The Princess Affair (26 page)

Looking as though she might cry, Sasha walked forcefully across the room and into Kerry’s arms. Kerry let the momentum draw her down to the bed and rolled them over until they lay side-by-side. A tremble in her hand betrayed her emotion as she reached out to touch Sasha’s face.

“How is he?”

Sasha’s sigh caressed her wrist. “No change.”

“And you?”

“I’m holding up.” She edged closer, sliding one foot between both of Kerry’s. “Thank you for being at the hospital, that first night.”

“I missed you so much.” Gently, she traced her fingers along Sasha’s jawline. “I wanted to show my respect for your brother, but mostly, I wanted to be close to you.”

When Sasha reached for her hand and drew it over her waist to rest in the small of her back, Kerry moved forward until their bodies were touching.

“It should have been me.”

Sasha’s voice was muffled against Kerry’s shirt, but the words were clear enough to break her heart. She kissed the top of Sasha’s head. “It was an accident, sweetheart. It shouldn’t have been anyone.”

“But if it had to be someone, it should have been me!” She pulled back slightly, eyes feverish and sparkling. “Arthur is so good. So smart and selfless and kind and generous. The world needs him.”

“Yes, it does. But the world also needs you. Think of the charities you sponsor. Of all the children’s lives you’ve changed and the people you’ve inspired.” Kerry cupped Sasha’s face, desperate for her to understand just how precious she was. “Please don’t talk this way. I need you. I love you.”

And then she froze. Before the confession had slipped her lips, she hadn’t fully realized just how deep her feelings for Sasha ran. But it was the truth. She could feel it in every cell of her body, just as she’d felt that visceral connection to her native Ireland.

“I love you,” she whispered as Sasha blinked in surprise. “I do. And right now, I don’t want you to say or do anything. I just want you to let me hold you. Please.”

After a moment, Sasha nodded. Closing her eyes, she burrowed closer. Kerry breathed in the scent of lilacs and gently rubbed the small of Sasha’s back, stroking her hair with her other hand.

“What if everyone’s right?” Sasha murmured, the words almost too soft for Kerry to catch.

“About what?”

“That I’m unfit to rule. If I have to.”

Kerry’s arms tightened around her. “Not everyone is saying that. And the ones who are, are wrong. You would make a wonderful queen.”

Sasha pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet. “A dyslexic, lesbian queen.”

Kerry tamped down her surprise at the way Sasha had identified herself. “Your dyslexia doesn’t define you. Neither does your sexuality. You would be a warm, compassionate, empathetic queen. And if you ever did decide to champion issues like gay rights or learning disabilities, well, just think of how powerful a spokesperson you would be.”

Sasha made no reply. Instead, she closed her eyes and returned her head to Kerry’s shoulder. Not wanting to push, Kerry resumed her rhythmic strokes, wanting only to make Sasha feel comforted and secure. After a long time, Sasha’s body grew heavy and her breathing deepened. Only then did Kerry let herself drift into a light doze. Every time Sasha stirred or murmured in the thrall of some dream, she was there to coax her back into sleep with a soothing touch.

It was just past five in the morning when Sasha suddenly sat up, wide awake and clearly in search of something. She relaxed when she saw the time. Kerry, who had struggled into a sitting position next to her, tucked a loose strand of hair behind Sasha’s ear.

“Time to go?”

“Yes, I should get back. I’d like to be at the hospital when the morning shift begins.” Sasha lightly stroked Kerry’s thigh and pressed a kiss to one corner of her mouth. “How do I begin to thank you?”

“You don’t have to.” Kerry slid off the bed and extended her hand. “I’m so glad you came here last night.”

“Even though I’m not giving you what you want?”

The question puzzled Kerry until she realized Sasha was alluding to their conversation back in London, on the night of Arthur’s accident. Her heart clenched at the realization that Sasha had been preoccupied with such a thing on top of all the fallout from her brother’s condition. She took hold of Sasha’s shoulders.

