Luther and Katharina (32 page)

She focused straight ahead on the beam of sunlight slanting in the window that illuminated one of Master Cranach's oil paintings of the Madonna and Child. She tried to draw in a steadying breath, but she couldn't seem to find any air. If only Doctor Luther would look at her with kindness and reassure her that she was doing the right thing, that no matter what happened, they would be happy.

Pastor Bugenhagen's words couldn't penetrate the heavy layer of uncertainty and insecurity surrounding her. She went through the motions of listening and praying and reciting the words that officially pledged her to Doctor Luther.

How had she reached this point? She had risked her life to escape from Marienthron for the opportunity to experience love and family. And somehow she'd ended up with an uncertain marriage to Doctor Luther, the very man whose teachings had awakened her desires for marriage. The irony of the situation taunted her.

When the ceremony finished, Barbara elbowed Master Cranach. He gave a start, then fumbled in the pouch at his belt. After a moment he stepped toward Doctor Luther and handed him a ring.

Doctor Luther held it up to the scant light coming in the window. “What's this?”

“Remember?” Cranach wiped a hand nervously over his beard. “We talked about it.”

Doctor Luther squinted at it.

Cranach cleared his throat and nodded toward Katharina. “I engraved your names and today's date on the inside.”

Doctor Luther studied the ring for a moment, then nodded at his friend, who was watching him expectantly. “It shows your fine workmanship, my friend. I thank you.”

Master Cranach smiled with satisfaction.

Then Doctor Luther turned to her and held out the ring.

She wavered, unsure if he expected her to take it or if he planned to put it on her.

“I see you're still hesitating,” he mumbled, reaching for her hand. His fingers were warm and firm against hers. The merest touch, as usual, was enough to spark something deep inside her stomach. She glanced at his face to see if he had the same reaction to her. But his face was schooled in passivity, and he kept his focus on her hand and the process of putting on the ring.

He slipped it down slowly, almost like a caress. When it moved over her knuckle and he let go, she finally dared to breathe. With all eyes on her, she spread her fingers out and studied it. She was sure Master Cranach had spent countless hours over the past week crafting it, believing it to represent the love she and Doctor Luther would share.

“It contains all the symbols of the Passion of Christ,” Master Cranach rushed to explain. “In the center is the crucified Savior with spear and rods on one side and the leaf of hyssop on the other.”

A bittersweet pain squeezed her heart. A ruby, the emblem of exalted love, topped the intricate goldwork.

“Underneath are the three nails and the dice the soldiers used to cast lots. Everything is grouped to make a large cross with the jewel in the center.”

Passion. She was sure Master Cranach had intended the ring to remind them of their passion not only for Christ but also for each other. Again regret caught in her chest. Everything about the ring was exquisite. Had she and Doctor Luther shared mutual affection for each other, the ring would have been perfect.

“It's beautiful.” She mustered a smile for Master Cranach and Barbara. “You're so kind to honor me with such fine workmanship.” They beamed at her, and she felt a small measure of relief that she'd given them the response they'd expected.

With the betrothal ceremony complete, the conversation switched to the recent news of the death of the elector and of his brother, Duke John, succeeding him. Rumors abounded of Duke George wanting to invade and take control of Electoral Saxony. But at the moment the nobles were too busy fighting the peasants to have the luxury of fighting each other.

After dinner and amid the perpetual talk of politics, Barbara finally led her away from the others to the guest bedchamber. She helped Katharina unlace the beautiful skirt and bodice and peel away the layers of clothing until she wore only her undertunic. Feeling naked and mortified, Katharina could only stand and stare at the bed with its covers already pulled back, revealing fresh sheets.

“The men will be here soon,” Barbara warned when Katharina resisted her tug toward the bed. At her friend's words Katharina practically hopped into the bed and pulled up the covers as far as her chin.

Barbara smiled at her sweetly as if it was perfectly normal for Katharina to be unclad in bed, waiting for Doctor Luther's arrival. “God be with you,” she said tenderly. Then she kissed her on the cheek and left the room.

Katharina lay stiffly and looked around. The richly embroidered bed curtains hung loosely. Someone had strewn fresh alder leaves on the floor, along with rose petals. The shutters were closed, candles lit, and goblets of wine poured and waiting on the bedstead.

The room was a lover's paradise, the perfect place for a betrothal night.

If only they were more suited for each other…

The door creaked open. Laughter and echoes of bawdy wishes came from the hallway.

Doctor Luther stumbled into the room, followed by Jonas, who laughed and shoved the door shut on the others.

She clutched the sheet and shivered. She really had no idea what to expect. Why hadn't she asked Barbara more about the consummation when she'd had the chance?

When Doctor Luther's gaze alighted on her, his grin faded and he took a step back.

“This isn't the time for shyness, Martinus.” With a chuckle Jonas shoved him from behind.

