The Princess Affair Page 9

  “Do you have any questions?” After waiting a few beats, she nodded briskly. “Very well, then. I shall see you shortly.”

  She turned away, leaving Celia to explain the layout of the castle and the wing to which they’d been assigned. Sasha had been sorely tempted to house Kerry in the room directly across from her own, but singling her out in that way would doubtless have made her uncomfortable. The most she’d allowed herself to do was to ensure Kerry didn’t have a roommate.

  Just in case.

  *

  Kerry reclined in the cushioned window seat across from her bed, barely resisting the urge to pinch herself. She was a guest of the British royal family, and tonight, she would sleep in a castle. She hadn’t told anyone back home about this trip—not even her brothers—because a part of her hadn’t been able believe it wasn’t some kind of hoax. She’d spent the entire journey here in a state of disbelief, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it hadn’t.

  Below, a flower garden, its paths lined with immaculately trimmed hedgerows, gave way to patio paved with gray-blue stone. Some kind of granite, most likely, but she would need to get closer to be certain. Beyond the patio stretched a broad lawn, ending in another, taller line of hedgerows. Mountains—some bald, some forested—dominated the horizon. For one romantic moment, she felt cradled in the protective embrace of the valley as the hills looked on, ever vigilant.

  But even that momentary sense of security couldn’t calm the butterflies churning in her gut. For the past three weeks, she had worked hard to maintain her focus. Except in her weakest moments—and when the occasional glimpse of a tabloid photo caught her unawares—she had resisted all thoughts of Princess Alexandra. She’d thought herself prepared to see Sasha again, but nothing could have been further from the truth.

  She closed her eyes and the image was there, burned into her retinas: Sasha’s dark, lustrous hair curling around her shoulders; the hint of challenge in her inviting smile; the way her dress—a riotous explosion of swirling shades of magenta—clung to her breasts and hips. Kerry had been instantly overwhelmed by the memory of that lithe body pressed intimately against hers. She felt like Odysseus in the presence of a Siren, caught unawares without rope or beeswax.

  “She could shipwreck me.”

  If Sasha had in fact designed the weekend with her in mind, then what did that mean? The hubris of the thought still floored her, but she couldn’t ignore the evidence. This event seemed like an awful lot of effort to put in for another chance at a one-night stand, especially from someone who had no trouble finding willing partners. Did Sasha want more than an assignation? How could she, when they barely knew each other? Was she simply bored? Was this sort of cat-and-mouse game how members of the royal family got their kicks?

  At the sound of a knock, she reluctantly vacated her perch. When she opened the door, Harris barged in without even asking permission, talking a mile a minute. “How are your digs? Can you even believe this place? Oh, a window seat! How quaint!”

  Before she could protest, he had taken her spot. Lacing his hands behind his head, he gave her an expectant look.

  “What?”

  He checked his watch. “We have ten minutes until we need to be in the dining room. What’s your plan?”

  “My plan?”

  “Sassy Sasha has you where she wants you. You’re squarely in her crosshairs and you, who schedule virtually every minute of every day, don’t have a plan?”

  Kerry sat on the bed. “What good would one do me? To hear you talk, I don’t have much chance of escaping.”

  “Is that what you want? To escape?”

  Kerry let her gaze drift back to the mountains outside. Out here, free of the paparazzi, she didn’t have to worry about becoming a headline. If Sasha pursued her again, she could surrender to her own desire without guilt. But instead of relief, the thought inspired a fresh wave of unease. Did she really want to be a conquest? Before arriving in England, she had been fine on her own, at peace in her decision to put the needs of her heart—and her body—on hold in favor of her career. Her solitary coping mechanisms had worked, until Sasha overrode her careful control. Did she really want to pursue what could only be the most transient of flings? Then again, perhaps that was a good reason to allow herself to indulge. She had to get back on the metaphorical horse sometime, didn’t she?

  But even as the thought crossed her mind, she mentally shied away from its callousness. “I don’t know what I want.”