“I don’t want you to think about that,” she said. “Promise me you won’t. I just want you to take care of yourself, and to let me help whenever you’d like. I can come to you next time. Any time.”

Sasha actually smiled. She reached for Kerry’s hand and tugged. “Will you walk me to the car?”

“Gladly.” Kerry opened the door a crack, then more widely to scan the hall in both directions. The only other person in the corridor was Ian, who rose from an armchair near the bank of elevators as they emerged. The ride downstairs was brief, and the lobby was deserted save for one man behind the desk. The large bay windows revealed a predawn world bathed in ethereal gray tones.

“I know you could easily go home,” Sasha murmured as they moved across the room, “but I want you to crawl back into that bed. I’d like to think about you sleeping there, on my way back to London.”

“I can do that.” When she halted just before the revolving door, Sasha looked over in confusion. “I’ll stay inside, just to be safe.”

At first it seemed as though Sasha might protest, but then she evidently thought the better of it. “Very well.” She glanced over toward the front desk, and Kerry followed her gaze. The employee on duty was staring down intently—probably at his phone—and quite suddenly, Kerry found herself in Sasha’s embrace. Twining her arms around Kerry’s neck, she merged their mouths in a kiss that was at once soothing and passionate. Giving herself up to it—to them—Kerry groaned softly as the tide of emotion washed over her.

As quickly as it had begun, the kiss was over. Sasha, her lips moist and her eyes slightly glazed, backed away until she was at a safe distance. “Good-bye. I’ll see you soon.”

“Anytime you like.”

Sasha nodded. For a moment, it seemed she was on the cusp of saying something else, but then she turned decisively and walked out the door without a backward glance. Kerry watched her get into the car and followed its progress until the taillights faded into the distance. Only then did she turn around and go back upstairs.

The room felt large and empty without Sasha, but the pillow she had used still faintly smelled of lilacs. Curling her arms around it, she focused on taking slow, deep breaths as she silently recited another prayer for Arthur. When fatigue hemmed her in, pressing her down into the mattress, she didn’t fight the impulse to drift off.

What felt like moments later, she was roused by the insistent buzzing of her phone on the nightstand. Fumbling groggily for it, she caught sight of the clock and realized she had slept for almost three hours. Thankfully, she didn’t have any obligations until the early afternoon.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” Harris sounded frantic. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Kerry curled herself into fetal position around the pillow and tried to find the volume button. His voice was far too shrill. “Why wouldn’t I be? And I’m in a hotel on High Street. Sasha showed up last night.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Of course I know. That photograph is everywhere!”

“Photograph?” A wave of foreboding washed over her. “Damn it, Harris, start making sense. What are you talking about?”

“You really have no idea.” His tone was deadly serious. “I don’t know how to tell you this. If you have a television in your room, turn it on. You are all over the news right now, Kerry. Someone managed to snap a photograph of you and Sasha kissing, and it’s gone viral.”

“What?” Panic sluiced down her spine, knotting her stomach and making it hard to catch a deep breath. When she reached for the remote, her hands shook. “How?”

“I don’t know!”

After several attempts, Kerry managed to power on the television. Heart thumping wildly, she thumbed through the menu until she found a news program. The headline made her feel as though she were in free fall.

Sassy Sasha Has Lesbian Fling While Brother Remains Unconscious.

Over the roar in her ears, she heard the anchor explaining how Sasha had been photographed in a kiss with a woman, whom a hotel employee had identified as one Kerry Donovan, at the Old Bank Hotel in Oxford early this morning. When the picture flashed on the screen, Kerry sucked in a sharp breath and gripped the bed sheets. The captured moment was the kiss they had shared in the lobby hours before. Had the paparazzi been lying in wait across the street? How had they found out about Sasha’s trip in the first place?

“They’re going to crucify her.”

“I wish I could tell you you’re wrong, but it’s already happening.” Harris paused. “And they’re saying some pretty awful things about you, too.”

“I don’t care about that.” Kerry jumped up and paced over to the window. When she twitched aside the curtain, she could see a crowd beginning to gather on the sidewalk below. “Fuck. The press is waiting outside. I need to find a back door.”

