by Jody Hedlund
Melanchthon’s gaze flitted back to Doctor Luther. “I need to speak with you.”
“Not today.” Doctor Luther lifted his goblet and took a drink.
“Only for a moment.”
“I couldn’t bear to be away from my dearest Kate for even a minute.” Doctor Luther reached for her hand and slid his fingers into hers, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss there.
For the first time since the feast started, his gaze met hers. The brown of his eyes was lighter than usual, with flames that licked her insides and set her on fire. Their sensuousness told her that he remembered every intimate detail of the previous night and that he hungered for more.
Under the heat of his gaze, she could only flush and pray no one could see the response that leapt to life inside her.
Melanchthon looked back and forth between them, and his glare deepened. “Then it’s true?”
“What’s true?” Doctor Luther kept hold of her hand as he moved it underneath the table and rested it on his leg.
“Rumors are spreading—” Melanchthon glanced at the other guests and then lowered his voice. “People are saying you consummated your betrothal. Tell me it’s not true.”
“Of course it’s true. Why wouldn’t it be?” Below the table his thumb swirled a small circle on the pulse point of her wrist.
She trembled at his caress, and his lips lifted into a half grin.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Melanchthon said between gritted teeth, as he leveled another glare at Katharina.
Her normally loose tongue was tied today. She had no longing to join the disagreement and voice her opinion. It was hard to think coherently about anything with Doctor Luther’s fingers stirring her passion in secret under the table.
“If you don’t believe me, then ask Justus.” Doctor Luther tossed a grin down the table toward Jonas. “He was there. He witnessed everything for this very reason—so that my well-meaning friends wouldn’t be able to cover up what’s happened.”
Melanchthon frowned at Jonas, then at Pastor Bugenhagen. “I thought we all agreed that if Martinus wanted to get married, he should wait until order is restored to the empire.”
“Katharina needed a husband,” Pastor Bugenhagen replied. “We had to stop the rumors. Better sooner than later.”
“Martinus was incessant with his pining over Katharina.” Jonas leaned back with a scowl at Melanchthon. “If I’d had to listen to any more of his lovesick whining, I was afraid I’d go mad.”
Doctor Luther’s fingers tightened within hers, and with his other hand he grazed her lower arm, letting his fingers linger with an intimacy that made her breathing quicken.
Melanchthon leaned onto the table and lowered his voice. “We had decided this was an inopportune time for you to take a wife. It’ll only provoke more turmoil.”
“You decided,” Luther said tersely. “Besides, how could there possibly be any more turmoil than already exists?”
“Just wait. If you thought it was bad, it’s going to get worse.”
The two friends locked eyes.
She was relieved Doctor Luther was taking a stand for their marriage. But a deep part of her wished he would declare that he wanted her in his life and couldn’t bear to live without her, that she was more than just an obligation for him to fulfill.
Melanchthon’s shoulders slumped as if in defeat. “You know when word of this reaches our enemies, they’ll flay you alive—”
“They already flay me—”
“And now they’ll be after your wife.” Melanchthon’s brows drew together above grave eyes. “What happens if they kidnap her and demand your life for hers?”
Doctor Luther’s grip on her hand tightened. He opened his mouth but after a moment closed it.
For once, the man who’d changed the Holy Roman Empire with his words was speechless.
Luther stared at the barren wall of his study and wished he could block out the clattering of pails and constant chatter that seemed to arise from every corner of the monastery. He had long ago given up any thought of writing. The ink on the tip of his discarded quill had already dried.
In one short week since the betrothal, Katharina had taken control of the Black Cloister as if she were lord of the manor. The day after their betrothal celebration, she’d arrived with Barbara Cranach and several Cranach servants. They’d begun cleaning and repairing the building.
Of course they hadn’t bothered to ask his permission or his opinion. Katharina’s forthrightness had started another battle between them. She claimed she was only making much-needed improvements. Even though he privately agreed with her, he knew the place would never be worthy of her, not even with all the improvements in the world. And that thought rankled him more than anything. The Black Cloister would never be like the manor, castle, or large estate that she could have lived in had she married someone else, someone more worthy of her.
She arrived every day well before Prime, before the sun rose, and worked until long after dark. He’d taken to hiding in his airless study to avoid her. He told himself he needed to stay out of her way because he didn’t want to see the condescension in her eyes as she surveyed her new living situation.
But that was only half the truth. The other half was he was afraid that if he was alone with her, he’d disgrace himself with his need for her. Tradition dictated that they wait for further union until they were officially wed. But after having spent one night with her, he was loath to spend one without her.
Instead of making an utter fool of himself, he’d isolated himself. And now he was beginning to feel like he was back at Wartburg Castle in exile. Truthfully, this time he didn’t mind the exile. He’d been working on the translation of the Old Testament into common German so he could finally complete the entire Bible.
