The Princess Affair Page 10

  “Something like that.” Sasha brushed her knuckles along Kerry’s jawline in a fleeting caress. “Do you really think we have nothing in common, just because we were born into different lives?”

  The question pierced to the heart of Kerry’s insecurity. “When you put it that way, what I said sounds pretty silly.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sasha finally closed the space between them, and Kerry inhaled sharply at the sensation of their bodies pressed together. Tentatively, she rested her hands on Sasha’s waist, enjoying the slip-slide of the cool silk beneath her fingertips.

  “You’ve been brave and honest. Now it’s my turn.” Sasha rested both hands on Kerry’s shoulders, peering intently into her face. “All I know is that I’ve replayed our kiss a thousand times in my memory. For whatever reason, we have incredible chemistry. I want to see if it means anything.”

  Kerry’s head spun at the news that Sasha felt just as intensely about their encounter. Beneath the dizziness, she struggled to formulate a coherent response. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

  Sasha seemed amused by the strangled sound of her voice. “I’m simply suggesting that we spend some time together. Does that sound like something you’d enjoy?”

  “Yes.” The simple syllable was so easy to say. “Very much.”

  Sasha slid her hands to the back of Kerry’s neck and gently began to massage the taut muscles there. Kerry’s eyes slid shut automatically, though she managed to stop herself from moaning. Those muscles were a source of near chronic pain, and Sasha’s fingers felt so good.

  “For this to work,” Sasha murmured, “you have to be able to relax. Do you even know how?”

  Kerry forced her eyes to open. “I do have some trouble with that.”

  “We have an excellent masseuse on the premises. I’ll schedule you something with him tomorrow.”

  “No, no, that’s really not—”

  Sasha tugged at the short hairs on the back of Kerry’s head. “Don’t argue.”

  Kerry felt her entire body go liquid at Sasha’s assertive tone, and she subtly leaned more of her weight back against the stone balustrade. “Okay,” she finally managed. “Thank you. How can I repay you?”

  The mischievous smile that rose to Sasha’s lips sent a chill shivering up Kerry’s spine, but any anxiety she should have felt was obliterated by the surge of arousal that quickened her blood.

  “Do you ride?”

  Unbidden, Kerry flashed to an image of Sasha on her hands and knees, moaning softly as Kerry cupped her hips and teased her skin with gentle strokes, poised to—

  Ruthlessly, she quashed the fantasy. “Wh-what?”

  Sasha’s fingers stilled and she tilted her head back. “Do you ride horses?” When her smile deepened, Kerry knew her Irish coloring had given her away. “What exactly were you just thinking?”

  Kerry cleared her throat. “Ah. Yes, I can ride. I’m no steeplechase champion, but I’m proficient.”

  Thankfully, Sasha let her get away with the redirect. “Something you’re not perfect at? I’m shocked.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I want you to ride with me tomorrow morning. Though it will have to be early if we’re to be back before brunch.” She pursed her lips, considering. “This is the second time already I’ll be rising early to spend time with you.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Releasing her grip, she stepped away. Kerry immediately felt bereft. “The stables are a quarter mile’s walk from the castle, just past the western gardens. Do you think you’ll be able to find them?”

  “I have an excellent sense of direction.” Kerry tapped the side of her head, even as every cell in her body clamored for Sasha’s return.

  “Meet me there at seven o’clock sharp.” She walked toward the door and Kerry dutifully followed.

  At the last possible moment, Sasha turned, rose onto her toes, and pressed the briefest of kisses to the left corner of Kerry’s mouth.

  “Good night.”

  The door latched shut, and just like that, she was gone, leaving the faint scent of lilacs behind.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun had just begun to clear the jagged horizon as Kerry stepped out of the castle. With Sasha’s directions in mind, she turned her back to the brightening sky and began to walk briskly along the gravel path. Tendrils of mist curled around the mountains like the tail of a dark gray cat, and she rubbed her palms together to generate some heat against the damp chill. She was dressed in the warmest clothes she’d packed: jeans and a bulky, hand-knit wool sweater procured last year in Ireland by her aunt. Footwear was her only problem; she’d brought loafers and sneakers, but no boots. Hopefully, she could borrow a pair.

