"There, there," he murmured after awhile, "Just a little touch of you, my pretty Kitty Cat, to comfort us both."
He tilted her chin, used his thumbs to gently wipe away her tears. Somehow, in spite of the fact that she was so close to this nearly naked, splendid body, there was now nothing fearful about it. "We'll have to go out there eventually," he said, putting her hair back from her face, big brother fashion, "and then, pretty Red, your papa will want to see proofs that his grandson has been started."
Naturally, Cat went rigid when he said that, but he just smiled sadly.
"Don't worry, Cat. We've got a way to fool him. Take a look at the back of your petticoat." When Cat took the soft folds of muslin in hand and pulled it around, she was surprised to discover a long streak of red on the back.
"It's probably from my foot. Your nightgown fell in it while you were down on the floor picking up. I caution you though, don't tell anyone our secret, not your favorite maid, not even your mama. Your papa, not to mention mine, will have an apoplexy if he learns how this really went."
Cat nodded meekly. Inside she felt a wild surge of relief.
"We'll have to put up with some teasing and I'm sure your mama will question you."
In a courtly gesture, he caught her long hands and kissed them, one after the other. "So do we understand each other at last, Lady von Hagen? You have not only a new husband, but a whole new man to get to know. Shall we have a treaty? Keep the secret so that our fathers may continue to live, so that Theo and Max and all the others don't die laughing?"
"Of course," she said, fighting off the perverse tremor which his touch, his ever so careful touch, set off.
"Good. And I promise that if any of our cousins start, I'll break their heads or their arms, whichever is handiest." The chuckle that followed was harsh, as if this morning he'd enjoy doing that. "As for you, you're going to have to be on guard with your mama and that nosy Wagenspurg woman. She could worm a confession out of the Pope."
Caterina smiled because this was true.
"You have my word, Caterina. I'm going to take good care of you."
During this speech he'd tipped her chin and with a thumb executed a caressing tracery of her mouth. If he had done it only a half an hour ago she would have raged at him, but now, although it was an encroachment, she let it happen, let the chill course through her.
How hard it was going to be to deny him, how dangerous to allow those hands, those experienced, knowing hands, to touch. The gentle kiss in the chapel, the just performed tracery of her lips, why did it compel her so?
Was it because of the magnetism of his health, his strength, his purebred conformation? Suddenly, in spite of all that had happened, all that she'd said and sworn, it was just like that long ago day by the river. Her veins ran fire.
"Now, the kiss I asked for earlier," he said. "To seal our peace." Caterina's arms, moving by themselves, went around his neck. To be held so easily in his strong arms, to experience all these interesting sensations was so beguiling…
His mouth was firm on hers, the touch of his scratchy one day beard grazed her chin. She could feel his curls against the arm she had around his neck. Christoph was gentle, not even pursuing the tempting response of her parted lips.
"There," he said, releasing her. "Peace is declared. There will be no force. There has been more than enough of that employed by our fathers in bringing us together."
"I shall rely upon your word, Herr Graf." Caterina, still within his arms, desperately hoped that the spoken formality would master her racing heart.
"The time isn't now, not for either of us. Someday though, I think it will certainly be the greatest honor to cover every satin, gold dusted inch of you with kisses."
At the same moment, he released her. Cat stepped back, feeling rather foolish. All she could think of to say was: "Will you call for my mama now, Herr Graf?"
Chapter Six
Christoph called to his Hauptmann, Goran, who promptly came thumping on his wooden leg down the hall to unlock the door. Then her husband went out to dress in an adjoining chamber. Lady von Velsen entered with servants and began exclaiming at once over the wrecked china.
Caterina was sternly set to washing and dressing. At first her mother was immovable, but eventually the rumbles that came from the stomach of her daughter persuaded her to relent and have another pot of tea and some bread and butter sent from the kitchen.