At least in his closet room he didn’t have to face criticism from all fronts. The peasants hated him because they thought he’d turned against them and had allowed the princes to slaughter them. The princes hated him because of his latest harsh words, rebuking them for their ruthless treatment of the peasants during their battles. He’d heard recent rumors that they were thinking of handing him over to the pope and enforcing the Edict of Worms once and for all.
As usual, Duke George hated him and wanted him dead, but he was still too busy fighting the peasants to concern himself with other matters. The peasant rebellion was the only thing stopping the duke from riding into Electoral Saxony and attempting to forcibly oust their leader, Duke John. Luther’s friends were doing all they could to ingratiate themselves with Duke John. As Saxony’s new elector, he had the power to hand Luther over to Rome if he so chose. Melanchthon had gone to Torgau to negotiate with the leader, but Luther figured it was a wasted trip. The reforms had failed.
Everyone despised him. They wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say anymore. And now some of his friends, including Melanchthon, were upset that he’d gotten married. He might as well hand himself over to the pope.
“Ach!” He pushed away from his desk and stood. The rumbling in his stomach told him he was due for a break. He couldn’t avoid Katharina forever.
As he descended the tower stairway, the overpowering scent of lime assaulted him. The servants had applied great amounts of lime to whitewash the walls. They weren’t finished yet, but he could see the progress they’d made in a week.
No one had cleaned or repaired the cloister since he’d returned from Wartburg, when he’d found the place empty and the brothers married. It was overdue. And yet, as long as it was suitable for the wedding banquet they would host, what more did they need? The date for their public wedding ceremony was only a week away. He’d already written letters to his parents, inviting them to Wittenberg. At the urging of Jonas, he’d invited many of his friends as well.
He asked himself again, as he had a hundred times since the betrothal ceremony, why he had done it. Why had he gone forward with the betrothal when Katharina clearly had been hesitant to marry him?
Melanchthon’s warning at the betrothal dinner always lingered at the front of his mind. Luther had known that if he took a wife, he’d be putting her in danger. But the thought of something happening to Katharina paralyzed him with fear. He didn’t want to admit that his own selfishness and lusts had driven him and that now he’d quite possibly put Katharina in the worst danger of her life.
With a growing sense of dismay, he walked past the servants working in the hallway and headed toward the kitchen. He didn’t know if Wolfgang would have a meal ready, but he’d fasted long enough.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he was surprised to find the delivery door leading to the side alley open and two strange men filling the doorframe and staring openly at Katharina as she examined the contents of several crates on the floor. Their faces were dirty, their eyes narrow, and something about them caused Luther’s heart to gallop. What if one of his enemies had sent them to his doorstep? What if they planned to kidnap her? It had happened before and could very easily happen again.
“What are you men doing here?” he bellowed.
Katharina jumped, and the strangers took a step back, clearly not expecting to see him.
Luther barreled across the room, past the center worktable that was piled high with cheeses and vegetables of all sorts, apparently in preparation for the wedding feast. “Get out!” He didn’t care that he looked like a stampeding bull.
Katharina’s eyes widened, and she stepped aside.
“If you want to do business here at the Black Cloister, you’ll do it with my manservant, not my wife.” He swung the door shut, letting it slam in the faces of the strangers with a reverberation that rattled the kettles hanging from hooks in the ceiling beam.
“Doctor Luther!” Katharina finally said with a gasp. “That was completely unnecessary.”
He let the bar on the door fall into place with a thud, fear blazing through his blood. “It was absolutely necessary.”
“I didn’t have the chance to pay them.”
“You shouldn’t have been in here alone with them in the first place.”
“They were selling me grain.”
“Let Wolfgang buy the supplies from now on.”
She huffed. “I’ll do no such thing. He won’t have the slightest idea what I need—”
“I don’t care!” he roared.
She pressed herself against the wall and eyed him with both caution and irritation. “If I’m to manage this home, I shall do the buying and selling.”
He moved in front of her, close enough that the hem of his cloak brushed against her skirt. “I’m your husband, and you will obey me in this matter.”
She lifted her dainty chin and pert nose. Her glorious summer-blue eyes flashed with anger. “You’re not my husband. Yet.” Her words were hard and challenging.
With the outer door closed, blocking the daylight, the dimness of the kitchen cloaked them. The faint clink of a chisel and the distant chatter told him they were completely alone in the privacy of the kitchen. He was alone with Katharina. And his body reacted with a heated longing so intense that he braced an arm on one side of her to keep from crushing her to himself. He couldn’t take his eyes from hers. He didn’t care if she saw how much he wanted her.
He heard a soft intake of breath, which told him she wasn’t immune to his presence.
Drawing courage from her reaction, he leaned down and placed his mouth next to her ear. “You’re mine.”
Her breathing grew choppy.
His gaze lingered over the span of her neck near his hand. It beckoned him, and he was helpless to do anything but lower his lips to the silkiness below her ear. He took a deep breath of her sweet, spicy scent and leaned against her.
She trembled. Instead of repelling him, her fingers slipped up the arms of his cloak, and she clung to him.
