Luther and Katharina (34 page)

At his father's words Doctor Luther's head snapped up. His tumultuous dark gaze met his father's. Something seemed to pass between the two—a father giving a blessing to a son who'd likely craved it his whole life.

Hans cleared his throat again and looked at his mug for a long moment before finishing in a voice tight with emotion. “My son, I wish you many happy days with your new bride.”

Doctor Luther's Adam's apple strained in a swallow before he then nodded at his father. Doctor Luther didn't speak, but gratitude radiated from his eyes.

Katharina's chest expanded with a swell of happiness that he could experience a measure of reconciliation with his father, even if only for this moment.

After Doctor Luther's friends rose and joined in the congratulations, he finally made his way to her. “Time to go.” His voice held a note of embarrassment, especially in the midst of the rib poking and ribald remarks of his companions. As she rose and followed him from the hall, they bade their guests farewell. She felt the scrutiny of a hundred pairs of eyes, and she knew what every single person there was thinking—that Doctor Luther was taking her home to bed. She was glad for the June warmth that could explain her heated cheeks.

When they exited onto the quiet street, only Doctor Luther's closest friends accompanied them. They had no need of the bawdy parade to the marriage bed. Doctor Luther and his followers had discouraged the rowdy revelry that traditionally went along with the bedding rite.

The evening air smelled sweet and clean after the hot, dank town hall. The low sun reflected against the clear blue of the sky, with threads of purple and pink beginning to lead the procession of the coming night. Katharina took a deep breath, then she pointed her face into the summer breeze and let it caress her cheeks.

They walked side by side, the crunch of their footsteps filling the space between them. The chatter of Doctor Luther's friends went before them and prevented them from having to make small talk. When they came within sight of the Black Cloister, Doctor Luther spoke. “Merchant Koppe has finally arrived.” He nodded to the wagon parked in front of the gate.

Katharina stopped and stared at the covered wagon bed. Her heart picked up speed as her mind raced back to the long, cramped ride that had brought her to Wittenberg.

“Brings back memories, doesn't it?” Doctor Luther asked softly.

She nodded and tried to push them aside. It was too hard to think of the decision she'd made that night so long ago, the decision that had altered her life in a way she'd never foreseen. “Regretfully he's too late for the festivities.”

“I expected him yesterday,” Doctor Luther said, as he opened the front door and nodded his farewells to his companions.

As they ducked into the parlor, the room was empty except for one person—a frail nun hunched over and sitting on the wall bench. She didn't move; it was almost as if she hadn't heard them enter.

Katharina raised a brow at Doctor Luther.

“Is Koppe smuggling out more nuns?”

He nudged her. “You'd better go see.”

With hesitant steps she approached the nun. The woman's veil hung askew and hid her face. “Sister?”

The woman didn't budge.

Katharina looked back at Doctor Luther. He cocked his head at the woman. “Who is it?”

She shrugged, then shifted her skirt and lowered herself until she was on her knees. “Sister?”

The nun still didn't respond. “My name is Katharina, and I'm here to help you.” She waited. Was the woman deaf? Slowly Katharina pushed aside the veil. The woman made no move to stop her.

As the material slid from the nun's face, Katharina's pulse stopped. Then a gasp slipped from her lips. “Aunt Lena?” The old woman looked at her with wide, blank eyes. Not even a sliver of recognition was visible within the depths.

Katharina didn't care. With a sob she threw her arms around her aunt and pulled her into an embrace. Aunt Lena's body fell against her like a limp rag doll.

Katharina hugged her tighter and pressed her face into the woman's shoulder, this dear woman who'd loved and protected her more than she'd ever realized at the time. “Oh sweet, sweet Aunt Lena,” she murmured into the woman's veil. “How I've missed you.”

An ache deep inside pushed upward, demanding release. For a long moment she could do nothing but rock back and forth and squeeze the woman. The rounded pommel of her aunt's dagger poked into Katharina's ribs—an all-too-painful reminder of the fear that still tortured the woman.

