Keeping Katerina (The Victorians Book 1)

by Simone Beaudelaire

  A poem as lovely as that one provoked silence rather than conversation, and at its conclusion the guests began to drift away, drenched in images of sun and woven tapestries and lovely ladies singing. Katerina glanced up in time to see Cary escorting Miss Carlisle out the door, but not to leave. It appeared another young lady would be kissed on the balcony this evening. Katerina smiled. With luck Cary could turn her pout to a smile.

  “Ready to go, love?”

  “Oh yes, let's.” Katerina's smile grew wider. She would also be kissed this evening, and so much more.

  They located their hostess. “Thank you for the lovely evening, Mrs. Wilder,” Katerina said sweetly.

  “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Bennett. Your apt comments were greatly appreciated.”

  “Mrs. Wilder, we will not be attending for several weeks,” Christopher informed her. “We'll be taking a trip to Italy, starting in the morning.”

  The lady beamed at them. “Well I hope you both enjoy yourselves. Some Italian sunshine in February sounds lovely.”

  “It does. I'm looking forward to it,” Katerina said.

  With a smile for their host, they took their leave and headed home. Apparently, Katerina was not the only one who had been moved by the last poem. No sooner did the hansom driver hop into his seat behind them, than Christopher pulled her close, so she straddled his lap, planting wet sweet kisses on her mouth, one after the other.

  “Goodness, darling,” she said as his lips trailed the delicate arch of her throat, “is everything all right?”

  “Oh yes,” he pulled back and looked at her with glowing eyes. “I'm so very impressed you commented back there, actually spoke up in front of everyone. You're doing so much better than I expected, little love. Your courage is… very arousing.”

  “Well I'm glad you find it so,” she said, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at him. Then she turned serious. “I wasn't trying to be brave, you know. It just bothers me how people try to ignore things they don't like because the thoughts are unpleasant, while others are suffering and even dying around them. Bravo to Mr. Browning for making them look and think.”

  “That's how I feel too, although before I read the poem, I must confess, such things didn't occupy my mind as much as they do now.” He told her more clearly what he meant by kissing her again. “Sweet love,” he mumbled against her soft lips, “I'm so very glad I married you.”

  “Oh, so am I. You're a marvelous husband, Christopher.”

  “Thank you. It's so nice having a wife, someone I can talk to and kiss and make love to whenever we want.” He nipped her lower lip.

  She moaned softly. “It's all so good. Better than I ever expected.” He seemed to take her words as an invitation and tongued the edge of her teeth, eliciting another soft sound.

  “Kat,” he said, pulling away as though a sudden thought occurred to him.

  Though the loss of his kiss made her want to pout, she focused on his words. “Yes?”

  “Um, have you ever heard any of the other matrons talking about marriage?” He stroked one hand over her hip as he spoke, clearly trying to keep the mood on their intimacy.

  I wonder where he's headed with this. “A bit, why?”

  “Well there's kind of a ridiculous attitude about marital intimacy circling about these days, and I wanted to be sure you weren't confused by it.”

  Get to the point, love, so you can kiss me again. “What would that be?”

  “Well…” he paused as though considering his words before continuing. “A small number of people are making everyone nervous by saying, or implying, that a decent woman ought not to enjoy making love at all, not even with her husband.”

  Katerina raised her eyebrows. “Is there any truth to it?”

  He shook his head. “None that I know of. I mean, if men want to enjoy passionate relations with women, and adultery is a sin, what option does that leave?”

  I may be shy and inexperienced, but even I can see how that one works. “Obviously the best one; a happy marriage.”

  He smiled, and she could see she'd given the answer he wanted. “Exactly. I suspect some girls, in an attempt to prevent them from being seduced, were taught to fear intimacy altogether perhaps even be disgusted by it.”

  “That's possible,” she said, pondering. “Also, having unwilling wives gives dishonest men the excuse they want in order to be unfaithful.”

  His lips twisted. “Perhaps. Well, at any rate, it's not true, and I didn't want you to be swayed by it.”

  “You needn't worry about me, Christopher,” she replied, touching her lips to his forehead. “Even if it were true, I care more for you than I do for the opinions of those who would best be served to mind their own business. I would rather sin with you, if it is a sin, than be virtuous.”

  “But it's no sin,” he promised her, his silver eyes seeming to stare deep into her heart. “We're married. So, you can rest assured that being intimate with me in no way damages your virtue.”

  “I know that.” She returned his impassioned gaze. “I can feel it.”

  “And can you feel this?” He squeezed her, letting his erection press against her.

  She sighed with happiness. “Yes. How lovely!”

  “And fortunately, here we are at home. Come along, love.”

  He had her through the icy cold to the door at record speed, and they hurried up into their cozy bedroom where they stripped off their clothing and stretched out on the bed, eager to be close again.

  * * *

  The progress they'd made in their marriage delighted Christopher. Katerina desired more than ever to be touched and caressed and had even bravely touched him in several ways. She was well on her way to being the kind of wife she wanted to be. He had learned too, ways to approach her that minimized her defensive reactions. He simply told her what he was going to do, and just like that, she could allow his approach. She had all but stopped flinching when he discovered the technique.

