Fates for Apate (10 page)

She sat up with a perplexed sniff. "We're in Nuremberg?"

"Close enough."

"What time is it?"

"Late. I tipped your driver to take us this far tonight when last we changed horses."

He opened the carriage door and hopped down, holding a hand up to her. She chose to jump down instead of stepping daintily like a lady, bumping up against him as she steadied herself.

"Careful," he said. "After all afternoon in a carriage I can hardly feel my legs. We could have both ended up on the ground."

She laughed. "We'll get to that later."

"Let's secure our room and then walk to the church?"

"You're going to wake up the priest in the middle of the night?"

"Reverend. And he'll be delighted to see us."

She laughed at him, but followed willingly enough. 

* * *

The village church was only a short walk from the posting inn, and George couldn't imagine a more charming Bavarian building. Casimir didn't hesitate as he led her to the front door and opened it. The interior was dimly lit by a few candles and quiet as a forest at night. Their footsteps echoed in the open, high-ceiling room.

"We could wait until morning," she whispered.

"I think your driver would leave me behind if I compromised your traveling time."

"Will the reverend even be able to marry us? Don't we need a license or something?"

"Trust me."

She heard movement at the front of the church and a voice called out in German, "Is anyone there? I thought I heard the door?"

Casimir responded, "Yes, Reverend, you have some visitors."

The man who stepped into the light was tall and lanky, with sandy blond hair and spectacles. "Do you need help?"

"Severin, I need someone to perform a marriage ceremony."

"Casimir? Casimir!" The reverend caught her fiancé up in a hug, then stepped back to look at him. "How long has it been? Two years?"

"Something like that."

"I was so sorry to hear about your father."

"Thank you for your letter. I did write back, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. You did." The reverend put a consoling hand on Casimir's shoulder and turned to George. "And this is?"

"Severin, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my fiancée, Gina Lockhart. Gina, this is my old friend, the Reverend Severin Forst."

George curtsied but the reverend held out his hand for her to shake. "It's delightful to meet you, Miss Lockhart."

She shook his hand, somewhat mystified by his easy acceptance of being roused in the middle of the night for a marriage ceremony, even by what was apparently an old friend. He waved them to the front of the church. "Come, come. Make yourself comfortable, I need to get the papers." He turned back to Casmir, gripping his arms in a near embrace. “I’m so delighted that you came to me for your wedding!”

“I’m sorry it is in such a rush.”

“You were always full of surprises.”

George sat down on the pew at the front of the church and Casimir sat next to her.  "Do you know people everywhere?" she whispered.

He smiled and tapped his boot against hers again. "Perhaps."

"So you know a dozen languages and people everywhere. Are you older than you look?"

"Not a dozen languages. Not yet. And I'm twenty."

"Really? I'm twenty."

"And you don't speak a dozen languages yet?"

"No, only four."

"You're woefully behind. I don't see why I'm marrying you."

"You said you don't speak a dozen yet!"

"Yes, but a man should improve himself through his marriage."

"Casimir!"

He laughed and caught up her hand to kiss it. "And that's precisely what I'm doing. Improving myself."

"And here I thought you were a hopeless romantic, full of poetry and soulful wondering."

"Is that what you want? A poet?"

"Don't ask me to define something I can't explain. All I know is that I want you."

His smile brightened and he leaned forward to kiss her. "I like that answer."

The reverend had returned and cleared his throat. "We can begin whenever you're ready."

