Red Magic (24 page)

She found herself against his chest again,
cradled in his arms, her mouth repeatedly and softly kissed.

"I've been on fire for more of those
sweets I stole on the mountain. Why can't you believe I'm in love with
you?"

"Because you say it
too easily."
Nevertheless in the next
instant she was kissing him back with answering warmth.

Not only did it feel good, but Cat was
beginning to understand that his wanting bestowed upon her a kind of power...

"Our marriage is in its seventh month.
Must we go into the New Year quarreling?"

"Yes." In spite of his words, in
spite of the warm excitement she experienced in his arms, she still felt cross
with him.

"By God," he chuckled softly,
"the next time we see your papa I'm going to tell him this is no red filly
he's married me to, but a tough little red mule instead."

Chapter Fourteen

That night, although she was partly
apprehensive and partly desirous, her husband did not enter her room. Cat had
not been able to make up her mind what she would do if he did -although
the glowing embers of the pleasure shared on the mountain was an inducement to
her body, she was still afraid that he only made love to get the better of her.

She was surprised the next day at how cross
she felt, deprived of the stimulation of either love making or a quarrel. While
they were breakfasting together, Christoph suddenly winked and said, "Were
you disappointed last night?"

"About what?"

He laughed then returned to buttering his
rye bread. "Never mind, then."

Cat, upset and unsettled, had wanted to
find release in a ride, but starting that day, she was, as she put to herself,
"imprisoned" in the school room.

Herr Stocke was a much more intimidating
teacher than Frau Pluncke. As a courtesy, Elsa was set to studying, too, but
Stocke rarely took his eyes off Caterina, so she had no recourse other than to
work. Initially, the teacher spent a lot of time patiently trying to find out
exactly what she did know.

Days passed, with Stocke continually
sighing and shaking his head, as if her case were hopeless. After a week, he
set Caterina to work at accounts problems, all of which, the teacher explained,
he'd derived from the books of the estate. The columns of numbers, the many
entries, swam before Cat's eyes. Besides this, there were histories to read,
geography to study, lists of French verbs to memorize. Dutifully, Caterina
worked, swallowing her pride whenever she had to ask for help, trying bravely
to ignore thoughts of the barn.

When she was dismissed, she rushed to
change her clothes and go to exercise Star, or if new snow had fallen, just
brush her. Then she'd return to the manor, half frozen in the winter darkness.
After awhile, Stocke delighted her by suggesting that she tend to her horse in
the morning and come to school when she was done.

"You're working hard, my Lady, and
besides," he said with a twinkle in his pale eyes, "a restless pupil
never learns much of anything. I've taught long enough to know that."

Needless to say, Caterina liked him far
better after that. No matter how tired the barn work made her, she tried to do
her best in the schoolroom. As time passed, she found she actually enjoyed the
things Herr Stocke taught, especially history. Christoph was more than once
pleased to find her sitting by the fire with a book open in her lap in the
evenings after supper.

Winter held the land in a death grip. The
peak of the Heldenberg was lost for days in howling storms. Ice underlay the
snow, so that even with cleated shoes, the horses couldn't be safely ridden.
The barns grew dirty and were full of the sounds of restive animals, kicking
and picking fights with their neighbors. Some of the horses cribbed, groaning
unnaturally as they tore U shaped holes in the stalls. Whenever there was a
thaw and Cat could get out, she rode lanky, tall Jack, a Wurttemberg
from her father's house. Star's belly was growing and Cat didn't want to take
any risks with her.

She also spent time with the Andalusian
stallion, grooming him. It was slow, even for her, to make friends, for the
gray was truly dangerous during winter confinement. If Brandy started kicking
and trumpeting in similar frustration, the gray was sure to join in. The barn
would echo with the screams and drum beats of the two studs as they punished
their stalls. At first the ever alert Rossmann was anxious when Cat went in
with the Andalusian, but after awhile he changed his mind, deciding that her
"touch" made it safe.

