"Is it normal for a husband to give his wife so much power over the choices?"
"How do I know? I’ve never been married before. But I doubt it matters. Others have their marriages. This is ours. I know what I want it to become, and I won’t get there by being controlling."
She climbed onto the bed beside him.
"That’s a significant mark," she said, indicating the sheet.
"Yes. Someone was deflowered here."
"Yes. I think it was me."
"You think? Aren’t you sure?"
"You know, I’m not," she teased.
Christopher grinned before adopting a playfully wounded air. "If you’ve forgotten, perhaps I should remind you."
"Perhaps you should." So she really was asking for what she seemed to be. How wonderful.
"How’s your back?" he asked.
"Better."
"Let me see."
Blushing, she turned reluctantly, showing him.
"It does look better. I think. The bruises are all yellow. Nothing’s purple anymore, and all the scabs are solid."
"Good. Can you lie on it comfortably?"
She tried it. "Not too bad."
"Good. Your belly?"
"Much better. Really, that part wasn’t as bad as it looked. His strength was about gone at that point, so those bruises were colorful but not really very deep."
"I’m glad to hear it. I was worried about you."
"I was worried about me too. I think the corset didn’t help."
"Likely not. No more of that. You’re slender enough."
And then he leaned over her, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her again.
She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
"Kat, are you feeling better here?" He slid his hand down to her mound.
"Yes. It stopped aching in the bath."
"Would you like to be close again?" He had to be sure.
"I think… yes." She colored prettily. It felt wanton to be asking for his intimate caresses, but she couldn’t help herself. So many slaps and punches, so few hugs had left her deprived and she was hungry to be touched.
He sat back, stripping off his clothing, joining her again, stretching out beside her, cupping the delicate arch of her neck in one hand, turning her towards him for long arousing kisses.
"Are you feeling brave, love?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"I want your tongue in my mouth."
"Oh." What did she want? Yes. She could do that. She leaned into him for the kiss and did as he had requested, tasting him timidly. He liked it. She kissed like a shy girl, willing but hesitant, not sure how to cope with her own desire, but feeling it nonetheless. He would teach her to be confident, to ask for his pleasuring, to understand she deserved it.
He let her explore, enjoying her growing boldness, and then finally pulling away.
"Well done, love. You’re learning so fast. And now, let me turn my attention to these pretty little breasts of yours. They look… lonely. See how they reach for me? Do they want to be touched, Kat?"
"Please." Her back arched a little in eager anticipation.
He cupped one in each hand and lowered his face, pressing his lips to the silky skin between. Her breath caught as he slid his mouth over the dainty globe, wetting it in a burning line. He snaked out his tongue and teased the nipple.
"Oooh," she breathed, "How nice."
"And this?" He sucked the sensitive peak into his mouth.
She had no words, but he really didn’t need them. Her soft sigh told him what he needed to know. He tugged and licked and teased her, and she responded eagerly, clutching the back of his head, pressing him closer. This touch had the intensity she had missed in the bath. A partner made all the difference. Christopher made it different. She was not alone anymore. She was part of a family, a real family.
"That feels nice," she murmured.
"Good," his voice rumbled against her breast, "I want you to feel wonderful."
His hand was shaping and gently squeezing the other side. Finally he released the wet straining nub and turned to the other.
She sighed again as he pleasured her. Each tug on her breast created an answering sizzle low in her belly. She was getting more and more aroused, wet, ready for her husband.
Her hands left his hair and stroked down his back, feeling the bunched muscles under the smooth skin. He was a beautiful man. And astonishingly, he was hers. This tender lovemaking would be available for her to enjoy for the rest of her life. Perfect.
Suddenly he shifted, leaving her nipples bereft, trailing his lips over her belly, kissing the partially healed bruises, teasing her navel, moving lower still, his hands parting her thighs.
"Christopher?"
"Trust me, love. I want to make you feel good."
"Like this?"
"Yes. I can’t wait to taste you. Open."
She tensed, then made herself relax. His touches so far had been good. He wouldn’t ask her to do anything that was wrong or bad. Trust was a choice, wasn’t it? She closed her eyes as his fingers opened her, baring her intimate parts to his gaze.
"You’re very wet, little love," he told her gravely.
"You said that was good."
"It is. Kat, do you… like… to be made love to?"
"I do. Am I a bad girl?" She asked, her voice hesitant.
"No. You’re a good wife," he reassured her.
And then he lowered his lips, stopping her voice. He made love to her with his mouth, kissing and licking her in that tender spot he had caressed earlier, and it was even sweeter than she remembered.
"And now, let’s see if you’re really better." He slid a finger deep into her body. Her back arched as he penetrated her. Very nice. She liked that. But could she handle a little stretching? He pulled out and returned, with two fingers this time, and he could see from the faint clenching of her teeth that it did sting a bit. After all, he’d removed her maidenhead earlier that day, but then she relaxed, arched into it, liking the pleasure more than she feared the discomfort. Satisfied that she would be able to take him in when the time came, he returned his attention to loving her, working his fingers in and out to prepare her while he licked and suckled.
