Spin- Rumpelstiltskin Retold

by Demelza Carlton

  She came with a scream, her back arching so far off the bed only her head touched it any more.

  Before she could come down of her own accord, he seized her around the waist, easing her onto his rock-hard cock. Her heels dug into his back as he drove deep, deeper inside her than he'd ever been before. He filled her completely, his balls resting against her as if clamouring for entry, too. She felt so good, he hoped he wasn't hurting her. He risked a glance at her face.

  Her eyes met his. "More," she demanded, clenching down on his cock.

  He pressed his thumb against her little nub, hearing her gasp as he slid almost out of her and then right back in, where he belonged. "Be careful what you wish for, my lady," he whispered, keeping his thrusts slow and steady and powerfully deep, until his circling thumb unravelled her once more. He silenced her scream with a kiss, and threw caution to the winds. Slow and steady be damned. He pounded into her, egged on by her breathless commands for more until she clenched around him one more time, crying out his name over and over, and he was undone.

  When Lubos managed to open his eyes again, Molina, the most magnificent woman he'd ever met, eased her legs down from his shoulders, to wrap them even more firmly around his waist, holding him deep inside her.

  "I am not ready to do that again, my lady. We men do not have the stamina of a lady like you," Lubos apologised.

  Molina gave a slight smile. "Perhaps not, but when you are ready, I will be the first to know." And she clenched deliciously around him, making Lubos wish he was ready now.

  Some hours later, he awoke to find her sitting astride him, rocking her hips gently as she rubbed against his once more hard cock. Like a dream made real. One who would one day be his wife.

  "I want more," she whispered.

  Lubos seized her hips, chuckling as she gasped in surprise, and thrust home.

  Sixteen

  Every night and every blissful morning, Molina had to pry her body from Lubos'. If she didn't, then she would neither sleep nor leave their shared bed, though it was becoming increasingly hard to remember why she wanted to.

  But today, Lubos had assured her, they would reach the capital, and she did want to do that. She pawed through her clothes, wanting something clean, but she'd worn all of them on this long trip. The only item that had stayed in her bag was her red petticoat, for her moonblood had not come this month. That meant she carried Lubos' child already. Good. Once they were married, they would be a family all the sooner. So much for the village boys' taunts that she was so thin, she must be barren. Or a witch, as though her skills with the waterwheels were some kind of magic and not simply something that came naturally to her mind.

  Lubos wanted waterwheels and whatever she wanted to show him. And her. Oh, how he wanted her. Even this morning his loving smile melted something inside her.

  "Come back to bed," he said.

  She shook her head. "We enter the capital today. I want to wear my best, but everything is so travel worn, I fear I shall look like your poor country cousin."

  He rose and kissed her. "You will look beautiful, as always, no matter what you wear. And you shall have all new clothes in the latest court fashions, if that is your wish. Nothing is too good for my lovely wife."

  "When will we be married? Will there be enough time to have a new gown made, or to launder these?" Molina asked.

  "You shall name the day. I must report to the king first, but after that, my time is yours."

  "As I am yours." She melted into his arms, wishing her worries would melt just as easily. Every inn they stopped at, he proudly introduced her as his new bride, and Molina wanted to believe him with all her might. But her mind would not stop spinning with all the things that could possibly go wrong.

  Seventeen

  "I should change my gown before I see the king," Molina said, hanging back even as Lubos seized her hand to lead her into the throne room.

  Lubos shook his head. "It's best not to delay when reporting to the king. He is very insistent about being the first to know any news. And he will not notice your gown, I promise you. Why, I can't tell if it's the same gown you wore yesterday, or if it is a new one. The only thing he would notice about your gown is if you weren't wearing one, because no man is immune to your beauty."

  Molina blushed. "You should not say such things. I'm sure if I had any beauty to boast of, someone in my village would have noticed and told me of it. And he will notice this gown, I am sure of it, for I left half of the skirt in a bramble hedge beside the road when that hateful horse decided to scratch her flank against it. Why, it is nothing but ribbons all down one side!"

