The Princess Affair (8 page)

Miranda led her to a door marked “Staff Only” and produced a key. It opened onto a narrow corridor, and she paused at the first door on the right. After knocking four times, she turned around and headed back the way they had come.

“Have fun.” The words trailed behind her along with the scent of her perfume.

Seconds later, Sasha appeared in the threshold. “I’m glad you came,” she said, beckoning Kerry inside.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”

As the door closed behind them, Kerry caught a glimpse of a glass-topped desk and leather chair before Sasha filled her field of vision, eclipsing everything else. When those sparkling green eyes bored into hers, Kerry was helpless to look away.

“Don’t you?”

“I—I might be starting to get an idea.” Kerry heard her voice crack, and felt an answering snap in the steel cord of her resolve. “Is this really wise?”

Sasha bridged the gap between them and pressed one finger to Kerry’s lips. The touch burned like a shot of whiskey, spreading tendrils of heat throughout her limbs. “Don’t think. Just feel.” She took one step forward, then another, until their bodies were flush. The sensation of her breasts pressing against Kerry’s ribcage was dizzying.

“You feel incredible.”

“You make me wish I’d attended that reception.” Sasha twined her arms around Kerry’s neck as she spoke. “But believe me when I say my absence was for the best.”

Kerry licked her lips, willing her voice to work. “Oh? For whom?”

“For everyone.”

“I’m not sure I can believe that, actually.”

“You’re smooth.”

When Sasha began to toy with the short strands of hair on the nape of Kerry’s neck, Kerry finally dared to cup her waist. The fabric of the dress was sleek and warm, and when she trailed her fingertips along the twin curves of Sasha’s hips, a light shiver greeted her touch. Not only beautiful, not only alluring, but also responsive.

Desperately, Kerry grasped for the thread of their conversation. “No. Just honest.”

“In that case,” Sasha whispered, “tell me honestly: do you want to kiss me?”

The wanting was a riptide, pulling Kerry under. Drowning out the alarm bells.

“More than I want to take my next breath.”

Sasha raised herself up onto her toes and tightened her grip on Kerry’s neck. Her glistening lips were mere inches away.

“Then do it.”

Slowly, Kerry bridged the gap between them to brush her mouth across Sasha’s. The touch was fleeting—as light as butterfly wings against flower petals—and immediately, she craved more. Again, she indulged in the skimming touch, and then again, until she felt a sharp tug at her neck. Exultant, she dipped her head to catch and hold Sasha’s lips with her own. Within moments, she was lost in incomparable heat and sweetness and softness.

When Kerry dug her fingers into the soft skin above Sasha’s hips, Sasha groaned into her mouth. Galvanized, Kerry skimmed her tongue along lips that parted instantly, granting her access. Sasha sucked lightly on her tongue, and Kerry shivered. Heat flared between them as the kiss intensified, until their tongues tangled and their teeth clashed. Surrendering to her own need, Kerry slid her hands down to pull Sasha tightly against her thigh, wringing a tortured moan from her throat. Sasha’s hips jerked and Kerry drove her hand down, down until she encountered smooth skin, then up under the hem of her dress—

The door opened.

Kerry leapt backward as Sasha spun away, but after the initial surge of adrenaline, her loss felt worse than the fear of discovery. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the path of the interloper, vowing not to be a coward. A lean man stood just inside the door, wearing a suit that matched the color of his dark hair. Perhaps she could distract him.

“What’s the matter, Ian?” Sasha sounded breathless but not upset. Her words halted Kerry in her tracks. She knew him?

“Your Royal Highness, an impromptu business meeting will be conducted soon in the office down the hall,” he said, all trace of censure absent from his tone. “To be safe, you’d best leave now.”

Sasha shot her a rueful look. “Go ahead, Kerry. I’ll meet you back on the dance floor.”

Kerry nodded. Heart pounding against her rib cage, she turned toward the door. As she walked past the man—Ian—he didn’t so much as meet her eyes. Forcing herself not to cast a backward look, she focused on taking one step after another. Disbelief warred with the shattered remnants of her desire. Upon reentering Summa, she was immediately engulfed by a wall of sound that echoed the roar in her fevered brain. The club carried on as though mere moments before, she hadn’t been locked in a passionate embrace with the woman second in line to the British throne.

