"It seems they were cutting in a part of the woods that he felt was his. I always hate to kill a creature like that." Her husband wore a rueful expression, the first that Cat could ever remember seeing on any hunter, "the old fellow was just defending his territory, exactly as I would do if some strangers came upon my land. He gave us a good fight. I thought he was going to get his tusks into Heidelburg the way he attacked us from cover. He took five of our dogs and got a tusk into young Seibert's calf. I hope that will heal right…"
Finally, as their plates approached empty, Christoph suddenly said, "You know, you hurt me at least as much as I hurt you." When Cat looked up questioningly, he added, "Every time you say I didn't love Wili."
Feeling sorry, she watched in silence as he pushed his chair back from the table.
"I think, because we are in a unique situation, the problem is that neither of us knows how to behave. You can't see me as your husband and I have a hard time seeing you as anything but wild little Red."
Cat shifted nervously. This sounded right, although hearing that she was nothing more than "wild little Red" was something of a blow to that part of her that had just been surreptitiously admiring him.
"We need to have some rules. Therefore Grafin Caterina Maria Brigitte von Velsen von Hagen," teasing had intruded into his hitherto solemn tone, "since in every verbal combat we've undertaken, you've demonstrated a surprisingly lawyerly turn of mind, I think I shall start by explaining a point of law to you."
"A point of law? As pertains to?"
"Our marriage. As you know, I have the right to enjoy your body, a right which I am not exercising."
Cat looked at him warily, but he wasn't making any moves in her direction, just smiling at her, a smile which had developed a wicked edge.
"Therefore, it seems to me that in order to keep that right for some future time when it shall be more proper and more amenable to both of us, I shall begin to exercise a minute portion of the above mentioned right at least once every day."
"What?" Cat caught the drift, however, and this inspired her to try to get up. Christoph, however, had anticipated. He hooked his foot against her chair rungs and held it still.
"Which means that every day I intend to kiss you," he said softly, bending his dark head close to hers, "and pet you and generally take pleasure just an inch beyond that which is cousinly, and that you will patiently let me."
"Why should I?"
"Because, little Frau, it is a small prelude to our papas' desire, a small part of my right and a small part of your obligation."
The pompous declaration was accompanied by nothing more threatening than a gentle tug upon Cat's long single braid. "And, because I know what I am about, you and I will slowly but inevitably come to what everyone expects."
Cat blushed. Christoph nodded. Though the smile had vanished, his eyes were bright
"You're treating me like Rossmann is treating Star," Caterina muttered. She fixed her gaze upon her plate.
"Well, marriage is rather like that, isn't it? Slow, patient and gentle works with most horses, and I have a feeling that it will work here too."
"What a conceited brute you are!"
"Decidedly, but grant that this is a subject about which a wicked rake is well informed."
"Don't joke! All you've done—"
"Frankly," he interrupted, "I don't think I deserve the title. And I wish that you'd stop acting as if my intent were to do the deed against your will. As your papa would say, the stallion doesn't jump mares that aren't in breeding condition."
"Gottesblut!" Cat exclaimed, slamming her fist down on the table in what was a fine, crockery-rattling imitation of her father. "That's disgusting! I will never submit!"
"Oh, I believe you will never submit, Caterina, but I also believe that you may do something that's a great deal more enjoyable."
"Christoph—"
"Have more venison. I won't pet while we are at table, but at some odd moment, I shall take you in my arms and nibble on your edible neck or," he went on, lifting his glass in her direction, "take a sip from that sweet mouth of yours."
* * *
Once Caterina was in her bedroom, Christoph left her alone so studiously that she soon felt quite safe there. At night, even if he were still moving around in his room on the other side of that unlocked door, she'd drop straight into sleep.
In the morning she'd lie inside the grass green curtains, listening to the chorus of birds in the pine forest, until Elsa arrived with the heaped breakfast tray and the luxurious, steaming bowl of hot chocolate.
She was surprised to be awakened one chilly fall morning by the heroic figure of her husband pushing aside the bed curtains.