Doctor Luther tripped to the end of the bed and caught himself against the bedpost and curtain. His gaze landed hard upon hers. For the briefest moment she thought she saw something soft there, but then he scowled.

She shifted her gaze to the candles flickering in the wall sconces.

“Go on. Get into bed,” Jonas said with a fierce glare of his own. “I know you want her. You can't fool me with your tough act.”

“You don't know what I want,” Doctor Luther growled.

“Just get in bed.”

He didn't move.

“So you've had a little fight. Time to get over it and move forward.”

Doctor Luther grunted.

“Besides, I can't leave the room until you prove to me you're well on your way to consummating this marriage.”

“You won't make this easy on me, will you?”

“You asked me to be the witness, and I'm taking the responsibility seriously.”

Katharina peeked at Doctor Luther. A strange pang pinched her chest. She seemed to have a knack for offending him at every turn.

“Of all your friends, I alone understand that you need Katharina,” Jonas continued. “You have from the moment she arrived in your life. And you will until the day you die.”

Doctor Luther didn't deny Jonas, and for that Katharina was relieved.

Could he hear the pattering of her heart and know she didn't want him to be irritated at her? Although neither of them was entirely sure they were doing the right thing, couldn't they make the best of the situation and attempt to live in harmony with each other?

She heard him shuffle and glanced at him in time to see his gown rise above his head. An expanse of his bare flesh met her gaze.

She sucked in a gasp and pulled the sheet over her eyes.

The coverlet lifted and the bed dipped. The weight and heat of his body slid next to her, not touching, but close enough that a slight move would bring them into contact.

Her body tensed.

“Now I can tell everyone I saw the happy couple on their marriage bed.” Jonas knelt at the foot of their bed and bowed his head. “Let me pray over you.”

Katharina couldn't focus on anything but the warmth of Doctor Luther's body next to hers and his ragged breathing near her ear.

When Jonas finished his prayer, he stood and tugged the bed curtains closed as far as they would go, allowing them privacy in his presence.

For a long moment neither of them moved.

Finally Doctor Luther sighed and pushed himself up so that he was leaning on one elbow and looking down at her. The sheet fell away, revealing his chest. In the scant candlelight that came through the slit in the bed curtains, she saw his shoulders and torso were smooth and taut. And completely bare.

She tried to find someplace else to focus and settled for the canopy above them.

“Kate Luther,” he whispered.

Her heart skipped a beat. “You have a common name now.” His whisper had an edge to it. “You lost your title today.”

She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about anything.

“No more
von
Bora, the knight's daughter. I guess that means you're a commoner, like the rest of us.”

Was he trying to rile her? If so, it was working.

“But I don't suppose that'll stop you from acting like an empress.”

“And I don't suppose you will stop acting like an oaf.”

He snorted. “So I'm an oaf, am I?”

Her emotions swirled together and stirred the calm waters of her self-control. Everything she'd wanted in life had spun away from her grasp.

“You're a big oaf.” The words wouldn't stay inside.

“Then that makes you a big oaf's wife.”

“Surely you must know how difficult a day this is for me. Why must you make it harder?”

“Difficult?” His whisper was harsh. He rolled against her.

The impact of his body against hers tore a gasp from her.

“Am I that despicable?” His face was so close she had nowhere to look but into the fury of his dark eyes.

For an instant she could see his pain, the hurt from her careless words. “I didn't mean—”

“You
did
mean it.”

“You misunderstand me.”

“So I'm stupid too?”

His breath was hot against her cheek, and she was suddenly conscious of the solid feel of his body against her.

And the fact that he wore absolutely nothing.

“Doctor Luther, please.” She couldn't keep the tremor from her voice—all the nervousness and stress of the day finally overwhelming her. “I don't wish to have strife between us. Could we call a truce at least for today?”

He didn't say anything.

She shifted away from him, so that she was facing the opposite way. Her throat tightened. She didn't know exactly what she longed for, but she certainly didn't want his anger.

He was still for a long moment. Finally the tip of one of his fingers slightly grazed the dip in her shift on her back. At the feathery touch her breath caught in her throat. “Your scars,” he whispered, tracing one of the puckered lines, “do they ever hurt you?”

She swallowed past the constriction. “Not much now.”

His fingers halted at the edge of the thin linen. With a sweep he brushed her hair away so that the upper part of her back and neck was laid bare to him.

“If I'd been there that day you suffered your beating,” he whispered, “I would have taken the stripes in your place.”

His words poured over her like warm wine.

The edge of his thumb made a slow path across her shoulder. She closed her eyes at the pleasure his touch brought. And when his lips and breath quickly followed the trail of his thumb, she gave a startled gasp.

His lips left a tingling trail, and his fingers dug into the long waves of her hair. “I'd like a truce today too,” he murmured against her ear. “Otherwise you'll surely win the battle. I'm much too overcome by your beauty to speak coherently any longer.”