No one had noticed. But if Ian hadn’t interrupted them, they might have been caught. The realization doused her ardor more effectively than a bucket of cold water. Suddenly, she wanted to slam her fist against the wall—to punish herself for her own stupidity. Instead, she hustled toward the exit, intent on being long gone before Sasha could notice. What was she doing? Why had she let herself be trapped by the intricate web of Sasha’s charisma? She could easily have been a tabloid headline—a disgrace to the Rhodes Trust before she had even begun her course of study.

Kerry took the stairs instead of the elevator, pounding out her frustration against the concrete. The cool, misty air was a relief after the heat of the club, and she turned her face up to the clouds to catch the moisture, hoping it could somehow wash away her lingering arousal. She’d been such a fool. An undeservedly fortunate fool. But as she turned back toward Holywell Manor, one comforting thought pierced through her self-recriminations.

At least she would never see Princess Alexandra again.

Sasha was finishing her first cup of coffee in front of the morning news when Miranda emerged from the suite’s second bedroom wearing only a terrycloth robe monogrammed with the hotel’s insignia. Sasha downed the dregs of her mug in an attempt to mask her disappointment. She’d been hoping to slip out before Miri could notice.

Miranda blinked at her, clearly surprised. “You’re awake. And dressed.”

“I’m going out.”

“If you give me twenty minutes, I’ll go with you.”

Seeing as it usually took Miranda nothing short of an hour to prepare herself, twenty minutes was quite the concession. Still, Sasha firmly shook her head.

“Don’t bother. I’m going to drop by a breakfast for the Rhodes scholars. Hopefully, that will placate the trustees. And my father.”

Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “Bollocks. You just want to see her again.”

Sasha’s mind’s eye focused on the memory of Kerry as she’d looked just before they’d kissed: her sunset hair, her tropical eyes, her parted lips. The mental image made her heart skitter in her chest. Miranda’s accusation was spot on. Her desire to see Kerry again had been strong enough to drive her out of bed before ten o’clock—an exceedingly rare event—but she wasn’t about to admit it.

“Believe what you like.” Sasha rose, smoothed the front of her dress, and headed for the hall closet.

“Why are you being so cagey?”

Biting back a quick retort, Sasha took a deep breath as she shrugged into her pea coat. It wasn’t Miri’s fault that she hadn’t slept well and was in a sour mood. Still, a line needed to be drawn.

“When I want to explain myself to you, I will. For now, I’m leaving. I’ll be back by noon.”

Before she had to witness Miranda’s pout, Sasha stepped into the hallway. Ian was waiting outside, and after bidding him a good morning, she fell silent again. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything beyond returning the sentiment, and she made a note to get him something extra nice for Christmas this year.

As he preceded her through the revolving door, she turned up her collar against the morning chill. Last night’s rain had washed the streets and purged the humidity from the sky. Breathing in the crisp air, she smiled at the first taste of autumn. Ian moved toward the car idling at the curb, but she reached out to stop him.

“Would you mind if we walked?”

He looked up and down the street, and she could practically hear his internal debate. The sidewalks were busy but not overly crowded, and she was making an unscheduled trip only a few blocks away. Her request didn’t pose much risk. Finally, he nodded.

“Very well, ma’am.”

As they walked, Sasha indulged her own nostalgia, hearkening back to the pub crawls, the theme parties, the late nights spent “studying” that had devolved into prank-playing. Her years as a student here had been mostly happy ones, marred only by a few unpleasant conversations with her tutors and the administration about her less than stellar academic performance.

When she indulged in a sigh, Ian looked over in concern. She smiled, wanting to reassure him. At times like these, she wished she could treat him like a friend—to link their arms together and ask his advice on matters of fashion, or laugh at the social faux pas from the previous evening, or confess her latest crush.

Unbidden, the image of Kerry’s face rose again to the forefront of her mind. Sasha shook her head, silently vowing not to think about her in those terms. They’d barely spoken, after all. They knew next to nothing about each other. What’s more, Kerry had rejected her. Once Sasha had returned to the dance floor, she had scoured the club to no avail. She’d tried not to be too obvious about it, but she felt like an idiot all the same. Kerry hadn’t waited.

