by Alice Gaines
“Very private.”
“I think I could be available for that.”
He’d known she’d say yes, of course, or he wouldn’t have asked. But happiness bloomed in his heart nevertheless. She was absolutely the perfect woman for him, and he thanked the Almighty every day for this third chance he’d had at love. He’d propose to her, privately, on the day of the wedding. He would have a life mate into his golden years, after all.
“I’m expected to indulge the men in brandy and billiards after dinner. There’ll be a lot of swagger and boasting late into the night, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’ll come to you after that.”
“I’ll wait up.”
“Don’t. I’ll join you in bed.”
“Mmm,” she said. “Sleepy sex. Delicious.”
He’d make a mental note of that. He’d pay attention to everything she liked about lovemaking, and then, when they were married, they wouldn’t have to sneak around and pretend for the benefit of others. They could have each other whenever they wanted. His life was, indeed, perfect.
*
Of course, Marta couldn’t sleep at all. What woman could while waiting for her fantasy lover? She did get into a filmy nightgown, turn off the lamp by the bed, and slip between the sheets. The only light came from her bathroom, where she’d left the door open just a crack so she could see him when he came in.
The clock showed almost one when the door to her sitting room opened and closed softly. A ripple of excitement danced through her, but she closed her eyes to pretend sleep. Let him “awaken” her with a kiss.
He stopped on the threshold to her bedroom and for a few seconds only stood there.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
She smiled inwardly, not giving away the fact that she’d heard him. He could make one word a precious gift, and she’d keep this one close to her heart. Then he moved farther into the room. A chair creaked as he sat in it, and then his shoes hit the floor. He stood again, stripping out of his clothes. As on their first time together, he took his time, and if she opened her eyes, she’d no doubt find him folding his pants and hanging his shirt carefully.
Then finally, he bent over the bed, pulled up the covers, and slid in beside her. Completely naked, of course. Perhaps she should have stayed nude, too. Perhaps she would next time. In any case, her gown wouldn’t provide any obstacle to them joining.
“Friedrich?” she whispered.
“Who else?”
She raised her arms over her head and stretched. “Vaclav might have been out wandering where he didn’t belong.”
He snuggled up to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’d tear him apart with my bare hands.”
“Oooh, a savage.”
He growled and nipped at her earlobe. She couldn’t help but squirm and giggle. Proper ladies didn’t do that, and she hadn’t since she’d been a girl, but she could do anything with this man.
Then he covered her breast with his hand, massaging the flesh through the flimsy material of her gown. “Do you have one of those tubes handy?”
“Ready for it so quickly?”
“I’ve been hard for at least an hour,” he said. “I don’t think the others noticed, but it made me damned impatient to get through with them.”
A curse word. Strong language for him, even a small “damn.”
“Randy devil.” She’d left the lubricant on the table so she wouldn’t have to fumble for it. She squeezed a generous amount into her hand and rubbed it between her palms to warm it. Now for one of her greatest joys, newly discovered. She slid her hands under the covers and along his hard body until she found his sex. He hadn’t joked. He really was already fully erect.
She played with him as she applied the lubricant, going all the way down to the base and back up using both hands. She gave the head a little squeeze and savored his answering groan.
“You’re doing an unnecessarily good job of that,” he said.
“You told me I could play with you.”
“Ach, yes. Do it.”
Good, because she had no intention of stopping just yet. She stroked him firmly, and the light from the bathroom revealed he’d closed his eyes in concentration. He was always handsome—his face a joy to study—but now, he seemed even more beautiful as he made himself vulnerable to her touch. Still stroking his shaft with one hand, she slid the other lower and gently—oh so gently—brushed the tips of her fingers over his sac.
“Gott im Himmel, Marta,” he cried. “You’ll kill me. I swear.”
“Only in the best sense of the word, I hope.”
“Enough of that, scamp.” He caught her hands in his and moved them away and then raised himself over her for a kiss. This was no polite invitation for a dalliance, no gentle greeting. He captured her lips with his as if he were famished and only she could provide sustenance. Wrapping her arms around him, she did her best to keep up, and in a few seconds, they were battling for dominance—the sort of struggle where both people win.
His hands moved over her as they kissed, his palms travelling along her sides, kneading the flesh and pulling her to him. Against her belly, his hardness pressed into her. He’d fill her soon and take her to their own private heaven.
He had more planned for her first, obviously. He finally released her mouth and moved lower to close his mouth around her breast, sucking on her nipple through the cloth. Her breath caught, and she let out a whimper of need. Such powerful feelings—the physical and the spiritual. Lowering every barrier between them and making herself open to him in every way, as he had a few minutes before. Currents of desire swirled through her, and she surrendered to them. For the next few minutes, she’d allow him to take control. His pleasure would come later, but right now, his loving was all for her.
As he moved to the other breast, his hand bunched up her gown, the hem steadily creeping along her leg to her thigh and then higher. When his fingers touched her mound, she went completely limp, her legs falling apart.
