RED MAGIC

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~RED MAGIC~ 

 

 

 

 

…Ignored now, Caterina stood, water streaming off her.  She was red headed and tall.  Her eyes, green as bottle glass, blazed with fury.  What would have been fair skin if she'd been a more conventionally house-bound female was lightly tanned and dusted with tiny golden freckles.  Her budding womanliness was shown off to advantage by a man's riding habit, jacket, shirt and knee breeches, all of it plastered to her willowy frame.

              Christoph, who had been admiring her, decided to remind her of his presence.  Seizing one of her long legs, he tumbled her down again.

              "By God," he cried, strong arms locking around her, "Come here, Coz.  I'd like to teach you to kiss as well as you ride."

              Howls of laughter erupted from the onlookers as Christoph wrestled Caterina close.  The whole time he kept whispering that one little kiss wouldn't hurt, that "Your sister won't mind.”                          

 

             Arms locked against his formidable chest, resisting with all her might, Caterina thought that Christoph was just doing what he always did-seeing how far he could get!     

              As they tussled, witty encouragement was shouted from the bridge.

              "Give the skinny tomboy a lesson."

              "Just what our Hell Cat needs."

              "Yes!"  Max laughed.  "Kisses, a wedding and babies.  Then I won't have to worry that she's going to show up on that winged steed of hers and lose me my wagers."

              "Swine!" Somehow Cat was managing to keep his lips away.  "Especially you, Christoph von Hagen.  Let me go!"

            "As you wish, Fraulein von Velsen."  Just as suddenly as he'd started, he released her.  Still, there was that unbearable smile, those bright eyes flashing amusement…

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                            Journey with Caterina to the Cave of the Red Horse...

Friday Freebits ~ GENESEE

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"Genesee van Cortlandt," her cousin giggled. "Good Lord! What are you doing? You'll break your neck."

     The prettily rounded figure of a young Dutch woman with rosy cheeks and an enviable head of tumbling honey brown curls leaned out an open window. Close by the substantial two-storey brick house a huge tree grew, an apple tree with spreading limbs, a tree her father had been so fond of that he had put his workmen to the trouble of enduring its presence while they built the house.

     The speaker was in fashionable undress – a shift and stays covered by a crewel-stitched morning gown that had, in quieter times, come from London. Behind her a couple of well-dressed and well fed Black girls crowded, peering out the window and adding their exclamations to hers.

     "Look at Miss Jenny," one of them cried. "Just like a cat!"

     On a broad limb of the tree, a limb which had been rudely cropped in order to keep it from intersecting with the wall of the house, her long straight black hair held with a scarlet ribbon, without a cap and dressed only in a fine white muslin shift, was a slender, supple girl. For a heartbeat, she steadied herself and then proceeded on small brown bare feet along the mottled limb.

     Genesee didn't acknowledge the others. All her attention was focused on balancing. There would be a whipping descent through a lattice of branches to a bone-snapping conclusion if something went wrong.      Jenny knew what she was doing was foolhardy. Still, it was always fun to play the wild frontier woman and shock her elegant Cousin 'Nelia.

~~ From the Epic Best Historical Novel, GENESEE

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