The Daughters Grimm

by Minda Webber

  He disrobed and positioned himself above her. As he took himself in hand and guided his long-awaited entry, he groaned, his breath harsh as he felt her hot, welcoming wetness. “Oh Rae, you feel so tight, so right. What genuss— pleasure—there is to be found in your arms.”

  Rae felt something very large and hard probing at that aching place between her thighs which had begun to weep with want. She hugged him tighter, feeling emotions she’d never known existed. How she ever could have thought this man was graceless or unattractive, she couldn’t fathom. She had been a fool.

  “This will hurt but a moment, liebchen, then the pain will fade into genuss.” And with those words he thrust deep, tearing through her maidenhead.

  Only twice in Fen’s life had he taken a virgin, and both times it was an almost religious experience, being joined with a woman who was his alone, who welcomed him into her depths with tender yet heated passion. He was not only blessed with his children and fortune; he’d been blessed in his wives. Both of them.

  Blessed with Rae? he pondered momentarily. But, yes. And the thought was swept away as desire consumed him utterly. It was almost as if he were drowning in passion. With lusty strokes he pumped deep into her body, feeling the snugness, the tightness, and overwhelming ecstasy drove him to the very edge of a deep abyss.

  Fen’s mighty thrusts took Rae’s breath away, and instinctively she wrapped her legs around his back, urging him on. Over and over he thrust, until she was falling from a great distance. Her breaths became quicker and her hips began to arch, and it felt as if she were striving to reach something beyond this world. She didn’t know what, but she did know that she must have it, and now. Like a new gown or a pair of pretty slippers.

  “Oh, Fen, something’s happening to me,” she managed to gasp.

  “Hush, my little bride. You’re safe here with me. Let go and find paradise,” he murmured as he kissed her ears.

  Another hard thrust, and Rae felt something break within her, shattering her world as a bright purple haze filled her mind. It was comforting and strangely erotic.

  Fen felt her muscles contract, and he recognized her climax. He thrust twice more and shouted, coming hard and long. He couldn’t believe it; Rae and he had climaxed at the same time—a sharing of spirits, so to speak.

  He rolled over, clasping her to him, placing her head upon his chest. He laid her hand there, too. “You drive me mad, Rae. You put me in a frenzy of desire and…and you make me smile.”

  She gazed up at his ruggedly appealing face. “I pleased you, in spite of my top-lofty nature?”

  He smiled again. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he kissed them tenderly. “Ja, you pleased me beyond measure.” In bed, she was all a man could want. More, even. Out of bed was another story; but she did seem sincere in her intent to change.

  Of course, he was not blameless, and he reminded himself of this. Fen knew now that he should have given Rae more of a chance from the beginning. They could have been living in bedded bliss for a week.

  “Is it always like this?” she asked, wonder evident in her voice.

  “Rarely.”

  “Was it like this with your late wife?”

  Holding her hand, he remarked, “I think for our marriage to be a truly good one, we should not discuss my late wife and make comparisons. You are as beautiful as she was, but different.”

  “I’ve heard it said that you loved her very much.”

  “Ja. A part of my heart will always mourn her loss. But you are here. You were right in what you said. While I shall cherish my memory of her always, it was unfair of me to compare the two of you. I promise to try not to do so again. The heart is a glorious thing, after all. There is always room for more people to love. We will make the best of a situation that started out badly. This is a good beginning, my fair Rae.” And he patted her bottom with kind little taps.

  Rae smiled up at him. Tonight Fen had been the most wonderful of lovers, introducing her to her wifely duties with a tender consideration and a passionate fury. He had intruded into her compact little world, expanding it greatly, along with her thoughts and feelings, which were suddenly more about him and his happiness than her own. She just might be falling in love with him. How lucky she had been on that fateful night she’d been compromised! Fen was a man she could easily grow to love; very easily, for she was already more than just fond of him.