Who had brought Aunt Lena? Had Merchant Koppe delivered her?

She pulled back enough to see that Doctor Luther still stood in the same spot. His expression had softened with tenderness.

“You did this?”

He nodded. “I'm just sorry Merchant Koppe didn't make it in time.”

The tightness in her chest moved to her throat. She didn't trust her voice to work. He couldn't begin to understand how much his effort meant to her.

“Thank you,” she managed.

“She hasn't recovered yet, has she?”

She pressed Aunt Lena's head against her bosom. “I shall care for her now. It's the least I can do after…after…” The words caught in her throat.

“She can live the rest of her days here with us at the Black Cloister.”

Katharina kissed the wimple and brushed her tears against the linen. “Doctor Luther, you are a good man.” Doctor Luther might not be perfect, but there were not many as kind and generous as he was.

His gaze probed her, as if he was trying to see deep into her heart. He
was
a good man. She wanted to reassure him that no matter their differences she admired him, but when his focus dropped to her lips and sudden desire tightened the lines in his face, words and reason fled.

He seemed to give himself a mental shake and straightened his shoulders before tearing his attention from her. “I'll leave you now to care for Aunt Lena. You'll need to spend time with her and settle her in.” He started toward the door.

She couldn't keep her longing from following after him. “Shall I…”

With his rigid back facing her, he stopped.

“Would you like me to…”

He pivoted slowly and cocked his head. Although his face was unreadable, something in his expression made the heat in her middle cascade to her fingers and toes.

How was a woman supposed to ask her husband about the marriage bed without sounding eager? Did he expect her to sleep with him or not?

“Barbara instructed her servants to prepare a fresh bed in your room.”

“That was kind.” His voice was low, and the darkness of his eyes deepened.

“I don't know if…that is, I don't know your intentions…”

“I'll be waiting for you.”

A whisper of delight trailed through her. “Then I shall not keep you waiting long.”

“Good.” A slow smile curved his lips.

Katharina leaned against Aunt Lena's wimple, which was blessedly cool on her cheek. Somehow she'd managed to please Doctor Luther, and she suddenly wished she could please him more often.

But how?

All her life she'd been rejected and forsaken. Even though Doctor Luther had already rejected her in some ways too, was there still hope she might earn his acceptance?

She was surprised by how much she hoped there was.

M
aybe she wouldn't come to him.

Luther sat at his desk and stared at the half-written hymn.

Katharina was taking much longer than he'd expected with Aunt Lena. Maybe he'd only imagined her interest. She'd certainly been pleased by his long-overdue effort to transport her aunt to Wittenberg. He thought he'd even seen respect in her eyes, but perhaps he'd just been swept up in the moment.

He let out a long sigh that was a half groan and leaned back in his chair. It seemed to groan too.

His friends had all gone, and the cloister was quiet except for the pounding in his head. If only the men hadn't reminded him again of all the troubles. Couldn't he have at least one day when he didn't have to think about the peasant rebellion?

At the town hall his friends had informed him that Duke George was stirring up trouble against him again. The old prince was spreading word that he was to blame for the revolt, that his teachings had stirred up the peasants. The duke was calling all of Germany to return to the old faith. Worse, the man had appealed to the new Elector John, and was poisoning his mind against the reforms.

Luther kneaded the back of his neck. Tension stole through him as it always did when he thought of the ways he was failing.

“God, where are You?” he whispered. “I thought You were with me. I thought these reforms were a part of Your plan.”

He waited, wanting—needing—to hear from the Lord.

A door squeaked down the hallway. He listened as soft footsteps padded toward his study. His heartbeat sputtered to life. Was she finally coming?

The footsteps paused outside his closed door.

A shiver of nervousness rippled through him and turned his body into a statue. Forgetting to breathe, he stared at the door and waited for her to open it.

He could picture her as she'd looked all day, her long hair in lovely waves fluttering in abandon about her face, beckoning him. The shimmering of her blue eyes had weakened him. The creamy skin revealed by the dip in her bodice had tempted him.

