"Refreshing!" he called.
"Freezing!"
But it was glorious once she adjusted to the temperature. They swam and floated and generally behaved like tourists rather than people caught up in elaborate romantic deceptions. For a few hours, Sasha let herself forget about Victoria and fake relationships and the growing certainty that she was in far too deep.
"So what are you going to do when you get home?" Ambrose asked as they were toweling off later. "Back to job hunting?"
"Actually, I was thinking about trying to get something at a garden center." The words came out more easily than she'd expected. "Or maybe seeing if there are horticulture courses I could take. I really like working with Cathy here. Learning about plants, seeing things grow. It feels… right, somehow."
Ambrose's face lit up. "Sash, that's brilliant. You'd be amazing at that."
"You think?"
"I know. You've got instincts for it. Even Father said so, and he never compliments anyone who isn't a rare orchid."
They packed up the picnic things and slowly began the trek up the beach and over the rolling dunes back toward the house, the afternoon sun bright and hot on their backs. It had been nice to spend some time with Ambrose, but no less confusing. It seemed that the two of them were in pretty much the same situation. Though in this case, sharing their woes didn’t make her feel any better at all.
IT WAS LATE afternoon when they arrived back at the house, the shadows lengthening across the manicured lawns. Sasha was heading upstairs to change when she caught movement in her peripheral vision, Sophie, slipping around a corner with suspicious quickness.
Curious, Sasha followed.
Sophie moved through the house with practiced ease, clearly knowing exactly which floorboards creaked and which corridors were most likely to be empty. She climbed the back stairs to the family wing, glancing over her shoulder periodically but never quite looking behind her enough to spot Sasha.
When Sophie reached her bedroom door, she paused, listening intently. Then she slipped inside and pulled the door almost closed behind her, leaving just a crack.
Sasha crept closer, holding her breath.
"Hello, darlings," Sophie's voice came through the gap, pitched low and sweet. "Did you miss me? I know, I know, I've been gone ages. But look what I've brought you."
There was a rustling sound, followed by distinct meowing. Multiple sources of meowing, actually, in various pitches and volumes.
"That's it, don't fight over the chicken. There's plenty for everyone. Yes, even you, Livingstone."
Sasha felt a smile tugging at her lips. So that explained the mysterious scratches, the sneaking food, Lady Alexandra's sneezing fits. Sophie Sullivan was running some sort of unauthorized kitten rescue operation in her bedroom.
She backed away quietly, leaving Sophie to her secret. Everyone in this house was hiding something, she thought, not for the first time. Ambrose with his fake girlfriend, Victoria with whatever was going on with her job, Archie with his inability to see what was right in front of him. And now Sophie, rescuing kittens while her grandmother sneezed through family dinners.
The guilt settled heavy in Sasha's stomach. All this pretending, all these lies, and for what? So Ambrose could avoid an awkward conversation? So Victoria could maintain her perfect daughter image? So Sasha could spend two weeks wanting someone she couldn't have?
She made her way to Victoria's room, their room, she reminded herself, though it still felt like an intrusion. Victoria wasn't there, probably off making another phone call or sending yet more emails. She wondered if Victoria’s boss appreciated what he had.
Her bag needed unpacking from the beach trip. She pulled out her damp swimsuit and towel, and as she passed Victoria's bed, she caught the scent of that expensive perfume Victoria always wore.
She shouldn't. It was weird and borderline creepy and definitely not the sort of thing normal people did.
But she leaned over anyway, pressing her face into Victoria's pillow and breathing in deeply. The scent was stronger here, mixed with something that was just Victoria, clean and warm and utterly intoxicating.
Christ, she had it bad.
Chapter Seventeen
Victoria had to admit that she had a problem. Well, more than one. There was the fact that as far as her family was concerned she was still an important and, more importantly, employed banker. But then there was something else. Every time Sasha laughed, every gesture, every tilt of her head, Victoria felt it like a physical pull. Ridiculous, really. She was thirty-one years old, not some hormonal teenager.
And yet.
And yet she couldn’t seem to get her mind out of the gutter.
Take tonight, for example. A lovely family dinner, and all she could think about was taking Sasha and bending her over the dining table and…