  As he stared down at his new wife, Fen knew something miraculous had happened. Rae was a different woman in her responses and the way she looked at him now. No longer was vanity her shield, her weapon and her gift. If Rae remained as she was this night, he knew that one day soon he would tell her the truth, the secret of his clan. But for now, that secret must remain hidden.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The Infatuated Wolfish Prince

  The next morning found Rae shyly entering the breakfast room. To her dismay, her lusty husband was not alone. Three of the baron’s boys were eating, too. Both Nap and Ernst scowled when they saw her enter the room. The little ankle-biter was sitting in his father’s lap, one hand scrunching his kolache, the other holding his ratty old lamp.

  Feeling more than a little nervous after her passionate night, Rae pasted a smile on her face. Shyly, she said, “Mor-gengruss, husband.” She had asked her maid how to greet her husband in his native tongue.

  Her accent was atrocious, but Fen appreciated Rae’s effort. “I did not think you were interested in our language!” he said. “But good morning to you, too.”

  “She sounds funny,” Nap remarked, noting the way his father’s eyes followed their stepmother to the sideboard.

  “I think she sounds delightful.” Fen glared at both of his older boys, then guiltily back at Rae. She deserved much better than he had given. “I have spoken to the boys about the other night’s misadventures with the Headless Horse man of Durloc Castle, the ghosts, the peas in the bed and so forth. There is to be a ceasefire on all fronts. No more pranks. No more waging war within these walls. Servants and children and wives—all shall be safe.”

  Nap and Ernst glared down at their breakfasts, but both managed brisk nods of acceptance. Rae smiled at them. Her heart warmed, for her husband had defended her. He had also touched her over and over last night in ways that were surely scandalous, but were also oh so marvelous.

  Depositing Alden on his chair, Fen went to his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders, whispering for her ears alone: “I would be willing to tutor you in German if you’re interested.” He knew she was embarrassed, and it tickled him: her innocence and the shy smile on her face.

  Turning her head to gaze at her husband, Rae savored the thought, letting its sweet intimacy fill her completely.

  “I enjoyed our tutoring session last night,” he continued. Leaning down, he rested his cheek against her hair. “Can I tempt you with more?”

  Rae caught her breath. There could be no doubt that he was flirting with her. Her harsh and unpredictable husband was making her feel very special after their forced and hurried courtship. Last night had clearly meant much to him, too. “Do I stand in need of much schooling?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

  “In dire need.” His eyes were lit with boyish mischief.

  “Then it seems I must place myself in your capable hands,” she responded. It was odd, but Fen made her feel special in a way that had nothing to do with her appearance. Wonder at that made her blush.

  “I shall be honored,” he replied, gazing at her tenderly.

  Before they could say more, Alden latched onto his father’s leg, his little fingers sticky from honeyed pastry. “More eggs, Papa!”

  Rae watched as Fen swung the boy up and filled another plate while she sat down. She was glowing with her husband’s warm response. He really did want her here. And hopefully the trip to the gingerbread house would help smooth things over between the eldest children.

  As the boys went upstairs to dress for their outing, a note arrived. Rolpe was coming to visit. Rae was d
elighted. It would give her husband a chance to informally invite him to their dinner party. She hadn’t yet told Fen of her plan to play matchmaker, but she hoped he would be agreeable to the scheme.

  While Rae went to instruct the cook about the day’s menu, Rolpe arrived. He and Fen adjourned to the study, where Fen noticed his companion’s countenance was grim.

  “Although it’s early, I do believe you are in need of a stiff drink,” he suggested.

  “That woman!” Rolpe replied, pouring himself a glass of brandy from the sideboard.

  “What woman?” Fen asked. Rolpe rarely let a woman get him riled. He seduced them and then left; or they seduced him and he left; but few caused him to lose his famous von Hanzen calm.

  “Greta Grimm,” Rolpe spat. “She’s a menace to society with her nosy ways. Doesn’t she know dead women tell no fairy tales?”

  Fen poured himself a brandy and leaned against the fireplace. “Ja.”

  “If she’s not staring into mirror reflections looking for vampires or ruthlessly grilling doctors, then she’s out searching through woodcutters’ drawers!”

  Fen was shocked. “I seem to have gotten the tail end of this tale. This seems out of character. She was alone with the woodcutter?”