She was beautiful. And she was finally his.

His nerves tingled, and he realized he'd been waiting for this moment all day—the moment he could finally be alone with her.

After a minute her footsteps sounded again, this time retreating. He sprang to his feet and exhaled a shaky breath. He didn't know why he felt nervous. In fact, he was more anxious now than on their betrothal night.

He hurried toward the door, flung it open, and held the candle high. “Katharina. Wait.”

She stopped and turned. The flicker of the candlelight danced across the delicate lines of her face. Her hair hung loose and swished across her back. The strands beckoned him with their gentle dance.

Her skin flushed the same shade of pink as the roses in her wreath. “I thought you were busy. I didn't want to disturb you…” Her gaze shifted to the door, to his tunic, to his hands—everywhere but his eyes.

“I'm never too busy for you.” The words came out before he could stop them.

Her eyes lifted to his. The depths reflected clear blue, and for once he could find nothing within them to rile him.

“Is Aunt Lena settled?”

“She's finally asleep.” Katharina lifted a hand to her hair and combed it away from her face.

Longing pierced him with a swiftness that took his breath away. He stepped across the hallway to the small cell he'd used as his sleeping chamber since the day he'd arrived in Wittenberg. He pushed the door open wide and held out a hand to her.

Without taking her gaze from his, she glided toward him. Each step she took made his blood pump faster. When she reached him, all he heard was the thudding of his heart.

Her fingers slid into his outstretched hand. That one single act of placing her hand in his spoke louder than her words ever could. She'd come to him because she wanted to, not because anyone was forcing her.

His chest swelled with gladness. He closed his fingers around hers and then led her into the cell, pushing the door shut behind them. A sweeping glance told him the Cranach servants had cleaned the room and had made a new pallet big enough for both of them. He stood for a moment, holding her hand, suddenly not sure what he should do next. He had no experience talking with women and even less wooing one. His palm started to sweat. Should he just lie down and pull her next to him? He glanced at the pallet. Surely he could think of something more tender than that. If only he'd thought to have a bouquet of flowers to give her.

She turned to him with a shy smile. “I want to thank you again for bringing Aunt Lena here today.”

“Maybe you'll be able to help her regain her wits.”

A shadow crossed Katharina's face. “She's so lost. She doesn't recognize me at all.”

“Give her time.”

“She's had so much time already. I think I must accept that she'll never return to this world.”

He placed the candle on the narrow ledge that jutted out of the wall. Then he turned to face her. He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he dared to be so bold as to reach for her.

Katharina gazed up at him earnestly. “If she hasn't come out of this spell by now, will she ever?”

“We'll pray she will in God's time.”

She studied him. “I'm still learning the new ways of prayer, Doctor Luther. And I find it difficult to believe that God would care about something so insignificant when He has much bigger problems to attend to.”

Luther lifted a hand to her cheek. He couldn't resist touching her any longer. “Our Lord always gives us more than we pray for. If we pray properly for a piece of bread, He gives us an entire field. Yet we rarely begin anything with genuine prayer and thus miss out on so much of His blessing.”

She leaned her head into his hand. Her breath came in a short burst before she pressed her lips to the palm of his hand. The soft moisture of her lips against his skin sent a shudder of warmth through his insides.

He slid his hand into the hair at the back of her neck and dug his fingers into the strands. The richness glided across his fingers like fine gold silk.

All day he'd longed for the moment when he could touch her hair, but he quickly realized he needed more. He wanted to connect with her, to share with her, to feel her love.

Gently he tugged her toward him.

She came to him with a soft sigh. Her body melted against his, and her arms circled him.

“Doctor Luther?” Wolfgang's voice rang from the stairwell.

Luther lowered his face toward hers. Nothing would stop him from kissing his wife on their wedding night. Nothing. He locked Katharina in his embrace. “Let's ignore him.” His mouth hovered near her ear, and he pressed his lips against the hollowness of it.

