The Princess Affair (21 page)

“Oh?” Kerry’s throat constricted at the sensual note in Sasha’s voice.

In the dying light, Sasha’s eyes gleamed like a cat’s. “If yesterday was any indication, you need to learn some patience. Tonight, I plan to make you wait.”

Kerry’s view of the road blurred as Sasha’s words sparked a rush of flame beneath her skin. The inferno stole her breath in a quiet gasp, and now it was Sasha’s turn to laugh. She lifted her hand to brush her knuckles across Kerry’s cheek.

“Breathe. I told you I’d take care of you. I meant it.”

Sasha woke slowly, her consciousness spiraling up toward the sunlit world she could dimly sense beyond the blankets nestled around her like a warm cocoon. When she breathed in, she detected the faint aroma of Kerry’s rich, earthy scent. A frisson of desire skittered down her spine as memories of the previous night flooded back into the forefront of her brain. After another full day of touring—this time along the Dingle Peninsula—they had opted to retire early. For a while, they had simply cuddled and channel-surfed until the edges of their kisses grew sharp with need. Kerry had taken the lead effortlessly, surging above her with gentle purpose.

The tone of their lovemaking had been palpably different from the nights before. The urgency of discovery had given way to tenderness, and Kerry’s slow, stroking touches had set Sasha ablaze. But even as they had taken their fill of each other, Sasha had sensed a new kind of desperation at the core of their joining. It was their last night in Ireland. Was Kerry also wondering whether the magic they had found would be able to follow them back across the channel?

The thought dissolved her inner peace and she opened her eyes, propping herself up on both elbows to look for Kerry. The room was empty, but a note was waiting on the nightstand.
Good morning,
it read.
You’re beautiful. I’ve gone for a short run. Back around nine o’clock. –K

Sasha had to smile as she imagined Kerry’s lean frame stretched out in motion along some nearby winding road. She could easily picture her glistening body slicing through the mist like a blade, and suddenly she envied the very air. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was nearly nine. When Kerry returned, perhaps she could entice her into sharing the shower. To conserve water, of course.

A knock sounded at the door, accompanied by Ian’s greeting. Frowning, she quickly threw on a robe. They were leaving at half past ten. What did he need at this hour?

When he stepped inside, she first noticed the grim set to his mouth. Then she saw that he was holding a folded-up newspaper. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Oh, no. No. They’d been cautious! Not as cautious as they could have been, but she’d seen no sign of the paparazzi since she’d left the UK. Surely, she would have realized if they had picked up her trail. Over the years, she’d become nearly as adept as her security at ferreting them out of the shadows.

“How bad?” Her voice was nearly unrecognizable to her own ears. Now her father would have yet another weapon in his arsenal against her. And not only would the media turn her life into even more of a circus than it already was, but they would also turn their all-seeing eye toward Kerry. She would be sucked right into the heart of the maelstrom, and—

“We dodged a bullet, I believe.” Beneath the terseness of his clipped words was an unexpected note of amusement.

He flipped open the paper to reveal a grainy photograph of the two of them leaving the ceili on Friday night. The headline above danced and shimmered, refusing to resolve, and Sasha focused on the picture. Her own face was fairly recognizable, but the camera phone used to snap it had only caught an oblique shot of Kerry’s profile. Blinking fiercely, she closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. When she opened her eyes, the words were clear.
Sasha’s New Bloke?

Sasha stared in disbelief between the large, bold words and the image below them as realization struck. Kerry’s short hair, her strong jawline, and her clothing—low-slung jeans and a button-down shirt, that night—had all conspired to deceive both the amateur paparazzo and the editors of the gossip rag that had won the bidding war for this photo. The thundering panic slightly eased its grip on her heart.

“That’s an interesting twist.”

“Indeed.” Ian refolded the paper. “Nevertheless, depending on what you wish to do, it may be necessary to take some additional precautions.”

