The Princess Affair (17 page)

“Mine is…moderate.” Sasha threw back the rest of her drink and rather unsteadily set the glass on the coffee table. “When I was young and began to fall behind in school, my father thought I was lazy. Even after I was finally diagnosed, he seemed to consider…this…a personal failing on my part.”

Kerry couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “A personal failing? Did anyone bother to tell him that dyslexia is genetic?”

“He certainly doesn’t have it.” She smiled wanly. “He believes that if I concentrate hard enough, I’ll be able to force my mind to work properly.”

“And that’s not how it works for you.”

“Not at all.” Sasha looked down at their joined hands. “I do much better when I’m relaxed.”

“So this morning…” Kerry thought back to exactly what had happened. Sasha had seemed to have the event well in hand at first.

“It was so silly.” Withdrawing her hand from Kerry’s grasp, she slid back against the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest. The unconscious defensiveness of her position made Kerry want to hold her.

“I was fine until that gust of wind knocked over my papers. But when that happened, I worried one of the sheets would get lost, or that they would be out of order. When the anxiety hit, I…” she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut as though she could block out the memory.

This time, Kerry didn’t resist her instincts. She slid onto the couch next to Sasha and wrapped one arm around her thin shoulders. Her body was rigid, and Kerry sensed she was fighting back tears. As much as she wished Sasha felt comfortable letting go in her presence, she could understand not wanting to show weakness. She focused on taking slow, even breaths, hoping the steady rhythm would prove soothing.

After several tense minutes, Sasha finally relaxed into Kerry’s embrace and opened her eyes. This close, Kerry realized they were bloodshot with exhaustion.

“Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered.

“Are you finally propositioning me?” The words were one hundred percent “Sassy Sasha,” but the tone was hollow.

Kerry stood and offered her hand. As Sasha rose, she swayed once and reached out to grip Kerry’s upper arm for balance. The movement drew their bodies flush, and suddenly Kerry’s head was spinning too. Sasha flexed her fingers and licked her lips.

“I need to see you naked. If you look even half as good as you feel…”

Kerry swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to give in to their mutual desire. But not like this. Not like this. She lowered her head, lips caressing the delicate shell of Sasha’s ear.

“I want you so much, but I’m not going to sleep with you tonight. You’re so tired, and you’ve had too much to drink. I want you to remember our first time perfectly.”

Sasha shivered at the words, and Kerry pulled her even closer. Struggling to tamp down the fire in her veins, she stroked her palm along Sasha’s spine. She wanted to comfort her with promises—that everything would be better tomorrow, that the world would forget quickly, that her father would handle the fallout with compassion rather than judgment. But she had no control over any of that. All she could control was herself.

“Don’t be angry with me, okay?”

Sasha took a step back and looked up at her with a small smile. “I’m not. How could I be?” She cupped Kerry’s cheek briefly. “I’ll be right back.”

Kerry watched her walk unsteadily toward the bathroom. When the door closed behind her, she took her first good look at the rest of the room. A four-poster, king-sized bed stood with its headboard against the far wall, flanked by two marble-topped nightstands. In the far corner, a table and two chairs were arranged near a fireplace. She approached the bed, switched on the nearest lamp, and turned down the covers. As she tried to figure out the television remote, Sasha emerged from the bathroom wearing a green silk nightgown the precise color of her eyes. Its hem came to mid-thigh, the material caressing her breasts and hips as she moved toward the bed.

Kerry groaned in spite of herself. “You’re not making this easy.”

Sasha’s gaze carried a hint of its former fire. “Who said I was obliged to?”

“Touché.”

She slid under the covers and patted the empty side. “It’s too late for you to go back to Oxford tonight. Stay.”

“I will.” Kerry felt her smile turn rueful. “But I can’t sleep there.”

Sasha sighed. “The guest room is the first door on the left as you walk back down the hall, and you should help yourself to anything you need. But will you at least come here? Just for a moment?”

When Kerry perched on the edge of the bed, Sasha ran two fingers up and down the length of her forearm. She shivered.

“You like that?”

“I like it anytime you touch me.”

