The Princess Affair (15 page)

She’d been ready to choke
him
when she realized she wouldn’t arrive to the match on time, but now that she was breathing the crisp air and watching Kerry work her magic in the midfield, her frustration had begun to melt away. It didn’t take long for her to realize that Balliol could have been winning by several goals had Kerry not been an entirely unselfish player. Within the first ten minutes of the half, she had made three separate forays into the opposition’s defense. Each time she was challenged, she passed the ball to an open teammate, and each time, the opportunity was squandered. Sasha had a feeling Kerry could have beaten the defenders quite easily and taken the ball to the net herself.

The team didn’t have proper uniforms, but they were wearing matching shirts bearing the Balliol crest. Sasha admired the way Kerry’s broad shoulders filled hers out. Suddenly, she was flashing back to the last time they’d touched, remembering how Kerry’s strong biceps had flexed as she’d dipped Sasha back in her arms to cover her neck and throat with kisses.

“I won’t leave a mark,” she had whispered. “But I want to.”

Sasha shivered, even as the memory made her skin flash hot. In many ways, Kerry was a paradox—an intriguing blend of confidence and humility, sensuality and restraint. During their days apart, they had exchanged a few semi-flirtatious text messages and even one brief phone call that had only whetted Sasha’s appetite, not sated it. It had been a little silly to come out here when she was due back in London this evening for a drinks reception hosted by the museum trustees, but she hadn’t been able to resist the chance to watch Kerry play.

A shout rose up from the Balliol supporters as once again, she broke free with the ball. This time, instead of targeting one of her teammates, she deftly faked out the woman who stepped up to challenge her. Belatedly, the goalkeeper tried to cut off her angle, but Kerry was already taking aim. At first, it looked as though her shot would go wide, until the ball curved at the last possible moment to enter the upper left corner of the net. Sasha had to clench her teeth to hold back the shout that would likely attract unwanted attention from the other spectators.

“Beautiful,” she whispered fiercely.

“That was impressive.” Miraculously, Ian’s face hinted at admiration before his stoic mask dropped back into place. Sasha smiled. He seemed to be warming up to Kerry. That would be useful.

After the final whistle blew, she lingered beneath the tree as Kerry’s teammates slapped her on the back and slung their arms around her. Jealous of their easy camaraderie, Sasha forced herself to stay where she was instead of approaching the knot of players. As they joined their supporters on the sideline, Sasha’s jealousy turned to wistfulness. Harris had wrapped Kerry in a gigantic bear hug, and everyone was chattering excitedly about their plans for a celebratory drink at a nearby pub. In that moment, Sasha would have given anything to be one of them—to cast off the yoke of her royal ancestry and discard all its privileges in exchange for one utterly normal afternoon. Would the price be worth the prize? At times like these, she thought it might.

Kerry began to walk toward the road then, flanked by Harris and one of her teammates. Shaking off her funk, Sasha called out, pitching her voice slightly higher than normal. When Kerry looked over her shoulder and frowned in consternation, Sasha had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing. Sometimes she thought she could go on a tour of Buckingham Palace in this disguise and none of the staff, who had known her since her infancy, would ever be the wiser.

Suddenly, recognition dawned on Kerry’s face. “I’ll meet you there,” Sasha heard her say, before she turned and broke into a jog. She didn’t think it a coincidence that the path of Kerry’s approach shielded Sasha from the team’s eyes.

“Congratulations,” she said as Kerry pulled up before her, seeming even taller than normal in her football boots.

Her grin was ear-splitting. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I told you I’d come see a match.” Sasha wanted to reach for her hand, but this location was still too public.

“And I told you I’d score.”

“It was a beautiful shot. I’m glad you finally took one.”

Kerry laughed. “No one likes a ball hog.”

“Your teammates might disagree, where you’re concerned.” Still feeling too exposed, Sasha gestured toward the tree-lined path that skirted the field. “Let’s take a little stroll.”

Kerry fell into step, one shoulder brushing hers, body radiating heat like a furnace. “So tell me,” she said, her voice rich with amusement, “how did you decide on UConn?”

“It suits my purposes perfectly. American, but not one of the most recognizable names. Only once have I ever been approached by an alum.”

“What did you do?”

“I told her I hadn’t yet matriculated.”