“What I wish to do?” She sank into a nearby chair, feeling her fingers tremble slightly under the influence of adrenaline. Her brain seemed filled with haze. She should never have relaxed her guard and abandoned her disguise, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

“You have several options, of course.” Ian’s voice was carefully neutral. “Stop seeing her. Continue to see her, but take stronger measures to keep it secret. Or go public.”

Sasha’s head snapped up. Go public? Was he mad? They had just barely escaped public detection, thanks to a fortuitous misunderstanding! But when she met his gaze, she saw only steadiness there. He wasn’t counseling her one way or another—simply laying out the options.

At that moment, the lock turned in the door. Kerry stepped into the room, disheveled and sweaty and smiling. When she saw them, she froze. The smile dropped away.

“What happened?”

“Show her, Ian.”

Ian held out the paper. Kerry stepped forward to take it from him, and Sasha watched her eyes flicker back and forth across the page. A moment later, she dropped into a crouch at Sasha’s feet.

“Are you all right? I am so, so sorry. This is all my fault. I should never have suggested you take off your wig.” Jaw clenched, she shook her head fiercely. “What a fucking fool I was.”

Sasha was struck dumb by Kerry’s reaction. Had she given even a moment’s thought to the implications for herself? When she reached out to touch Kerry’s face, her fingertips came away moist with sweat. Dimly, she registered the sound of the door closing behind Ian as he gave them privacy.

“Stop. I’m fine. Just a little surprised. But I’ll be damned if I allow you to take the blame for this. Don’t you dare.” Hooking her fingers behind Kerry’s jaw, she tugged lightly. “Do you hear me?”

Kerry squared her shoulders and swallowed hard. “What do you want to do? Do you want to put…this…on ice for a while? Or, ah, longer? Would that be best?”

Sasha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Kerry was offering to—to what? Break up? Was that the right word, when they’d never really agreed on any terms to begin with? When they’d never admitted to anything other than insane chemistry and a fledgling connection?

“Is that what you want?”

Kerry shook her head emphatically. “What? Of course not! How could you possibly believe that after what we’ve shared for these past few days?” She reached for Sasha’s hands. “I may be more book smart than world smart, but by now I’ve seen the kind of pressure you’re under. I don’t want to add to that. So tell me what you want from me, and if it’s in my power to give you, I will.”

Sasha dug her thumbs into Kerry’s palms, anchoring herself against the surge of emotion. How could she help Kerry comprehend something she didn’t fully understand herself?

“I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

Kerry exhaled softly. “Okay. Good. Me, neither.” She even managed a tight smile. “In that case, what should we do?”

Sasha stood and went to the window, pulling back the curtain to look out on their view of the verdant rolling hills. This country was still so wild—fundamentally untamed. As the imaginary walls of her position and obligations pressed in around her, she envied the land its freedom.

“We’ll just have to be careful,” she said without turning around. “Much, much more careful.”

*

Kerry met Harris outside the gates of Holywell Manor just as the last rays of the sun fled the sky, abandoning the clouds to the darkness. Despite having a mountain of work to do before the morning, she hadn’t been able to concentrate at all since being dropped off by one of Sasha’s staff members in the early afternoon. They had flown into a small airport on the outskirts of London, and after one last, too-brief kiss inside the belly of the plane, Sasha had been whisked back to her royal obligations. Kerry hadn’t heard a peep out of her since then—not even a text to say she’d returned home safely.

Kerry didn’t know whether she had the right to feel horribly alone and adrift, but she did just the same. Hopefully, talking things out with Harris would help her to process everything that had happened—the good and the bad. A stiff wind blew up as she approached him, and he shivered dramatically.

“I’m absolutely dying to know all about your trip,” he said, slinging one arm around her shoulders, “but do we really have to go for a walk? Can’t we get a drink someplace nice and warm?”

“No. We can’t.” One look at his face told her he had picked up on the somber note in her voice.

“Oh, no. What happened?” His arm tightened around her. “What did she do?”

“She was born.” For the first time since her morning conversation with Sasha, Kerry released her hold on the bitterness she felt about the whole situation. From beneath her free arm, she produced the copy of the gossip rag she’d purchased at a magazine stand.

