and adjusted her own gown. “So long as Bella does not pick up her propensity to faint at the least provocation, which could prove to be a problem.”

      Catherine smiled, enjoying the countess’s insight into the woman under consideration. Emalie had chosen with care to try to find a suitable match for Geoffrey. This was as good a time as any to broach the subject of Geoffrey’s marriage and Catherine’s