The Princess Affair

by Nell Stark

  Her last thought before sleep claimed her was that she finally knew the meaning of contentment.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kerry’s internal alarm woke her faithfully at six o’clock, as it had every morning since she’d adjusted to Greenwich Mean Time, but this day could not have been more different from its predecessors. Her eyes opened to the sight of Sasha’s smooth, pale shoulder, mere inches from her lips. Her arm encircled Sasha’s waist, palm possessively cradling her breast. Inhaling deeply, she caught the faint scent of lilac, and she was overwhelmed by visceral memories of the night before.

  Sasha above her, inside her, beneath her. Her fierce commands and sensual pleas. The intoxicating sweetness of her skin.

  Kerry’s fingers flexed involuntarily and Sasha murmured in her sleep. Desire spiraled through her as she felt Sasha’s nipple harden against her palm. Not wanting her restlessness to wake the sleeping princess, she slowly eased herself out of the bed and stole into the bathroom. Bracing her arms on the sink, she examined her own reflection.

  Her hair was a bit more tousled than usual, but otherwise she looked no different. How strange, to feel utterly transformed inside and yet see no external evidence. Closing her eyes, she retraced the night with her mind—every sound, every touch, every taste. What did it mean that she had never felt more herself than in those moments of intimate joining with Sasha? Her skin ached, and suddenly she couldn’t bear the closed door standing between them.

  After brushing her teeth and doing her best to flatten her rowdy hair, Kerry padded back into the room. Far too restive to fall back asleep, she could at least indulge her need to be close to Sasha by doing some reading while watching over her slumber. But as she bent to grab a book from her bag, the sound of rustling fabric reached her ears.

  “Kerry?”

  She turned to the sight of Sasha, propped up on one elbow, blinking sleepily. The sheet just barely covered her breasts, and one shapely calf lay outside the nest of blankets. Kerry’s heart stuttered and she abandoned her book without a second thought.

  “Good morning.” She perched lightly on the edge of the bed and dared to comb two fingers through the long, dark locks spilling artfully onto the white coverlet. “It’s early still. You should go back to sleep.”

  Sasha reached for her hand. “Lie down with me.”

  “I’m not sure I can—”

  “Just for a few minutes. Please?”

  Helpless to resist, Kerry let Sasha draw her down onto the mattress. Immediately, Sasha snuggled into Kerry’s side and threw one leg over her abdomen.

  “Mm,” she purred. “You smell good.”

  Within moments, she had fallen back to sleep. Kerry lay quietly, still gently stroking Sasha’s hair and enjoying the pressure of Sasha’s leg against her thighs. She felt anchored. Wanted. At peace. Always on the go, she suddenly didn’t want to move a single muscle. Lassitude settled over her limbs and she closed her eyes, giving in to the unfamiliar desire to rest.

  Her next conscious sensation was the slow movement of fingertips over her scalp. As their pressure increased, Kerry couldn’t hold back a sigh of pleasure.

  “Don’t open your eyes,” Sasha whispered from above. “Just feel me.”

  As the massage went on and on, Sasha’s fingers moved down the nape of her neck until she dug her thumbs into the knots on either side of Kerry’s spinal column. Miraculously, Kerry felt the ever-present tension in her shoulders begin to ease under that firm, soothing touch. Sure hands smoothed out her bunched muscles until she felt as though she were floating gently atop a becalmed sea.

  When Sasha’s touch finally retreated, Kerry’s eyes fluttered open. She was lying on her stomach, cheek pressed to the soft white pillow. The room was bathed in bright sunlight, and as she rolled over onto her back, Sasha stretched out beside her.

  “Hello again.” Sasha leaned in close, pressing her breasts against Kerry’s side.

  “I fell back asleep. I never do that.”

  She skimmed her fingertips down the center of Kerry’s chest. “I feel proud.”

  Kerry reached up to stroke Sasha’s cheek. “You should. And thank you for that massage. It was lovely.”

  Sasha bent to kiss her—a light, lingering kiss that only left Kerry craving more. Wrapping one arm around Sasha’s shoulders, she pulled her on top, snugging Sasha’s pelvis into the hollow of her hips.