  As the path made a sharp curve around a copse of trees, the stable came into view. It was built of the same granite as the castle and topped with a thatched roof. Arched double doors, painted a deep crimson, had been thrown wide open. The scent of hay reached Kerry just as she heard one of the horses neigh, and she quickened her pace. She had learned to ride as a girl, on the farm horses belonging to their neighbors. It had been years since she’d sat in a saddle, though, and she hoped not to make a fool of herself today. But when Sasha emerged from the barn leading a glossy black mare, Kerry forgot all about her trepidation.

  Sasha looked like she was about to walk onto the set of an equestrian photo shoot. Polished black boots reached up to mid-calf, giving way to fawn-colored jodhpurs that clung to her legs like a second skin. Her black jacket was lined with tartan flannel, she carried a helmet in the crook of her free arm, and her long dark hair hung down past her shoulder in a neat braid. She was crooning something to her horse, and while her voice was too low for Kerry to make out, she could catch the flickering of the mare’s ears.

  Despite feeling horribly underdressed, Kerry squared her shoulders and called out a “good morning.” The mare’s ears pricked inquisitively, and Sasha turned with a smile.

  “Hi.” Deftly, she tied the horse to a hitching post, brushed her hands on her legs, and awaited Kerry’s approach. Uncertain of how to greet her, Kerry stopped a few feet away, but Sasha closed the distance between them and kissed her swiftly on the cheek.

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Very well, thanks.” Kerry gestured to the mare. “Who’s this?”

  Sasha stroked the mare’s nose. “This is Morrigan.”

  The name sounded familiar. “Morrigan. A Celtic goddess—is that right?”

  Sasha looked impressed. “Quite right. She comes of Irish stock, so I thought it appropriate.”

  “You and me both, Morrigan.” When Kerry offered the flat of her palm, the mare nosed at it briefly until she’d determined there was no food to be had and then blew out a petulant sigh through her nostrils. “How long have you had her?”

  “About three years now. You’ll be riding her stable mate, Finnegan. Would you like to meet him?”

  “I would. And can I trouble you for a pair of boots? All I have are these sneakers.”

  Sasha glanced down. “In this country, those are called trainers.” She reached for Kerry’s hand. “Let’s check the tack room.”

  “Trainers.” Kerry tried to focus on the conversation, rather than the warmth of their interlaced fingers. “I should know that one. I’ve heard my teammates use it plenty of times.”

  “You’re playing football at Oxford?”

  “Yes. For Balliol.”

  “What position?”

  “Midfielder.”

  Sasha squeezed her hand. “If I were to watch one of your matches, would you score for me?”

  Kerry could picture the scenario as though it had already happened: charging down the left flank, angling into the box, leaping for a cross from the right corner. Heading the ball over the keeper’s outstretched hands and hearing Sasha’s triumphant shout from the sideline.

  “Yes.”

  “Sure of yourself, are you?” Sas
ha pressed her shoulder against Kerry’s triceps. “I like that. Here we are.”

  The wood-paneled tack room was well stocked, and they found an acceptable pair of boots within only a few minutes. Sasha then led her down the row of stalls before stopping in front of a dapple-gray horse that whickered softly at their approach.

  “Kerry, Finnegan. Finnegan, Kerry.”

  Again, Kerry held out her hand. Finnegan’s lips moved softly over her palm, seeking. “Sorry, bud. I don’t have any treats.” She shifted her hand to his neck and stroked his silky coat for a while. His coloring was beautiful, as though he was the morning mist incarnate.

  When she stopped, he butted his nose into her chest. Sasha laughed in delight, and the sound made Kerry’s heart flip-flop. She looked over her shoulder to find Sasha leaning insouciantly in the stall corner, arms crossed beneath her breasts. Kerry kept her hand firmly planted on Finnegan’s flank to resist the urge to cross the space between them, pin Sasha to the wall, and kiss her until they were both breathless.

  “He likes you.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Kerry patted the horse’s muscular shoulder. “This one seems pretty equal opportunity.”