  When she held it out, Lubos realised the gown was quite ruined, but the layer of cloth beneath seemed unharmed, as were her stockings. Her modesty would be preserved.

  "I didn't notice until you told me. I'm sure he won't, either. Here, I shall walk on that side of you as we enter the throne room, and it will be quite invisible." Before she could object again, Lubos linked his arm through hers and marched into the throne room.

  Courtiers passed to let them through, bowing as they recognised him. Lubos wanted to point out to Molina that nobody noticed a little dust from the road, that they saw him for who he was, and it would be the same for her, but he kept his observations for later. The sooner this audience was over, the better.

  He stopped at the foot of the dais and bowed low. "Father, you will not believe what I found in Lord Bachmeier's barony."

  "The skinniest, ugliest whore in the kingdom?"

  Lubos heard Molina's gasp as her hand slipped from his grasp.

  Father didn't seem to have noticed. "Bachmeier said he had the most beautiful daughters in the country. Plump, fair and fertile – just what any man would want in a wife. If that beanpole is one of his, then what else has he lied about?"

  Lubos rose. "Father, this is Lady Molina, and she is most certainly not one of Bachmeier's daughters, though the man wanted to marry her himself. She works miracles. The things she can do with waterwheels and a wheel for spinning thread…why, if we equipped every mill in the country with one of her wheels, the treasury would be full of gold within the year. Never have I seen anything like it. Machines that can do the work of three men, using the water from the river! If you let me show you…"

  The king waved his hand languidly. "I have no desire to see what some slovenly stable girl can do. I'm sure she has spread her legs and her lies far enough, for you to have been ensnared by her. Has she fucked away your wits, too, so that I will need to name your brother Xylander the crown prince instead of you?"

  Lubos didn't dare look at Molina. All he knew was he had to get her out of there.

  "Your Majesty will choose his successor wisely, I am certain," Lubos said evenly. "Just as you have chosen your loyal barons and lords wisely, for they have striven mightily to provide you with a tithe even in these times of hardship and floods, which took most of their harvests. As you will have already seen in the reports I sent back while I was travelling. And as you were kind enough to bring up the subject of marriage, I would very much like to discuss my marriage with you, though perhaps in the privacy of your apartments…" He glanced pointedly at the packed court behind him.

  "There is nothing to discuss. As long as she is female and fertile and of a rank befitting your station, and she comes with a sizeable dowry in gold, you may bed whatever bitch you please. When the sow is pregnant, then you may go back to tumbling stable girls." Father made a shooing motion with his hands. "Get this slut out of my sight."

  Lubos muttered something he hoped sounded obedient and suitably contrite, before hustling Molina out. He almost had to carry her, for her feet didn't seem to want to work until the throne room door had closed behind them.

  "I must apologise for my father. His mind is not as sharp as it was," Lubos began, but Molina didn't seem to hear him.

  He'd been such a fool. Gently, he took her hand and guided her to his chambers, where he could apologise to her properly without half the court hea
ring.

  Eighteen

  Molina's mind whirled worse than ever. Lubos was the crown prince. His father, the king, wanted nothing to do with waterwheels and wouldn't let them marry, for he thought she was unworthy of his princely son. Far from home, carrying Lubos' child…what was she to do?

  She followed Lubos through the castle, as lost in her own thoughts as in the maze of stone halls.

  Lubos opened another door and gestured for her to go through. When Molina did, she found herself in a tower room, instead of another passage. A bedchamber, if she didn't miss her guess, full of the sort of rich furnishings she would expect to belong to royalty.

  Not at all suitable for the…what had the king called her? Oh yes: the slovenly stable girl who had spread her legs and her lies for the prince. Lovely. Bachmeier's snide comments about her sanity seemed almost like compliments in comparison.