  “How beautiful you are, my lady,” he told her as he leaned over her on their bed, attempting yet another seduction. He had complete confidence in their mutual success. “Look at this lovely face.” He reached for her slowly, and instead of recoiling from his hand, she leaned her cheek into it. His other arm slid around her, pulling her against him. He stroked her back with one hand, her cheek with the other. She leaned forward and boldly pressed her lips to his, kissing him tenderly, letting her tongue snake out to taste his lips, and then pressing between. Christopher let her explore, enjoying how comfortable she had become in bed with him. She nibbled his lower lip and then pulled back, looking deeply into his eyes. He caressed the uneven skin on her back.

  “Don't do that, love,” she said, grasping his hand and pinning it on her hip.

  “Why not? I want to embrace you.” He slipped his hand from beneath hers and headed for her back again.

  “I'm not very nice back there,” she insisted. “This skin is much smoother.” She guided him to her front, planting his wandering fingers squarely on her breast.

  “The scars don't bother me, you know. They're so much better now.” But he stroked her willingly enough.

  She hummed with pleasure. “They're about as better as they're going to get.” Her voice had taken on a strained tone he recognized as the battle between her desire to state her opinion and her growing arousal.

  “I know,” he replied, admitting to himself that his own tone held a hint of the same feeling. “As long as they're not a danger to you, let them be. Don't worry, love. I'm not disgusted by any part of you. Those scars are a symbol of your strength.”

  “Hmmm,” she hummed as he caressed her nipples, “taste me there.”

  Christopher allowed himself to be distracted by one of his favorite parts of her body, lowering his mouth and tugging one sweet peak and then the other. In just the last two weeks since their wedding night, she had eaten enough to gain a tiny amount of weight. Most of it seemed to be centered here, and breasts he'd once thought of as tiny had grown
noticeably fuller. What a lovely change.

  * * *

  Katerina squirmed and sighed as Christopher played with her breasts. He's so good at this. I still feel like a hussy, but how can I complain? She lay back, enjoying the surges of pleasure while running her hands up and down his arms, his shoulders and his back. Her world narrowed down around her until only Christopher seemed real. Only his touch connected her to the world. Who knew I had such feelings inside me? I love them. At last she grew eager for more intimate caresses. Parting her thighs for her husband, she let him know where she wanted to be touched. He stroked the dark curls and then gently opened them, pressing his fingers into the dewy folds, and, having found the opening of her body, sliding deep.

  “Ahhh,” she sighed. It had not taken long at all for Christopher's prediction to prove true. Once the discomfort in her deepest place had faded, having her husband's fingers – not to mention his sex – inside her was delightful.

  “You're very wet and eager tonight, aren't you, darling?” he asked, pulling back so he could push inward again.

  “Oh yes,” she moaned.

  “Would you like a climax?”

  “Only one?” she pouted.

  He laughed. “How spoiled you are. What about two, one now, one later?”

  “Perfect.” She looped her arms around his neck while he slid his fingers gently in and out, building her pleasure higher. Then he became serious about his task. Finding the swollen pearl of her clitoris, he circled it. She pressed eagerly into his caresses, feeling aroused and needy, and wanting the release he had promised. Christopher did not disappoint. He worked the little nub until Katerina wailed with pleasure and clamped hard on his encroaching fingers.

  He kissed her sweetly as the peak faded.

  “Well, love,” he said, sliding his fingers out, “would you fancy a new position tonight?”

  “Like what?” she gasped.

  “I would like it if you would lie on your belly and let me enter you that way.” He stroked her cheek, and the light in his eyes spoke volumes.

  She turned away from him. “Oh, Christopher, I would rather not.”

  “Why not?”

  She pinched her lips together in a look she knew was sour. “It's my back. I'm just not comfortable with it.”

  “I told you it doesn't bother me,” he reminded her.

  Please, love, let's not have this conversation now. Yet his eyes allowed no prevaricating. With a sigh she admitted, “It bothers me. From behind I feel broken. I don't like that. There's no point in looking backward.”

  “Someday, love, you're going to have to integrate your past and your future,” he pointed out.

  She swallowed hard and broke eye contact. “I know, but not yet. It's too soon. Please?”

  “Very well.” Christopher rolled onto his back. “Let's put you on top then.”

  He reached for her. Katerina was still learning to believe in safety, but in bed at least, Christopher had never led her astray. She gladly placed her hand in his and straddled his middle with her long, slender legs.

  “Come on, love, take hold of me.” He guided her hand to his erection and showed her how to stroke him. She blushed but complied. And then, together, they positioned him upright at the opening of her body. He grasped her hip and pressed, allowing gravity to get the job done. Katerina closed her eyes. In some ways this is better than the climax, just knowing he wants to be this close to me. He pushed up on her hips, urging her to rise, and then released the pressure, letting her sink back down. Press, release, press, release. It only took a few tries for her to get the rhythm of this position, and then she took over the movement and began riding him. This freed his hands to caress her again, bring her the promised second peak. Her head fell back as ecstasy crashed over her, and her long hair tickled his legs. He grasped both her hips and pressed deep, so he could join her in fulfillment.

