by Radclyffe
“I’m fine.” Sasha rested her cheek against Kerry’s shoulder as they whispered. “The day went off well, I think. That’s all that matters.”
“You should feel pleased.” Kerry kissed her again. “And I meant what I said earlier—your speech was amazing.”
“You’re biased.”
“No. Just honest.”
Sasha pulled back to meet her eyes. It was the same response Kerry had given the night they’d met, in the moments before their first kiss. The kiss that had changed everything. Suddenly, Sasha resented every other person in the room. “I’ve had enough of speeches. I just want to spend time with you.”
“Shall we take a walk? Get out for a little while?” Kerry looked toward the stage. “I don’t think the party will slow down anytime soon.”
“That sounds perfect.” She turned to her sister. “We’re going to take some fresh air.”
Lizzie narrowed her eyes. “You’re not running off to—”
“Hush.” Sasha embraced her before she could finish the sentence. “We’ll be back. Keep the dance floor warm.”
She tugged at Kerry’s hand but was forced to wait until she had exchanged cheek-kisses with Lizzie. Over the past several months, Kerry had developed strong relationships with both of Sasha’s siblings. She talked football with Arthur and sat between them in their box at Manchester United games. She talked literature and history with Lizzie and had gone over to Cambridge once to support her at a debating competition.
Now, as they made their way through the crowd in search of freedom, Sasha felt her anticipation grow. Tomorrow she would formalize Kerry’s place in her family. In the morning, they would all retreat to Balmoral Castle in Scotland for a few more days of private celebration before Arthur and Ashleigh embarked on their honeymoon. Once they had settled in, Sasha planned to invite Kerry to ride with her into the mountains, as they had done on their first real date. This time, in addition to producing breakfast at the ruins, she would produce a ring.
“Let’s walk along the park.” Kerry interrupted her reverie. “If Ian will let us, of course.”
The throng that had gathered outside the palace for the nuptials that morning had since dispersed to their own celebrations in pubs and homes across the city, making Sasha’s protection officer amenable to their plan. He followed them from a discreet distance as they strolled hand in hand along the mostly deserted sidewalk. The light breeze blowing through the trees felt wonderful on her face after the heat of the party.
“I still can’t believe Father let us turn the Throne Room into a club.”
“That was a brilliant idea, and a smash hit. I heard loads of people talking about it.” Kerry squeezed Sasha’s hand. “Are you cold? Want my jacket?”
“I’m fine. But thank you.” Kerry’s solicitousness always made her feel warm inside. Cherished. “You would have made a perfect Knight of the Round Table, you know.”
Kerry laughed. “If Arthur ever decides to bring back that tradition, maybe I’ll apply for a seat.”
They walked on for a while, chatting about their favorite parts of the ceremony and afternoon luncheon, until Sasha realized they were crossing the street. “Where are you taking me?”
“We’re almost at Parliament.” Kerry gestured toward the imposing façade. Big Ben’s face was especially bright this evening under the light of a nearly full moon. “Since we’re in the neighborhood, I thought we might duck into Westminster Hall for a minute.”
Since the beginning of the summer, Kerry had been involved in a project to renovate the oldest part of Westminster Palace. Sasha had no idea why she had chosen this moment to show off her work, but she certainly wanted to be supportive. “I’d love to see how it’s coming along.”
On their way into the palace, they met three different pairs of security guards, all of whom were very happy to let them pass once they’d had a good look at Sasha. Several of them also knew Kerry by name. The last of the guards were positioned directly in front of the hall, and they stepped aside with a murmured, “Your Royal Highness.”
Kerry took a key from her pocket and opened the lock on the thick chain binding the doors together. She threaded the links through the handles and wound the chain around her arm before handing it to the nearest guard. And then, with a grin over her shoulder, she gave the doors a strong push. They parted slowly to reveal the hall that had once been the epicenter of the English monarchy’s power.