  "I'll have some water sent up, and a maid with fresh clothes, who will see that yours are laundered. I'll have some dinner sent up, too, for my father's great hall is not the place for you yet, I think. Not until we are wed," Lubos said.

  Molina laid a hand on his arm. "When we are wed? Why, did you not hear the king? He said he would never allow us to wed. Lubos, Your Highness, I cannot allow you to commit treason. You cannot lose your head for me." And she would lose hers, too, she thought but didn't say.

  Lubos grimaced. "My father is old and prone to rash decisions, like today, but, in time, I have found he will eventually see reason. So he will over our marriage. He sent me out to find gold from his vassals, and a bride. He made no mention of wealth or dowries then, and once his ire has cooled, I will explain to him the value of your waterwheels. Then, he will demand we marry, and we will. Until then, remain here in my quarters as much as possible, except when you are working with the castle carpenter. Or is it the wainwright you need? Whoever and whatever you need, you shall have it, so that when my father wishes to speak to you again, you will have not just a picture but a real, moving device to show him."

  Against her better judgement, hope kindled in Molina's breast. "These are your quarters?"

  "Yes, and they will be yours, too. As my bride to be, you will be showed all the respect befitting a princess. New gowns, new shoes, a new spinning wheel…all that you ask for will be yours. Even me, for I made a vow I intend to keep." He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Please, be patient just a little while, my love, and everything will be as it should be. I promise." He pulled away and bowed to her. "A maid, water, dinner…I shall have it all sent up to you on my way to see the carpenter. Then I will return to share the meal with you, before we retire to bed for the night. If that meets with your approval, my lady."

  Now who was struck dumb? The irony wasn't lost on her. "I…yes," she said finally. "Your Highness," she added.

  He waved the words away. "There are no titles between us. You are my lady, and my equal. In my mind, you are already my bride. Anything else is just mere words and ceremony. I am yours. Never doubt that." Then he whirled on his heel and was gone.

  Molina sat on the enormous bed – big enough for Lubos and all four of Bachmeier's daughters, if he'd chosen all of the girls, instead of just her – and tried to calm her thoughts. With all her heart, she wanted to believe Lubos. She placed a hand on her belly. For the future of the child inside her, she had to hope what he said was true.

  In the meantime, she would work with this carpenter, and do everything Lubos said. For this court was a strange place to her, as alien as the surface of the moon, and one wrong step would see her lose not just her own life, but her child's life, too. Molina swore it would not come to that.

  Nineteen

  Lubos found Zimmerman in his workshop outside the castle gates. He watched the carpenter hammering what looked like a chair before Zimmerman noticed him.

  Down went the hammer and Zimmerman bowed. "Your Highness. An honour."

  It hadn't always been an honour. Zimmerman had often chased Lubos and the castellan's boys out of his workshop when they came searching for wood to make into toy boats to sail on the moat. Lubos grinned. "Do you have any spare bits for boats, Master Zimmerman?"

  Zimmerman's mouth dropped open. "I'd forgotten about you boys and those boats. It seems like so long ago…but Your Highness has only to ask, and I will make whatever you wish. Though if it's boats you're after, might I suggest Bootsma, the royal boatbuilder instead? As I'm sure you and your friends found out all too quickly, my fresh planks are more likely to sink than float."

  "It's not for me, my friend. I need your skills for my fiancée, the amazing woman I'll soon marry. She has the most…inventive mind, contraptions that could do the work of a man or a woman, or even a whole village. Using wheels and water and all manner of things. Truly remarkable. What Lady Molina designs, I want you to build for her. I need you to bring her drawings to life, so that my father can truly appreciate them."

  Zimmerman sucked in a breath. "So the rumours are true! People have been spreading stories, that you'd found a bride somewhere in the provinces, and you were bringing her home. Some even said she had the next heir on the way."

  Molina, carrying his child? He couldn't imagine a happier thought. Well, they'd certainly made love enough times on the journey for such a thing to happen, though it was probably too early to know.

