by Alice Gaines
“Not a chance, darlin’,” Ulrich drawled back. “You get your revenge, and I’ll get mine.”
“Don’t forget Vaclav,” Friedrich said.
Casey groaned. “Really?”
“My cousin’s a lecher and a fool, but I’m sure Miss Beaumont can handle him.” Friedrich winked at Dixie. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it.”
The first course arrived, and conversation became more subdued as eating replaced talking. Marta glanced around her at all the love in the room. Granted, she’d dined with them before, and the simple act of sharing a meal held no surprises. But today, they’d included her in their plans for the future, and the reason sat beside her. She’d have to give him extra thanks for that tonight, and the thought warmed more than her heart.
Chapter Four
Friedrich was creeping along a hallway again. This time in an Italian hotel. At least, he had a key that Marta had slipped to him after they’d checked in. So far, his luck had held, and no one had spotted him. He arrived at the right number, let himself in, and found himself in a small sitting room. Through the open door to the bedroom, the sounds of the shower running came through clear. He smiled. If he stripped quickly enough, he could surprise her, climb in with her, and kiss her senseless while the water coursed over them.
By the time he arrived at the threshold to the bedroom, he’d rid himself of his footwear, his jacket, and his tie, and had progressed to unbuttoning his shirt. Clothes had flown everywhere. He was on a mission, after all, and neatness could come later. Just as he neared the door to the bathroom, the water turned off. Drat—the end of that idea. But he could still catch her while she was still slick and hot from her shower.
He found her bent over, wrapping a towel around her hair. Stark naked and absolutely beautiful—all sleek lines and curves where women should have them.
When she straightened and saw him, a look of horror crossed her face, and she grabbed a second towel and wrapped it around her. “What are you doing here?”
“You invited me, remember?”
“Yes, but not now…not right this minute.” The towel fell from her hair, and the strands clung to her face. “I’m not dressed.”
“You don’t need to be dressed for what I planned.”
“But I don’t have any makeup on, and my hair is wet,” she said.
“Did you use that same shampoo?” he asked.
“I did.”
“Then I want to smell your hair,” he said. “Right now.”
“You foolish man, I look a fright.”
“Nonsense.” He went to her and placed his hands over hers where they clutched the towel to her chest. After gentle prodding, she allowed him to ease her hold, and the cloth fell to the floor.
Now he could take her fully into his arms and capture her mouth in a kiss. The scent of roses invaded his brain, sending his mind to sunlit meadows where he was always young and in love.
“I’m getting you wet,” she whispered against his lips.
“I’ll dry.”
“I wanted to look my best for you.”
“How could you possibly look any better than you do right now?” he said. He found a droplet of water in the space above her collarbone and kissed it away. That tasted so good he followed with nips and caresses along her shoulder.
Sighing, she gave up any protest that the moment wasn’t perfect in any way, and ran her arms around his neck to bring her body against his. Her nipples hardened, poking at his chest through the fabric of his shirt. Lower, her belly cushioned his growing erection. She could make him as randy as a schoolboy, as eager to couple as a newlywed. One touch, one kiss made the years melt away to be replaced with joy he’d never thought to experience again.
“Come.” He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. Why attempt making love against porcelain fixtures when one had a fine mattress for the purpose? She followed, lagging behind a step as if still shy at being seen without all the trappings of femininity. When would women learn that all the fuss and bother might impress their friends or even themselves, but that true sexiness came from her hunger for her lover’s touch, her sounds of approval, and her eventual surrender to passion during climax? He’d seen, heard, felt this woman’s orgasms, and they’d created a need for more in him powerful enough to send him into a hotel hallway searching for her while his sons were just down the hall. Possibly still awake.
Now standing by the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again. This time, he let his hand roam over her back and down to her backside. Cupping her buttocks in his palms, he massaged the flesh. The action pulled her hard against his stiff member, and the throbbing began. Their mouths tangled, each of them seeking for closer contact. The sound of her labored breathing created a fever inside him until he could scarcely get oxygen into his lungs. He had to pull back for a moment before he lost himself completely and forgot his responsibility lay in her pleasure, not his own.