"What are you doing?" She clutched at the covers. "Gott!" She exclaimed, as big arms closed around her. Her open hand slammed against his head.
"Ow!" Christoph sat back, clutching at the injured part. "Damn. That really hurt!"
"Well, it's your own fault," Cat retorted. She wanted to be tough, but seeing that she had truly hurt him, she regretted her haste. "You shouldn't just climb into my bed like that," she ended lamely.
"The day will come," Christoph replied, rubbing his cheek with comic dignity, "when you will be delighted by my presence in your bed. But I didn't do anything, damn it, and I wasn't going to. Why did you hit me?"
"I—was—scared."
She still was. His body, covered only by a morning gown remained stretched beside her, boasting the supple muscularity of a cat.
"Well, it's got around that I'm never here and I thought I ought to remedy that. You won't have any authority at all if they think you aren't really my wife, you know."
Cat was suddenly sorry and was about to say so when he added, "I believe I was inspired by the love scene I saw last night with your pretty red mare."
"What?" In a flash she was on her feet, dancing furiously on the mattress. "What have you done to Star, you monster?"
Seizing a pillow, she began to pummel him, so hard that a blizzard of feathers flew. She kept at it too, until Christoph got hold of the other end.
One good yank and she tripped in the bedclothes and fell in a tangle of long legs, swirling down and shift. In order to keep her still, her husband threw himself across her and seized her hands.
"It wasn't me, you extraordinary little hellion," he panted. "It was Herr Rossmann, who has somehow gained the confidence of that four legged familiar of yours."
Caterina stared up into his beautiful green-flecked eyes.
"You're crushing me."
"That's the idea. You need more than crushing. And someday soon, by God..."
"What did Rossmann do to Star?" Caterina asked the question humbly, praying he would move before her ribs cracked.
"He bred her."
At once she was in tears. She had visions of Star, her feet and head tied, the stallion led in. It seemed so horrible; emotion choked her.
"She's not hurt." Christoph shifted to one side, although he still maintained a hold on her dangerous hands.
"How do you know?"
"I saw the whole thing. Rossmann has been leading her past the Andalusian's box and last night he, instead of trying to kick the place down as usual and scaring her, did some sweet talking over the wall. Rossmann put her into the little pen and then brought him to her. They trotted up and down together for a few minutes, then he got to it, smooth as silk, the greatest lover in the world. I was a little worried because Star's so unpredictable, but Rossmann believed that it would work. 'She likes him', he said, and he was right. You won't see a mark on either of them this morning, except for, hmm—" her husband's perfect mouth descended to Caterina's shoulder and delivered a kiss which grew to a nip, "a love bite on that snaky red neck of hers."
Caterina sighed, trembled. She wanted to scream, to cry—or, maybe, to kiss him back…
"Oh, Cat, everything's fine with her. And with you too." Sighing, Christoph sat up, drew her close and held her against his chest. Gathering a corner of t
he sheet, he wiped away her tears.
"What on earth am I going to do about you, Caterina Maria Brigitte?" He spoke softly. "It's definite now. In March I'm to go to my regiment. I've had a command from the Emperor. If the Turks advance, as everyone fears, I'll see battle again. I could be gone a year, maybe longer. And war makes widows, you know."
"I'll be alone here?" Cat shuddered. The whole world had fallen in on her head this morning.
"Well, we'll see." He rubbed her back tenderly. "I suppose you could go home if you wanted to."
For some reason she couldn't exactly fathom, this didn't appeal at all.
"Oh, why do you have to go soldiering again?" she asked, leaning her head against him. It wasn't just being alone but the thought of him in danger... And, death was real. It had come to Wili and could come to anybody.
"You've been wounded, almost died already. Isn't that enough?"
"Well, it's not only honor and duty but the Emperor's command. I cannot disobey."
Cat nodded.
"If we are successful, there is a sharing of spoils."
"Spoils?"
"Yes. More than flags came home from that last campaign."
