Love and Deception: a Clean Medieval Historical Romance by Emily Woods Page A

gut, which intensified when her aunt led her to her cousin’s rooms. It had taken every bit of her composure to bite back the gasp that would have escaped her lips at the sight of Lady Catherine, the bride, sitting in the sunlight by her window.
    Gone were the bright golden curls on her head or the rosy warmth of her cheeks. Two gray eyes peered at her from a gaunt face that looked much older than her sixteen summers. Her dress, a jaunty yellow affair, hung loosely from her thin frame so much so that it seemed that the fabric would swallow her cousin whole.
    She pressed a kiss on a cheek that seemed more parchment than flesh and smiled brightly at her cousin.
    “Catherine, it is wonderful to see you again,” she murmured.
    “I will leave you two girls to chat,” Lady Lucinda choked as she closed the door behind her.
    The moment the heavy oak panel shut close, Lady Catherine broke into a fit of sobs in her cousin’s arms. Rosamund instinctively held her cousin’s thin frame, afraid that if she let go, the force of Catherine’s sobs would tear apart her frail body.
    “There now,” she whispered soothingly. “I had no idea I was missed so much!”
    “It’s terrible! This entire affair is so terrible!” Catherine heaved. “If I had known it would hurt this much, I would never have ventured out from my rooms!”
    My cousin must be going mad , Rosamund thought in alarm.
    “What is so terrible that it takes the light from your eyes and the glow from your cheeks?”
    “Rosie, dear, never fall in love! The bards, the poets, they’re all wrong!” Catherine exclaimed wildly. “It hurts so much that I cannot eat. I cannot sleep. I cannot even breathe!”
    “But you are getting married, dearest Catherine,” she said in puzzlement. “Surely, this is cause for happiness, getting married to the one you love.”
    “That is where you are wrong, cousin.”
    Rosamund watched the brief excitement disappear from her cousin’s eyes as she clambered back to her cushioned chair. No doubt, Lady Lucinda had placed the pillow there to soften the friction between Catherine’s scrawny frame and the hard wood.
    “It was almost a year ago,” her cousin said wistfully as she stared out into the bustling courtyard. “I had gone to one of the fairs with Mother to buy some ribbons and fabric to make a new dress. He had been so handsome and so kind, I liked him instantly.”
    She watched as her cousin related to her the love story that was slowly murdering her. Apparently, Catherine had fallen in love with a merchant’s son and he, with her. They had courted in secret, aided by her maid, Joanna, through missives and correspondences. They had even kissed, much to her cousin’s consternation.
    “I swear I will die without him, Rosie. I will,” Catherine declared emphatically. “Without Harry, there will be no sun in the sky, no stars in the night. All life will go out and I will be left in a world that will never know happiness again.”
    Rosamund gaped at her cousin. “But think about your mother and father! You cannot think this is the end of your world, Catherine. Surely you will come to love the baron as well. If you die, your entire family will be in disgrace, not to mention you will offend the baron!”
    “If you are so concerned for Baron Ingram, why do you not marry him yourself!” her cousin huffed, turning away from her. “Leave me be, Rosamund. If you will only talk so disparagingly of my sorry state of affairs, then I have no need for your company.”
    She watched as Catherine shut the world around her away once more and her eyes filled with tears. What madness had possessed her cousin so much so that she would forsake her family and her family’s honor for a mere boy?
    Her hand fell away and she stood up. She smoothed her skirts and fought to regain her composure, although it was proving to be so difficult after watching her cousin fall apart.
    “I only meant to offer my counsel, Catherine, nothing more,” she