  “You’re not wrong, actually. He’s a beggar for attention. Shall we go?”

  Kerry nodded and grasped the reins just beneath Finnegan’s mouth. As she led him out of the stall, Sasha handed her a helmet.

  “Just in case. You Americans are so litigious.”

  “Not my family. They’d curse and shake their fists and promptly start planning the wake.”

  “Are you entirely Irish?” Sasha asked.

  “One hundred percent. My family lives in the number one destination for Irish emigrants to the States.”

  Sasha’s perfect eyebrows rose. “Have you ever been? To Ireland, I mean.”

  “Never. But it’s on my to-do list while I’m here in the UK.”

  As they reemerged into the sunlight, Kerry noticed a chestnut gelding tied up opposite Morrigan, Ian standing next to him. Dressed in jodhpurs several shades darker than Sasha’s and a forest green jacket, he glanced at them briefly before bending to inspect his horse’s hooves.

  “You haven’t been properly introduced.” Sasha was apparently determined to act as though the moment wasn’t awkward. “Kerry, this is Ian, the head of my protection detail. Ian, this is Kerry Donovan, one of the Rhodes scholars.”

  Kerry stepped forward and extended her free hand. Ian’s grip was firm and brief. Businesslike. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  The two syllables were monotone, but she didn’t sense any animosity from Ian—only a crystalline focus. Sasha placed a hand on her arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

  “Don’t worry. Ian will ride behind us quite a ways.”

  “I’m—” Mouth suddenly dry, Kerry had to pause. “I’m not worried.”

  Sasha stepped away, smiling. “No? Maybe you should be. Finn would follow Morrigan off a cliff.”

  “Now you tell me.” Kerry reached for the girth strap on the saddle and tightened it a notch. “My fate is in your hands.”

  “Indeed.” Sasha rose into the saddle in a fluid, practiced movement. Her gracefulness was beautiful, and Kerry was certain she’d look like a lumbering ox by comparison.

  “Okay, big guy,” she muttered as she struggled to fit her foot into the stirrup. It was high, and she had let some of her flexibility fall by the wayside since the end of her college athletic career. “Don’t let me down.” She pushed off the ground hard with her right foot and a moment later miraculously found herself seated atop Finnegan’s back.

  “Not bad,” Sasha called, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Now let’s see if you can keep up.”

  At some cue from her mistress, Morrigan trotted off down the path leading past the barn and into the forest. Finnegan immediately followed suit, almost bouncing Kerry right off. Shoving her right foot into the other stirrup, she made a grab for the reins and tried to remember how to post up and down in time with the horse’s gait.

  The first few minutes were a struggle, but by the time they entered the woods, Kerry had managed to find a comfortable rhythm. Once she stopped concentrating so hard, she was able to appreciate the scenery. Through the swirling mist, the landscape felt like a watercolor painting. Most of the deciduous trees had begun to change color, and Kerry enjoyed the explosions of red and yellow and gold among the dark green of the conifers.

  Immediately ahead, Sasha moved easily in tune with Morrigan’s brisk trot, her braid bouncing cheerfully between her shoulder blades. Kerry was captivated by the rhythmic flex of her legs. Desire warmed her from the inside out, warding off the briskness of the air. Every once in a while Sasha glanced over her shoulder and smiled. The entire situation was completely surreal, and Kerry rested one hand on Finnegan’s shoulder, the powerful surge of his muscles reassuring her that this was not, in fact, a dream.

  As they skirted a field filled with long grass and wild flowers, the path became wide enough to ride two abreast. Sasha slowed her mare to a walk and beckoned Kerry forward. Cheeks pink from the chill and exertion, she radiated happiness.

  “How is Finn treating you?”

  Kerry patted his neck. “He’s fantastic, and these views are stunning.”

  Sasha rose in her stirrups and surveyed the mountains encircling them. “It’s very beautiful here, isn’t it?” She turned back to Kerry, one eyebrow raised. “How would you feel about picking up the pace?”

  Every competitive bone in her body clamored for her to accept the challenge. “Let’s do it.”