He recognized the invitation and immediately parted the lips of her sex in search of her most sensitive organ. When he found it, the nerve endings came to life, sending signals through her body that he’d make her climax, and the rush would be powerful.
“Oh!” The voice didn’t sound like her own, and yet she’d cried out that single syllable.
He moved his mouth to her ear. “Yes, my love.”
“Gott, Gott!”
He continued stroking her, rubbing and circling her bud until she went quite mad with lust. No polite word would do. She needed more. Needed to climax. Soon.
“Hurry, please,” she said. “Take me. Now.”
He moved his hand, and she hovered near the brink. Lost to the powerful hunger he’d created. Immediately, he took his place between her legs. She managed to reach between them and find his sex, then guided the tip between her folds.
The moment he entered her, she exploded into orgasm. As intense as she’d imagined, wave after wave of it crashing over her. Her muscles gripped him rhythmically as her cries floated above them.
Then he was moving hard and fast, sending her joy even harder. She held him in her arms as he surrendered to his own climax. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he let out a muffled roar as he thrust a few more times and finally went limp, moaning softly.
After a few seconds, he rolled off her and tugged her against him. Her head lay just under his chin, and her arm splayed across his chest as peace settled over both of them.
“I must learn to take more time when we make love,” he said.
“It was perfect. I couldn’t have waited another moment.” Just because she could, she traced meaningless patterns on his chest with the tip of one finger. Such a magnificent male specimen, and he was all hers.
“You inspire such lust in me,” he said. “I feel as if I’m thirty again.”
“And you make me feel as if I’m the most beautiful woman alive.”
He kissed the top of her head. “You are.”
�
��In case you become inspired again, you could spend the rest of the night here.” She held her breath waiting for his answer. So far, their trysts had been just that—encounters that ended when he had to get back to his family or his duties. She needed him as much as his sons and his country did.
“I wouldn’t think of being anywhere else but with you tonight,” he said. “I love you, Marta.”
Gott sei dank. The words she’d craved for years but had only hoped for in the last few weeks. He’d hinted with his endearments, but now he’d actually said them.
“I love you, too,” she said. “My darling Friedrich.”
He yawned. “I’m afraid it’s late, and you’ve sapped my energy.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Love you.” After that, the dear man drifted off.
With a happy sigh, she squeezed his ribs. If she became any happier, her heart would burst with it all.
*
Spending the night with Marta had been the absolutely right thing to do. Now, Friedrich only had to get back to his own suite without detection. At least, he had regular clothing to wear rather than pajamas and robe.
They’d made love again in the early morning. Slow and sweet, the way he’d planned to earlier before her incredible climax had pushed him past the breaking point. He’d kissed her awake and murmured a good-bye. Now, after one more loving glance at her sleeping form, he went through her sitting room and out into the hallway, pulling the door silently closed behind him.
The moment he turned around, he faced detection. His youngest son was creeping down the corridor, dressed in his night clothing.
Ulrich appeared as chagrined at having been spotted as Friedrich felt. He straightened abruptly, his eyes widening. “Father, I…”
“Good morning, Son.” Nonchalant. Act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if he were only on a morning stroll. He turned to go, but Ulrich’s hand caught his arm.
“Wait a minute, Father. Isn’t that…” Ulrich stared at Marta’s door for a few seconds. “…Lady Marta’s suite?”
Friedrich paused as if contemplating the question. “I believe it is.”
Ulrich briefly appeared puzzled, and then recognition dawned. “You were just coming out of there. At this hour in the morning.”
So much for avoiding detection. “Keep your voice down.”
“And you’re wearing the same clothes you had on last night. You haven’t been to your own bedroom, have you?”
“Please, Son. The entire palace doesn’t need to know our business.”
“You and Lady Marta.” Ulrich sputtered for a moment. “Father, how could you?”
If there were ever a case of the pot calling the kettle black. “And where were you coming from?”
“I?”
“You’re still in your pajamas.” Friedrich used his best stern-parent tone. Not that it worked on his sons any longer, but he could try.
“That’s different.”
“I don’t see how,” Friedrich said. “At least I’m decently dressed.”
“Dixie and I are engaged.” Ulrich made a sweeping gesture with his arms as if to point out the obvious difference.
“And you never snuck into her bedroom before you asked her to marry you?”
That shut Ulrich up for a moment. “It’s still different.”
The whole situation might have been insulting were it not for the fact that Ulrich’s posturing made Friedrich want to laugh. The son who’d always been the joker and ne’er-do-well—the fellow who’d painted his fiancée in the nude and had hung the portrait in an Italian exhibition—had suddenly transformed into the keeper of Victorian values. For other people, of course, but not for himself. A towering paragon of morality, sneaking along a hallway in his robe and slippers.
“A man of your station,” Ulrich said. “Behavior like this isn’t seemly.”
“You mean my age, don’t you?”
“That, too,” Ulrich said.
“Ach, Son. Someday you’ll understand.” He started to leave, but Ulrich stopped him again.
“I’m going to have to tell my brothers,” Ulrich said.
Friedrich glanced at where Ulrich’s arm rested on his sleeve and then into his son’s face.