"It's more than you deserve, though. Creating another scene this morning! I didn't think I'd live to see the day, but your husband has got all my admiration. He's showing the restraint of a man twice his age. Frankly, you deserve to starve until dinner."
There were questions, too, after the servants had gone. To these Cat made no answer, although her fair skin reddened furiously.
Of course, Lady von Velsen believed she knew what that meant. When the maid tried to gather up the stained shift, Mama took charge of it.
"The Landrat will want to see." She gave Cat a motherly look, but her daughter steadfastly refused to meet her eyes.
Caterina remained in the room until Christoph came to take her down to dinner. When she saw him again, dressed in a suit of dark green with plentiful lace at collar and cuffs, his dark curls brushed to a shine and falling over broad shoulders, Cat was beset by another of those traitorous moments of exultation. There wasn't another man anywhere to match him.
Arm in arm they walked into the crowded great room. It seemed that little had changed from last night. The place was still crowded with neighbors and cousins and all those extra servants. When a chorus of cheers and giggles greeted them, Christoph patted Cat's arm and sent a solemn, cautioning look around the room. Cat held up her chin, but felt the damnable blush coming on. She knew that there wasn't an imagination in the room that wasn't running wild.
* * *
Christoph's nature was demonstrative and affectionate. In public, he touched her. His hands glided down her long back, lingered tenderly. Cat accepted it, understanding that this was a necessary part of the deception. Meanwhile that renegade desire which had taken up residence gloried. There were times when she couldn't repress the flush of pleasure that came when his arm slipped around her.
In private, however, he was formal. All the time they stayed at her parent's house, Cat slept on the sofa, her man in the bed.
"You are so tall, you should really be the one to have it." She attempted to sound off-hand.
"I really shouldn't accept your offer, Red. It doesn't seem gentlemanly, but my choices are either the bed or the floor. The damned sofa would leave me nowhere to put my legs from the knee down. I'm surprised you fit."
"Well, I do if I curl up. So it's decided."
"Of course, we could share the bed. There is plenty of room and I am not bent upon ravishing you."
"I don't think it would be wise."
"Perhaps not, but I hope that it will be the same with you as with all the other kitty cats I know. After we are at Heldenberg and the really cold weather sets in, you'll find it more to your liking to cuddle."
Then without any more ceremony than if he'd been alone, he proceeded to toss off his dressing gown. The body revealed was harmonious as a pagan statue. There was only one defect, but the fault wasn't Nature's. One thigh was scarred and dimpled with three purple and white ragged crescents, the remnants of last year's wound.
The first time she saw him undress it almost took Cat's breath away, even though it was not the first time she'd seen a naked man. Once after a hunt she'd come upon her male cousins swimming in the river. Although her papa had hurried her away, yelling at the boys to "mind their damned manners", they'd made sure that she'd got an eyeful.
Now here was Christoph, exactly as naked and only a few feet away. Cat knew she'd never seen this much man. Like any male, whether a tail-flaunting, big shouldered tom or a head tossing stallion, it was obvious that he enjoyed his body.
That first night when he'd so carelessly disrobed, she'd turned away, gone to the sofa
and rolled herself up tightly in a blanket. She told herself that what everyone else wanted, she did not!
To assist her resolve, she conjured a memory of dear, lost Wili. Of Wili sobbing on her bed, of Wili crying in Mama's arms at a long ago Carnival in Passau, tears falling in room after room, in spring and summer and winter, over and over again. So many promises made, every one broken!
Cat asked herself how she could sensibly have much faith in this most recent of Christoph's so often sworn-to conversions.
* * *
For several weeks the odd honeymoon went on, as did the hunting and gaming. A wedding was always a fine excuse for neighbors and relatives to do some extended visiting, and this time, right before the summer haying, was one of the few times of year in which gentlemen did not feel it necessary to be in daily attendance upon their lands.
Every morning the men breakfasted and then went riding, racing their horses across the pastures and wagering on the outcome. A field was dedicated to saber practice and the men made passes at a target from horseback, a game at which her husband excelled.