Cat's eyes grew wide. She understood the requirements of honor, but had never thought about this part of war.
"It's crazy, too, I know, but I—enjoy—danger."
"Christoph—"
"But you don't mean to say," he interrupted, smiling, "that you would you actually miss me?"
"Yes." She hid her face against his chest.
One big hand came to tenderly stroke her head. Cat stayed where she was, close to him, and enjoyed the good clean smell of his health, felt the muscles which might have overwhelmed, conquered and forced—might have, but never did.
"Let's get up and go see Star. Then you'll know that she's all right."
Chapter Eleven
A session with the supercilious young Lieutenant who taught fencing left the young recruits, not much more than boys, frightened, and sometimes bleeding. Herr Lieutenant Heidelburg was a martinet whose punishment for a mistake was made with the point of his épée. Heidelburg, who bore a few dueling scars himself, was of the opinion that a wound made a lesson less likely to be forgotten. The young trainees bore their injuries with a certain pride. Wasn't the swordsman who dealt the punishment a master? There was no shame in carrying a few scars from such an opponent. It was, in fact, the price of learning this gentleman's art.
One day Cat found herself watching her husband sharpening his skills against the dueling master. Although Heidelburg was highly skilled, it was only at épée that he stood a chance of outscoring the Graf. Christoph's strength, combined with phenomenal quickness made him a crushing opponent.
Watching the men laugh and flash out at each other, Cat found herself remembering a time when she and Theodor and Valentin had been playing together. The boys had been summoned away for their first fencing lesson. Cat had trailed along, interested and half expecting that she would be included. After all, couldn't she run faster than Theodor? Couldn't she catch better than Valentin? And wasn't she smarter than either of them?
But no, she'd been laughed at, taken away by her nurse. Later she'd been disobedient, played mock battles with the boys using some shepherd's crooks they'd commandeered. More than once, in spite of his training, she'd knocked the crook out of Valentine's hand, had done it until he'd grown so enraged that he'd finally hurled himself upon her and blacked her eye?
Now, watching her husband mop his brow, his face glowing with the pleasure of a hard workout, she experienced a resurgence of this long buried desire.
"Graf von Hagen?"
Christoph turned to her with a tentative smile, sensing that if Caterina had begun so formally, something extraordinary was coming.
"Could Lieutenant Heidelburg teach me fencing, too?"
When Christoph, a look of surprise on his face, didn't respond right away, she demanded, "Why not?"
"Women don't have the strength for saber, nor the endurance for épée. I respect your horsemanship, my Lady, but..." Heidelburg, clearly not relishing the idea, began a speedy defense.
"Some women are not used to physical effort and exercise, but I am," Caterina insisted. "That's just the same nonsense I was put off with when I was little and wanted lessons along with my brother. The Graf von Hagen knows that I'm quicker than Theo ever was or will be."
"In every way," agreed her husband, whose silent consideration of her suggestion had ended. "Well, Heidelburg, you are hardly overworked. If my lady wants fencing lessons, she shall have them."
To Caterina's undignified bounce of joy, he said, "Now, Grafin, you're going to be properly outfitted first. Then we'll have to agree upon times for your lesson. Lieutenant Heidelburg," he said turning to soothe his officer, "must not have his schedules upset."
"Oh, I want lessons every day, until I've got the drills by heart. Isn't that how you learn anything properly?"
Wearing a big grin of approval, Christoph threw an arm around her.
"Hear that, Heidelburg? An ardent desire to learn. And, sir," he added, drawing himself up in his most baronial manner, "if you lose that short temper of yours and put one mark on this beauty of mine, I promise you two matching ones."
* * *
Cat heard household gossip from Elsa, whose ingenuous manner threatened no one. She learned that there had been high and dashed hopes.
No wonder, Cat thought, that there was bitterness. She couldn't know whether her husband had misled them, or whether the whole thing had been wishful thinking.
She could imagine how it must have been while Christoph was gone, the pretty mistress and her sisters playing lady of the manor and having plenty of time to make themselves admired and pitied by everyone. And two fine healthy boys! It seemed Christoph had put aside a great deal to keep his promise to the von Velsens—and to Wili.