Worst of all, when Sasha finally threw in the towel and considered seeking out another potential conquest, she’d found no one who caught her eye. Eventually, she had returned to her empty hotel bed, restless and peeved. And now, after a poor night’s sleep, she was pursuing the only woman who had ever walked away. At the thought, she very nearly stopped in her tracks and turned around. Why couldn’t she just let Kerry bloody Donovan go and call the entire experience a wash?

“Because that was the best kiss of your life, that’s why,” she groused under her breath.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t catch that,” Ian said.

She waved his question away, hoping he hadn’t noticed the color she could feel rising in her cheeks. Maybe he would attribute her flush to the coolness of the air. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to stop remembering the taut strength of Kerry’s body pressed against hers and the warmth of her touch that had seeped through her dress to set her skin ablaze. An echo of the heat surged down her spine at the visceral memory of digging her fingers into the nape of Kerry’s neck as their tongues dueled. Sasha wanted to scream, and she really couldn’t. Ian would never let her go for a walk again.

Struggling to maintain her equilibrium, she took deep breaths and tried to distract herself by paying attention to the subtle ways in which the city had changed since her graduation over a year ago. But the smattering of new boutiques, restaurants, and novelty shops couldn’t hold her attention. No matter what she did, her mind drifted back in time, diabolically picturing what might have happened had she and Kerry not been interrupted.

Thankfully, the daydream shattered when she rounded a corner to find herself facing the imposing façade of Rhodes House. After chatting briefly with the porter, Ian ushered her inside the tall, wrought-iron fence. Sasha glanced at her watch as they passed through the tall columns guarding the entrance. Half past nine o’clock. Right on cue for a fashionably late entrance.

The Secretary of the Rhodes Trust—a willowy woman whose layered chestnut hair was streaked with gray—was waiting just inside the rotunda. She inclined her head deferentially as Sasha approached.

“What an unexpected pleasure, Your Royal Highness. My name is Mary Spencer.”

Sasha offered her hand. “Good morning, Ms. Spencer. I apologize that I couldn’t be in attendance last night.”

“Quite all right, of course. Lovely of you to make the time this morning.”

She turned and led them into the dining hall, chattering all the while about how what a magnificent job the Trust had done this year of selecting a diverse, intelligent, and ambitious group. Sasha forced herself not to roll her eyes. Had she honestly subjected herself to a cadre of academics, just because of one perfect kiss? What was her life turning into—some kind of modern day farce of a fairytale?

And then she caught sight of Kerry, who had chosen a seat at the farthest table near one of the tall windows where she was deep in conversation with another woman. Sunlight streamed over her, rendering her curly hair a crown of flames. Dressed less formally than the night before in gray slacks, a white collared shirt, and a thin black sweater, she made Sasha’s mouth water. There was no use in denying it.

The secretary cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have some wonderful news. Her Royal Highness Princess Alexandra has decided to break her fast with us this morning since she was unable to join us last night. Please welcome her.”

As the applause began and every pair of eyes in the room focused on her, Sasha realized just how many people she was going to have to mollify before she could confront Kerry and demand an explanation. But at least she didn’t have to read them that vapid speech concocted by Bloom. Squaring her shoulders, she smiled as though her mind wasn’t in turmoil.

“Good morning. On behalf of the royal family, I’d like to welcome you to England. I wish you all the best in your academic endeavors, and I look forward to speaking with you over the next hour.”

With that, she let the secretary direct her to her table. Usually, she spent events like these on autopilot, with a practiced smile on her lips and a banal quip on the tip of her tongue. Sometimes, she was even able to ascend into a sort of fugue state, gliding through her responsibilities while her imagination wandered. But today, she couldn’t seem to lose herself in the familiar ritual of public appearance. Instead, she felt magnetized. As Mary Spencer introduced her to several other trustees, Sasha had to force herself not to angle her body so that she could keep an eye on Kerry. By the time she had been introduced to two tables’ worth of students, her skin was tingling as though she’d absorbed some kind of electrical charge.