  “Nein. Herr Choplin wasn’t there—I told you that in town,” Rolpe reminded Fen. He took a large sip of his brandy and savored the warmth that slid down his throat. Brushing back a strand of snow-wetted hair, he added rigidly, “She was only with me.”

  “I remember some sort of abbreviated conversation,” Fen replied uneasiliy. “Yet I do not recall you mentioning that you and she were alone.” He was starting to see just what had upset his friend, and the lay of the land. (Rolpe would likely say Greta was the lay of the land.) When he and his friend had last spoken, Fen’s mind had been distracted by his bizarre marriage, or else he would have asked the question he should have asked sooner.

  “Well, Rolpe, she’s a very fetching woman, as well as a clever fräulein,” he remarked, searching his friend’s face for guilt. The prince might wish to remain footloose and fancy free, but his reactions to Greta Grimm looked right on track for a leg-shackle.

  “Exactly. She’s a managing type of female with a grim determination to rush headlong into trouble, with vampyr or whatever else might be hanging around. And now she’s asking questions about other paranormal creatures. I’ve even heard she’s going to visit Fräulein Hines today. No telling what that old witch will reveal.”

  Fen stretched back, shaking his head. “You know that fräulein is no witch, despite her boiling caldrons and that wart on her neck.”

  Rolpe began to pace, his emotions rolling. Fen could read them only too clearly.

  “I know she’s no witch, but she’s lived in the Black Forest for over fifty years. You don’t think she might know a secret or two about what goes on? Mayhap she’ll let such secrets slip.”

  “Victoria Hines has kept silent all these years, Rolpe. Why should she reveal any secrets now, even if she does know them? Why would she reveal them to Greta, or even Rae for that matter?” Fen asked, calmly moving over to take a seat before the crackling fire.

  “Because she hasn’t met Greta Grimm yet. I swear, the woman could pry the secrets out of a priest and try the patience of a saint. As you know, I am neither!” She literally made him see red.

  Fen paused cautiously, disliking the fact that he had to ask but knowing he must. His marriage to Rae Grimm now meant her sister was under his protection. “I must know, Rolpe, did you merely kiss her, or did you do more?”

  Rolpe stopped pacing to stare at Fen, a guilty flush staining his cheeks. “I believe I did kiss her…”

  “Again, I ask: Did you do more?”

  “She has some strange effect on me, as if I’ve been cursed by gypsies. There’s something about her scent. She smells like a fragrance I’ve known all my life, both sweet and spicy. Or mayhap it’s the way she smiles, the warmth and mirth in her eyes. Her intelligence is there, too, for the entire world to see. Her jaw is too stubborn, but that’s not a bad sign, and it fits with her obsession with myths and mysterious monsters and such.” Rolpe stopped and looked up, a haunted look in his eyes. “You know I like women with lush bodies, and Greta is not lushly endowed. But, I swear…her breasts are perfection.” He swallowed hard, his body afire.

  Fen stood, his expression somber. “Do I need to remind you that Miss Greta Grimm is now under my protection? Have you come to ask me for her hand in wedlock?”

  “Bloody bones. Nein, Fen,” the prince retorted, appalled. “I may have fondled one breast for one moment, one tiny moment in time, but nothing more—I swear. I have not even seen those breasts, though their image haunts my sleep.”

  Fen narrowed his eyes. “I myself was trapped for much less, and my actions were completely innocent. I was merely hunting a cockroach.”

  “’Twas not the roach but the cock which doomed you.”

  A scowl formed on Fen’s face as he gave a warning he’d thought never to have to give. “If you dally with her affections or any part of her person ever again, you will marry Greta Grimm or face my challenge.” This wily wolf was soon to be caged, it seemed, for Fen doubted seriously Rolpe could keep his hands to himself.

  The prince lowered his head momentarily, shaking it. Then he raised his eyes to his good friend, and they were strangely haunted. “As you say. I knew at the time I was behaving foolishly for a man with no desire to wed. I will not trifle with her again.”

  Fen nodded. Walking to the sideboard, he poured himself another drink. “Another?” he offered.