“No. Stay put. I’m coming down there. I’ll find one for you, and we’ll slip out together.”

“Harris, I don’t want you to put yourself in the midd—”

“Either you let me help you, or I’m calling the police. They’re bound to step in soon, anyway. Is that what you want?”

Kerry’s heart felt as though it would burst out of her skin in another moment. “Not if I can help it.”

“Then you stay put. I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“What room are you in?”

“Six nineteen.”

“Okay. Good. I’m hanging up now. Don’t you dare move until you hear from me again.”

“I won’t,” she said. But he had already disconnected the call. She was alone.

Shivering in the throes of adrenaline, Kerry stared numbly at the television as the anchor repeated that Sasha had been caught on film in a passionate embrace with another woman. The broadcast cut away to Main Street, where a reporter was interviewing passers-by about their opinions. One elderly man claimed her tryst brought down irreparable shame on the house of Carlisle and threatened the existence of the monarchy. A mother walking her twin girls to school chastised Sasha for setting a bad example. As the criticism continued to roll in, Kerry cradled her throbbing head in her hands. She could process only one thought.

They were over. The paparazzi had caught them. They were over.

Sasha sat on her couch, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the blank television screen. Waiting for the inevitable knock at her door. The day had dawned bright and cold, but the sunlight outside mocked her. An invisible storm had been unleashed, and she was at its center. When she closed her eyes, she could feel the battering winds.

She could also see Kerry’s face. She had replayed their last moment together a thousand times since it had happened. That sweet, passionate kiss had given her the strength to climb into the car that would return her to the hospital—the strength to face another day at her brother’s bedside. When the news broke, her protection detail had immediately whisked her back to the shelter of Clarence House. Here, she could remain shielded from the press for as long as she wished. But who would protect Kerry?

The university would try its best; Sasha knew that much. But the simple fact was that Kerry was much more accessible than she was, and that made her much more vulnerable. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do. The juggernaut was in motion. Even if she made no comment or publicly disavowed any sort of relationship, the photographs alone were enough to incite a media frenzy. There was nothing she could do.

And then guilt twisted her stomach, because that wasn’t actually the truth. There was one thing she could do. If she acknowledged their relationship and brought Kerry under the protection of the monarchy, at least they could weather the storm together. But how could she possibly do that now? Arthur’s condition remained critical and uncertain. Could she ask her family to shoulder the burden of her coming out when they were already mentally and physically exhausted? Could she in good conscience take attention away from Arthur’s recovery by making an announcement about something as trivial as her relationship status? The photographs from this morning were already creating an uproar that would distract from what was truly important. And her critics would use them as yet more evidence of her personal failings.

Rubbing her temples, she took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart. And then a loud knock sounded at the door. Oddly, she felt relief. At least she wouldn’t have to dread this particular encounter anymore.

“What have you done?” No sooner had she closed the door behind her father than he had rounded on her, index finger pointed accusingly. He was dressed immaculately as always, but his eyes were bloodshot and his raised hand trembled.

“What were you thinking? To go off and have a bloody
fling
in the middle of this? With a woman? When your brother is lying in a coma?” He grasped her shoulders, hard. “He could be dying, Alexandra! Dying! Can’t you stop thinking about yourself, just this once? Can’t you show Arthur—not to mention the remainder of your family—the respect we deserve?”

Sasha wanted to protest. She wanted to tell him that Kerry wasn’t a fling. She wanted him to know how kind she was, how generous, how intelligent. She wanted to tell him that for the first time in her life, she thought she might actually be falling in love. But in the wake of his pain and wrath, she couldn’t find the strength to explain herself. Mutely, she nodded.

“You have utterly disgraced this family, and we are all paying for it,” he fumed. “Elizabeth’s protection detail was very nearly overwhelmed when she attempted to go to class this morning.”

“What?” Sasha thought she might be sick. Lizzie was being harassed as well?

“The moment she stepped out of doors, she was bombarded by questions about her elder sister’s
sex
life.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.