Her reaction made him want to groan. He brushed his lips against the softness of her skin. She was his. God had given him his desires. They were natural and good. Hadn’t he preached that very message to others for years?
He shifted so that his nose brushed hers and his mouth hovered above hers, mingling their ragged breaths.
“I’m just worried about you,” he whispered, grazing his lips against her cheek. “I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”
She nodded and chased after his lips. “Then I’ll make sure Wolfgang or Brother Gabriel is with me from now on.”
He pressed the full length of his body against her, not sure how he could wait another week to be with her. “Kate…” He laid a kiss on the silky hair near her temple.
“Take it to the bedroom, you old randy dog.” Jonas’s voice, laced with wry humor, jolted him away from Katharina.
Luther scowled in the direction of the hallway, where Jonas stood behind Brother Gabriel, peering over the old brother’s tonsured head with a wicked grin.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Luther,” Brother Gabriel whispered. He ducked his head but not before Luther saw the mortification filling the old monk’s face. “I didn’t know you were with Sister Katharina.”
Katharina had slipped around Luther and had quickly turned her back on the newcomers to hide her blush of embarrassment.
“Go away,” Luther growled at Jonas. “Don’t you have better things to do than spy on me?”
“I’ve been given the joyful task of helping you draft your rebuttal,” Jonas said dryly.
“What rebuttal?”
“Every bishop and archbishop between here and Rome has accused you of finally succumbing to your lust.” He nodded to Katharina, now bent over one of the crates near the alley door. “And even though they’re right, I’ve been given the task of helping you write a letter to explain otherwise.”
Luther rubbed his temples. The pressure in his head and behind his eyes began to increase. He’d long known that if he took a wife, his enemies would accuse him of giving in to his lusts. They’d said from the start that his desire to get married had driven his reforms. Even the King of England, Henry VIII, had written against Luther, claiming that his uncontrollable manly urges had prompted his desire to change the church.
Now they were gloating. They thought he’d proven them right. The lawyer Schurff had summarized the position of his enemies well. They believed that if he got married, he’d make all the world and the devil himself burst with laughter and would destroy the work he’d begun.
“Let my enemies laugh at me.” Luther took a deep breath to try to relieve the storm brewing inside his head. “Let them think my marriage will hurt our cause and further my demise. They’ll soon see otherwise.” At least he prayed it was so.
Jonas snorted. “I don’t know how much lower you could sink when you alone are being held responsible for the thousands of headless peasant bodies that litter the roadways.”
Luther didn’t want to think about the massacre or the trip through Thuringia his friends wanted him to take. They reasoned he could begin to repair relations with the multitudes of peasants and help restore order. But he’d told them he wouldn’t travel until after the wedding.
Truthfully, he didn’t know if he’d ever want to leave Katharina again, not when he longed for her more than the breath of life.
Brother Gabriel slowly backed out of the room and disappeared. Luther wished Jonas would follow. But his friend leaned lazily against the doorpost as if he planned to stay a while.
“The entire world is waiting with bated breath for the real reason Martin Luther is getting married,” Jonas continued. “And now we must give them the answers they want.”
“They’ll have to wait.”
“It should be an easy answer,” Jonas said, glancing at Katharina’s bent back. “You’ll tell them you’ve fallen in love. It’s as simple as that.”
The sounds of Kate digging through the crate stopped.
A peal of embarrassment resounded through Luther as loud as the bells in the Stadtkirche. “It’s not about love,” he quickly protested. From the corner of his eye, Luther saw Kate su
ddenly swivel and fasten her intense gaze on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
“If not for love,” Jonas said in exasperation, “then what’s your marriage about?”
“I’m making a statement.”
“What kind of statement?”
“To Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz and others like him who’ve been hesitant about taking wives. If I get married, then they’ll follow my example.”
Jonas crossed his arms. “That’s never motivated you before.”
Luther sensed Katharina’s stillness as if she too waited for his response.
“And I’m doing it to please my father so I won’t have to listen to him nag me about it every time I see him.”
“Since when do you care about pleasing Hans?”
Luther shrugged.
“You know you haven’t cared since the day you threw away your lawyer’s robes and donned the monk’s habit.”
“He wants an heir.”
“So what.”
Luther met Jonas’s glare with one of his own. “So what. What do you want me to say?”
“Tell the truth. Tell everyone the real reason you’re marrying Katharina.”
Katharina’s gaze was unwavering.
He refused to look at her and instead frowned at Jonas.
“Aren’t you finally willing to admit you’ve fallen in love?” Jonas asked.
“Absolutely not!” The words fell from his mouth in a roar. “We haven’t married for love. Katharina is too proud for love.”
Luther turned to see Katharina stiffen. He caught a glimpse of dismay in her expression before a flash of defiance erased it. “I most certainly am not too proud.”
“You’re only marrying me because I’m your last option,” he stated, daring her to defy him.
“And you’re only marrying me out of obligation.” Her eyes flashed again, drawing a new battle line between them.
Jonas rolled his eyes. “The problem, Martinus, old man, is that you don’t want to admit to anything.”