“Doctor Luther, I'm sorry for disturbing you.” Wolfgang's voice came from directly outside the cell. “But you must come right away.”

Katharina tried to wiggle out of his grip.

“Don't worry about him,” Luther whispered. “If we ignore him, he'll learn not to disturb us.” He buried his nose in Katharina's hair and took a deep breath. She smelled as fresh and sweet as the roses of her wreath. He peeled back strands of her hair until he exposed the creamy skin of her slender neck. Then he nuzzled it with his nose and breathed in more of her, feeling her tremble beneath his touch.

“Doctor Luther!” Wolfgang shouted through the crack in the door. “This is urgent, Doctor Luther.”

He swept his lips across her neck. The sweetness of her was like a taste of heaven.

The pounding grew more insistent.

“Martin,” she whispered, “I don't believe Wolfgang is planning to leave until you answer him.”

“Ach!” Luther pulled back, frustration plowing through him. “Go away, Wolfgang!”

“I'm sorry to disturb you, Doctor Luther.” Wolfgang spoke breathlessly.

“This is my wedding night! Whatever it is, it can wait. Now go away.” He bent back to Katharina's neck.

She arched out of his reach. “See what he wants. I'll wait.”

Luther couldn't keep from growling. “What is it, Wolfgang? Be quick about it.”

“I need to speak with you privately.”

Luther shook his head. “I can't believe this.”

“You must go.” She smiled, desire shining in her eyes. “I shall wait for you.”

He hesitated but then finally released her. “This better be good, Wolfgang, or I'll hang you out the tower window by your feet.” He swung open the door and glared at his manservant.

Wolfgang slumped his shoulders and took a step back. “It's Professor Karlstadt. I have news of him.”

“You've interrupted me over news of Karlstadt?” Luther's voice came out in a roar. “I'm spending time with my bride on my wedding night, and you interrupt me with news about a man I detest?”

Wolfgang lowered his head, and his shaggy black hair fell forward. “He's here.”

Luther's next sentence stuck in his chest. “Karlstadt is here at the Black Cloister?”

“He's alone and he's hurt.”

Katharina came to his side.

“Why did he come here?” Luther asked. His one-time friend and fellow professor had turned into his enemy the day he'd resorted to violence. Karlstadt had incited the students to riot during the days Luther had been in exile at Wartburg Castle. He had claimed that he was only taking the reforms to the next level, that they needed to rid the churches of all the images and statues of the Virgin Mother, which he believed were nothing more than idols.

Luther had returned to Wittenberg to restore order and to squelch Karlstadt's radical ideas. At that time Luther had tried to reason with Karlstadt, but his friend had already come under the influence of the devil. The man had developed new ideas about communion and had rejected infant baptism. He'd become nothing more than a troublemaker, and Elector Frederick had ordered him to leave Saxony.

Luther had encouraged the elector's decision. At the time, the fledgling reforms hadn't needed any further threats, especially from within the ranks. Karlstadt had lived in poverty and disgrace since his banishment.

“Why is he here now?” Luther asked. “Has he come back to kill me?”

Wolfgang shook his head. “Melanchthon is with him and says to tell you that Professor Karlstadt is a changed man and begs for your forgiveness.”

Luther snorted. “I don't trust Philipp today any more than I trust Karlstadt.” Melanchthon had resisted his feelings for Katharina all along. Since their angry exchange at the betrothal dinner, Melanchthon had hardly spoken two words to him. And now Melanchthon had shown up at the Black Cloister on his wedding night with one of his greatest enemies. “Philipp is exacting revenge because I didn't invite him to the wedding.”

“Do you want me to tell them to leave?” Wolfgang's face filled with worry.

“He knew I'd be busy.” Luther shook his head. “That snake.”

“I'll tell him to take Professor Karlstadt somewhere else.”

Luther shouldered past Wolfgang. “I'll tell him.” He'd give Melanchthon a tongue thrashing, and then he'd boot everyone out of the cloister for the night, perhaps even Wolfgang.

“This won't take long,” he told Katharina over his shoulder.