"Christopher?" she was all but wailing now.
"Love?"
"It’s happening again."
"It will be good again. Let it happen."
Katerina was so hot from his caresses she felt like her body was made of solid flame. She was aching for that release, and he worked diligently to get her there. She hovered on the edge, so he spread his fingers and sucked hard, and she orgasmed with a sweet cry, squirming, arching her back, completely undone, unashamed at her response. And then he slid his fingers out.
She lay panting as he bent her knees, positioning them widely apart, aligning himself, feeding the tip inside her again. He didn’t want to risk reopening the wounds on her back by rubbing her body on the sheets, so he slid one arm under her shoulder blade to keep her stationary, pressing slowly into her. If he did this right, there should be no pain.
Katerina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was still very tight, and his entry felt strange, but she accepted it. He slid to the hilt inside her. She made a soft sound.
"Is that all right, love?"
"Yes. What an odd sensation."
"You’ll adjust." He worked his other arm under her, and she was pinned, penetrated, completely consumed by her husband’s passion. It was… lovely that she could give him this. She wanted to return to him the pleasure he had just given her. Something was wrong with the placement of her knees, her legs. She shifted, instinctively wrapping them around him.
He looked at her, startled. She seemed to have a natural understanding of what was needed. Then he lowered his mouth to hers for a long kiss while he began to thrust inside her. The friction of his movement was… tempting. She liked it more each time he surged deep.
He moaned with pleasure and emptied himself insi
de her.
"Was that good?" she asked him as his climax faded.
He had to take a moment to catch his breath. "I think… I’m going to like being married very much. What about you?"
"I’m starting to think there might be reason to hope."
"Good. I’m so very glad you like to be touched." He slid out of her, rolling to his side, pulling her into his arms. "Let’s sleep, love. It’s been a long day, and we have much to do tomorrow too."
"Yes. Our wedding day is over. Our marriage is beginning."
"It is." He kissed her lips and they dozed off together.
******
A few blocks away, Adrian Bennett stretched out in bed beside his wife and took her in his arms, stroking the fiery silk of her hair.
"Julia?"
"Yes my darling?"
"Why did you do this?"
"Do what?"
"You know what. You orchestrated the whole thing. Why was Christopher supposed to marry that woman?"
"She needed it."
"And what about him? She’s a ruin. How is this going to be good for him?"
Julia thought about her words carefully. "She’s not a ruin, at least I don’t think so. She’s hurt, to be sure, but I think there’s hope. I mean, I’ve been her friend for the last year. I know she was very shy tonight. It was probably because you were there. When she’s comfortable, she’s quite charming and sweet. There’s a real woman there, under the pain. Once she heals a bit, they’ll be quite good together. If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t have done this. Besides, Christopher has always been a little… self-centered. He knows how handsome he is, how easily women fall into his arms. It will be good for him to focus on someone else’s needs." There was a note in her voice which captured Adrian’s attention.
"What?"
"It’s nothing."
"Tell me Julia."
"Well, he’s always been a bit of a rake, you know? But the gossips say he had an… indiscretion with an opera singer a few months ago."
"And? He’s young. These things happen."
"I don’t like that they do. He doesn’t need to cheapen what is best between a man and woman in such a way. It’s time for him to grow up and understand how much better love can be. Katerina has many fine qualities. She’ll be as good for him as he is for her."
Adrian smiled. Like his son, he’d sown quite a few wild oats when he was young, but Julia was right. The passion between a husband and wife was so much better than flings with loose women.
"Come now love, I won’t believe you did this because of a months old affair. Tell the truth, Julia."
"Fine." Her voice was suddenly fierce. "I want her for myself. I want to be her mother. I love her like a daughter and…"
"And you’ve missed having one all these years?" Finally Adrian understood.
"Yes. She would have turned nineteen in March. It’s only a few months difference."
"I know. But Katerina can’t replace Andrea."
"I know. But she’s special too."
"And now she can be yours?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain she’s capable of becoming the kind of wife he needs?"
"She already is. And I’m sure she will get better as time goes on."
"I hope you’re right."
A hint of worry crossed Julia’s face. "So do I, darling. So do I."
***Chapter 10***
Katerina was enjoying a simple but tasty breakfast of hot buttered toast and tea, accompanied by the unrivaled pleasure of looking at her husband across the little table. Dark stubble spread across his cheeks, making him look rakish. Bed-messy hair added to the illusion. He was poring over a newspaper in search of rental ads. They’d had a breakfast tray sent up this morning, wanting to linger a while in the apartment, savoring their closeness.
She took a sip of the dark unsweetened brew and sighed.
"Are you well, love?"
"Yes. I feel wonderful. I don’t know that I’ve ever slept so peacefully."
"That’s good to hear. So, are you up for seeing a few properties today? This setup was cramped when it was just me."
"I think so."
"You seem to be moving more freely today."
"Yes. The bath helped immeasurably. And you also… relaxed me."
He smirked and winked at her. "Any time, love."
She colored prettily.