Josefa supplied most of the information, although she didn't seem to be aware of it. She was, Cat came to understand, very angry, and angry people, just as her father had always said, were indiscreet. It was Goran, however, who showed her the true well spring of Josefa's anger and disrespect. One morning, when Cat was splashing in the basin, hurrying to get to Star before breakfast, she heard a shout followed by a scream coming from her husband's room.
"What are you up to, hussy?" Goran cried.
"I've come to take away the water, Herr Goran."
Cat stopped washing and listened. She knew that Josefa brought water to Christoph every morning, and that it was received by his man at the door. After it was used and the Graf went out, someone else came back, emptied it and cleaned the basin.
"Come here, girl," Goran growled.
"I have done nothing wrong."
"Oh, haven't you?"
There was the sound of a rush and crash. Cat threw down her towel and rushed to open the door that led to her husband's room. Elsa followed.
The basin had struck the wide board floor and broken, sending soapy water everywhere. Goran had Josefa by an arm but she was fighting hard, trying, in fact, to kick the one good leg of the old soldier out from under him.
Rushing up behind, Cat caught Josefa by the glossy nut-brown braid that always trailed down her back. A hard yank elicited a shriek which pleased Cat, who'd been longing to have an excuse to do that for a long time.
"Thank you, Grafin," said Goran, for between the two of them they had quickly established control. "Now if you would put your hand into her bosom, you will find what she has stolen."
"I didn't steal it," cried Josefa. "I was taking it to wash as the Herr Graf asked."
As Cat hesitated, Josefa added with all the dignity of tone she could muster, "Just let me go and I will show you what I have."
"She does not do the laundry nor empty dirty water, Grafin. This one's far too fine for that," Goran's sneered.
"I wash and iron the Graf's shirts and stocks. All the time—whenever he is here," Josefa protested.
"Let her go, Goran,"
said Caterina.
When he did, Josefa shook herself and stepped back several paces.
"Croat dog!" she hissed.
"Enough," Caterina commanded. She had moved with Josefa, but had not let the braid go. Now, to remind her, she tugged again.
Josefa rounded on her in a swirl of skirt, ripped the braid free. Her brown eyes blazed. Cat stayed with her.
"Come on! Hit me! Try it!"
"Here," Josefa cried, hurling out the thing she'd concealed. "The Graf asked me to wash it." A rumpled white muslin neck piece trimmed in lace landed by Cat's feet. "He says that Hanna scrubs the life out of them and then no amount of ironing gets them right."
"A funny way to carry dirty laundry," Goran observed.
Josefa turned scarlet, and that was when Cat understood. "Go out, Hauptmann, and wait for me," she said with an imperious wave. "Fraulein Josefa and I are going to have a talk."
Goran lifted a scanty brow, but he nodded and then thumped his way out into the hall.
"Um, Mistress?"
Cat had completely forgotten Elsa, who had watched the whole scene from the doorway.
"Go find someone who can carry a message to the stables," she said. "Have them ask Herr Rossmann to see to Star this morning."
Elsa went out the other way, passing through her mistress' room to a hall door. She had a perfect horror of her master's bedroom and wouldn't enter it for any reason, not even to retrieve sealing wax from his writing desk. Cat thought it must be the bed curtains. She herself had a hard time keeping her eyes off them—all that libidinous romping—whenever she was there.
After all the doors closed Cat said, "You are in love with the Graf."
The dark eyes flashed. Josefa's round cheeks went red. She was, Cat thought, quite pretty, just the sort of plump, dark haired creature her brother Theo fancied.
No answer to her question was forthcoming, so, lifting her chin, Cat bluntly asked, "Has the Graf had you?"
There was no answer to this either, but the dark eyes boldly lifted. An almost audible 'Wouldn't you like to know?' hung in the air between them. Somehow or other Caterina managed not to slap her, although the fingers of her right hand drew into a fist.
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