Читать книгу Enemy of the Tzar: A Murderess in One Country, A Tycoon in Another - Lester S. Taube - Страница 17

CHAPTER 11

Hershel hitched his horse to the post in front of the library in Kaunas a week later. It was time again for their meeting, and he spied Katrine at once seated at a reading table. She got up quickly and met him at the door.

“You are on time for a change,” she commented with a grin.

“I have such a ferocious hard-on that I almost came here last night.”

“But I wasn’t here last night,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“That would have made no difference. Just knowing you were coming would have done the trick.”

“Want to go to the flat to try out the various ways of satisfying hard-ons?”

“Does a fish need water?”

Her eyes were still twinkling. “That’s one of your Jewish traits, I believe. Responding to a question with a question.”

“What else?” he quipped. He took her by the arm and started leading her out to the street. “I love you desperately,” he murmured out of the side of his mouth.

She drew his arm against her breast. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

“Where is cousin Teddy, these days?”

She gave her full voiced laugh. “Would you believe that he is in the United States of America? He met an American heiress, from Texas, who, as he put it, drew out every single sperm from his testicles that was scheduled to be made over the next two months. He is opting for four months.”

Hershel chuckled as he tipped the horse watcher and began leading the animal towards Teddy’s apartment. Once out of hearing range, he asked, “Did all go well?”

“Of course. Everything went beautifully. Everything you do goes beautifully.”

“Did you go on to Moscow as I suggested?”

“Yes. But I was bored to death. The opera is closed until the fall. Ditto all concerts except in the parks. Everyone is escaping the heat by going to St. Petersburg. Most of all, you weren’t there to sleep with me.”

In the apartment, Hershel soaked in the huge tub for a long quarter hour, Katrine coming in to deliver a glass of cold, sparkling Moselle wine, scrub his back, then dry him with a large, heavily piled bath towel.

In short order, they were again in Teddy’s oversized bed, locked in each other’s arms. Afterwards, they lay quietly in full contentment, his heavy breathing slowly returning to normal.

Katrine kissed his cheek. “Hey, you. Are you falling asleep?”

“Shush. You’re waking the household.”

She lowered her voice. “Don’t disturb the children, but straighten up. I want to see who you are.”

“I’m a stranger. From Siberia.”

“Good. I like icy penises. They stay stiffer longer.”

Hershel guffawed with delight. He kissed her lips. “I love you, Katrine,” he whispered. “More than you really know.”

Her eyes grew soft. “I pray every day that I can hold your love,” she answered quietly.

For a while he did not respond. This is it, he said to himself. This is what it is all about–the living, the hoping, the dreaming. He had taken on the dangers of his work in the secret service because his life was not full enough, and matching wits against the enemy’s was one way of putting zest into the hours between rising and lying down. But now there was a more fulfilling reason of being, a greater excitement than even the risk of death, a more desirable reward than the success of a difficult mission.

Katrine was lying still in his arms. But underneath he could feel her tenseness, her need for a sign. To kiss her, or to say he loved her, would suffice, for she was under no false perceptions about their relationship. Then deep inside, he felt the laughter well up. Good Lord, he exclaimed to himself; it should be me begging for her, not her wishing for the few moments we can share together.

He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, you,” he said softly.

She looked up at the subtle change in his voice. “Yes,” she said.

“How would you like to get married?”

Her eyes suddenly grew tender, and he felt her heart beat more heavily under his hand on her breast. “You mean that, don’t you?” she said, in a husky voice. “White lace and all that.”

He nodded. “That will do for a start.” He kissed the top of her head again. “Then there’s the ring thing, and going to bed on the honeymoon, and maybe half a dozen children.”

She buried her face in his shoulder.

“This will be the last mission,” said Hershel. “Then I plan to take a long vacation.” Her face turned at his comments; her eyes gleaming with joy. “Since a vacation alone is a waste of bedroom activities, I thought we might meet at Innsbruck, figure out how to do this marriage thing, then honeymoon in Italy.” He drew her closer, and the banter went out of his words. “I don’t think we can have the white lace ceremony and reception and all that.”

“It’s not important,” she said in a small voice.

“I would like it for you, though. We can do it that way if you want to wait a little longer. But one thing is certain; we cannot become married in Russia.”

“I said it isn’t important, darling. I mean it.”

He kissed her lips gently, then placed his leg between hers. In seconds, she drew herself closer to him, and her lips grew soft as her body began its quest for orgasm.

It was a joyous two days they spent together, acting as if they were already husband and wife, speaking of commonplace topics such as where they would reside, the kind of house they would buy, the way of life they would seek.

“You haven’t told me anything about your family,” she said over a late breakfast.

Hershel seemed somewhat uneasy. “Katrine, there are several things I want to explain to you. I know you understand that my work is somewhat sensitive. Would you do me one great favor, dearest? Hold all the questions until we meet in Innsbruck. Then I will tell you everything. Is that all right?”

She chuckled. “Are you trying to conceal some horrible dark secret? If so, it won’t make any difference. You have promised to make me an honorable woman, and I won’t let you sneak out of it.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” He sipped at his coffee and grinned wryly at her, knowing she was quite aware that he had avoided answering her question. “I’ll be leaving after lunch for a couple of days, and then I will be back for three or four days.” He put down his cup and leaned forward for her to light a cigarette for him. “I would like you to make one more delivery. Are you up to it?”

“Of course, my dear. Is it the same as before?”

“Generally. The same number of cases, left at the same place in the station, but all for Kiev this time. The transfer point will still be Brest.”

“All right.” But her mind dwelled on the pleasure of spending a few extra days in Kiev to shop, for the excitement of meeting him in Innsbruck to get married would require twice the wardrobe she generally traveled with. She made the decision to take the short cut to Kiev, through Zlobin, not Brest. She would hold the bags in her hotel room until it was time to deliver them to the station.

In a few days, Hershel had made all the arrangements, and they said their goodbyes in the flat while waiting for a carriage to take Katrine and her luggage to the railroad station. Hershel would be far gone by the time the train left. It was standard procedure never to have two people known to each other in the same place at the same time. At Kiev, a contact would telegraph to Julijonas that the courier had left the luggage at the specified spot.

“Plan to meet me in two weeks from tomorrow at the Hotel Sacher in Vienna,” he told her, as he slung his travel case over his shoulder. He looked down at her, and his eyes grew gentle. “And take care of yourself,” he said softly.

“I will,” she said, just as softly.

“Do you remember what to say if anyone asks about the cases?”

“Yes.”

He kissed her lightly, and then he was out of the flat, and in short order he was on his way back to Gremai.