  “Better.”

  Sasha nipped at Kerry’s chin. “You feel incredible.”

  “I do.” Kerry saw no sense in denying it. She didn’t want to move back—only forward. “You’re a remarkable lover.”

  Her eyes darkened. “I think that’s my line. When you let go, you are simply magnificent.”

  Kerry felt her face heat. She didn’t know what to say. Emotion churned sluggishly in her depths, dimly-realized and somehow frightening. She didn’t want it to feel like falling. Not yet.

  “So tell me,” she said, running her fingertips lightly down Sasha’s back. “What’s on today’s agenda?”

  Sasha rested her chin on Kerry’s breastbone. “In a few moments, I’ll let you up so you can experience your first Irish breakfast. Then, we’ll drive to Killarney, where we’ll be spending the remainder of the weekend.”

  “I can’t wait. This trip has already exceeded my wildest dreams, and it’s barely even begun.”

  “Good.”

  Sasha leaned forward to kiss first her left nipple, then her right. Suddenly throbbing, Kerry felt her stomach contract as her vision went hazy.

  “So responsive,” Sasha murmured. “If I weren’t so eager to show you your native land, I might never let you out of this bed.”

  “I wouldn’t complain,” Kerry gasped, but Sasha was already rolling off to one side. She swatted playfully at Kerry’s thigh as her feet hit the hardwood floor.

  “Come on now, lazybones.”

  Indignant, Kerry sprang out of the bed, but before she could retaliate, Sasha had disappeared into the bathroom, silvery laughter echoing behind her.

  *

  The wind ruffled Kerry’s hair as she rounded a sharp curve in the trail, bringing with it the scent of honeysuckle and loam. A few feet ahead, Sasha was gesturing to a large boulder just off the path. Dressed in hip-hugging jeans and her UConn sweatshirt, its hood helping to hold the wig in place despite the crisp breeze, she looked fashionably athletic and entirely carefree.

  “Shall we sit for a spell?”

  At first, her words didn’t register. Sasha was beautiful all the time, but Kerry preferred this flushed, fully human version to the highly coiffed façade she presented to the media. As she joined her, Kerry traced a loose wisp of her faux hair. Sasha stuck out her tongue.

  “I’ve never worn it so many days in a row. It’s starting to itch.”

  “Well, do you think you might be able to do without it for the rest of the trip? Have you seen any sign of photographers?”

  “None whatsoever.” Sasha sipped from her water bottle and glanced around the small clearing. “Maybe I will take it off, and just keep the hood up.”

  Kerry watched, entranced, as she whisked the wig off her head and shook out her long, dark tresses. Fingertips itching, she drank deeply from her own water as Sasha stowed the hairpiece in her backpack.

  “That feels fantastic,” she said. “As does this climb. Much more satisfying than those bloody stair machines in the gym.”

  Kerry laughed. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  After arriving at their hotel in Killarney, Sasha had laid out the plan for the afternoon: a tour of the nineteenth century Muckross House—a product of famous Scottish architect William Burns—followed by a trip to Torc Waterfall and a hike up to the top of Torc Mountain. It was the perfect way to spend a beautiful autumn day, and Kerry was touched by the forethought Sasha had put into their itinerary.

  Sasha capped her bottle and stood. “Let’s keep moving. I can’t wait to see the waterfall from the top.”

  Thoroughly charmed by her ent
husiasm, Kerry followed closely behind her as she set a brisk pace up the remaining ascent. Soon, the surrounding forest gave way to a grassy, rock-strewn slope. Ahead, a stone cairn marked the summit. As they approached it, the ambient roar of the waterfall resolved into clear splashing sounds.

  Sasha halted next to the cairn and spun in a slow circle. “Spectacular.”

  “You are,” Kerry said, softly enough that any nearby tourists wouldn’t overhear. “It’s true.”

  Sasha rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smile at her lips betrayed her pleasure. “Not me, you dolt. This view.”