Kerry laughed. “Quick thinking! That was smart.”

The adjective sent a rush of warmth through Sasha. “Go Huskies,” she quipped, indicating the blue-stitched dog on the front of her shirt. When a curve in the sidewalk revealed a small bench next to a public water fountain, she pointed in its direction. “Shall we sit?”

“Sounds great.”

Kerry gestured that she should take her seat first, and Sasha wondered whether she was naturally chivalrous or had been reading the protocol on public interactions with royals. Probably both. She sat near the middle of the bench, and Kerry dropped down beside her, putting a solid foot of space between them. When Sasha slid over so their legs and hips were in contact. Kerry tried to protest.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“So?”

Sasha grabbed her left arm and guided it along the back of the bench so she could cuddle into the curve of Kerry’s body. She smelled good—musky and warm, like the earth waking up after winter.

“So.” Kerry’s arm curved to pull her closer, fingers idly playing with the string of her hoodie. “Hi.”

“You already said that.”

Kerry’s broad smile turned sheepish. “Sorry. I’m happy to see you. It’s a little distracting.”

Sasha kissed her neck, allowing her lips to linger when she found a sensitive patch just below Kerry’s ear. The arm around her tightened as Kerry shivered.

“Is that a little distracting, too?”

“You have no idea.”

Sasha loved knowing that Kerry’s breathlessness had nothing to do with the match she had just played. She smoothed one hand over the mesh material of Kerry’s shorts, enjoying the subtle flicker of the muscles beneath.

“I need to introduce you to my brother. You two would get along smashingly. He’s quite a good footballer in his own right.”

Kerry nodded. “Wasn’t there talk of a Premier League team signing him a while back?”

“Oh, he’s not nearly good enough for that.” Sasha laughed. “It was a publicity stunt, really. QPR made an overture, in the hopes of boosting their flagging attendance. But he would never have seen a minute.”

“I take it that wasn’t attractive to him?”

“Not at all. Arthur doesn’t do anything halfway.” She leaned her head back on Kerry’s shoulder. “Which team do you support?”

“Everton.” Kerry brushed her cheek against the top of Sasha’s head. “I read somewhere that your entire family supports Manchester United. True?”

“I’m a Red Devil born and bred. When they next play Everton, I’ll arrange for you to sit in our box, if you’d like.”

“That would be incredible.”

Kerry’s smile was genuine, but her tone rather subdued. Sasha wanted to ask what she was thinking but wasn’t quite sure she wanted to know the answer. Did Kerry not fully trust the invitation? That wouldn’t exactly be surprising, given her track record. Was she apprehensive about meeting the royal family? About the media? About getting more deeply involved with someone still in the closet?

Sasha bit back a sigh. She hated that analogy, but in her case, the shoe fit. Arthur and Lizzie knew she preferred women, but she hadn’t discussed the matter with anyone else except Miranda. Doubtless, her father knew as well, thanks to his ubiquitous spies. He had never brought up the subject, probably because her flings had been only that.

One-night stands may have been her
modus operandi
, but she had already seen Kerry on four separate occasions—and that was counting the entire weekend in Scotland only once. Did that pattern constitute the beginnings of a bona fide “relationship?” And if so, shouldn’t she feel apprehensive? In a relationship, the other person had a right to make certain claims on her—claims she didn’t know she’d ever be able to honor. Did she have the courage to take on the Leviathan of the British political machine and come out to her nation? Did she have the fortitude to weather the resulting media frenzy? Did she have the necessary selflessness to shelter another person for the duration of the storm?

If she feared anything, it was that the answer to those questions was
no
. Someone like Kerry deserved a relationship that wasn’t shrouded in lies. So why couldn’t she stop wishing she could stay right here, instead of having to go back to London? Why couldn’t she stop wondering when they would next be together?

Her thoughts scattered when Kerry lightly rubbed her upper arm.

“You just got really tense. Are you all right?”

“I’d be better if I didn’t have to leave in a few minutes.” Sasha cupped Kerry’s neck in her palm and drew her down for a soft, slow kiss. As it went on, her lingering anxieties faded to the background. Never, ever had anyone kissed her like this. She felt as though they were mind-melded somehow—as though Kerry were inside her head, sensing every desire. When the tips of their tongues brushed ever so lightly, Sasha’s head spun and she clutched at the fabric of Kerry’s shorts, anchoring herself.