One day though, Caterina came upon her husband at the humblest sort of work. A section of stone wall had tumbled down and it seemed that the huge peasant who usually did this had strained his back. Christoph had come upon Jakab stretched out on the ground trying to relax a spasm and had good naturedly offered to finish the job for him. Now he, with jacket, shirt and stock discarded and the workman's leather gloves on, the lean hard muscles of his back and arms pumped, was lifting stones and fitting them into the wall.
"Peasant's labor, sir," scolded the Landrat who'd just come upon the scene. Then he chuckled and shot a joking smile at his daughter. "We never work a breeding bull."
Inwardly Caterina groaned. Her father's steady stream of earthy witticisms were driving her mad.
Christoph heaved a rock into place, wiped the sweat from his eyes with his arm and grinned.
"I don't mind, Oncle. It's exercise that a man who has been feasting for three weeks badly needs."
Indicating the servant prone on the ground, he added, "I didn't want to stand by and see your Jakab pop a gut. Besides, sometimes I do this on my own place. Heldenberg is so stony that we raise all our fences this way. It's interesting, like putting a puzzle together. Isn't that so, Jakab?" he called out.
A deferential answering grunt arose from the prone giant. "Ja, mein Herr Graf..."
Heaving up another sizeable rock and shifting it around in his hands close to his broad chest, Christoph paused for a moment to study its placement in the wall. Sweat was just beginning to trickle down his back.
"Well," said the Landrat, who had been admiring his son-in-law's physique, "don't wear yourself out, dear boy." He squeezed Caterina's hand and smiled at her fondly. "You've other important business to attend to, haven't you?"
"Indeed, I have." Christoph neatly fitted the rock and then turned to send the Landrat a broad wink. "But I think there's little danger I'll ever be too tired for that kind of work."
"Now didn't I say so, Kitty Cat?" Her father beamed. "The finest stallion in the valley?"
"Papa!"
"Oh, come now. The time for maidenly modesty is past, isn't it?"
There was no answer. Caterina, embarrassed, had slipped her arm out of her father's, picked up her skirt and run. The Landrat, well used to her flights, simply watched her go.
"Tail high and head up, skittish as a two year old filly. I hope for your sake Son that breeding settles her down..."
* * *
During the weeks the visiting lasted, Christoph studiously left Caterina alone during the day, spending his time with the men. More often than not, he was the winner, although Max von Beiler, who hunted with Cat's father regularly and knew the land like the back of his hand, twice carried away the honors of the hunt. Lady von Velsen and the more accomplished female riders joined in the horseback sports, and, of course, Cat would have dearly loved to have been among them.
Her father, however, absolutely forbade it. "It's closing the door after the horse has been stolen, but I won't tempt fate again."
Cat fretted, but von Hagen acquiesced in her father's decision.
"Obey your papa, little wife. It's a small thing to humor him."
So she was imprisoned (for that was the way she thought of it) with the more sedentary ladies and old men. They, of course, were on fire to tease tales of married intimacy from her, but after one morning gathering at which Cat burst into tears, called them "a bunch of evil minded gossips" and ran out of the room, they reverted to great formality in her presence. She contrived to be with them as little as possible, saying that she was going to her room, and then slipping away to visit Star.
If the mare was in the pasture, all Cat had to do was whistle and she would come, bobbing her head in greeting. With a gentle whicker, she'd lower a velvet nose to Caterina’s hand searching for the green apple or whatever treat Caterina had thought to bring.
There was only one other person who had Star's confidence besides Cat, and Herr Longnecker was kept so busy with the extra animals of the guests that she often found her mare dusty and ungroomed. One day, Caterina called Star from among the other mares in pasture and got her haltered. Then she led her inside to do some grooming herself.
Here it was that Christoph, who had come in early from his ride, found her, wearing a dirty brown dress and an apron. When the bay stallion saw the mare, he gave a clarion call and pulled so hard that he nearly pulled his master off his feet. The mare stamped and kicked, tried to get her head around to face him.