The Graf watched his young wife's
involvement with the horses with a combination of amusement and admiration.

* * *

Christmas came; the least splendid in Cat's
memory, for her father's house was always been crammed full of neighbors and
family. At Heldenberg, they celebrated in snow bound isolation.

Bed time usually found mistress and maid
sitting cross-legged in Caterina's bed talking over the day, the green
curtains drawn back to get the benefit of the fire. After they had washed,
standing on towels before the hearth, sponging their tall slim bodies, they'd
put on their nightdresses and then take turns brushing and braiding each
other's long hair. Sometimes Elsa played her mandolin and the girls sang softly
together. Since the nights of Christmas had begun, they'd changed their usual
late night cups of chamomile tea with bread and butter for the less digestible
indulgence of wine and sweet kuchen.

Since summer, Elsa had become the perfect
spy, for among the kitchen workers was a brawny-armed farm boy, Ekkehard, who
had fallen in love with her. While they hid and held hands in some dark corner
of the house, in delicious closeness, he'd tell what he'd heard below stairs.
At first, however, Elsa had accepted the young man's courtship only at her
mistress' urging.

"But, my Lady!
I may be poor, but I'm a gentlewoman. Ekkehard was born in a stone
hut up on Heldenberg."

"Oh, but he's a pretty fellow, Elsa,
so blonde and strong! His papa is not a
serf,
he's a
free farmer, and a good one, too."

Now, several months later, Elsa had
forgotten that she'd ever disdained the handsome youth. Just before Christmas,
Ute had been ill and Ekkehard had been among those set to cooking. He'd risen
to his chance with surprising skill. Cabbage and noodles, roast meat, glazed
turnips and potatoes, all well prepared, arrived in a timely fashion at the
master's table. Elsa and her sweetheart had begun building castles in the air
about the day he'd be head cook in a big kitchen in a big house -maybe in
Passau, or maybe, even, in Vienna!

New Year's Eve found the young women
tête-à-tête in bed, long legs crossed beneath night gowns, whispering about
love. Cat was still keeping her secret, so in both cases their tales of romance
were almost done as soon as they started.

Happiness, combined with a glass of the
delicious sparkling wine, had tonight made Elsa so bold that she'd just told
her mistress that, in her opinion, she should forget all these sins and sorrows
past and become, "for true and all," the Graf's wife. The wine had
worked on Cat, too, rendered her incapable of reprimand. She felt loose, free,
and confident.

"Sometimes," she sighed,
shivering, remembering the hard feel of her husband's body upon hers,
remembering the irresistible rush of his kisses, "I want to do exactly
that."

That was when the door between her
husband's room and hers—the door that was never locked, the door that was never
opened—did just that. There stood Christoph, dark locks over his shoulders,
wearing his brocaded burgundy gown. After gazing at the two surprised young
women intently for an instant, he smiled.

"A pretty sight
indeed.
I'm sorry to interrupt you, young
ladies, but I'm afraid that for the last few nights I've been sitting on the other
side of that door, hearing you sing and whisper and feeling left out. Tonight
it occurred to me that this is an odd way for a husband to feel..." Eyes
big, Elsa belted her loose gown tightly. Then, mandolin in hand, she crawled
backwards out of the bed.

"Yes, I think that tonight, the eve of
the New Year, my wife and I will be alone. You may go to your own room tonight,
Elsa, but first come here to me." The tall girl obeyed, clearly nervous.
Now, in such alarming undress, the master seemed very deliberate.

"Stop looking as if I were about to
eat you!" Impatiently he caught Elsa by the hand and pulled her lanky and
now visibly trembling form closer. "You have been good to my wife, and so
I've decided that you should have a fine present at the New Year."

"Oh, sir!"
Elsa blushed, lowering her eyes. She, like most women, found
Christoph attractive. Proximity combined with the touch of his hands was heady!

"A certain young fellow from the
kitchen has been so bold as to come to me and ask for my help- -and I have
agreed."

Elsa's big eyes started.

"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."