“Wow,” Kerry whispered when she finally pulled away. “Just…wow.”

“Yes.” Wanting to lighten the mood, Sasha curled one finger around a lock of artificial hair. “You haven’t said anything about my wig. Like it?”

“It’s very convincing.” Kerry rubbed a few strands between two fingers. “I like your real hair more, but I appreciate what this wig lets us do.”

“You mean…this?” The kiss wasn’t slow this time, and Sasha shivered when Kerry bit down lightly on her lower lip. The twinge of pleasure echoed in the pit of her stomach, and she gasped. Immediately, Kerry withdrew.

“Are you okay?” Concern and even a hint of self-recrimination, were plain in her eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Curling her fingers around as much of Kerry’s thigh as she could manage, she squeezed the hard muscle. “I wish you hadn’t stopped. And that I could stay longer.”

“Time to go?”

Sasha knew she shouldn’t be pleased at the forlorn note in Kerry’s voice, but she was. She angled her body so she could rest her other hand on Kerry’s abdomen. The muscles flickered beneath her touch, and her fingertips ached to feel skin.

“Sadly, yes. I have a reception to get to.”

“And then the groundbreaking ceremony tomorrow, right?”

Sasha raised one eyebrow. “Oh? Keeping tabs on me?”

Kerry’s flush was delightful. It was so much fun to make her squirm.

“I like knowing where you are.” She frowned suddenly. “That doesn’t sound creepy, does it?”

“Not coming from you.” Sasha forced herself to stand. “Congratulations again. Go celebrate with your team.”

Kerry rose as well. “Will this ceremony tomorrow be televised?”

A spike of anxiety lanced through Sasha. What if she flubbed her delivery, despite all her drilling Bloom had made her do? The last thing she wanted was for Kerry to see her make a mistake. Especially a public one.

“I’m sure you have better things to do. This isn’t a very big deal.” Standing on her tiptoes, she brushed her mouth over Kerry’s one last time. “Go. Have fun.”

“Okay.” Kerry took a step backward. Sasha hated the space between them already. “Be safe.”

“You, too.”

Kerry raised her hand in an awkward little wave before turning and jogging back toward the field. Sasha watched her go, wondering about courage and fortitude and selflessness. And whether she would ever be able to take that leap of faith.

*

“Here we go.” Kerry leaned back in her chair at the corner table in the Rhodes House study lounge that she was sharing with Harris, eyes fixed on her laptop screen.

“You found a live feed?”

“Right on the museum’s home page. I love the Internet.”

He looked up from the journal article he was reading. “When does it start?”

“In just a few minutes. Want to listen in?”

“Sure.”

As Kerry worked a knot out of her headphones, she silently cursed the standing appointment she had with one of her advisors on Thursday afternoons. If not for that, she would have taken the train down to London to be at the event in person. At least the ceremony itself hadn’t interfered with one of her commitments. She couldn’t wait to see Sasha again, and to witness her uncanny ability to charm a crowd.

With a click, she maximized the live feed so that it filled her entire screen. Currently, the camera showed a sizeable group gathered in a sandstone courtyard, waiting for the groundbreaking to begin. The podium stood empty, while nearby, the Union Jack snapped in a brisk wind. When a white-haired man in a suit stepped up to the microphone, Kerry reached over to tap Harris on the shoulder.

“I think they’re about to get started.”

He shifted his chair until they were sitting side by side, and Kerry handed him the left earphone. The white-haired gentleman introduced himself as the president of the museum’s board of trustees. After thanking the financial benefactors who had made the new wing possible, he introduced Princess Alexandra.

Kerry leaned forward as Sasha emerged into the camera’s field of vision. She was dressed quite conservatively in a slim-fitting navy suit, and she carried with her a leather-bound folder that she opened on the podium. The camera zoomed in just as she smiled at the crowd, and Kerry’s breath stuttered in her chest.

Harris nudged her. “You’re drooling.”

She never looked away from the screen. “Can you blame me?”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Sasha began, her amplified voice ringing out clear and pure like a bell. “It is an honor to be with you here today, on such an august occasion for the citizens of the United Kingdom and the world.”