  Long moments later the lovers returned to awareness. Katerina lay on top of Christopher's chest. His hands rested on her back again, but this time the touch made her feel cherished. One hand slid up and he laced his fingers into her hair and brought her mouth to his for a long tender kiss she could feel right to her soul. What a man I found to marry me. How fortunate I am. And then they separated their bodies gently before settling in to another favored intimacy; sleeping nude, their bodies pressed close together.

  Chapter 14

  In the morning, the couple ate a quick breakfast before hailing a hansom to take them down to the railroad station. Katerina had never been near a train before and looked doubtfully as the gigantic metal beast puffed and snorted ominously at them through its bulbous smokestack. The black, soot-stained body of the massive vehicle gleamed dully even with the ribbed and vaulted roof of the station dimming the feeble sunshine. How could such a large and heavy machine actually be faster than a horse? The steam whistle let out an earsplitting screech and she flinched. She wasn't the only one. Several of the milling passengers jumped at the noise. Christopher abandoned propriety and wrapped his arm around his wife. This earned them several sharp glances from stuffy-looking matrons, but they ignored them. He guided her up the stairs and found them a seat, quickly stowing their baggage before joining her on the threadbare red fabric.

  “How are you doing, love?” he asked, concern all over his face.

  “Well enough,” she replied as she settled back into the seat. “I had no idea trains were so loud.”

  “Oh, well anything run on steam is bound to be noisy,” he explained. “It has to escape, you know? You should hear the cotton mill.”

  “May I?” she asked, curious about the work her husband enjoyed so much.

  The question made him smile. “If you would like. I wouldn't mind showing it to you some time.

  “I've heard… things about those places,” she said, asking a silent question with pleading eyes.

  “No doubt all are true,” he replied grimly, acknowledging how sad factory work was for most employees. “But father and I try hard to make sure ours is one of the most congenial. Our employees seem to appreciate it, but really it's just a messy, hot, noisy place to work.” His eyes were glowing as he spoke.

  “You love it there, don't you?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he admitted easily. “I like to invent things, and a factory is a fine place to do it.”

  “Good. I think you enjoying your work is good for you. People who hate what they do seem… grumpy.”

  “Well, love, work takes up a huge amount of a person's life. If you hate it, what's left? I don't want to live that way, and I don't want my employees to either. I wouldn't like to think they dread waking up in the morning and coming to the factory.”

  “With everything you and your mother have told me about the place,” Katerina replied, “you've made it far better than you had to. Unless your employees hate the job itself, the environment shouldn't do it.”

  He grinned widely, teeth flashing, and she knew she'd said just the right thing. Thinking of others is becoming easier, and I truly enjoy making someone else feel good. This revelation set off her own grin. Katerina looked out the window as the train departed the station and watched the crowded streets and cluttered buildings of the city give way to winter brown fields and naked trees. Spring is still a long way off.

  Christopher also regarded the scenery. “This is so much nicer than traveling by carriage.”

  “It is?” she asked doubtfully. The motion of the vehicle was making her slightly nauseous.

  “Oh yes. Imagine a weary mother and three children bouncing along a rutted road, the boredom and the whining… it was epic.” He chuckled at the memory. “Sometimes Father would let me sit with him in the driver's seat outside. That was nicer.”

  “Where did you go?” she asked, trying to take her mind off her unsettled belly.

  “To the seashore for a summer holiday. London gets a little… rancid in the heat.”

  “It does,” Katerina agreed.

  “Did you never go on holiday
?” he asked.

  “Not as I can recall,” she replied. Watching the scenery speed past wasn't helping her belly. She turned her attention to Christopher. That's better.

  “What a shame.” He touched her hand, and she took the opportunity to lace their fingers together. “Going to the ocean was always a highlight of the year for us. Would you like to go this summer?”

  “With your parents?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied, his expression distant as though he was already there. “And my brother, Devin. He's studying to become a solicitor. Can you imagine?” He shuddered. “And he's said since early childhood that he wants to move to Brighton to live, not just go for holidays.”

  “That would be nice,” Katerina replied. “I'd like to see the ocean. And I love spending time with your family.”

  He grinned at her and squeezed her hand. New memories are being created every day.

  Katerina found, as they chugged through the countryside, that she had nothing to say. Thank heaven Christopher is comfortable with silence. She really didn't want to have to try to make conversation. Her fingers laced through his provided enough connection for the moment.

  Shortly after noon they reached Southampton and proceeded directly to the docks to board their clipper ship for Italy. The ocean resembled nothing Katerina had ever experienced. Over the roar of the conversations she could hear the screaming of gulls, the clanking and groaning of the ships in their moorings, the yells of sailors speaking dozens of languages. The myriad stimulations threatened to overwhelm her, but her husband's arm around her supported her, and she felt quite safe. She drew in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh brisk breeze after the close stuffiness of the train. The stink of unwashed bodies hung thick in the air, and underneath it the tang of the ocean, of salt and fish, freshness and decay. Life and death mingling eternally together.