Harris took a few steps until he was standing beneath a street lamp, then whistled under his breath. When he looked back to Kerry, all trace of his prior teasing was gone.

“Close one.”

“Too close,” she agreed. “Let’s keep walking.”

He handed the paper back to her. “I think I understand why we’re not sitting someplace warm having a drink.”

“Exactly.” Her stomach twisted at the memory of the anxiety and dismay she’d seen in Sasha’s face upon returning to their room this morning. She wanted to do everything in her power never to contribute to that expression again, and she still felt awful about the role she had played in Sasha’s discovery by the tabloids. But a niggling voice in the back of her head refused to stop wondering how they could possibly have a meaningful relationship someday if Sasha remained so fearful of them being seen in public together. Or was a meaningful relationship not something she was interested in at all?

Harris linked his arm with hers. “Start at the beginning.”

Kerry took a deep breath and launched into a summary of the trip. As she recounted the highlights—Sasha’s thoughtfulness at arranging architecture-themed excursions, the beauty of the Irish landscape, the growing strength of their connection—Harris remained quiet. Finally, she arrived at the events that had transpired that morning, including Sasha’s decision to make their future meetings even more clandestine.

“Insofar as I’m able to, I understand where she’s coming from. And she’s right. This relationship, or whatever I should be calling it, is so new. I get the feeling this isn’t her usual
modus operandi
.”

“Believe me, it’s not,” Harris said. “Until quite recently—in other words, until
you
—not a week would go by without some sort of speculation about her latest fling with some high-profile actor or athlete or trust fund baby.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kerry admitted. “I don’t want to put her in jeopardy of any kind. And in a way, I can empathize with her situation. I lived in the closet for almost two years in college.” She thought back to Virginia, then, and to how frightened she had been that anyone would discover their relationship. At first, she had hidden it even from her teammates. But even after her peers had accepted them, she hadn’t been able to confess to her family until it was far too late.

“I thought I had to live that way. And maybe at first I really did, while I was coming to terms with myself. But after a while it just became habit. Looking over my shoulder all the time, always worrying what others thought. In hindsight, I realize that wasn’t really living. Being in the closet cost me my first relationship. I hated every second of it. I don’t want to go back there.”

She lapsed into a silence only broken by the crunch of their shoes on the gravel path leading toward the park. After a few moments, Harris squeezed her arm in reassurance.

“The good news is that you’re self-aware. You’re walking into this with open eyes, and even with some experience on the other side of the tracks, so to speak. If it makes sense to jump back into the closet with her while you figure out whatever potentiality exists between you, then at least you know what you’re doing.”

He stopped and took her by both shoulders. “Just promise me that when the time comes, you’ll stand up for yourself. You deserve a princess, Kerry, but a princess who will hold your hand in public. Not one who insists on keeping you hidden in her royal boudoir.”

For the first time since she had watched Sasha disappear into her Bentley at the airfield, Kerry felt a smile tug at her lips. She stepped forward and pulled Harris into a long hug. With a friend like him supporting her, she could keep the tendrils of anxiety at bay.

“I promise.”

*

“And then he walked out—just walked right out the door, leaving her standing there in the midst of their own party. He’s not been back since, either.” Miranda rolled her eyes, added a dash more olive juice, and proceeded to shake the cocktail in a rather more melodramatic fashion than was strictly necessary.

“That certainly doesn’t sound pretty.” Sasha hoped her response was adequate. She had only half paid attention to Miranda’s long and sordid tale about two of their recently married acquaintances. The other half of her mind was wondering about Kerry. Was she already asleep? Or more likely, studying? Was Kerry missing her? Had she thought any more about the photograph?

“It’s a disgrace, really.”

A moment later, Sasha accepted her brimming martini from Miranda and took a quick sip. As the cold vodka slid down her throat and into her empty stomach, she hoped it would settle her nerves. She perched on the loveseat while Miri gracefully settled into an armchair.

“It’s been so frustrating not having you in town,” Miranda said, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m glad you’re home.”