She tilted her head back, giving him access to the full length of her neck.

“Maybe you'll win even here in our marriage bed,” he said hoarsely. “You make me weak with desire.”

His mouth dipped closer until his lips brushed against the corner of hers, tickling her. Her lips chased his, wanting the kiss he'd almost given, but he tilted out of reach, leaving her breathless.

“Doctor Luther,” she pleaded.

“Call me Martin.”

“Martin.” His given name came out a caress. “Kiss me, Martin.”

His chest heaved against her back, and his mouth brushed against her ear again. “Are you ordering me or begging, my empress?” His tone was tender and teasing.

“I'm begging.” She twisted so that she was facing him.

His eyes sparked with passion and something more, something that set her heart on fire in a way that his kisses didn't.

Suddenly his mouth covered hers, cutting off further words. And she was helpless to do anything but respond. Her arms found their way around him, and she became lost to everything but him.

K
atharina nibbled at the cut of venison that dripped with the sweetness of grapes and the tang of sauerkraut.

With the garden in full bloom, the colors were vibrant, especially with the June sunshine shining brightly over every flower and bud. Barbara had prepared a lavish feast in the center of the Cranach courtyard for their betrothal lunch. The servants had roasted venison and mutton and served it with ale-flavored bread, red currants, and stewed cabbage. They brought out shining platters filled with strawberry tarts and pale yellow custards, and they went from table to table filling silver goblets with spicy mulled wine.

It was the kind of feast Katharina faintly remembered eating in her father's home before she'd gone to the convent. The scent of exotic spices swirled in the air, taking her back to the dark, candlelit hall of her childhood manor, to the warmth of her mother's arms and the sweet cinnamon of her breath.

Katharina lowered the venison back to her plate and wished she had an appetite to enjoy the bounty. But her body was too keenly aware of the man sitting beside her, and her head was swimming with memories of the night they'd shared.

If only she'd been able to sit anywhere except at Doctor Luther's side at the center table. Every time his leg bumped her or his arm grazed hers, her heart would start beating erratically, and heat would swirl to her face. Even without that contact, his presence alone overpowered her. When he drank from his goblet, she imagined his lips kissing hers. When he broke apart his food with his hands, she could feel his fingers skimming across her skin.

More than anything, she wanted him to hold her and cherish her the way he had when they'd been alone. Although he hadn't spoken often during the night, he'd made her feel loved in a way she couldn't begin to explain.

But now, in the daylight, in the middle of the garden, she wondered if she'd only dreamed everything. He certainly acted as if nothing had transpired between them. How could he eat? How could he laugh and talk with his friends as though this day was like any other?

She didn't dare chance their gazes colliding. She was afraid he'd see just how much he affected her. And he didn't meet her gaze either or attempt to converse. Why did it have to be so awkward between them?

In addition, she couldn't make eye contact with any of the guests. If she did, she was sure they would see what she had done with Doctor Luther during the deep hours of the night. In fact, she was sure everyone already knew about the intimacy, which was the reason for the sly smiles and lifted brows that Doctor Luther easily laughed off.

Of course she and Doctor Luther had eventually fallen into an exhausted slumber. Then in the early hours of the morning before the bells chimed for Prime, she'd dressed and tiptoed out of the chamber and made her way to the garden. She'd needed time alone to process all that had happened, the plethora of new feelings and sensations. She wasn't quite sure what had changed about her feelings for Doctor Luther; all she knew was that she couldn't spend a night like that with a man and be the same afterward.

“The Wittenberg city council has just heard about your betrothal,” Barbara said, approaching the center of the table, carrying a bottle of wine, “and they have sent you wine to help celebrate the occasion.”

“So the whole town has heard the news?” Doctor Luther ran his thumb around the rim of his goblet. Katharina caught her breath and could almost feel his thumb grazing her neck. Warmth stole through her belly, and she forced her gaze back to her uneaten food.

Doctor Luther sat up straighter, and any hint of indulging in pleasantries vanished. “Then I assume Melanchthon has heard now too.”

Katharina looked up to see the young professor crossing through the flower beds toward them. His face sagged with a frown.

“Here we go,” Doctor Luther said under his breath.

Except for the chirping of birds, the garden grew quiet.

Melanchthon nodded at the others, but he wove his way through the maze of servants and guests until he stood directly before Doctor Luther. “Martinus, may I have a word with you in private?” His voice was tense.

“I'm in the middle of a glorious celebration. You wouldn't have me leave the side of my beautiful bride, would you?”

Melanchthon gave Katharina a curt nod, but his eyes narrowed with accusation.

She lifted her chin. Was this lofty friend of Doctor Luther's daring to blame her for the betrothal? Did he think she had seduced Doctor Luther or somehow trapped him into marriage? She pressed her lips together to keep from reminding him that she hadn't planned any of this.

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.