Page 45 of The Queen's Knights

His tone is less than inviting, but Bethany shakes her head. “I really need to pee. Maybe later? Nice talking to you, Dr. MacArthur.” She practically sprints toward the house, leaving me staring after her in concern.

MacArthur sighs, and when I look back to him, his smile seems forced. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” I say.

“Not at all. It’s nice to see you, Gwen. I wasn’t sure if you would come. You’ve skipped the last few faculty get-togethers.”

“I just haven’t been feeling all that social this semester. It’s nothing personal, I promise.”

He nods and sips his drink, which looks like bourbon. I gesture with my wine glass. “So, where is the most alluring part of the garden you mentioned? I would love a tour, if you know your way around.”

“I do. Preston and I are both Columbia alums. I saw the place when he started working on it a decade ago.”

“Do you visit in the fall? I imagine it’s just as gorgeous then with all these maple trees.” It’s a clumsy attempt at steering the conversation to the timeframe of my attack, but I have no idea where to take it next. Sociology topics make sense, so I rack my brain for a better question while he leads me around the winding path to a shadowy, secluded area beneath one of those maple trees. Dark flagstones surround a small, oblong koi pond with lily pads floating on its surface. Flowering plants surround two-thirds of the pond, and a small fountain flows into it at the far end. It’s stunning.

He pauses by a hand-carved wooden bench while I turn to admire the golden light reflecting off the water. Orange- and white-mottled fish dart beneath the surface.

“It’s a different beauty in the autumn. Starker.” In a lower voice, he says, “The summer flowers complement you much better, I think.”

My skin prickles at his suddenly too-close proximity. He brushes the back of my bare arm with a fingertip, and I freeze. Blinking rapidly to gather myself, I take a breath, inhaling the strong scent of wintergreen—the scent ofhim. My attacker.

“Th-Thank you.” I can’t move, too overwhelmed with shock. I’ve worked with this man for years. How could it be him?

Little details flood in from my memory: the times he asked me out and I turned him down; the way I’d find him outside my office on odd occasions, even though his office was at the other end of the building; and the rumors from female students—he was the man Brit and Casey had been gossiping about at the club a few weeks back, but I’d just chalked it up as rumor, given he’s attractive and distinguished.

And a predator.

It takes a moment for my head to clear, and for me to stop berating myself for my stupidity and remember why I’m here. I need to keep him talking despite the clammy fear that grips me. I need him to incriminate himself.

“You are so beautiful in that dress, Gwen,” he says. His hand rests against the exposed skin of my back, then slides around,underneaththe fabric. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to relax when he pulls me back against his body and nuzzles my neck. This close, his scent is overwhelming. Bile rises into my throat.

“Please…” I wince and restrain myself from asking him to stop. I have to keep him talking long enough. “What do you like best about me?” I ask, grimacing at how clumsy a question it is, but he takes the bait.

“Hmm, your soft skin—so delicious. Your curves.” His hand gropes upward beneath my dress, and I hold my breath as he pinches one of my nipples through my bra.

The bastard’s erection digs into my low back as he grinds against me. I gasp in disgust. I don’t want this. Nothing about this feels right. I want to crawl out of my own skin to get away from him, but I can’t. Not yet.

Thankfully he releases my breast, but then he spins me around. His hot breath hits my lips, and I cringe at the mix of bourbon and wintergreen. He cups the back of my head.

“I think you know my favorite part is your mouth, Gwen.” He digs his fingers into my neck, pulling me closer. “Those full lips. That soft tongue.” He grips my chin with his free hand and leans closer. The bastard thinks he’s going tokissme!

My hands shoot to his chest and I push back, pulling against his grip at the same time.

“No, I donotconsent to be manhandled by you! Get off me!”

He pulls harder, smirking. “Come on, Gwen,” he coaxes. “You were such a good girl the last time. You got on your knees and took me like a fucking champ. I don’t remember you saying no.”

“I didn’t fucking say yes, either, and you know it.”

“It would be your word against mine. I have tenure. Preston is my oldest friend. You might as well just give me what I want.”

Like hell I’ll do anything this man wants. I hope my phone caught everything he said, because I amdoneletting him touch me like this.

I surprise him when I shift closer with a feral grin, positive his delight means he believes I’m actually giving in. Just for effect, I slip my hands around the back of his neck.

“You asked for this, you son of a bitch.” I grit my teeth then slam my knee up into his groin as hard as I can.

His breath leaves him in a sudden rush and his eyes go wide. A pitiful, incoherent groan emerges from him as he shoves me back and doubles over.

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