Majesty (American Royals, #2)(44)
A slow, eager grin curled over his face. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.”
Sam squealed in delight as he lunged toward her. She kicked frantically back out of his reach, the two of them chasing each other in an exhilarating zigzag. The pool echoed with their splashing laughter.
Marshall caught her ankle and began dragging her back toward him. Sam sucked in a breath as they slipped, wrestling, under the water. He kicked them forward, holding Sam tight against him, though she was no longer trying to escape.
Suddenly their faces were close, their bodies intertwined. Sam could see each individual water droplet in the fan of his eyelashes, glittering like liquid stars.
Marshall must have felt the shift in her, because he went still, too.
It was shallow enough for Sam to stand, yet she stayed where she was, floating in a strange, enchanted sort of stillness. Her dark hair fell riotously over one shoulder, like a mermaid’s. One of Marshall’s hands had looped beneath her legs, the other braced behind her back, yet his hands seemed to drift over her with only a whisper of a touch.
Marshall reached up, tucking back one of her damp curls. Then he brushed his lips lightly over hers.
All too quickly he’d moved on, tracing teasing kisses along her jawline, nipping at the flushed skin below her ear. Sam circled her fingers around Marshall’s neck, trying to catch his mouth with her own. His grip on her waist tightened.
Finally his lips found hers again. Sam kissed him back urgently, feverishly. She had shifted, her legs wrapped around his torso, her bare thighs circling the wet scratchy denim of his jeans. His palms slid farther, to settle on her lower back. They seemed to scorch her everywhere they touched—
At the sound of raucous shouts, her head shot up.
She twisted out of Marshall’s arms and looked behind her, to where the gate to the gravel path stood wide open. A flock of partygoers had spilled onto the terrace and were staring at Sam and Marshall’s tangled forms with hungry curiosity. Sam caught the unmistakable flash of photos being taken.
Before the party, she had instructed the front drive not to bother with collecting everyone’s phones the way they usually did. The head of security had argued, of course, but the only person who outranked Sam, and could countermand a direct order from her, was in Boston right now. Sam had wanted her guests to take a lot of pictures tonight—preferably pictures of her and Marshall that would make Teddy burn with jealousy.
It looked like her wish had come true.
Sam lifted her eyes to meet Marshall’s, but she didn’t see shock or outrage or even regret on his face. All she saw was a guarded sort of amusement. And the realization hit her like a blow—he’d been facing the right direction, had seen all those people. That kiss hadn’t been for Sam’s benefit, but for theirs.
Sam forced her lips to bend into a smile. She let go of Marshall, stepping back and adjusting the straps of her dress as if she hardly noticed she was wearing it.
“Nice work,” she said softly. “We put on a good show, didn’t we?”
She managed to inject the words with her usual cavalier nonchalance. It wasn’t hard. Sam was very good at pretending that things didn’t matter to her.
She’d been doing it for most of her lifetime.
“Where are you taking me?” Beatrice followed Teddy across Walthorpe’s back lawn, toward a wooden, barnlike structure that she’d assumed was a garage.
“You’ll see,” he replied, with that eager dimpled smile that seemed to light up the room.
It struck Beatrice that something fundamental in their relationship had shifted. This walk out to the barn was not at all the same as when they’d walked into Walthorpe together just a few hours ago—before they’d shared such secrets with each other.
Before Teddy had said, It’s you and me now.
He led her up a narrow staircase, then paused on the landing. “That bedroom in the main house is where I sleep, but this has always felt like my actual room,” he explained, and pushed open the door.
The top floor of the barn had been converted into what could only be described as a rustic media room. Somehow the space felt vast and cozy at once, with the barn’s high vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams. Before a massive TV sat an enormous L-shaped couch of brown suede, and on that couch, playing a video game, were Teddy’s two brothers.
“Hey, man.” The younger one, Livingston, glanced up at Teddy’s arrival, his eyes widening when he saw Beatrice. He quickly elbowed his brother and jumped to his feet. “Oh—sorry, we didn’t realize you were coming up. I mean—”
“It’s okay. Please don’t feel like you have to leave.” Beatrice hated that she had this effect on people, that she couldn’t walk into a room without everyone immediately registering, and reacting to, her presence. She wondered how it would feel to be anonymous. To meet someone and actually get to introduce herself for once.
Lewis and Livingston exchanged a glance, then shrugged and resumed their game.
Beatrice wandered over to a black-and-white poster of Half Dome that hung on one wall. “Have you been there?” she asked, turning to Teddy. She’d always wanted to hike all the way up to the peak, but the one time she’d been to Yosemite, her schedule hadn’t allowed it.
“A few summers ago, but that wasn’t why I bought the poster. I wonder…” Teddy lifted the frame, revealing a jagged, fist-sized hole in the wooden planks. Beatrice could see the building’s insulation coiled beneath.