“Shall we?” Kerry extended her arm, beckoning Sasha over the threshold. As the doors swung shut behind them, Sasha took the opportunity to survey the space as she’d never done before. Always impressive, it seemed much larger when empty. She looked up at the ornate wooden roof with its arched trusses that marched the length of the hall. Moonlight filtered through the large window overlooking the dais at the far end, creating a shimmering pool of light in the center of the raised platform.
“Follow me.” Kerry gently tugged at their joined hands.
“What sort of roof is that called again?” Sasha asked as she was led down the center aisle.
“It’s a hammer-beam roof. Richard II had it built in the late fourteenth century. We’ve had to reinforce a few sections, but it’s nearly finished.” Kerry pointed out a scaffold that had been erected along part of one wall.
“I heard your president address Parliament here a few years ago.”
“Did he do a good job?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t pay close attention.” Sasha felt a twinge of guilt for her rebellious past. She had felt like such an outsider in her family until Kerry had helped her see where she fit.
“I bet he was nervous. Come on, let’s go stand where he did.”
“Oh? Do you have presidential aspirations?” Sasha meant it as a joke—mostly. Sometimes she worried that Kerry would become homesick for her native land, or sacrifice some excellent career opportunity in the States to remain with her in the U.K.
“Hardly.” Kerry made a face. “What a thankless job. Besides, all my aspirations are on this side of the pond.” They reached the dais, and she gestured toward the stairs. “After you.”
As soon as she had climbed up, Sasha found herself enveloped by the silvery spotlight created by the moon. She spun in a slow circle, taking in the entirety of the hall. An anticipatory hush pervaded the space, as though the wooden timbers themselves were waiting for something. Sasha turned to face Kerry…and found her down on one knee, hand outstretched, a ring nestled in the center of her palm. She gasped.
“Alexandra Victoria Jane.” Kerry’s voice shook slightly, and as Sasha watched in stunned silence, she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I’ve fallen more deeply in love with you than I ever thought possible. Before I met you, I didn’t know enough to even dream of a romance like this. There is nothing I want more than the chance to make you happy every day for the rest of our lives.” She had to pause to catch her breath, but her gaze never left Sasha’s. “Will you marry me?”
Sasha could barely think over the roaring in her ears, but as she stared down at Kerry, one thing became clear. This whole plan—leaving the reception, their walk along the park, turning in to the palace—had been premeditated. Orchestrated. Kerry had brought her here expressly to propose. Sasha couldn’t believe this was happening.
“No!”
Kerry rocked backward as though she’d been physically struck, and her face began to crumple before she ducked her head. Only then did Sasha realize exactly what she had said, and in horror, she sank to the floor, mindless of the dust.
“Yes! I mean yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” She cupped Kerry’s face and forced her to look up, wanting to slap herself when she saw the tears shimmering in those blue depths. What a bloody idiot she was.
“Yes?” Kerry’s voice cracked. “Are you sure?”
Tenderly, Sasha raised her thumbs to wipe away the two tiny droplets that had escaped the corners of her eyes. “Yes. I want to marry you more than…than anything.”
“Then why did you sa
y no?”
Sasha leaned forward to press their lips together as she thought of how to reply. If she told the truth, she would ruin her surprise. But on the other hand, she had almost just ruined Kerry’s beautiful proposal.
“Because tomorrow, I’m going to offer you a ring.”
Kerry frowned. “You are?”
“Yes. I have a plan involving scones, horses and the Scottish Highlands. Ian is in on it.” Sasha stroked Kerry’s cheekbones. “And now you’ve gotten there first.”
To Sasha’s immense relief, Kerry let out a small laugh. “Really?”
“Truly. I’m so sorry that ‘no’ leapt out of my mouth. I was just in shock that you’d managed to beat me to the punch.”
Finally, Kerry smiled—that wide, open smile reserved only for her. “I’m precocious, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Sasha kissed her again. “Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
They knelt together on the dais, Sasha searching Kerry’s eyes until she was sure no sign of pain lingered. “May I please see my ring now?”