  “Ja.” Rolpe picked up his glass from the large marbled sideboard. “She’s driven me to drink, that blasted female.” After a few sips, he went to sit in a comfortable chair across from Fen, and they began to talk about the things that men often talk about, such as territorial concerns and the price of wheat. Only when the conversation lagged did the prince note that Fen had the look of a man well pleasured.

  “I take it marriage agrees with you. Yet, only two nights ago you were rather surly about the whole sorry affair.”

  A wide grin spread across Fen’s face. “Rae is still vain as a peacock, but less so today than she was yesterday. Did you know she greeted me in German this morn, and has asked the children to accompany her sister to visit the gingerbread house? And it seems I have found a woman who dares match wits with my brood!”

  Rolpe looked surprised, cocking an eyebrow. “Rae? Match wits? You are too easy to please, my friend. And anyway, this battling warms your heart?” After reading his friend’s look, the prince said, “Oho! I can see that your heart is not all that’s been warmed.”

  “Enough. It’s my wife you’re speaking of,” Fen warned, although his tone was light. “I have not been fair to her. Though this is not the match I would have chosen, I find myself much pleased by the recent turn of events.”

  Rolpe slapped his friend on the back. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, and meant it. “It’s nice to see that self-satisfied look on your face again. It’s a sight for sore eyes.”

  “You should try marriage,” Fen responded. “It’s more than it’s cracked up to be. You know, the best years of my life were married ones.”

  “I hope you can say the same next year.” Rolpe nursed his drink, then gave voice to a fear. “I’m surprised that your wife is willing to change. Most women aren’t. They often feel the need to transform us, rarely taking note that they too might need improving. It’s a shame, really. Young men go out and seek their fortunes, and young women go out and marry the men who find those fortunes.” He said the last with a grimace of distaste.

  “Someone certainly has put a flea in your ear, and it isn’t even the full moon.”

  “Leave it, Fen. You know I’m not ready for wedlock. I’m much too young to tie the knot. Not to mention, if I were to get married, think of the trail of broken hearts I would leave behind,” he partially teased. He loved women, when he loved them; everything fr
om their unique and varied scents, to the curves of their behinds, to the beauty of their bounteous breasts. He loved the way they moved when he thrust into them, and their breathy little moans and outright shrieks when their passions peaked. His pride and curiosity thrilled at their first glances of seductive intent, and the knowledge that soon he would ride an untried mount. “Variety is the spice of life—and I like my dishes spicy.”

  “Besides,” Fen remarked, “when members of our clan find their mate, they instinctively know it—even if they are lack-wits who fight it.”

  Rolpe looked startled. “Surely you jest! You think Greta is my mate?”

  “Only you can answer that, but I will say this to you: I have never, in all the years I have known you, seen you in such a state over a woman.”

  Rolpe’s reply was cut off by the sound of a carriage pulling up in the drive. Soon to follow was the loud clamoring of a dozen-plus footsteps on the floorboards and stampeding down the stairs.

  Standing, Rolpe moved to the large bay window and looked out to espy Miss Greta Grimm descending from the carriage. As she moved, he caught sight of a slender ankle that dropped down onto the terraced steps. Her scarlet hood fell back at the same time, showing Greta was laughing. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled, and her pretty bow of a mouth smiled prettily. The silly, curious woman really did have the most kissable of lips.

  Noting his friend’s consternation, Fen moved slightly and looked over the prince’s shoulder. Seeing what had captured Rolpe’s attention, he moved back to stand by the fireplace and remarked in an offhand manner, “As I said rather recently, marriage can be a fulfilling thing. Females may be difficult at times, since it’s in their nature. At times a married man will wish to pull at his hair and howl at the moon…but there are times when what you share is beyond description. Both in bed and out. A fine wife gives a man a special warmth, knowing that she is waiting for him, bedcovers all toasty and clean. Or holding his hand, lending him her warmth and kindness as they walk life’s path. ’Tis a blending of hopes, dreams, troubles and laughter. ’Tis this sharing of spirit that makes marriage a grand thing. At least, it is with the right female.”