"I have promised he shall have the opportunity to learn his trade, Fraulein," Christoph said. "It may mean a time of separation for you both, but in the meantime, consider this the beginning of your dowry..."
A golden chain was lowered over head. For a moment, Elsa stood stock still, eyes bright, hardly daring to breathe.
"Oh, Herr Graf! Thank-you!"
"You are very welcome."
Courteously, with a hand on her waist, Christoph guided her towards the door to her room. "Now, dear, one last thing. Before you sleep, go knock at Goran's door and tell him that tomorrow they are not to begin breakfast until I call. If he's not in his room, go to Herr Stocke. Apologize, but ask him to relay the message downstairs. Under no circumstances are we to be disturbed before I call, but, listen! Don't you go downstairs yourself. I don't want you wandering about in your nightgown tonight when everyone is drunk."
"Yes, Herr Graf. I understand, but first let me..."As excited as she was, Elsa hadn't forgotten her mistress. Turning, she scampered back to the bed, leapt in and gave Cat a warm hug and a kiss.
"Oh, Mistress," she breathed, "Your husband is as good as he is handsome." Then, she was out of the bed and away in a flurry of night robe and long legs. As the door closed behind her, Christoph offered Caterina a hand to help her out of bed.
"If you don't mind, Lady von Hagen, come to my room."
"I think you've stolen her heart from me, sir, but that was wonderfully kind." Cat uneasily replied, feeling the heat in his strong hand. "Thank you for being so good to her."
"You, too, are welcome. She's been your friend, which has meant the world to me. You were so sad when you first came here."
With a courtly gesture, he pushed his door wide and bowed her through. Caterina passed him, nervously tossing a red braid over her shoulder. In his room, the fire was warmly flickering, somehow setting the amorous couples on the bed curtains in motion. In averting her gaze from those escapades, Cat's eyes fell upon the table by the fire. There was an opened bottle upon it.
"It seems proper we should welcome the New Year together."
Casually, as if there was nothing much on his mind, Christoph let go of her hand. Going to the small table, set handy to a capacious wing chair, he poured wine then handed her the first glass.
"Oh, but I shouldn't. I had wine for dinner and Elsa and I drank a glass of what you sent to us too."
"As I hoped you would." Despite what she'd said, Cat felt so anxious that she took the glass he offered and began at once to sip it.
"Oh, it's the same you sent to us. So delicious! Is it French?"
"The finest, my innocent connoisseur."
"It is late, sir, almost midnight. What are we to talk about?" Cat asked, setting her glass down.
"Why, about us, of course." Raising his glass formally, he toasted her. "To the New Year and to our future together, Red Caterina." He threw back his handsome, curly head and drank deep. "Now," he said, setting his glass next to hers. "We shall visit as a husband and wife should upon the occasion of the New Year." Then he made as if to sit and take her onto his lap.
"Don't. That makes me feel like a baby."
"Well, then, shall I treat you like a woman instead?" His arms encircled her waist. She was lifted, pressed against his broad chest, and thoroughly kissed.
How effortlessly, yet how gently, he held her! She could sense how entirely his strength was reined in. When his warm lips released hers, Cat felt weak. As she foundered in the tide of desire that washed through every fiber, he carried her to his bed.
On the mantel, the clock struck twelve as he lowered her, down onto the fresh, clean linen.
"A new year and a new life—let us begin tonight, my Caterina. Oh, my red angel, forgive me all my sins and let me become a new man in your arms."
He was in bed with her now, kissing her through the fine muslin of her gown. "I remember some skinny red headed brat telling me that the only husband she would ever accept was a fellow who could ride as well as she did?"
"Don't tease! I—I—"
"Didn't you tell me it was nice when we made love up on the mountain?" Above her he smiled, caressed. Then his hard body was upon hers, thrusting her back into the fragrant lavender bed linen. A practiced hand had somehow found entrance between the loose laces of her nightgown, gone to caress her breast. At the same time, kisses fell upon her mouth, her throat, her cheeks.