It might have been the middle of the night and only the three of them in the church, but Reverend Forst didn't skimp on the proceedings. The ceremony was in German, so George had to concentrate to follow it. But it was all strangely magical. The church glowed in the delicate candlelight. Casimir gazed at her as though she were precious to him. The reverend was a blend of sweet and solemn that lent the entire affair a charm it might not have otherwise had. For this moment out of time she wasn't in a hurry, she wasn't travel-weary, she wasn't worried about anything other than forging this bond with the man she loved. It seemed like it was taking forever and then suddenly it was over and Reverend Forst was having them sign the church registry and a small copy for them to take as evidence of the marriage. Casimir signed in both places first and then chatted with his friend as George signed as well. The reverend folded their copy into waxed paper and placed it into an envelope for safekeeping. It was so tiny that George was afraid of them losing it, but Casimir slid it under his waistcoat. They chatted with the reverend for a few more minutes and promised to write when they were safely to England. 

As they left the church Casimir held her hand, their fingers threaded together. "How are you this evening, Mrs. Rokiczana?"

"Exhausted but quite pleased with myself. How are you, Mr. Rokiczana?"

"I am delighted with myself. And my wife."

She stopped, right there in the middle of the path to the posting inn, and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her head into his shoulder. She loved him so much.
Please
, she prayed,
please, please, please let him love me as I love him. I could not stand it if he left me.

Casimir caressed his hand over her back. "Are you all right?"

She stepped back and nodded. "Yes. Let's go home."

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

Casimir opened the door to their lodgings for the night. Though small and cramped under the eaves, it was at least private.

"Do you want a fire?" he asked, leaning against the door. He set their candle on the bureau.

"No, it's warm enough." She unbuttoned her spencer while looking around their small room. She was elegant and lovely and now she was all his. He could almost weep in his joy and gratitude.

"I'll need you to rely on your imagination again," he said, pushing away form the door.

"Oh?" She turned to look at him, curious.

"Yes. You must imagine that it isn't some ungodly hour of the morning, and that we haven't been traveling in these clothes for two days. In fact, if your imagination is up to it, I suggest you pretend that we are well-rested and freshly bathed."

"Of course we are," she agreed, pulling pins from her hair. He watched her taking her hair down and realized he had never seen it thus. Golden waves flowed down over her shoulders, light as a cloud. She set the pins on the bureau near the candle and turned her back to him, sweeping her hair forward over her shoulder. "Would you like to help me with my gown?"

"Of course." He could hear that his voice had roughened. The delicate ties holding the back of her dress together made his fingers feel oddly clumsy but he determinedly made headway.

"I can wriggle out of it without loosening, but it's easier this way."

Having loosened the ties he eased the cap sleeves off her shoulders and kissed her there. As he kissed his way to her throat she let the dress fall to her feet and leaned against him.

"You wear a corset."

"More places to hide knives."

"We really must curb your obsession." He set to loosening the strings on her corset and sent that to the floor as well. He pulled her against him, running his hands over the thin lawn of her chemise to feel her subtle feminine curves. She turned and backed away, lowering the chemise as she did. It pooled on the floor around her as she stood in front of the bed. Lean, sensuous, with high, small breasts and long legs. She unsnapped the dagger that had been strapped to her leg and let it fall to the floor on top of her chemise. 

"I not only have a wife, but a bodyguard. How economical of me."

"Am I your wife yet? Or is there a... technicality?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, spreading her thighs wide and leaning back on her hands. The blood left his head in a rush and he was fairly sure he was having a heart attack. But all that mattered was getting across the room to her, with as few clothes remaining as possible when he got there.

* * *

George blessed every one of Madame Blythe's lessons when she saw the look on Casimir’s face. He may have lost a button or two pulling his clothes off and still had his boots on when he covered her body on the bed. He kissed her with more passion than he ever had before, caressing her hip, her breast. When she reacted to his palm skipping lightly over her nipple he moved his mouth there, suckling and licking. She forgot her seductive victory in the heat of his ministrations. Her hips instinctively rocked against him, seeking more pleasure. He moved a hand down to her cleft, gently teasing her folds, but could tell from his harsh breathing that he was as impatient, as ready, as she was.

"Casimir. Make me yours."

"Gini, have you done this before?"

"No, but I know how it's supposed to go."

"I don't want to hurt you and right now I'm not sure I can be gentle."