“I want you,” she whispered.
“As I do you. Desperately.”
“Then why are you still dressed?”
“Perhaps I was waiting for you to unwrap me,” he answered.
With a coy smile up at him, she finished undoing his buttons, pulled the shirt out of his pants, and removed it. Then she ran her hands over his chest as if adoring it. Suddenly, her shyness with him made sense as he underwent the same scrutiny he’d given her. Did his body truly please her, or had she only flattered him before? Lovemaking at their age had so much more weight than the sex young people indulged in. Pretty bodies and healthy libidos didn’t have to worry about disappointing one’s lover. Could he truly be the man she wanted, with all his imperfections?
She gazed at him with admiration in her eyes as she continued touching him. And he watched in awe as her hand moved. Finally, her palm came to rest directly over his heart, making their connection clear. Trust. Willingness to make oneself vulnerable. Love.
Then she went back to work undressing him—unbuckling his belt, lowering his zipper, and pushing his pants over his hips. The evidence of his desire became clear in the bulge distending his shorts. Her smile turned wanton as she reached inside and grasped his member in her fist.
“You said I could touch you,” she said.
“I did.” But, Lord help him, not so much his control stopped.
“May I taste you as well?”
Lieber Gott. He swallowed hard. “If you want.”
“I do.” She lowered herself to her knees, and in the next moment, she’d pushed his shorts over his hips and down his legs. His erection jutted out away from his body, as if begging for her attentions, and before he could register what was happening, she’d wrapped her fingers around his shaft and guided the head into her mouth.
The pressure, the heat, the moisture—a lethal combination designed to blow the top of his head off. He shouldn’t let her do this, at least not until he’d done as good for her. But, oh, he hadn’t had this for so long, and she seemed so eager, sucking on him and taking more of him. His vision clouded, turning red with lust around the edges. He could only barely make out the image of his swollen flesh entering her mouth and re-emerging moist. He allowed her to continue. Just a little longer…just a little…until…no more. He’d lose control.
“Stop,” he said, as he eased her head away from him. “Enough.”
She immediately rose and climbed onto the bed. As she’d done before, she pulled a tube from the drawer in the table beside her. And thank heaven for that, because she’d pushed him past the point for gentleness. He took it from her and applied the lubricant himself, not trusting her to do it without driving him completely mad.
Still he couldn’t simply plunder her body, so he set to making her ready. While he lavished affection on her breast, he sent his fingers to her mound and stroked the lips there.
She squirmed beneath him, her pelvis reaching up toward his touch. Asking silently for more. So, he parted her folds and found the tiny organ—the seat of her desire. When he st
roked it with his thumb, a shudder coursed through her, and she gasped with pleasure. Aroused, but not aroused enough. As he moved to the other breast, he inserted a finger into her. The walls of her sex closed around it—again asking for more. So he inserted a second finger and probed. With a loud gasp, her body arched.
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes, yes.”
He’d have her soon. He’d sink inside her and give them both what they needed, but for now, he removed his fingers and toyed with her hot button until she tipped her head back and issued a whimpering cry.
All the evidence he needed that she’d become hot and ready for him. Finally, he settled himself between her legs and drove his aching member into her softness.
Immediately, he set a pace that would claim them both in the ultimate union. No time for dallying to let their passion build. He’d already hit the high plateau, and her movements, her cries, and the grip of her walls around his shaft told him she’d also arrived there. They could make long slow love another time. This night, he could only plunge into her in hopes they’d reach the pinnacle together. They moved frantically, each lost in their own passion and yet connected in something greater than themselves. At the base of his spine, the orgasm started to build. He wouldn’t be able to hold it off much longer.
At the critical moment, her cries built to a crescendo, and her body tensed beneath him.
