Page 19 of Lover
“Going in a few hours, Professor. Got word that the mulch shipment was running late. Didn’t want to waste time waiting around town for it.”
“Prudent,” I replied stiffly. I had no reason to believe he was lying, and at any rate, my anger had not been inspired by his free time, only by how he’d chosen to spend it.
“Well, I best be getting ready to leave. Professor. Miss Foxboro.”
Rodney nodded to Millie, keeping her gaze a moment too long. The bastard. He left through the trees, likely making his way to the groundskeeper’s cottage. I watched him go. A talk was going to be necessary.
“Professor Hughes, what brings you outside?” Millie said with a sort of irritated reluctance, as though my presence had interrupted a perfectly fine morning.
“Can’t a man roam his own garden without ulterior motives?” I asked, then mentally grimaced. I had some damage to fix and being grumpy wouldn’t mend anything.
However, she seemed somewhat remorseful. “Of course.”
“I do have one ulterior motive,” I admitted in a more amiable tone, taking this as an opportunity for repentance. “Will you walk with me?”
Her gazed fluttered quickly around my face, looking for danger, thankfully finding none.
She agreed briskly, turning a cold shoulder to me right before stepping on a stick that rolled beneath her foot and sent her nearly sprawling. I caught her, the weight of her body inmy arms, a heaven I had not expected, electrifying me. With steadfast resolve, I resisted the urge to hold on tightly and righted her—but the sight of the bandage thwarted my intention to disengage physically. With some horror, I took hold of her hand to get a better view of whatever damage had been done.
She bashfully admitted the incident.
Relief. She’d not hurt herself returning to her room alone in the dark last night. When I made a lighthearted joke about avoiding liquor, she took it as scolding and apologized.
“It is not a reprimand,” I assured her softly, wounded she’d assumed it was and freshly reminded of the impression I’d made. “Miss Foxboro, it is vital I apologize to you for my inexcusable behavior last night.
“I admit,” I added, trying to include the truth as much as was safe to do, “I attempted to treat my insomnia too aggressively, and I wasn’t expecting company. Truly, as I said, it was inexcusable, no matter the circumstances. I don’t expect forgiveness, but I humbly ask it anyway as I’d like to maintain your assistance, though you’d have every right to leave.”
I shouldn’t have given her an opening, an opportunity to go, but part of me needed to be sure she was here of her own will, that she would choose to stay. For a moment, my heart didn’t beat as I waited for her response.
“I am sure I heard something, saw something. I would never have…”she replied, insistent.
She halted, stumbling over the implication I’d made the night before.
“I never would have bothered you,” she finished, raising her chin with some pride.
Though it was a lie, I assured her Hannigan and I had checked the house. I only wanted to ease her. She’d been chasing only shadows.
“I admit,” I continued, “the house in its current state inspires a most awful imagination.”
“You’re not a believer at all, Professor?”
“No.” I looked toward the house and uttered words I often had in the height of her illness, “This is all there is. Are you, Miss Foxboro?”
“Am I?”
“A believer?”
“Once,” she admitted with a wistful smile.
I motioned toward the garden path, hoping to continue walking with her, and she nodded. We continued our way, chatting. I was enjoying myself immensely.
“Do your studies ever frighten you?” she asked.
They never had, until I was alone, suffering from little sleep and an aching heart. “Sometimes, at night, I will let fantasy get the best of me. Especially in the winters, when everything here is bleak, and there are only my thoughts and the cruel dark.”
We slowed, approaching an arbor leading into the dormant rose gardens where the fairy-tale tower was in clear view.
“During the worst of it, it feels I’ll never see the light again, yet…” I reached out to the small pink blossom I’d spied growing from the vines tangling in the arch above us. Discovering it had ignited a new sense of understanding, renewing my determination to stay on the path safest for Millie to travel. “It comes.”