Sasha raised her hand to cup the back of Kerry’s neck. “When you finally let me, you’ll regret having put me off for so long.”

But Kerry shook her head. “No, I won’t.” She pressed one firm but gentle kiss on Sasha’s lips, wanting to linger and knowing she couldn’t. “When we make love for the first time, I don’t plan on having any regrets at all.”

Sasha’s breath hitched, and she stared up at Kerry with an unfathomable expression. Kerry squeezed her hand once and then withdrew.

“Good night.” She headed toward the door, but Sasha’s voice made her pause.

“Kerry. Thank you.”

She turned back, savoring the sight of Princess Alexandra reclining on one elbow, looking at her with a mixture of desire and affection.

“Sweet dreams.”

She left the door cracked behind her and quickly found the guest room. Its bathroom contained a medicine chest with several spare toothbrushes—the one item she’d forgotten—but as she stood contemplating the queen-sized bed, she realized it simply wouldn’t do. She grabbed a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet and crept back into Sasha’s room.

Sasha was already asleep and snoring lightly, dark hair fanned out against the pillow, one hand clutching the covers to her chest. Simply stunning. Reluctantly, Kerry tossed her own pillow onto the couch and spread out the blanket. Was she crazy for not taking Sasha up on her invitation? Now that Sasha was sleeping, couldn’t she indulge her need to be close by sliding under those covers?

Kerry lay back on the couch with a sigh. Too tall to fit comfortably, it took her several minutes to find a relatively un-cramped position, but she simply couldn’t move to the bed. She didn’t trust herself.

She didn’t trust herself at all.

*

Sasha woke to the sensation of a distant drumroll in the back of her head. When she opened her eyes, the throbbing intensified. It took her several disoriented moments before the events of the previous day filtered through her headache. The botched speech. Enduring her father’s subsequent tirade over the phone. Retreating to her rooms to lick her wounds. Kerry’s arrival.

Kerry.

She sat up too quickly and squeezed her eyes shut as the pain sharpened. Once it had receded back to a dull ache, she dared to take a look around the room. It was empty, but a glass of water and two aspirin sat on her nightstand, and her snifter was no longer on the coffee table. Kerry had cleaned up after her. What an impression she must be making.

After taking the pills, she brushed her teeth, pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a black, v-neck sweater, and then went on the hunt. It was just past seven o’clock, and she hoped Kerry was still asleep. But when she quietly pushed open the door to the spare bedroom, she was greeted by the sight of a bed that hadn’t been slept in at all. Had Kerry already left? Belatedly, Sasha realized she didn’t even know whether Kerry had academic obligations on Fridays. How much rest and studying time had she sacrificed by coming down to London?

Just as she was giving in to self-recrimination, Sasha turned into the kitchen and was greeted by the aroma of coffee and the sight of Kerry, hunched over her laptop, crimson mop of hair still wet from a recent shower.

“Good morning,” she called softly, wondering if Kerry could hear the relief in her voice.

She turned quickly, a smile lighting up her freckled face. “Hi. How are you feeling?”

“A little achy. Thank you for the medicine.”

Kerry waved aside her gratitude as she stood. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

“How about some toast? Think your stomach could handle it?”

Sasha frowned. “How did you know I was feeling a little queasy?”

“Educated guess. And some past experience.”

“Toast would be wonderful, if you really don’t mind.” But when Sasha sat in the vacated chair, Kerry paused in the act of pouring.

“You might not want to look at my computer.”

A quick glance revealed that Kerry had been looking at Twitter. Facebook was open in another tab. The video of her mangled speech had gone viral, and the pain in her head intensified as she wondered just how many thousands upon thousands of people had laughed at her expense.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not great.” Kerry’s voice was steady, but her free hand drummed a beat on the countertop. She was clearly agitated on Sasha’s behalf and trying to hide the extent of her dismay.

“I need to see what they’re saying.”

She returned to pouring the coffee. “Okay.”

As Kerry began to fiddle with the toaster, Sasha took a deep breath and focused her attention on the screen. At first, the words swam wildly before her eyes and she had to look away. Her stomach churned. But then two warm hands came to rest on her shoulders, and Kerry’s breath tickled her neck.