“Don’t stop!” she cried.
As if he could. He gave her everything he had, now rougher than he’d ever planned. The excitement rose to unbearable levels, and then her inner muscles clamped down on him, signaling her climax. He let his body take him now, and as her spasms started, his own rushed through him from his sac outward to engulf all of him. His essence shot from him in waves, and she accepted it all, still gripping him.
When it ended, he lay in her arms. Spent and utterly helpless. Serenely happy and at peace.
He hadn’t imagined she wanted him. He’d been with her twice now, baring himself in every way one human could with another. And she’d accepted him, fully and without reservation. He was truly the most fortunate man alive.
*
With the preparations for a royal wedding and the return of Dixie’s stepmother and stepsister, the palace staff had their hands full. Marta happily took over acting as the lady of the house with Felice’s blessing. An American from a middle-class family, the young princess had little experience in running a noble household. She’d learned a lot since marrying Dev, but if Marta could help, why wouldn’t she? Besides, assisting with domestic matters kept her closer to Friedrich…and Herr Schmidt, if he cared to make an appearance.
Then Vaclav arrived with his considerable entourage, and after a brief greeting, Friedrich retreated to his study, leaving Marta to deal with dozens of new guests and a butler whose last nerve was about to shred.
“Marta, my darling,” Vaclav declared on seeing her. “You’re looking particularly lovely.”
She offered her hand, and Vaclav kissed the back, bowing extravagantly. When he turned it over as if to also caress her palm, she gently pulled it back.
“Dapper as usual, Archduke Marek,” she said. He’d dressed himself in flowing black pants, dress shirt, and a black and gold checked satin vest. A Dracula-style full-length cape covered the entire ensemble. With his curled mustache, he might have played the villain in a Victorian melodrama—the fellow who snickered as he tied the young woman to the rail tracks for failure to accept his immoral advances. Now that she thought of it, the image wasn’t all that far off. She’d never heard of him taking revenge for a rejection of the heart, but he’d left a trail of disgusted women all across Europe.
“My lady, if I might have a word,” Wilson, Friedrich’s butler said quietly into her ear.
“Of course.” She and Wilson retreated a few steps.
“I put Mrs. and Miss Beaumont in the suite the archduke usually stays in.” Wilson appeared distraught enough that he might actually tug at his collar. “It was the only one that met all their…ahem…demands.”
“Of course. Why don’t we give our friends from Rosnia the entire north wing? I’ll explain it to the archduke.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“And Wilson, call my house and have my butler and housekeeper come here to assist you. My ladies’ maid knows a good agency to supply temporary staff.”
“That won’t cause problems in your household?”
“We’ll muddle through.”
Wilson gave her a very grateful, very un-butlerly smile. “I’ll do that, then.”
She returned to their new guests, shaking hands and kissing the air next to women’s cheeks. Chattering in several languages echoed through the entry hall, and footmen scurried all around, carrying suitcases, hatboxes, and even trunks. Wilson managed to direct them all, and soon everyone had disappeared upstairs except Vaclav.
“Such a lovely group,” Marta said. “We decided you’d all enjoy being together in the north wing.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Not with the family?”
“You wouldn’t want to be crowded. Everyone’s home, and Dixie’s family’s here as well.”
“Ah, another beautiful American.” His expression turned wistful. “The VonRamsberg boys get to them before I do.”
“If you’re so keen on American women, why not make a trip there?” she said. “There are millions more.”
“A fine idea, but first, my dearest Marta, tell me what’s changed you. You’re positively radiant.”
She couldn’t help but blush. Love and intimacy could make a woman glow. Had everyone noticed?
“Just the excitement of a wedding, I suppose,” she said.
“Are you staying at the palace?” He twirled one end of his mustache. Perhaps he didn’t realize how evil that made him appear.
“No,” she said. That wasn’t a lie. Friedrich hadn’t asked her to stay, although they’d discussed continuing their affair here. Something in that direction would surely happen, but she needn’t let Vaclav know about it.