  Sasha pushed Morrigan into a canter, and this time, when Finn leapt to follow her, Kerry was ready. She clamped her knees against his withers and tried to relax into the rolling motion of his gait. Ahead, Sasha crouched low over Morrigan’s neck, the tails of her jacket fluttering behind her.

  At the edge of the field, they turned down a shallow slope and back into the forest. When the trail narrowed, Sasha slowed their pace. They wound through the trees for several minutes before emerging into another, smaller clearing. Kerry caught sight of several stones poking up above the grass. Before she could ask about them, Sasha dismounted.

  “Come on,” she said. “I want you to see the ruins.”

  After swinging down much more awkwardly, Kerry followed her through the tall grass, leading Finn behind. As they approached the center of the clearing, Kerry realized the ruins were in fact a foundation, complete with the remains of a chimney. Some sort of house, perhaps.

  “We can tie them here.” Sasha beckoned her over to a tall outcropping and looped both sets of reins around the stone. She pulled off her helmet, then withdrew a thermos and a small foil package from Morrigan’s saddle bags. “Coffee and freshly baked scones. Let’s find a good place to sit and eat.”

  Kerry began to walk the periphery of the ruins, projecting the stones upward in her mind, visualizing how the house must have looked. It hadn’t been large, and she saw signs of only three rooms.

  “Do you know what this was?”

  “My father claims it was a hunting lodge.” Sasha climbed over one of the walls and approached the remnant of the chimney. “This looks like a good breakfast spot.”

  She sat with her back to the bricks, and Kerry slid in beside her as she unwrapped the scones. Sasha handed her one, unscrewed the thermos cap, and filled it with coffee. After passing it over, she raised the thermos.

  “Cheers.”

  “Thank you for this.” When Kerry bit into the scone, its buttery taste combined with the tartness of the currants to inspire a soft moan of pleasure that she couldn’t hold back.

  Scone poised before her own lips, Sasha cocked her head. “If I’d known you were going to make sounds like that, I would have asked the kitchen for more.”

  Kerry could feel her face flaming, but she refused to act ashamed. “They’re that delicious.”

  Sasha took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring it. “I agree. And I lik
e how expressive you are.”

  Her throat suddenly dry, Kerry took a sip of coffee. She had no idea how to respond. How did Sasha make her feel so off-kilter and yet so good at the same time?

  “So.” Sasha drew her feet beneath her to sit Indian-style against the broken wall. “You know about my family already. Tell me about yours.”

  Kerry licked the last crumbs of the scone from her fingers as she thought about how to reply. For now, it would be best to keep things simple. “I have three siblings, all older. One sister, Mary, and two brothers, Aidan and Declan. My father owns his own roofing company. My mother stayed at home to raise us.”

  “Tell me more. What are they like?”

  The last thing Kerry wanted was to dredge up her family’s sordid reaction to her coming out. She had to keep the atmosphere light. “Well, when she was a teenager, my sister had a photograph of your brother taped inside her locker at school.”

  “No!”

  “Yes. Truly. She had quite the crush.”

  Sasha clutched her middle as she laughed, loud and long. “That is just too funny,” she finally gasped.

  “It really is.” Kerry swiveled so that her toes were pressed against the wall and then reclined onto her back. While they rode, the mist had almost completely burned off. The sky was a bright, robin’s egg blue, broken only by the occasional cirrus cloud.

  “Your turn. Tell me something funny about your family. Something that never made it to the media.”

  Sasha drummed her fingers against the thermos as she mulled over the question. “Once, during a state dinner with several Middle Eastern dignitaries, my younger sister Elizabeth was sitting on my father’s lap while he chatted with the Israeli Prime Minister. The PM had a bushy white beard, and she reached right up and gave it a tug.”

  Kerry laughed. “Please tell me she didn’t irreparably damage relations between Israel and the UK!”

  “Quite the opposite, actually. I think the prime minister was charmed.”

  “How old was she?” Kerry sat up to take another sip of coffee. Sasha wore a nostalgic expression she hadn’t seen before.

  “She was three. My mother was aghast. I’ll never forget how quickly she whisked Lizzie away. But the prime minister only laughed.”