  Harris stood and held out his hand. Dressed in khaki slacks and a navy plaid sport coat, he looked positively dapper. “I’m relieved to hear you say that. Guess you’ll just have to trust your instincts.”

  Kerry let him lead her out of the room. As they walked down the corridor, they were joined by several other members of their cohort. Together, they made their way down the wide stone staircase that opened into the main atrium, where one of the liveried staff directed them to the dining room. The long, rectangular chamber had fireplaces set into each short wall. Large bay windows with southern exposure looked out onto an immaculate lawn now shrouded in the shadows of approaching dusk. Kerry tried to concentrate on appreciating the Scots Baronial architecture instead of searching the room for Sasha.

  “Looks like we have assigned seating,” Harris said. “Let’s find our placards.”

  He located his at a table in the middle of the room. Kerry had to hunt a while longer, but she finally found her place at the table nearest the windows. Harris stopped at the seat opposite hers and whistled.

  “Well, well, well. It’s your lucky day, Ker.” Dry humor saturated his every word.

  Kerry’s pulse jumped at the thought of spending the duration of the meal facing Sasha. She was just debating whether sitting across from her was better or worse than sitting next to her, when a member of the staff paused to proffer them a tray full of champagne flutes.

  “Supper will begin shortly,” he said. “Do you need any assistance in finding your seats?”

  “No, thank you.” Kerry sipped at the bubbling liquor, hoping it would steady her nerves. Sliding into her chair, she waved to Harris as he moved away.

  Her table filled quickly with several of her peers along with Mary Spencer and two of the trustees who had accompanied them. As she listened to their excited chatter, she had to concentrate on not turning around to look for Sasha. When asked by one trustee how her studies were proceeding, she forced herself to focus exclusively on him and respond in appropriate detail.

  And then Spencer who, had line-of-sight over her shoulder, rose to her feet. “Good evening, Your Royal Highness.”

  Kerry stood, steeling herself. When Sasha came into view, her heart clattered against her ribs. Up close, the princess was even more beautiful than she had been at a distance earlier in the day. Her glossy lips parted on a smile as she took the hand of each trustee in turn, and Kerry couldn’t stop herself from flashing back to their incendiary kiss. Sasha sank gracefully into her chair, and Kerry followed suit, relieved to be off her feet.

  “Good evening, all. It’s wonderful to have you here. Are the rooms satisfactory, I hope?”

  “More than satisfactory, Your Highness,” Spencer hurried to reassure her.

  “Please do let Celia know if there’s anything you require. Now, would you be so kind as to introduce yourselves? And if you are one of the scholars, perhaps share what you are studying?”

  Kerry barely heard a word of her friends’ descriptions of their academic endeavors. She couldn’t stop watching Sasha play the role of consummate hostess. She was clearly in her element as she listened attentively to each person, even taking the time to ask a question or two. When those emerald eyes finally locked on to hers, Kerry caught the humor that sparkled in their depths.

  “My name is Kerry Donovan, Your Royal Highness, and I’m studying sustainable architecture.”

  “Oh?” Sasha feigned surprise very well. “How fortuitous that our guest of honor this weekend—aside from all of you, of course—
is Raymond Fletcher, the President of the Royal Institute of British Architects.”

  “I’m very much looking forward to speaking with him.”

  Sasha smiled warmly. “He’ll arrive later this evening and will be giving the tour tomorrow. I believe his nephew, Byron, will be joining him. Are you familiar with his work?”

  Kerry didn’t bother trying to hide her surprise. An architect in his own right, Byron Fletcher’s meteoric rise to success had compelled him to branch out into other media. He was now a renowned designer with his own set of London-based boutiques. And Sasha had enticed him here?

  “I am. It will be an honor to meet them both.”

  When Sasha switched her attention to Anna, Kerry immediately felt bereft. Sasha was far better than she at maintaining her composure, and for a moment, Kerry wondered whether she’d been deluded into believing Sasha still carried some kind of torch for her. But then Sasha’s gaze returned to hers for the briefest of instants—a split second of unanticipated connection—and with a rush of adrenaline, she realized the torch burned brightly still.