She began to respond and Christoph drew her onto her side, parted her legs with his. In another moment he'd swept up the nightgown, found the red-gold nest. As she wriggled and caught at his wrist, fingers firmly but delicately went to work upon a tender dot of pleasure. After the first shock, there was a softening, a yielding, a flowing. Wave after wave shot through her. She tossed in his arms, trembling, open.
"My sweet lady..."
How different this was from what Cat had long ago imagined, the act she'd seen in pasture and barn—a chase, a collision—and over! The last of modesty drowning in desire, she arched against him, her only goal to help him keep the pleasure waves crashing in.
She felt helpless, deliciously so. Sometimes she'd protest that this was another seduction, but, ever so smoothly, his beautiful smile mocking, he'd stop her mouth with kisses and when she was distracted, press on again.
All her half-hearted endeavors to escape became entangled with the thing his hand was doing, contributing ever more to the loss of will. Beneath that fine brocade morning gown, her questing hands, suddenly bold, learned that he was naked.
"Dear heaven. You're so beautiful." He bent his curly head to lavish kisses upon her flat belly. Then, with tigerish grace, he mounted.
* * *
Memories of night! That beautiful body of his, muscles illumined by the fire as he bent over the table pouring more wine, the way his dark curls fell over his shoulders as he carried a sparkling glass back to the bed.
She'd cried, conquered by her own feelings, by his skill, but he'd held her against his hard chest and caressed her, soothed her, as tenderly as if nursing a child.
"I've lost again."
"No, silly woman," he murmured, lips against her hair, "you've won. You're going to be both wife and mistress, Caterina." They sipped from the same glass and caressed ever more warmly until, somehow, she'd let him begin again.
Afterward they slept, his arms tight around her. Once she'd been awoken in the night by a noisy shower of sparks as he'd set a couple more logs on the fire. The assurance as he'd come back to bed, the possessive way he'd simply rolled her over and begun, matter-of-factly, to restart their fire as well, till their two strong bodies were coupled in another bout of that astonishing pleasure.
* * *
Embarrassed by what she remembered, Caterina hid her face in the pillow.
"Oh, no," he said, turning her over. "No more of that. All that happened last night was that I was your husband and you were my wife. Not a feather's weight of sin in it."
He was right, but she still felt shy, so he gathered her against his chest, let her hide her face there and contented himself running his hands over her curves. In the safe haven of his big arms, Caterina lay, her loosened red hair falling in a fabulous cascade across the pillow.
After a time, he shifted. "I'm going to call Goran, call for hot water and breakfast. But," he said, sitting up to pull back the bed curtains, "It's snowing hard again. I think," he said, turning a smile upon her, "that we shall stay right here while I shall engage you in the study of a subject I've badly wanted to teach."
Chapter Fifteen
The news that the Graf von Hagen had taken his lady to bed spread through the manor like wildfire. It could hardly be kept a secret, for good as his word, he kept her in his room and tended, for the first two days of the year to nothing but eating, sleeping and making love to her. Caterina was embarrassed, but, good as his word, Christoph showed her that joy could be found in every position on those instructive bed curtains. Only when the storm died down did they finally emerge, into a world
in which the old guard was even more ill at ease than ever, although the usually reserved Herr Stocke had an almost merry twinkle in his pale eyes.
For most of the first day of resumed business, Christoph divided his time between Walter and Stocke, so Cat and Elsa were left alone. In the intimacy of a shared meal, Cat whispered to her pink faced maid that she now understood, (completely, utterly!) why sins of flesh were committed. They spent the day doing as brides and their maids everywhere did, blushing and whispering confidences. Elsa, of course, had been lonely, but she had a full complement of gossip to report.
Wolves and wind howled on Heldenberg. It was a shut in time, limited to that beaten track between the house and the barn, but Caterina hardly felt the confinement. Her husband was occupying her mind and her heart in a way she never would have believed it possible for a mere man to do.