  Wrenching her gaze away from Sasha, Kerry finally surveyed the panorama before her. She had an unimpeded, three hundred and sixty degree view of the Irish countryside, and it was indeed spectacular. To the west, a lake lay nestled in the valley created by the juncture of three low mountains. To the north, the stone turrets of Muckross House gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight.

  “Kerry! Come and see.” Sasha had descended a short way down the slope along a ridge that ended abruptly in a sheer cliff. It was the perfect vantage point from which to watch the water hurtle over the outcropping and drop into the deep pool far below.

  Sasha reached for her hand as she approached. The falls throbbed beneath them, its power traveling up through the soles of Kerry’s feet, quickening her blood. The rich scent of the earth filled her lungs as the cool fingers of the wind stroked through her hair and the rising mist caressed her face. The land itself was embracing her, cherishing her, and Kerry suddenly felt a sense of belonging that was at once utterly foreign and yet somehow familiar.

  Sasha’s grip tightened, and she looked over in concern. “You’re trembling. Are you all right?”

  Kerry swallowed hard. How could she explain without sounding like a sentimental fool, especially when she hardly knew what was happening herself?

  “This place,” she stammered. “It…affects me.”

  Sasha’s expression softened. She looked around quickly before leaning in close, her lips grazing Kerry’s ear. “Welcome home.”

  Kerry pulled back just enough to see her eyes. They were the same shade of green as the surrounding fields, and for one insane moment, she very nearly blurted the revelation aloud. Behind them, a shrill chorus of young voices echoed from the rocks. Sasha released her hand and stepped away. The spell of the land died as suddenly as it had risen. In the next moment, children were swarming over the summit, laughing and shouting—a school group, by the looks of their identical uniforms.

  “Shall we go back?” Sasha asked, watching them with bemusement.

  “All right.” Kerry worked to keep her voice light. She couldn’t help but be disappointed by Sasha’s withdrawal, but what else could she expect? This entire trip was clandestine, and not only because of her gender. Even the straight royals often tried to hide their romantic involvements from the world for as long as possible. All other obstacles aside, did she really want the kind of media attention that would accompany being Sasha’s “official” girlfriend?

  By the time they returned to the trailhead, Kerry had managed to reason herself into a happier mental space. They had a full day and a half left together and much more exploring to do. She wanted to appreciate this trip for what it was, not what it wasn’t. Sasha had put a great deal of time, effort, and money into making one of Kerry’s lifelong dreams come true. The last thing she wanted was to seem ungrateful.

  Sasha rested her palm on Kerry’s knee as they pulled out of the parking lot. Behind them, the underbellies of the clouds were just beginning to smolder as the sun began its descent behind the mountains.

  “Did you enjoy that?”

  “Very much.” With one finger, Kerry traced aimless patterns along the back of Sasha’s hand. “Thank you for an incredible day.”

  “It isn’t over yet. We have dinner reservations in town, and then I thought we might do some dancing.”

  “Oh?” Kerry’s head spun at the thought of trying to dance with Sasha in some hot, crowded, throbbing nightclub. How on earth she would manage to remain platonic, she had no idea.

  “Apparently there’s a ceili—a traditional Irish dance—at a pub near our restaurant.” Sasha glanced over quickly. “Would that be fun for you?”

  Kerry couldn’t hold back a laugh at just how far off her mental image had been. At the flash of hurt that crossed Sasha’s face, she hurried to explain.

  “I’ve been going to ceilis since before I could walk. They’re quite popular in my hometown. And I would love nothing more than to attend one with you.” She squeezed Sasha’s fingers lightly. “If it’s anything like what I’m used to, I may even be able to lead.”

  “I may even let you,” she replied archly. “Though don’t think for a moment that your lead will extend beyond the dance floor.”

  “Oh?” Kerry’s throat constricted at the sensual note in Sasha’s voice.

  In the dying light, Sasha’s eyes gleamed like a cat’s. “If yesterday was any indication, you need to learn some patience. Tonight, I plan to make you wait.”

  Kerry’s view of the road blurred as Sasha’s words sparked a rush of flame beneath her skin. The inferno stole her breath in a quiet gasp, and now it was Sasha’s turn to laugh. She lifted her hand to brush her knuckles across Kerry’s cheek.