“Of course.” Kerry helped her up and then opened her hand. Sasha plucked the ring from her palm, inspecting it in the light. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before—a tapering spiral made from a dark, heavy material, its surface inlaid with small diamonds. A flash of green caught her gaze, and she realized that an emerald had been set into the broad end of the spiral.
“I made it.” Kerry sounded nervous again, her words tumbling out in a rush. “From a nail I removed from this roof. It probably belongs in a museum, but everyone insisted I should keep it as a memento.” She pointed to the interior of the ring. “First, I had to forge it into the spiral shape. It’s inlaid with platinum here, where it will touch your finger. The emerald at the nail head is from a ring of my great-grandmother’s, which she got in Ireland. It reminded me of your eyes. And the diamonds…well, they’re forever. Which is what I want us to be.”
For the second time in the past several minutes, Sasha couldn’t believe her ears. “You made this? How? When?”
“There’s a studio at Oxford. One of the Fine Arts students helped me. Every time we had to be apart because you had something official to do, I’d lock myself in there for hours.” Kerry reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Sasha’s ear. “I wanted it to represent our relationship. Strong. Enduring. Precious.”
“I love it.” Sasha could barely speak through the emotion constricting her throat. “I love how it looks. I love that you created it and how much thought you put into its symbolism. I love you, Kerry.”
“I love you, Sasha. So much.” Kerry carefully took the ring between her fingers. “Hold out your hand.” When she obeyed, Kerry positioned it at the very tip of her finger and then looked down into her eyes. “A princess belongs to her people. I know that will always be true. But I also want you to be mine.”
She slid the ring into place, then bent to kiss it. When she withdrew, Sasha looked down at the sparkling diamonds, made all the more brilliant by the dark surface into which they’d been set. The ring fit perfectly. It felt so right on her hand, just as the presence of Kerry felt in her life.
“I am yours.” She threaded her arms around Kerry’s neck. “You’re the only one who will ever know all of me. I will always belong to you in a way I belong to no one else.”
The kiss was gentle but firm, like the promises they had just exchanged. It seemed to go on forever—Kerry’s mouth moving over hers with tender purpose, Kerry’s arms holding her close. When it finally ended, Sasha rested her cheek against Kerry’s chest, listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat. One year ago, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine this moment. Now she couldn’t imagine a life without Kerry by her side.
“Shall we go back?” Kerry asked after several minutes had passed in silence. “You promised Lizzie, after all.”
“I did.” Sasha reluctantly took a step backward. “But just so you’re prepared, at the first opportunity, I am dragging you off to bed.”
“No dragging required.” Kerry’s eyes grew a shade darker. “I want to know what it’s like to make love to my fiancée.”
Sasha shivered at the note of intensity lacing her voice. “That sounds so good. Every word.” Together, they descended the dais, but when they reached its foot, a sudden thought gave her pause. “I just have one favor to ask.”
“Oh?”
“You’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met. I love that about you. But tomorrow…can you pretend to be surprised?”
Kerry’s burst of laughter echoed through Westminster Hall, filling its dark corners with sound. “I’ll certainly do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask.” She pulled Kerry forward. “Come on. Let’s tell our family the good news.”
GARGOYLE LOVERS
Sacchi Green
“I’m siingin’ in the raaiin…” But that song was from the wrong Gene Kelly movie, and it wasn’t quite raining and I was only whistling. My speaking voice gets me by, but singing blows the whole presentation.
Hal glanced down, her face stern in that exaggerated way that makes me tingle in just the right places. I shoved my hands into my pockets, skipped a step or two and knew she felt as good as I did. Hal’s hardly the type to dance through the Paris streets like Gene Kelly, especially across square cobblestones, but there was a certain lilt to her gait.
Or maybe a swagger.
“That pretty-boy waiter was all over you,” I said slyly. A gay guy making a pass always makes her day. “And giving me dirty looks every chance he got!”
“Lucky for you I’m not cruising for pretty boys, then. But don’t give me too much lip or I might change my mind.”