Although summer had witnessed their marriage, the winter provided the perfect time for a most deliciously reclusive honeymoon. Christoph was absolutely tender, absolutely adoring. Caterina bloomed like a rose. There were no more of those dull, tense lord of the manor dinners attended by the bailiff and his wife, by the officers and Herr Stocke. Instead, in the peaceful haven of Christoph's room, Cat would recline in her husband's lap in that big chair before the fire. With the table pulled close, they'd nibble and drink, kiss and talk. Big Furst lay on the Turkish carpet, looking like a black feather duster, grooming himself or just basking by the fire, the privileged sole companion of those long evenings.
One morning near the end of February, Cat lay in Christoph's great arms, blushing as she hadn't in weeks at what he was whispering. The fact under discussion was that she had not used linen since October, a non-event her worldly husband had noticed.
Although Cat couldn't really be sure, for she often skipped months at a time, her husband was certain that their very first night of love on the mountain had planted a seed. In the night time privacy of his room, Christoph never neglected to lavish kisses upon the still flat belly that might be nourishing the hoped for child.
* * *
March roared in on a sudden south wind and with it came a good thaw. After a few days of warmth, icy torrents began to come down, every stream that would merely trickle in summer now swollen to a huge, rock rushing cascade. Usually Cat was excited by the first mud season days of spring, anticipating a season of riding and new foals. This year, however, she knew that in late March, Christoph, in company with his men, would once again leave for Vienna. From there he'd travel to the eastern border of the empire to do battle with the Emperor's enemies.
Another unpleasant thing, and not a small one either, was that Josefa was in the house again. She had not pleased the von Beilers, had been moody and intractable, finally insisting upon being sent back to Heldenberg where she had arrived just a few weeks ago.
Her brother-in-law, Walter, was furious; his wife uncertain and upset. Christoph was first puzzled and then annoyed to see that his effort on her behalf had been, as he put it, "scorned." Herr Walter, it was said, had promptly begun a new correspondence with his widowed cousin. In the meantime Cat daily felt those same sorrowful jealous eyes upon her, could see the desperate, hungry way the Josefa watched her husband.
"Something is going to have to be done about Josefa. To have her moping and brooding around here is unbearable. And Goran told me that he caught her in your room just before dinner today."
"I know," Christoph replied. "But don't worry. She is to go to her cousin just before I leave."
"To be married?"
"For the present she is only to keep house. It seems that even this ardent gentleman has now cooled. He has heard tales about her odd behavior, tales that I think traveled from the von Beiler's."
"She really is terribly unhappy," Cat said. "Every time she looks at me it is plain how much she dislikes me, yet all I can feel now is pity. She seems to be even more obsessed than she was before she went away."
"All the more reason for her to leave. I had hoped that at von Beiler's she'd be able to let all that foolishness go. Their household is so big and always lively. Even Frau Walter, who I'm beginning to think encouraged this nonsense, is at her wit's end and has let her know it, so perhaps she will take her situation seriously."
"Christoph," Caterina said. "Tell me how it was with you and Josefa's sister."
He stared straight at her, considering, and then nodded, resolving to face the past. "That's where all the trouble began, certainly. Josefa always admired Barbara."
"Why didn't you just marry Barbara?" It was a question she'd been pondering for months. Christoph was an only child. And Barbara had borne him those two fine boys. Whether or not Cat would do so was a perfect unknown. Not only the von Velsen patrimony, but that of the von Hagen's was at stake in their marriage. Until now it had been easy enough to play haughty noblewoman and say that Barbara was "not of equal quality," that there had never been any question of Christoph's marrying her. Now that Caterina was carrying a child, she found herself brooding on Barbara and her children more and more.
Where had his heart been in the matter? His honor? It was imperative to understand. "For several years that was what I wanted to do, but it would have been a difficult decision. On one side were Christian and Michael, on the other the long time promises made to your father and to Wili."
"But you knew all that when you started the affair."
"Yes. But love is a force, as I think you understand. Barbara and I fell in love and then had to struggle with the consequences of acting upon it."