"Casimir," she pulled his face up to look at him. "Yes you can."

He kissed her, then watching her eyes he guided himself into her the first time. It pinched a bit at first and she was surprised at how long it took for him to slide all the way inside. He closed his eyes on a moan for the last few moments, biting his lip. She felt stretched, invaded. It felt different, but good. As though he were a missing part of herself finally put back in place.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Yes. You just feel so good. Are you all right?"

"Yes. I think you should move again."

He opened his eyes and watched her as he withdrew and pushed back inside. She felt a thrill run up her spine. She smiled and wrapped her legs around his hips, tilting to give him deeper access. He kissed her lips, stroking his tongue inside her mouth as his hips started to set a rhythm to their lovemaking. The insistent push of him inside her changed from novel to interesting to enthralling. She felt her skin break out with goose bumps and a liquid heat low in her belly coalesced into contractions. He stroked harder into her, calling her name. She dug her nails into his back, struggling to be closer to him, to make this feeling last forever. The last time he said her name was almost a grunt before he stopped, breathing hard and kissing the side of her neck.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Please tell me we'll do that every night."

He chuckled against her skin. "If you like."

"They told me it could be like that, but I didn't believe them."

"I hesitate to ask who 'they' are."

"Don't you have friends who talk to you about sex?"

He laughed again. "Hmm, I see." He slid down her body, kissing her as he went. When he kissed her hipbone she could feel that liquid heat pooling in her belly again.

"What are you doing?"

"Enjoying you. But," he said, rising off of her and sitting on the edge of the bed, "I also need to take my boots off."

She scooted down. "I can help."

"Not only a wife and bodyguard, but a valet as well? This is everything that a nobleman on the scrimp could hope for."

She gave him a wry smile and knelt down to take hold of his boot.

"I also failed to realize the utter luxury of having a beautiful, naked woman remove my boots."

After she pulled off the second one and the trousers he had pushed down past his knees, she crawled up to his lap on the bed.

"In fact," he said, setting his hands on her hips and pulling her up against his renewed erection. "I think I may have the best wife ever."

George felt her heart melt a little more.

* * *

Casimir worried that he had hurt her, but she seemed happy. He hadn't seen any blood. Perhaps she wasn't a virgin, but she had been awfully tight. Thinking about how tight and wet she was made his member throb. He wanted her again and she seemed willing. He moved her to lie in the middle of the bed. Not another hasty fuck with his pants around his knees this time. Not that he could regret it, it was one of the high points of his life. But he loved her, he worshiped her, and he wanted to show her that. He ran his hands over her body, learning every curve, every angle. She tangled her fingers in his hair, watching him with curious, lust-filled eyes. When he found a spot that made her gasp or hiss he would put his lips to her and taste, tease. After ten minutes of his ministrations she was writhing and breathing in choked gasps. He touched his thumb to the pearl between her legs while sliding two of his fingers inside her, and she bowed up from the bed on a moan. He suckled on her nipples that had hardened like pebbles, and rubbed her pearl until she was begging him to push inside her. He finally relented, holding her hips steady as he stroked long and hard into her. With her hips and hands she encouraged him to go faster, harder. He lost track of where she ended and he began as her body tensed around him like a fist and he raced to his own completion with his face buried in her hair, smelling orange blossoms.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

George woke up to the sound of knocking. She rarely slept so deeply, but with Casimir's warm body half-covering her own she felt like she could sleep for days. He rose up on an elbow and called out, "Yes?"

The innkeeper's wife called through the door. "Your man is anxious to leave. Will you be wanting anything to break your fast?"

"If you would be so kind as to wrap up something for us to take with us, we would appreciate it." His words were for the innkeeper's wife, but his eyes were on George in the dim light. She stared back, just as enthralled with their connection. Once the woman's footsteps shuffled away he leaned down to kiss her again. "How do you feel?"