  The meal passed in a haze of agonizing anticipation that didn’t improve in the slightest when the group retired to the downstairs game room. The trustees, along with the most extroverted members of Kerry’s group, monopolized Sasha’s attention. When she perched on a stool before the beautiful, dark-stained oak bar, they hovered around her like moths drawn to a flame. As much as she wanted to join in their discussion, Kerry didn’t think she would be able to get a word in edgewise. And so she found herself drinking Scotch and playing chess with Kieran in the corner, alternately cursing her introversion and admiring the smoothness of the Macallan 30. Harris would have tried to help her, she knew, but he was busy flirting with Brent. Perhaps that was for the best. Any of his schemes would doubtless get her into trouble.

  Just shy of ten o’clock, Sasha announced that it was time for her to retire. She didn’t even look Kerry’s way as she left the room. Kerry glumly checkmated Kieran’s queen a few minutes later, not feeling victorious in the slightest. She begged off a rematch and found Harris playing pool with Brent.

  “I’m going to sleep. See you at the brunch?”

  Harris pulled her into a hug. “Did something happen?” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just fine,” she said firmly. “Have fun. See you tomorrow.”

  Kerry’s footsteps echoed through the halls as she walked slowly back to her room, and for those few minutes, she indulged herself in the fantasy that this was a Gothic castle rather than a product of the nineteenth-century Gothic Revival. Of course, she knew too much about the medieval period to romanticize it for long. Between the plagues, the wars, and the lack of any modern convenience, it certainly hadn’t been an easy time in which to live.

  She was so preoccupied with her daydream that she didn’t notice the dark blue envelope on the floor of her room until she stepped on it. Someone must have slipped it beneath the door. Heart pounding, her fatigue fell away like a cloak as she bent to pick it up and saw her name written in an elegant script. Not wanting to tear it any more than necessary, she carefully pushed her finger beneath the flap.

  Inside, she found a small bone-white card emblazoned with the colorful seal of the royal family. But when she looked closer, she noticed that the crest differed from King Andrew’s in a few, very minor respects. The children of a British monarch each had their own crests—she knew that much. Was this Sasha’s? She flipped the card over.

  Come to the northern wing. Present this card to the guards there.

  That was all it said. No “please,” not even so much as a question mark. It was a demand, but Kerry wasn’t affronted by Sasha’s presumptiveness. Quite the opposite. Despite her misgivings, there was never any question of her obedience.

  “But you will not sleep with her,” she muttered as she slipped the card into her jacket pocket. “Not tonight.”

  Hurrying back down the hall, she bypassed the staircase and continued on until she reached the intersection leading to the north wing. Immediately, she found her passage blocked by a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit. Not Ian—someone she didn’t recognize.

  “Good evening,” she said, praying her voice would remain steady. “I received this a short while ago.”

  He perused the card and nodded once. “This way, please.”

  He led her to the second door on the right and knocked. A few moments later, Sasha opened it. She was still wearing the dress, but she’d abandoned her beige heels in favor of going barefoot. That tiny change made her seem more carefree, somehow. More accessible.

  “Hello, Kerry.” She turned to the guard. “Thank you, Darryl. That will be all.”

  The door shut with a hollow click. They were alone together. In Sasha’s bedroom. Kerry suddenly found it difficult to swallow. The expression on her face must have betrayed her, because Sasha smiled knowingly and reached for her hand. But instead of pressing her against the wall in a repeat of their tryst at the club, she tugged her forward.

  “I’m glad you came. I wanted to show you the view from my balcony.”

  As she was pulled across the room, Kerry caught a glimpse of a large four-poster bed, complete with a canopy. That was all the detail she managed to catch before Sasha opened a set of French doors and urged her out into the night. The balcony held two deck chairs, but Sasha eschewed them to lean against the parapet.