"I have heard that you stopped loving her and that is why you went back to Wili."
Christoph's gaze did not waver.
"In fact, Barbara stopped loving before I did, although I'm sure Frau Walter could argue the point."
"And I have heard it said," Cat drew a deep breath and went on, using the hearsay she had gathered, "that you often quarreled."
"Couples quarrel. I had my notions, she had hers."
"It has also been said—" Cat, despite knowing she was treading on thin ice, continued, "that Barbara was a sensible woman and that she found another man and got on with her life when it became clear that she had no hope of persuading you to marry her."
"Caterina, I think Barbara grew up before I did. I was selfish, content to go on not making up my mind. Why should I? I was having my cake and eating it too. She made my mind up for me. Someday perhaps," he said, "you will meet her. She is a great lady."
Cat thought this over. Then she said, "How could she ever stop fighting to make her sons legitimate?"
"Even the best mothers sometimes think of themselves. Barbara followed her happiness. As to the boys' legitimacy, she knew from the day they were born that no matter whatever happened between the two of us, I would never let them suffer."
Cat had subsided into a chair, boyishly drew up her legs under her skirts and wrapped her arms around them. It seemed to help with the tension. Her husband looked down, steadily regarding her. He didn't look happy, but neither did he look guilty.
"It's not a heroic narrative." He said this into the ensuing pause.
Cat ran her long fingers down her braid, soothing herself with the feel of her hair. "So she truly loved her Captain?"
"Yes, and he risked his career to have her. When I came here after a long absence, I was greeted by the two of them hand in hand, asking for my permission to marry. She was already great with his child." A rueful smile appeared at the memory.
Cat looked up with surprise. She tried to imagine the reaction of Theo—or any other man she knew, for that matter—in a similar situation with a trespassing underling and a pregnant mistress. All she could come up with was—murder!
"To do that they certainly must have trusted you."
"I was angry at first. I felt a fool. And I was."
"Why didn't you marry Wili right after that?
"It would have been the sensible thing to do, but my nearly perfect record of folly hasn't been marred by much." He carefully reache
d down to catch her hand and press the fingers. "Those days are over, Caterina. I should be punished for my past, but instead I have been given you."
Then he drew her up, out of the chair. Cat knew what he wanted, could see it in his eyes, could feel it in the way his arms came around her waist.
How far we've come, she thought, as his mouth descended to hers. I've heard the whole story now, from these very lips so warmly kissing. And I believe him, love him…
* * *
Cat tried her best to stay out of Josefa's way. At first desire to avoid trouble seemed to be mutual. The day of departure, both for the worrisome servant and for Christoph drew closer.
Then, late one afternoon as Cat was returning from riding, a curvaceous figure stepped from among the shadows just as she crossed the chilly, fireless hall.
"Something has come for you, Grafin," said Josefa, "but it's in the hall." Without waiting for Caterina to say anything, she turned and went through the door into the great room.
Cat, feeling a prickle of unease, followed. For an instant, she entertained a fantasy that Josefa was going to plunge a knife into her heart as soon as she followed. In deference to the notion, Cat passed through the great room door warily, but no one was waiting in ambush. There was Josefa, pale, plump and pretty, standing beside at the dinner table. The seven arm candelabrum was lit and her antagonist stood in the golden glow. The cold empty maw of the hearth opened shadowy behind her.
"Here it is. Something for you, Grafin." Josefa thrust a letter toward her. She did not walk to her mistress and offer it as was proper, but stayed where she was in the light.
The proffered letter seemed to glow, to swim inexorably in Cat's direction. She stepped forward and took it, feeling as if she were suddenly on the edge of that all devouring ravine on the mountain.
"Why, it's a letter from the Graf!" Caterina exclaimed, studying the cover "How did you get it?" Next she saw that the seal had been lifted. "And how dare you open the Graf's letter?" She lifted eyes of green fire to Josefa, but her anger was fearlessly ignored.
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