I couldn’t quite manage penitence, but at least I knew better than to remind her that she already had a pretty boy, for better or worse. Still, some punishment games would be a fine end to the evening. Last night we’d been too jet-lagged to take proper advantage of the Parisian atmosphere. “That maître d’ with a beak like a gargoyle was sure eyeing me, too, especially from behind.” I gave another little skip.
Hal ignored the bait. “Thought you’d had your fill of gargoyles today.” A cathedral wouldn’t have been her first choice for honeymoon sightseeing, but the mini-balcony of our rental apartment had a stupendous view of Notre-Dame de Paris. I’d oohed and ahhed about gargoyles over our croissants and café au lait, so she’d humored me and we’d taken the tour.
To tell the truth, being humored by Hal unnerved me a bit. I didn’t want being married to make a difference in our relationship. The fact that she’d shooed me out of that sex toy shop in Montmartre while she made a purchase was reassuring, but just in case, I decided I could manage some genuine penitence after all.
I hung my head and peered up at her slantwise. “I know I was a real pain. I can’t figure out what it is about gargoyles that just gets to me. They’re sort of scary, but not really, and sort of sad, and some of them are beautiful in a weird kind of way.” Just as Hal was, but I’d never say so. “I’m sorry I went on about them like that.”
“What makes you think they’re sad? Just because their butts are trapped in stone?” She was trying to suppress a grin. I felt better.
“Well, I’d sure hate that, myself!”
That got me the squeeze on my ass I’d been angling for. “I’d rather have these sweet cheeks accessible,” she said. The squeeze got harder than I’d bargained for, startling me into a grimace.
She eased off with a slow stroke between my thighs. “You should’ve seen your face just now. Could be there’s something like that going on with the gargoyles. Not rage, or fear, or pain at all—unless it’s pain so delicious it makes them howl with lust.”
I was awestruck. Hal is generally the blunt, taciturn type, but I love it when her wicked imagination bursts forth. Almost as much as I love the vulnerability that once in a while gives an extra gruffness to her voice.
She was on a roll now, face
alight like a gleeful demon. A lovable demon. “There’s somebody hidden behind the stone, in another dimension, or time, or whatever, giving the gargoyle the fucking of its life. A reaming so fine it’s been going on for centuries.”
“Yes!” I was very nearly speechless. To lean out high above Paris, in the sun, wind and rain of eons, my face forever twisted in a paroxysm of fierce joy while Hal’s thrusts filled me eternally with surging pleasure…
A few drops of rain began to fall, but that wasn’t what made us hurry faster across the Pont de Saint-Louis. The great ornate iron gates at our apartment building had given me fantasies that morning of being chained, spread-eagled, against them, but now I rushed across the cobblestoned courtyard and through the carved oak door, so turned on that the four flights of stairs inside scarcely slowed me down—which might also have been because Hal’s big hand on my butt was hurrying me along.
At our apartment, though, she held me back while she opened the door. “Over-the-threshold time. It’ll be more official when we get back home, but this will have to do for now.”
So I entered the room slung over Hal’s shoulder, kicking a little for balance, until she dumped me amongst the red and gold brocade cushions on the couch. They went tumbling off as I struggled to get my pants lowered.
“Not here,” she mused. “Maybe up there?” There was a sturdy railing across the loft that held the king-sized bed.
“Out there! Please?” The balcony was really only a space where the French windows were set back into the wall about a foot, but there was an intricate iron fence along the edge, and with the windows wide open it had felt like balcony enough at breakfast time.
“Can you be quiet as a gargoyle?”
“You can gag me.”
“No. I want to see your face.” Hal pulled open the windows, grabbed the bag from the sex toy store, heaved me up and the next minute I was kneeling on the balcony and clutching the fence.
She moved aside a couple of pots of geraniums and tested the fence for strength and anchoring. “This would take even my weight,” she muttered. In seconds she’d fastened my wrists to the railing with brand-new bonds that looked uncannily like chains of heavy iron links, even though they weren’t hard as metal and had just a hint of stretch to them. “Feel enough like a gargoyle?”