  “Breathe. I told you I’d take care of you. I meant it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sasha woke slowly, her consciousness spiraling up toward the sunlit world she could dimly sense beyond the blankets nestled around her like a warm cocoon. When she breathed in, she detected the faint aroma of Kerry’s rich, earthy scent. A frisson of desire skittered down her spine as memories of the previous night flooded back into the forefront of her brain. After another full day of touring—this time along the Dingle Peninsula—they had opted to retire early. For a while, they had simply cuddled and channel-surfed until the edges of their kisses grew sharp with need. Kerry had taken the lead effortlessly, surging above her with gentle purpose.

  The tone of their lovemaking had been palpably different from the nights before. The urgency of discovery had given way to tenderness, and Kerry’s slow, stroking touches had set Sasha ablaze. But even as they had taken their fill of each other, Sasha had sensed a new kind of desperation at the core of their joining. It was their last night in Ireland. Was Kerry also wondering whether the magic they had found would be able to follow them back across the channel?

  The thought dissolved her inner peace and she opened her eyes, propping herself up on both elbows to look for Kerry. The room was empty, but a note was waiting on the nightstand. Good morning, it read. You’re beautiful. I’ve gone for a short run. Back around nine o’clock. –K

  Sasha had to smile as she imagined Kerry’s lean frame stretched out in motion along some nearby winding road. She could easily picture her glistening body slicing through the mist like a blade, and suddenly she envied the very air. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was nearly nine. When Kerry returned, perhaps she could entice her into sharing the shower. To conserve water, of course.

  A knock sounded at the door, accompanied by Ian’s greeting. Frowning, she quickly threw on a robe. They were leaving at half past ten. What did he need at this hour?

  When he stepped inside, she first noticed the grim set to his mouth. Then she saw that he was holding a folded-up newspaper. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Oh, no. No. They’d been cautious! Not as cautious as they could have been, but she’d seen no sign of the paparazzi since she’d left the UK. Surely, she would have realized if they had picked up her trail. Over the years, she’d become nearly as adept as her security at ferreting them out of the shadows.

  “How bad?” Her voice was nearly unrecognizable to her own ears. Now her father would have yet another weapon in his arsenal against her. And not only would the media turn her life into even more of a circus than it already was, but they would also turn their all-seeing eye toward Kerry. She would be sucked right into the heart of the mae
lstrom, and—

  “We dodged a bullet, I believe.” Beneath the terseness of his clipped words was an unexpected note of amusement.

  He flipped open the paper to reveal a grainy photograph of the two of them leaving the ceili on Friday night. The headline above danced and shimmered, refusing to resolve, and Sasha focused on the picture. Her own face was fairly recognizable, but the camera phone used to snap it had only caught an oblique shot of Kerry’s profile. Blinking fiercely, she closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. When she opened her eyes, the words were clear. Sasha’s New Bloke?

  Sasha stared in disbelief between the large, bold words and the image below them as realization struck. Kerry’s short hair, her strong jawline, and her clothing—low-slung jeans and a button-down shirt, that night—had all conspired to deceive both the amateur paparazzo and the editors of the gossip rag that had won the bidding war for this photo. The thundering panic slightly eased its grip on her heart.

  “That’s an interesting twist.”

  “Indeed.” Ian refolded the paper. “Nevertheless, depending on what you wish to do, it may be necessary to take some additional precautions.”

  “What I wish to do?” She sank into a nearby chair, feeling her fingers tremble slightly under the influence of adrenaline. Her brain seemed filled with haze. She should never have relaxed her guard and abandoned her disguise, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

  “You have several options, of course.” Ian’s voice was carefully neutral. “Stop seeing her. Continue to see her, but take stronger measures to keep it secret. Or go public.”

  Sasha’s head snapped up. Go public? Was he mad? They had just barely escaped public detection, thanks to a fortuitous misunderstanding! But when she met his gaze, she saw only steadiness there. He wasn’t counseling her one way or another—simply laying out the options.

  At that moment, the lock turned in the door. Kerry stepped into the room, disheveled and sweaty and smiling. When she saw them, she froze. The smile dropped away.