Royal Affair (8 page)

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 stroked 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 touching 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.

“I’d better let you go,” he said, although
his arms made no move to release her. Neither did she try to move
away. How could she leave the warmth of his embrace?

“I should do some work,” he said.

“I should rescue Mrs. Beaumont from
Vaclav.”

He sighed. “If I were Ulrich, I’d probably
make love with you on top of my desk.”

Her turn to laugh. “Probably not good for
either of our backs.”

“I’m glad you’ll stay with us,” he said.

“I may as well. Half my staff is already on
the way here. I’ll send for the rest.” And some clothes, including
a new gown he hadn’t seen yet.