Royal Affair (7 page)

“Thank you, Feder,” she said. The butler let
himself out.

“Dear Herr Schmidt,” she said into the
phone. “It’s magnificent.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you are,”
Friedrich said.

“How did you know it would be delivered
right now?”

“I commanded it,” he said. “Twelve minutes
past two exactly.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“That I sent flowers to a dear friend?”

“Safe enough, I suppose.” She went to the
table and ran a fingertip around the lip of one of the flowers. It
felt heavy, with a velvet texture. A very valuable, even precious,
plant.

“I’m told it’s rather famous,” he said.

“How can a plant be famous?”

“The grower says orchids have their own
personalities and can be very different from their siblings,” he
said.

Imagine, he’d not only given her a living
thing, but it had its own personality. A famous one.

“This one has won several awards,” he said.
“It’s a treasure, as you are.”

“What if I kill it?”

“When it’s through blooming the grower will
take care of it for you,” he said. “But it’s yours.”

“I hardly know what to say,” she said. Any
other man might have sent a bouquet of roses. Friedrich had given
her this magnificent creature. “I’ll put it in my bedroom where I
can see it when I wake up.”

“Talk like that is far less safe,” he said.
“I do wish I could be there with you.”

“Oh, Friedrich…”

“Don’t sound sad,
Liebling
.”

“I won’t.” She smiled. How could she not
when he used an endearment like that and when she had this
beautiful, living gift from him?

“If things aren’t fixed here soon, expect
another visit from Herr Schmidt.”

“He’s always welcome.”

“Until then,
Liebling
,” he said.
“
Auf wiedersehen.
”

“
Auf wiedersehen,
” she said and ended
the call. It meant good-bye, but it also meant until I see you
again.

*

Italy! Everything had happened so fast, and
now, Marta found herself sitting in a limousine outside a
university art gallery waiting for Friedrich to emerge with all his
sons and their wives and one woman who, by all appearances, would
soon be a third wife. None of them had known she was coming, but
then Friedrich had surprised them with his own appearance. For some
silly reason only one’s children understood, they’d decided to keep
from him the fact that his youngest had become an accomplished
painter.

She fished through her purse until she found
her small mirror. It showed makeup and hair in place just as it had
ten minutes before. Nothing stuck in her teeth. And the
almost-serene expression years of careful training had taught her
to display when her nerves were wound tight.

She and Friedrich would have no good excuse
for her presence in what was so obviously a family matter. And if
things hadn’t gone well inside, she might find herself in the
middle of a private argument between father and sons. Still, he had
wanted her here, and that spoke to a developing relationship. At
some point, the rest of them would have to know she and Friedrich
had become a couple. But things had happened so quickly—one moment
receiving nothing but phone calls and orchids and now “Come to
Italy with me.”

Eventually, the doors of the gallery opened,
and all seven of them appeared on the steps outside. Seven of them.
Seven pairs of eyes trained on her. Dixie didn’t seem too surprised
to see her, but then Dixie had almost caught them kissing. Felice
and Casey smiled at her, but Ulrich gave his father a quizzical
look. The other two sons schooled their expressions in the regal
way of the VonRamsbergs.

Well, at least the shock was over, even
though her heart kept thundering in her chest. An inquisition might
follow, but Friedrich had decided on taking everyone to a
restaurant, so things should remain civil.

Friedrich said a few words to the others and
then descended the steps and climbed into the limousine beside
her.

“The others?” she asked.

“They have a car. They’ll follow.” He gave
the driver some instructions in Italian and then rested back
against the cushions.

“How did it go?” she said.

“As well as one could hope for the display
of my soon-to-be daughter-in-law in the nude.”

Marta lifted her hand to her throat. “She
was naked?”

“Rather a shock, as you can imagine,” he
said. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Was it…” How did she put this gracefully?
“…any good?”

“Extraordinary.” He wrapped his hand around
her fingers and brought them to his lips for a kiss. “Thank you for
coming. I had no idea what I’d find when the invitation to the show
arrived from the university.”

“Glad to be of help.” And also thrilled
beyond belief to be sitting with him, their hands entwined.
Whatever occurred in the restaurant, she’d have the knowledge that
he’d wanted her there and involved in his life.

“I’ve taken the top floor of a small hotel
for the family.” He gave her a shy smile. “You’ll be with us.”

“Thank you.” Oh, my. Her pulse quickened. An
initiation into the family at top speed. She had no reason to
believe they’d reject her, but what would they think of their
patriarch introducing another woman in his—and their—lives at his
age? It seemed she’d find out.

He leaned toward her. “You wouldn’t mind a
visitor tonight, I hope.”

“Only if Herr Schmidt isn’t with me.”

“Herr Schmidt will definitely be there.”

The shiver of excitement she’d experienced
so frequently rushed through her. Each time, she’d wonder if it
would ever fade—if she’d ever grow so accustomed to his nearness
and the promise of his loving that it would no longer thrill her.
Impossible. The man was like his brandy, intoxicating and
delicious. She should start planning how she’d greet him. What
she’d wear, when she’d wash her hair.

They arrived at the restaurant, and the
driver appeared to help her out of the limousine. Friedrich
immediately took his place beside her and, his hand at the small of
her back, led her inside.

As efficient as Herr Grossman, the
proprietor escorted them to a private dining room with a table
large enough to serve all of them. In a moment, the others arrived
in a horde. All chattering. Ulrich’s cheeks had turned red with
excitement, and Dixie hung on his arm. All six of them, they gave
off an air of happiness so powerful, they had her grinning along
with them.

“You should have seen the exhibit, Lady
Marta,” Felice said. “Ulrich’s painting stole the show.”

Dixie waved a hand in front of her face.
“Lordy, the fewer people who see me nekkid, the happier I am.”

“I hope it wasn’t too difficult for you, my
dear,” Friedrich said. “My son should never have done that.”

“Ah, the things you do for love,” Dixie
said.

Ulrich nestled her against his side. “I have
a feeling I’ll make up for it the rest of my life.”

“Darn straight, darlin’,” Dixie said.

“Stop it, you two, before all this sweetness
gives me cavities,” Casey said.

“All right, everyone. Let’s sit down.”
Friedrich pulled out a chair for Marta next to the head of the
table, where he’d sit. Once they’d all sat, a pair of waiters
brought wine and poured.

“It should be champagne,” Dev said. “In
honor of Ulrich’s completing his degree and…”

Kurt whispered something to Casey, who then
nudged Ulrich.

Ulrich lifted his glass in a toast. “Dixie
has agreed to become my wife.”

General cheers went up, and glasses
clinked.

“I can’t have him painting nude paintings of
me and showing them all over Europe without getting my revenge,”
Dixie said.

“It wasn’t all over Europe, and you’ve
already had plenty of revenge,” Ulrich said.

Dixie stared into his eyes. “I haven’t even
gotten started, sugar.”

Friedrich responded with a full-throated
laugh. Because he was normally a very reserved person, one seldom
heard that from him. Marta would have to figure out a way to
inspire more of it.

“My congratulations to you both,” she
said.

“You’ll help with the wedding plans, won’t
you, Lady Marta?” Felice said.

They all looked to see what she’d say. First
Friedrich involving her in family matters and now Felice. She
smiled and raised her glass again. “Of course.”

“It’ll be a regular girl-fest. Just wait
’til my mother and sister return.” Dixie turned to Ulrich. “Honey,
maybe we should elope to the monastery and have the abbot marry
us.”

“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.

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.