Red Magic (38 page)

"Christoph," she whispered.
"Make love to me.
Now."

"No dinner
first?"
He winked and stroked her cheek.

"I need you."

Oh, the look in his eyes! There he was, so
mighty in battle, so gentle with her, that curly headed warrior who was all
hers…

Close in his arms, Cat felt safe again.
This was so right, familiar, but still exciting. In the flickering shadows, she
caught sight of the naughty tapestry.

How delightful to know that in a few
minutes they would be joining those careless, lusty actors!

* * *

A trail of clothes lay behind them. Her
satin gown was tossed over a chair along with his pants. The camisole and
petticoat kept company with his shirt, and by the bed, silver buckled shoes lay
buried beneath his stock, garters and white silk stockings.

"Light a candle." These days,
every sense must tell Caterina who her lover was.

"Since the day I caught you at von
Beiler's dike, I've had dreams of this beautiful hair on my pillow."

His handsome face shone as he returned to
contemplate her naked glory.
And how beautiful he was, a
lover like a long ago hero, her Lord of Heldenberg.

Cat put her face against his chest and
kissed the hardness, while his hand, restlessly moving, slipped straight to
heart of the matter. Sighing pleasure, Caterina parted her knees. Her husband
kept up his play in the sweet below.

Between her elegant legs, he arched to give
a most intimate caress, a tentative stroking of her most sensitive part with
his, a voluptuous slide. Grazing the button of pleasure,
then
descending to a kiss of near penetration, he directed the action precisely with
one strong brown hand.

"Don't tease."

She threw her arms around his hard waist
and held on to keep him from withdrawing. He obeyed her summons. The sweet tide
was already in and spilling everywhere, so his bold attack carried them at once
into a wild ride. He rolled over with her, so that she was on top. She gasped
at the interruption, but strong hands on her hips quickly rediscovered the lost
rhythm.

Panting, she threw her long hair back,
braced her hands upon his big shoulders. She was eager to take the initiative,
to put him through some slower paces, but her mount was too spirited, too
determined to have his own way. In the end she simply sat him, crying delight,
and, with breasts hard and flushed, let pleasure buck.

* * *

Star dropped her foal, this one, in the
safety of the barn. To everyone's surprise, it was another filly, another
replica of her dam.

"Three red fillies
in a row."
The head groom shook his head.
"Is there a colt in her, I wonder?"

"And this one's just as red as the
others." Cat eyed the foal. "I never saw the Pasha's Arab, so I have
no idea what he was like. Rossmann picked him out and Star liked him, so he
must have been a beauty."

She regretted the words as soon as they
were out of her mouth.

There were still so many bitter, bitter
memories.

"The villain had excellent taste both
in horses and in women," said Christoph softly, slipping an arm around his
wife's waist. She was round now, full of baby.

Caterina hugged him back, and tried, with
the feel and scent of him, to suppress the past.

"Look at that dishy face, that short
back! I can hardly wait until she's old enough to breed. I'd love to cross her
with the Andalusian, or, even more, with Brandy. I'll wager she'll make the
fastest horses in the whole country. I've never held with the idea that the
mare is just a vessel."

Arm in arm, husband and wife took pleasure
in the sight of the dainty creature frisking her stubby blonde tail as she
slipped her head beneath her mother's belly to nurse. They decided while they
stood there to call the foal "Lucky."

* * *

"I shall serve you myself, sir."

She cut into the meat pie lying in state
upon their table. She'd made it, in that new place of interest, the kitchen. It
was a peasant's pie, made of small game: squirrel, partridge and rabbit, as
well as carrots, turnips and celery, all lying in gravy beneath a crust, one
that she herself had made.

She lifted a wedge for her husband's plate.

"Cook and I made this out of what the
Umbergers brought yesterday. She's most economical and a good teacher."

Her husband smiled, although he ate his
first portion rather carefully, in case a small bone had escaped her notice.
For a time, the couple attended strictly to their supper. Big black Furst
rubbed along their legs, meowing. Caterina and Christoph both indulged him with
pieces of meat, which he carried under the table to devour.

At the end of the meal, the Graf took his
wife's hand and kissed her long fingers.

"It's what I should have done when you
first came—dismissed the lot and started over again. The proof is this
excellent repast."

"Well, I understand how you felt. They
had served you well for many years."

"Until Walters got
greedy."

A moment of silence followed. Then
Caterina, wanting to change the subject, said "Ever since Frau Lotz came,
I've been discovering that I rather like cookery. And, you know, she and I are
both learning. I read her my mother's receipts aloud and she remembers them
exactly. Her girls are a help too, though one is better than the other. Liza
can be difficult. She forgets and then makes excuses. Still, I must allow she's
at a refractory age."

Her husband, wiping the gravy from his
plate with a piece of rye, greeted this with a grin.

"And what age is that?
Somewhere around fifteen?"

"That's it exactly. She has a
sweetheart who has been apprenticed away."

"The course of true love rarely runs
straight."

"You mustn't be flippant. The young
man cannot yet support a wife."

"Does he have a trade? Could he be put
to work here? Perhaps that would solve everyone's problem."

"He's an apprentice wheelwright with
several more years of his term to serve."

"Well, he had better stay where he is
and learn his business well."

"Just what her mother says, but in the
meantime the girl is miserable."