“Too bad,” he said. “I was hoping we could renew our friendship while I’m here.”
Well, the man was consistent. Consistently lecherous and bothersome. She’d kept him at arm’s length before. She could do it again.
Mrs. Beaumont appeared at the top of the stairs. “Lady Marta, have you seen Mr. Wilson? I don’t seem to be able to find my maid.”
Vaclav turned to glance up. “Oh, my. Another vision.”
“Mrs. Beaumont, this is Archduke Vaclav Marek of Rosnia.”
Mrs. Beaumont cocked her head and studied Vaclav and his flamboyant clothing for a moment. “Archduke did you say?”
Vaclav put his hand on his chest and bowed. “At your service.”
“Well, bless his heart,” Mrs. Beaumont said.
Marta hadn’t learned a lot about people from the American South yet, but she was fairly certain Mrs. Beaumont hadn’t bestowed a blessing on Vaclav.
“My heart is indeed blessed on meeting you, Mrs. Beaumont,” Vaclav said. He leaned toward Marta. “Another American, no?”
“Mrs. Beaumont is Ulrich’s future mother-in-law.”
“I’m jealous of my cousins, I swear,” he said.
“Well, I don’t see my maid here, so I’ll look elsewhere,” Mrs. Beaumont said.
“I’ll assist.” Vaclav climbed the stairs. Mrs. Beaumont gave Marta a beseeching look, as if asking for rescue. Marta couldn’t do anything to stop Friedrich’s cousin in his quest for love. Mrs. Beaumont would have to take care of that herself. In a moment, Vaclav had joined her, gesturing grandly, as he led her away.
Chuckling, Marta started to go, but a familiar voice stopped her.
“Lady Marta, would you be of assistance in my study?” Friedrich asked.
She turned in his direction. “I’d be happy to, Your Majesty.”
One never knew when servants might overhear. Good staff made themselves unobtrusive, and Friedrich’s were the best. So she kept things formal, not to
uching him as they walked to his study.
Once inside and with the door safely closed, he took her in his arms. “Now I have you right where I want you.”
She put the back of her hand to her forehead as if about to swoon. They’d already had melodrama in the entry hall. She might as well create more here for fun.
“Do with me as you will,” she said. “I’m powerless against you.”
“If only that were true.” He kissed her, and she immediately softened in the warmth of his embrace. Her prince. Strong and tall and clean-shaven. She twined her arms around his neck and moved her lips under his. Imagine a life of having his kisses whenever she wanted them.
He broke it off, but not before her breath was coming fast and shallow. Taking his hands in hers, she stepped back. “What was that for?”
He smiled. He did that quite often now. “Do I need a reason to kiss you?”
“Of course not.”
“I have one, in any case. Thank you for all your help. I’m afraid the Beaumonts and Vaclav are too much to handle at once.”
“I think I may have pitted them against each other.”
He laughed. “Clever woman.”
“One might say devious.”
“Will you stay here until they’re both gone?” he asked.
It was her turn to cock her head. “Won’t that appear odd?”
“I think it’s prudent for the people to see you here more. As wonderful as Felice is, she doesn’t know yet how to run a royal household, and there’s so much to be done. You could take her under your wing.”
“I’ll be her tutor?” she said.
“And Casey’s, as well. She has to be an ambassador’s wife,” he said.
“If you think it wise.” Another huge step, allowing the public to see her about the palace more than casually.
“Not just wise, necessary,” he said. “Please, I need you.”
She snuggled her way deeper into his embrace. “You do or does Herr Schmidt?”
He tucked her head under his chin. “We both do.”
“Then you both shall have me.” Had she ever felt like this before? Alexander had given her so much, including all his devotion. Yes, he’d made her happy for years, but he’d never caused her spirit to float outside her body, scarcely tethered to earth. Such fancies, but then, she was living her own fairy tale with this man.