And then, breakfast finished, she dressed while he shaved. Soon the newlyweds were ready to search out a place to make their home together. Arm in arm they viewed a set of expensive furnished rooms at a hotel, a massive empty house which needed extensive renovations, and a tiny row house only one room wide but several stories tall. Katerina was impressed with none of them, and there was only one property left on their list.
The last one was in the best location, in the same respectable neighborhood as Christopher’s parents, but far from both the reeking Thames and the smoke of factories. It would be a long commute to work, but for comfort of living, that was best. The neighborhood consisted of a single continuous string of identical structures, all with white plaster columns below and red brick with white balconies and sharply peaked windows above. These were humble row houses, but not shabby ones. And about four blocks away a little grocery store, a butcher, and a bakery stood in a line, just right for meeting daily needs. This little row house was much smaller than his parents’ but more than enough for the young couple, with space left over.
"This place is charming!" Katerina exclaimed, resting her hand on the iron pole of a gas streetlamp outside the front door.
Inside, the lower level consisted of a series of rooms: a parlor, a dining room, a study, and a kitchen, and near the back was a small room which seemed to serve no purpose at all. Upstairs were two small bedrooms and one large one. In the attic, two little bedrooms would suit a cook-maid and Christopher’s man of all work. Perfect. The rent was higher than Christopher’s current address, but he could afford it, and with a wife to provide for, would have to.
"I think this one will do," he told her.
"I agree."
"Unfortunately, it’s not furnished."
"We’ll work on that. What comes with you from your rooms?"
"Everything, but one can hardly furnish a home with a sofa, two chairs, a table and a bed."
"True, but it’s enough to get started, and we can work on the rest later."
"There’s only one thing I don’t like about this house."
"What’s that?"
"This." He led her to the useless little room near the kitchen, "What a waste. If it were not enclosed, the parlor would be spectacular."
"Oh, but it’s perfect."
"It is? What is this room to you, love?"
"It’s a music room! What a pity you don’t have a pianoforte."
"A music room? Of course. You do need one don’t you? And don’t fret for a moment, love. I know just how to acquire a pianoforte for you. But first let’s secure this place before someone snaps it up."
"Yes, let’s."
Katerina was bubbling with excitement over her new home. HER home, hers and Christopher’s. This was the house where they would begin forging their marriage, where hopefully the shadows of her childhood would begin to fall away. It was such a lovely house, and she adored it.
The signing of papers and paying of deposits only took a short time, and soon, Christopher was escorting his wife down Bond street, where the shops crowded closely one after the other. Their first stop was little shop where he bought her a warm winter wrap. Snuggling gratefully inside the folds of amethyst fabric, she took her husband’s arm and he led her an auspicious looking shop called Channing & Co.. Of course Katerina had heard of them. Not only did they make some very well-known instruments, they also published sheet music. The Channing name was very familiar to musicians.
Inside, the room smelled of wood and wax, the comforting aroma of pianos. A salesman approached the couple.
"Hello, sir, madam, how can I help you?
"
Katerina looked at the serious, middle-aged man and began to feel anxious. What did she know about buying a piano? Nothing. This was not going to be easy.
Christopher felt his wife tense, and stroked her hand gently. Then he addressed the salesman. "I’ve just married a very accomplished pianist, and I thought there could be no better wedding gift than a pianoforte of her very own."
"Ah, well we have some lovely models over here."
He led them to a corner of the showroom where ornate instruments stood gaudily about, drawing the eye. Katerina walked slowly towards one. It was very pretty, with curved legs, its open lid inviting passers-by to examine its intricate strings.
"May I?"
She indicated the bench. He looked askance.
"What do you mean, my dear?"
"I want to play this piano and see how it sounds." Did he really expect her to buy it without playing it, based on its looks alone? How odd.
"Very well." He pulled out the bench and she sat, warming up her fingers by playing a few rapid scales.
She shook her head.
"What’s wrong with it, love?" Christopher asked her.
"It’s out of tune," she said softly, "and the tone isn’t very good."
The salesman gawked at her.
She rose and moved to another instrument. This one was very ornate, but had such a poor tone that even Christopher winced to hear it. She tried another and another to no avail.
"I’m sorry, sir." She told the employee, "These pianos just don’t sound very good. Do you have anything less… fancy, but more playable?"
"Yes, of course. I apologize. Usually when young ladies come in here they are more interested in the looks of the thing."
"I am not most young ladies then."
"I suppose not. Here, come with me. I’ll show you our professional model instruments, for use with orchestras and theaters. They aren’t showy, but the sound should suit you much better."
He led them to a different part of the building, where plain, unadorned black instruments gleamed waxily in the faint January sunshine. Katerina walked among them, running her fingers over the polished surfaces, eventually stopping at one, seemingly at random, and seating herself dreamily on the bench. Fingers tingling, she touched the ivory keys. And then, without warning, the crashing opening chords of the Sonata Pathetique rattled the windowpanes. The last time she had played this piece, half fainting and desperately wounded, she had demonstrated exceptional power and skill. Today, stronger, safer, the music in her soul poured out through the keys Somehow the alignment between instrument and musician was perfect.
Keeping Katerina (The Victorians) Page 9