There was a pause in which Christoph leaned
back and regarded his wife with a mixture of affection and amusement.

"I've been thinking how much this
sounds like my parents at table. I used to find," he said, "domestic
problems awfully dull, but not anymore." He pushed back from the table and
she went into his lap so that they could share a kiss.

"I think," he murmured,
"that you've grown again.
Those legs!!"

He smiled, surveying the graceful length in
his arms. The two new dresses Elsa had made last year now ended above her
ankles.

"Yes," Cat sighed. "I can't
believe it."

Christoph kissed her forehead. "I
don't think you're in any danger of becoming taller than your husband. As it
now stands we're a perfect match, especially," he teased, nibbling at her
ear, "for good wrestling in bed."

"Hush!"

"And hasn't Herr Stocke taught us both
that the goddesses were taller than mortal men and more beautiful than mortal
women—just like my Red Caterina?"

* * *

They lay late in bed. He was teasing and
kissing her wetly in all sorts of ticklish, unlikely places. She giggled and
pretended to protest.

The grandparents to be on both sides were
delirious with expectation, but even now, her husband could never seem to get
enough of making love to her.

He held her left arm stretched above her
head and was busily kissed his way down from the palm. When he had reached the
hollow where arm and body joined, it had tickled terribly. She was wriggling
and giggling, begging him to stop when suddenly he said, "Hold still a
moment."

"So you can tickle more?
Absolutely not."

"I promise I won't tickle." He
peered down, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What's this?
A birthmark?"

Cat felt a sickening wave deep in the pit
of her stomach.

"No," said Christoph after
another moment of consideration, "It's not a birthmark." He leaned
back on his elbow, considered her gravely.

"I've a kind of blue mark there ever
since a spider bit me." Cat muttered the words. Abruptly, she was
nauseous. "Remember when Trudchen and I were talking about it? It happened
while I was staying with Aunt Teresina."

"It's not a birthmark, Kitty Cat. Your
Aunt must have had it done to you."

"A spider bit me." Cat shrank
away from him into the featherbed.

She couldn't locate the source of the
unreasoning terror that had so suddenly gripped her. Memories from her
captivity, as fresh as yesterday, came rushing back. She remembered the look on
the eunuch's face as he'd studied that very spot.

Then something else began to flash in,
something more distant.

* * *

Oh, such a chilly night, but she was not in
her warm bed anymore. She could smell fire, hear it crackling. Through a blur
she saw masks.

There was the smell of peasants, a smell of
sweat, of dirt and leather as they crowded around. There was a sick feeling in
her gut, a bitter taste in her mouth.

Here was the nightmare which came if she
neglected practice with the Protector! Now, however, she knew that it was not a
dream, but a memory.

She had wondered why killing Rossmann had
ended both the compulsion and the nightmares. Now, she understood. She could
see it all, the events of that long ago night at Aunt Teresina’s'.

They had hurt her twice, first under the
arm with a needle and then they'd put her belly down over the knees of a
terrifying horned creature, a man with a goat's head. He had lifted her gown,
pushed something into her, something slippery, smooth and cold. While she'd
cried, the masked faces had comforted, had whispered that after this her
husband would only give her joy, that this sacrifice to the god would bring her
many healthy children…

"It's a witch mark."

She tried to pull away, but Christoph had
anticipated. Already she was firmly clasped in his arms.

"Don't be afraid. Your secret's safe.
I'll protect you with my life—I swear by every god I know,
Christian—or—Pagan."

There was a long moment in which she
helplessly shuddered, her mind whirling with the sudden awful clarity, but at
last, with his arms girding her like a fortress, she found the strength to ask
him.

"How—how do you—know what it
means?"

"Because most of our honest, hard
working tenants up on the Heldenberg sport one just exactly
like
it." Thoughtfully, he stroked her long red hair.

* * *

"By the Blessed
Mother!"
Caterina struggled to get out of
bed after a nap. "How dreadfully uncomfortable this is! It's awful to
think there are three more months. I'm exhausted all the time and swollen
bigger than the biggest pumpkin I've ever seen. I'm forever peeing, just like
some poor old grandma, and my legs ache as soon as I stand up. I wish I could
just take this belly off for a few hours. Today when I first lay down, the
child kicked like a mule. I don't understand how one baby can have so many arms
and legs."

Trudchen studied her charge. "I agree,
Mistress. It's early for you to be having all this trouble. Why don't you sit
still for a moment, Grafin, and let me feel your belly? You may not have three
months to wait."

"What?"

"Hush, now. Let me feel and listen."
The big hands were already opening her gown, investigating her belly.

She pokes and prods all the time without a
by your leave, just like I'm a cow in calf, Caterina thought. Modesty and
pregnancy certainly didn't go together.

There was a long pause. Trudchen's hands
explored, then she rested her ear against Caterina's belly and listened. When
she raised her head, she said with great seriousness. "I will be very
surprised if you aren't carrying two."

"Two?" Caterina blinked.
"Twins?"

"It would explain a lot of things,
Mistress.
Not only your size but all the activity.
Such things run in families, you know. I've been wondering why your little
belly's got so big so fast, why your ankles are already swollen. But, Grafin,
time will tell..."

Caterina closed up her gown, feeling a
mixture of excitement and fear.