Red Magic (19 page)

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 the 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.