  "She is like no other woman I've ever met. A treasure who will one day be queen. In the meantime, I'm sure she will keep you and every other carpenter in the kingdom busy improving the place. Now would be a good time to take on an apprentice or two."

  Zimmerman bowed. "It will be an honour to work for the future queen. Something to tell my grandkids, if my daughters ever get around to having any."

  "That it will be," Lubos promised him, before heading back into the castle.

  He found his father in his private chambers, dressing for dinner, as usual at this time of day. "What do you want?" Father demanded. "Come to tell me you've gone and married the stable girl against my wishes, so I'll have to cut off her head? Don't test me, boy – I'll do it, no matter how pretty she is. Our treasury needs gold, not girls."

  "I'll bring you the gold you ask for, Father, you'll see. Many of the provinces were hard hit by the spring floods, and they have little to spare. But what I discovered out there…ah, you should have seen it, Father. They were using the floodwaters to power the millwheels, and to make linen, and all manner of things. Almost miraculous. I'll ask Zimmerman to put together some models so that you can see these things in action. I'm sure you'll see how useful they will be. For while a machine mills the grain, the men can plant another crop. Triple the size of the usual flax crop, ready to spin into linen thread in half the time it normally takes." Lubos almost added that it was all thanks to Molina, but held his tongue. When his father saw the models and truly appreciated their value, then he would tell the king that she alone was responsible for them.

  Father squinted at him. "I thought you said the girl made them?"

  "She designs them. A skilled carpenter has to make them," Lubos said. Actually, he wouldn't put it past Molina to have done the work herself back at home. But she had no need for such things here. Providing for her was his job now.

  "I will see the models when you have them. Until then – where are my tithe collectors with my gold? Aren't you supposed to be with them?"

  Lubos sighed. His father forgot far too much these days. "Molina and I rode ahead to bring you the news. I will return to the cart train on the morrow to see if I can hurry them along." Not likely, but it was what his father wanted to hear.

  "Good. Can't leave you a penniless kingdom when my reign is over, can I? What kind of king would that make me?"

  Lubos made suitably sympathetic noises, but inside, his resolve was as hard as iron. With or without his father's help, he and Molina would work to make their kingdom great again. As husband and wife.

  Twenty

  Abraham reined in his horse just before the bridge. With all the traffi
c headed into the city, including an endless train of carts that looked to be carrying either the king's tithe or enough food to feed an army, he hadn't been moving faster than a walk anyway, but now he had to stop, for the very tower the witch had spoken about loomed above him.

  The windows were unshuttered in the warm summer air, and Abraham fancied he could see a shape looking out through one. A feminine silhouette, there for a moment, before it was gone.

  A maiden locked in the tower, perhaps? One who would be so grateful to him for rescuing her that she would break the curse as a matter of course?

  It would not be easy getting in, for the tower was part of the castle, but that was where his magic shoes would come in. He would sneak in, carry the girl out, persuade her to break the curse, and be home with Maja before the baby was born.

  He would hold his son in his arms, free of the curse that had plagued their bloodline for far too long, or he would not be able to look his son in the eye, for he would be a failure of a father.

  Abraham urged his horse across the bridge, his eyes fixed on the tower. Therein lay his salvation, and he would not let it slip from his grasp.

  Twenty-One

  Molina rose and peered out the window. Ever since the morning Lubos left, she'd been watching for him. While she worked with Zimmerman, she'd managed to put him out of her mind for an hour or two at a time, but now she had the thread spinning wheel and spindle arrangement before her, she was terrified to try it. What if it worked? What if it didn't? This was sleeker, more polished than the simple device she'd imagined, but then she hadn't expected to have the services of a royal carpenter who made ornate carved chairs for his living.

  She squinted at a horseman on the bridge, but he didn't look like Lubos. She'd ridden beside Lubos enough to recognise him on sight. Yet the carts coming through the gate were more numerous than usual, so they had to be the tithe. Where was Lubos, then?