Chapter Thirty-Six: Sally Steps Up
"I hated the ending too," Bridget O'Flaherty confided, rising from the sofa and heaving another heavy oak log onto the fire. The roaring flames outlined her sensational figure, bathing the sexy Irish actress in an orange glow.
"Wanted you get away," Mary Tudor said, slurring her words a bit. The plum brandy gave everything a warm glow, just like the heat from the crackling fire. Mary was spending a secluded weekend at Bridget's luxurious Irish estate, buried deep in the country. The two of them were chatting about Bridget's sexy adventure movie, The Pirate Queen, which was a huge hit at the box office.
"Movies are make-believe," Bridget reminded her royal guest, refilling the empty brandy snifter still dangling in Mary's hand. "Let's drink to women everywhere finding love for real."
"Finding love for real!" Mary clinked glasses with the shapely Irish actress. The brandy had her head buzzing, but it was desire that made her feel so gloriously intoxicated. Bridget totally got her. Earlier in the day, they'd gone for a long walk in the deep woods, talking for hours about constricting expectations and the roles women were forced to play, on and off the movie screen. Mary loved the way Bridget spoke openly about following her own path, and wanting women instead of men. That was how she felt too!
"So how many days until the royal wedding?" Bridget's emerald green eyes glittered in the firelight. With one hand, she stroked Mary's upper thigh. With the other, she carefully tipped a few more drops into her brandy snifter.
"Please, don't remind me!" Mary gulped her brandy and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the deep sofa cushions. She wished she could stay at Bridget's place forever. And she wished she could shut out the memory of her upcoming marriage to Jamil Khan. What was the use of finding love for real when life as a royal was one long masquerade?
"Sure, I don't want to remind you. Let me help you forget." Bridget's lips met Mary's in a lingering kiss, even as her strong hands gently eased the girl into a recumbent posture on the sofa. Her husky Irish brogue was the last thing Mary heard before sinking into oblivion. She'd been wanting Bridget all day long. But she'd consumed so much brandy that slumber overcame her before she could even make it with her new crush.
"Sweet dreams, princess." Bridget's laughter was full of triumph. She had a date for later on, a date with a man. The little something she'd tipped into the unsuspecting girl's glass meant that the innocent royal would be out for the rest of the night.
Earlier that same day, at the royal palace in London . . .
"You asked to see me, mum?" Sally Weeks stood in the doorway of the queen's private bedchamber, feeling awkward and out of place. Though she proudly wore the crisp black dress and frilly white cap of a royal chambermaid, Sally was still new.
"Come in, Sally." Queen Jane was relaxing after her morning workout. She'd already showered, and now she was lying on soft pillows in the middle of the royal bed, while a rugged-looking male trainer gave her a massage.
"Splendid, Marco." The queen sighed deeply as the muscle-bound male finished his work. "Off you go now. See you next week!"
The sexy male masseur gave Sally a naughty wink and a smile as he left the queen's luxurious chamber, but she didn't smile back. The muscle-bound male didn't excite her. And she reckoned Jane wouldn't trust a maid who behaved foolishly, like a loose woman.
"Ah, very good." Jane drank in the maid's stiff manners with knowing blue eyes. She saw the way Sally stood to one side, avoiding any contact with Marco. The queen pulled on her robe and sat up on the royal bed. She patted the place beside her. "Come here, Sally, and let's have a talk. I'm a bit worried about Princess Mary. Would you mind taking a little trip to Ireland?"