Page 19 of Love, Academically
“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not like you’re covered in filth.” He opened the door for her and helped her in, fussing like a particularly put-out mother hen.
“Rhys,” she said quietly as he pulled the seat belt around her. He was close enough for her to see his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. The column of his throat bobbed in a swallow and his arms bumped her thigh, her stomach, her arm.
“Rhys.” More pointedly this time, as she stilled his cold hand with hers. Rhys’s brown eyes flicked to hers. “I can do it,” she said, working his fingers from the seat belt.
He nodded and extracted himself from the passenger side, closing the door with a soft click.
Lila let out a breath. The car smelled of Rhys, of woodsmokeand strength. The dark stubble across his strong jaw lingered in her mind. She had to get a grip. He was just dropping her off at the hospital in the quickest way possible. He’d carried her, not because he wanted to (because who woulddothat), but because it was the quickest way to get her to the car park.
She was fine, all fine. That little crush on Rhys Aubrey’s arse could stay exactly where it was.
Rhys folded himself into the driver’s side and pressed the button to turn the car on. Nothing so basic as an actual car key for Rhys Aubrey-Dallimore. He pressed a couple of buttons on the dashboard and the seat warmed under her legs. He rubbed his hands together.
“Oh Rhys, I’m so sorry. You’re cold,” she said. He’d been outside all this time without a coat. It wasn’tcoldcold, but it was chilly enough that a jacket would be preferable.
“I didn’t expect to be traipsing around outside to find you.”
The car slid forward silently.
“Do you want to go back and get your coat?” She’d wait.
Rhys’s jaw tightened. “No. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back to work.”
Okay, fine.
Rhys
Why they had to wait, Rhys did not know. Surely there should besomeoneavailable? He’d never had to wait for any kind of medical service before, but then again, he’d always called the private health care provider and swung the considerable weight of his name around. There were some bonuses that came with being a Dallimore. This, however, was a whole different world.
Lila shifted in the uncomfortable plastic seat, her leg out awkwardly in front of her.
“You can go, you know. You don’t have to wait with me.”
Rhys sighed. Dan wouldn’t just leave her here, so he couldn’t either — no matter how much he wanted to — because he had no lectures and just the sweet bliss of Henry II’s Charter Rolls waiting for him.
“How are you going to get back?”
She shrugged. “I’ll get Jasmeet to come and get me when she finishes work. Or Maddy. Or I’ll get a taxi.”
Ridiculous. She should have someone to sit and wait with her, make sure she was okay. A taxi? No. He should be plotting Henry II’s movements over the first five years of his reign, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her by herself. She needed someone with her.
“Do your parents live close?” Perhaps they could come and sit with her. She’d be much more comfortable with that.
“They live in Italy. So no, not that close. They moved about ten years ago. We video chat sometimes.” Lila smiled sadly. “Seriously, Rhys, I’m okay. You go, you’ve probably got stuff on.”
He took a long look at her, trying to discern whether she was teasing him or not. Would she even be comfortable by herself? Would she be annoyed if he left her? Would it jeopardise his fake girlfriend for the evening of the Dallimore family dinner? There was a minefield behind those guileless blue eyes.
He couldn’t take the risk. “Nothing that can’t wait.”
Lila opened her mouth, probably to argue with him, but he cut her short.
“Stop. I’ll stay and give you a lift home.”
End of discussion.
These stupid, joined-together plastic chairs were too small for any normal sized person to fit into, and he jostled and shifted to see if he could squeeze himself in a bit better. If they were going to make people wait here, the least they could do was provide chairs people could actually sit in. This wasn’t a waiting area, this was a punishment area for having the audacity toneed medical attention. In the end, he gave up, and leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. The awful yellow lighting hurt them.
This afternoon should have been another couple of hours working out the logistics of moving an entire household so quickly and efficiently in the twelfth century. If there was one thing that Henry II was, it was restless. He was always on the move, holding together his ‘federation’ of states (Rhys refused to call it an empire because that indicated some sort of homogeneous community, and Henry II’s lands were anythingbuthomogeneous) by sheer force of personality. After that, he would have had yet another pass at his Fellowship application pencilled in, read through some inane student essays and then gone straight to kickboxing.