Ulrich got the warning and released him. But he didn’t back down. “They have a right to know.”
“Don’t you think they’ve already figured it out?” Friedrich said. “Or perhaps you’d like me to tell them all the details.”
“Heavens, no.” His son’s eyes widened in horror at the thought.
The door to Marta’s suite opened, and she stuck her head out. She wore a dressing gown over her negligee. “Is everything all right out here?”
“Splendid, my dear,” Friedrich said.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She paused. “Good morning, Ulrich.”
“Morning?” Ulrich repeated, as if he’d never heard the word.
With a smile, Marta closed the door again.
Ulrich pointed at where she’d just stood. “What if the Beaumonts find out about this?”
Good Lord, not them. “There’s no reason they would unless you keep shouting.”
“Dev and Kurt and I will want to have a talk with you about this.”
No doubt. But surely one or both of his older sons would stick up for his right to do what he pleased. They might even find Ulrich’s sudden umbrage at sexual indiscretions amusing.
“In the gold drawing room,” Ulrich said.
Naturally. He’d called all three of them on the carpet in that room over the years. Now would be his turn. He’d faced worse things in his life.
“Very well, Son, but make sure to get dressed before you convene a committee to criticize me.”
With that, he did leave. That had gone far better than he could have expected.
*
A flutter of estrogen descended on Marta as she sat for Hilde to do up her hair. Thank heaven, not the Beaumont women but Felice, Casey, and Dixie. Ever efficient, Hilde left so they could have a private conversation The others spaced themselves around the room, Felice in an armchair near the dressing table and Casey and Dixie sitting on the end of the bed with Cupcake at Dixie’s feet.
Casey grabbed a cushion and hugged it to her chest. “Okay, spill.”
“Spill?” Marta repeated, even though she had a fair idea what Casey meant. They’d heard about Friedrich being in her room the night before, no doubt via Ulrich, and they wanted to hear her side of the story.
“Ulrich told his brothers he caught Friedrich leaving here this morning,” Felice said. “Early and in the clothes he’d worn last night.”
No point denying it. “Ah, yes. I see.”
“Is it true?” Casey said.
“Of course it’s true,” Dixie said. “My husband-to-be near to had a fit when Prince Friedrich didn’t deny it.”
“Why, you two sneaks,” Casey said to Marta. “How long has this been going on?”
“All the way back to the trip to the monastery is my bet,” Dixie said.
“I wouldn’t say…that is, we weren’t then…not that we are now…” For once in her life, Marta was truly at a loss for words. The young people had figured everything out, and denials would prove pointless. They certainly couldn’t expect her to share any details, so what could she say? She sat smiling at all of them, but her facial muscles couldn’t maintain that forever.
“Well I, for one, think it’s wonderful,” Felice declared.
“Fabulous,” Casey said. In a moment, she was surrounded by hugs from all of them. Even Cupcake barked happily.
“Another royal wedding,” Dixie said. “We’ll all plan it, without the other Beaumonts to help.”
“None of that, young lady,” Marta said. “You concentrate on your own special day and don’t worry about me.”
“We’d better worry about Prince Friedrich.” Dixie let out a belly laugh. “Right now, all three of the sons have him trapped in a family conf
erence. My fiancé thinks he’s going to order his father to do the decent thing by you. Funniest damned thing I ever did see.”
“Oh no, they mustn’t.” Poor Friedrich. At some point, he’d have to let his sons know about their relationship, but not via a confrontation—three against one. It was too soon. She and Friedrich hadn’t decided on anything permanent. She would not have him forced into anything, especially by his children. Marta rose to go to him and then remembered she was still wearing her dressing gown and her hair was half-done.
“Relax.” Felice guided her back to her seat. “One thing I’ve learned is to let them work things out themselves. They never fail to come make a wise decision.”
“Do you really think so?” Marta said.
“Positive,” Felice said. “They’re all his sons, after all.”
“Lady Marta’s right that we need to concentrate on Dixie’s wedding now,” Casey said. “But Dixie’s right that you and Friedrich should get married.”
“If it’s fated to happen, it will,” Marta said. “Why don’t we leave it at that?”
“Not quite.” Felice put her fingers over her mouth as if trying to hold a secret inside, and then her face broke into a grin. “Dev and I haven’t said anything in case something goes wrong, but I’m pregnant.”
A brief silence followed before the others broke into whoops and squeals of joy. This time, the hugs all went in Felice’s direction, and Marta got into the middle of it.
When things calmed down, Felice took Marta’s hand. “You see, my own parents never settle in one place for more than a month or two. They’re great people, but not grandparent material. I’d so love for my baby to have a grandmother.”
Again, Marta’s voice failed. A grandchild to spoil and photograph endlessly so she could bore people with pictures. A tiny baby to help bring into the world and grow up happy and healthy. Someone to tuck into bed and sing lullabies to. So much more than she’d ever thought possible.
“That’s a secret for us only,” Felice said.
“Of course,” Marta said. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Now, I think I’ll go see if the men folk are through,” Dixie said. “I’m dying to find out what happened.”