“Can I help?”

The question was simple, direct, devoid of all condescension. Miraculously, when Sasha raised her eyes back to the screen, most of the text was standing still. “Actually, you can. Stay right there, please.”

“Your wish is my command.” Kerry lightly massaged Sasha’s shoulders as she read. While a few of the words still shivered or jumped, the majority of the lines remained anchored in place. The responses weren’t flattering in the slightest—most commenters had decided that her IQ was barely higher than that of a chimpanzee—but none of the vitriol stung quite so badly today as it had last night.

When the toast popped up, Kerry’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Let me grab that.”

Having seen quite enough, Sasha gently closed the laptop. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“On your couch.”

“My couch? You’re about a foot too long for it!”

Kerry shrugged in the act of buttering the bread. “It worked out just fine.”

Her tone brooked no argument, so Sasha let the subject drop. A moment later, Kerry set the plate in front of her and slid into the adjacent seat.

“Thank you.” Sasha rested her free hand on Kerry’s knee as she bit into her toast. “You didn’t have to do this. Any of it.”

“I wanted to.”

“I hope you didn’t miss anything important?”

Kerry shook her head. “My last class of the week finishes on Thursday afternoons. But please let me know when I should leave. Aren’t you traveling somewhere today?”

“To Wales, with my father. We’ll be there through the middle of the week, mostly visiting schools and charities.”

“Do you enjoy that kind of thing? Or no?”

“The sycophantic bureaucrats can be rather annoying. But the children make me laugh.” Sasha felt herself smile. “Once, a cheeky little girl had the nerve to tell me that I couldn’t possibly be a ‘real princess’ because I wasn’t wearing a crown and a pink dress.”

“She didn’t!”

“Oh, but she did. Her teacher was mortified.” She traced the contours of Kerry’s powerful leg muscles, enjoying this casual intimacy. Here they were, chatting over the remains of breakfast like a normal couple. It felt uncommonly good. “We don’t leave until late this afternoon. Will you stay? At least for a little while?”

“I’d like that.” But instead of looking pleased, she seemed pensive. “Your father—did you speak with him yesterday?”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t do much speaking. He, on the other hand, did quite a bit of shouting.”

Kerry covered her hand, lacing their fingers together. They fit so well. “I’m sorry.”

Sasha didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. Her father was a force of nature. He couldn’t be controlled. The most she could hope for was to weather his storm. She knew his opinion of her would never change. But what about Kerry? Was she only being kind and solicitous because she was a good person? Or because of their incredible chemistry? She was a Rhodes scholar—brilliant and driven. How could she not feel derision for a grown woman who could barely read? Sliding her hand out from under Kerry’s, she fiddled with the hem of her sweater.

“Does it bother you?”

“What, exactly?”

“My dyslexia.”

When Kerry leaned forward, Sasha read only earnestness in her face.

“The only thing that bothers me is how people mistreat you because of it.”

“But you’re so bloody smart. Doesn’t it disturb you that I don’t share your passion for books? You obviously love to read.” She looked away. “I hear it’s great fun when the words aren’t writhing around on the page.”

This time, Kerry reached for both her hands, compelling her attention.

“First of all, being dyslexic doesn’t mean you’re unintelligent. You read people so well, and I have yet to meet a better storyteller. You’re utterly captivating. You can charm a crowd like the Pied Piper. What are all those qualities, if not intelligence?”

Unable to speak or swallow for the sudden lump in her throat, Sasha squeezed Kerry’s hands. No one had ever spoken of her own gifts so eloquently before—not even her siblings, when they were trying to make her feel better.

“And as to your other point,” Kerry continued, “why can’t you share my passion for books? There’s no reason why we can’t read things together. Do you enjoy listening when someone reads aloud?”

“That’s so patronizing.”

She frowned. “Oh, no. It’s really not. Most stories are meant to be heard, not read silently. Poetry too, of course.”

Sasha was having a difficult time believing her. At university, she had received special accommodations that included having some of her course texts and all of her exams read out loud. At the time, it had seemed like a massive inconvenience. She’d never considered that it might be enjoyable.