At the ominous sound of a stallion trumpeting, a groom came running to assist in getting Christoph's big bay into one of the double walled stallion boxes.
"She shouldn't be inside, Lady," the groom said. "With all the stallions we've got at the moment, it'll cause a riot. She's coming on again. While the company's here and the barn is full, Herr Longnecker said she was to stay out in the little high pen or in the mare's box."
Embarrassed, Caterina patted her horse's neck. The mare was quivering all over, nostrils flaring, slamming one slender forefoot into the floor. The groom was right, of course. Cat had been so preoccupied by all her own troubles that she hadn't been thinking about Star.
"I'm sorry, Karl. She just looked so dirty and you know how she loves to be scratched."
"Well, my Lady," said the groom. "No harm done." Peering over the box door, he whistled softly. "Look at her shine! You've got a fine hand, Fraulein—ah, I beg your Ladyship's pardon."
He paused, staring at this girl he'd watched grow up. Married now to a handsome, rich nobleman and yet there she still was, grubbing with her horse, red hair in a long braid down her back, dirty hands, a smudge on her face. She might, he thought, and not for the first time, have made a better farmer's wife. Were there any other great ladies who understood so well all the earthy mysteries of horse craft?
"My Brandy fancies your Star," Christoph remarked. "Perhaps before we leave here on Thursday we should arrange—a marriage."
"She doesn't like him. I can tell."
She hadn't been told when she was to leave her father's house, but now, suddenly, here it was, only a few days away. It brought home the fact that she was Christoph's, just like the hilly eastern parcel, the twenty heifers, the two plow broke oxen, the Wurttemberg mares and several thousand gulden that comprised her dowry. She and Star belonged to Christoph von Hagen now, to do with exactly as he pleased.
"We are talking about horses, aren't we, my Lady?" Christoph raised an eyebrow, but the groom, humbly tugging a forelock, came to Caterina's rescue.
"Indeed, Herr Graf, so far your Lady's Star has only seen one stallion she's been willing to stand for, the von Melk's Barb."
"It is just as Karl says, Herr Graf." Cat was careful not to breach etiquette. She really felt a desperate need to protect Star. "The Barb died last winter ago and Papa and I and Herr Longenecker have been at our wit's end to find a stud ever since. She won't have any here," she add
ed, firmly meeting her husband's eyes.
"Well, let's put them near each other for a while and see if his good looks change her mind." Her husband's reply was relaxed and cheerful. "Of course, like his master, he's not a particularly subtle fellow, but perhaps," he added, his hand coming to engulf hers, "the lady will take pity on him."
"I don't know."
"But isn't she a Barb? I've always understood they're hot blooded, that they go in and out of season until they're bred."
"Only half," Cat replied. "Fortunately she's cold blooded like her mother. Once we get through July, it usually stops."
"To begin again in January," said the groom with a shake of his head aimed at the mare.
After Star was safely inside the companionable safety of the mare's loose box, husband and wife began to walk back arm in arm. For awhile Christoph was silent, clearly pondering something. Then he said, "I didn't know you were so sentimental."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I thought Wili was the one who nursed the runts, the one who felt that all creation had feelings just like people, that the only difference between the beasts and us was tails. You know, in breeding harness Star wouldn't run any risk of being injured. She's fast and brave, but crossed with my Prussian or one of your papa's Hanoverians, you might get more size and that speed of hers as well. Isn't that beauty of a sorrel filly in the back pasture hers?"
"Yes," Cat replied. "She's something, isn't she? But—I don't want her tied for breeding."
The kind of expression a parent puts on when he's indulging a child was taking possession of her husband's face, so Cat quickly added, "Besides, if she's carrying, I can't have the fun of riding her." The real reason, the thing Cat couldn't say, had to do with something that had happened with one of the horses during the spring of her thirteenth year.
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