  One step behind her, Kerry paused, riveted by the view. The moon, nearly full, hung precisely between two of the distant mountains. Its light cascaded over the hills, drenching them in silver leaf. When Sasha turned to see what had become of her, the moonlight played across her delicate features, lending them an otherworldly look.

  “Isn’t it perfect?”

  Kerry stepped forward to rest her elbows on the cool stone. “Stunning. I wish I were a painter.”

  “I prefer photography myself. I snapped quite a few shots before you arrived.”

  “May I see them?”

  Sasha slid her arm the fraction of an inch required to eliminate the space between them. Even that light touch, separated by several layers of fabric, sent a fresh surge of anticipation coursing through Kerry’s blood.

  “You’ll have to be patient. I develop my nature shots by hand.”

  “I can wait.”

  “Can you?”

  Kerry looked over to see the hint of a smile curving Sasha’s lips. Blindsided by the urge to lean in and claim her tantalizing mouth, Kerry balled her hands into fists and averted her gaze. She had to get control of herself. At the light touch on her shoulder, her muscles tensed.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Kerry exhaled slowly and turned back to face her. The teasing smile was gone, replaced by a puzzled frown, and Kerry wanted to smooth out the furrowed skin between her brows.

  “No. Not at all. It’s just that I’m confused.”

  “By?”

  Kerry knew she was supposed to play Sasha’s flirtatious game, but she simply couldn’t find the will. She wasn’t naturally good at it, and trying only sapped her mental reserves.

  “Why am I standing here with you right now?”

  Sasha cocked her head. “Because you accepted my invitations. Both of them.”

  “Did you…” Kerry felt her face heat at the audacity of the question on her lips. “Did you design some of this weekend with me in mind? That feels so preposterous to ask, but—”

  Sasha pressed one finger to her lips to stop her babbling. The gesture brought back an onslaught of memories from their night at Summa, and Kerry trembled despite herself.

  “My father asked me to organize an event for your group.” When Sasha let her hand drop, Kerry immediately missed her touch. “I wanted to be certain I’d see you again, and so I made arrangements with that goal in mind.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why would you want to see me again?”

  Sasha searched her eyes for a moment before answering. “
You intrigue me. I want to know you better. Why does that surprise you?”

  Kerry gripped the stone and leaned back, turning her face up to the sky. “Because we don’t have a thing in common. We come from completely different worlds. You’re a princess of the United Kingdom. I’m the daughter of a roofer—”

  “You’re a genius. I’m a bloody imbecile.” The unexpected words were saturated in bitterness. “Fine. I understand. I’ll walk you out.”

  She had one hand on the balcony doors before Kerry got over her shock.

  “Sasha! Wait. Don’t put words in my mouth. Never once have I thought you’re a—an imbecile.”

  “Of course you do. Everyone does.”

  “That’s not true. I don’t.” She took a deep breath, praying for the right words. “I think you’re one of the most captivating people I’ve ever met. I think there are many, many more layers to you than most people see.”

  Sasha turned slowly. “Why should I believe you?”

  “Why should I believe you?” Kerry threw the words back, refusing to be bullied. But when uncertainty flashed across Sasha’s face, the uncharacteristic show of vulnerability made Kerry’s heart ache. She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

  “Let’s start over. The truth is that I’ve been trying not to think about you for the past few weeks, but I’ve failed miserably. You look beautiful tonight, and this event is simply incredible. I don’t know what you want from me, or whether it’s something I can give. But truthfully, I’m starting not to care.”

  Sasha took one step forward and then another. Kerry held her breath and let her hands slowly drop to her sides as she approached. When only a foot separated them, Sasha reached out to adjust the collar of Kerry’s jacket. The unexpected intimacy of the gesture made Kerry breathless.

  “You’re honest. I like that about you.” Her quick smile was rueful. “Honesty can be difficult to come by.”

  “Occupational hazard?” Kerry didn’t trust herself to attempt a full sentence.