Those long legs of his had always moved quickly. By the time I collided with him, he was on his feet and ready. One arm slid possessively around my waist; his other hand curved around my head, fingers tangling in my hair. His warm lips met mine with the same fierce hunger that had driven me wild with longing for the past five weeks.
The last time we’d kissed had been just after our wedding, a kiss of frustration and farewell—but only, we’d hoped, for two or three days at the most. Now, five weeks later, his light brown cheeks were rough with prickly stubble. His shoulder-length black hair slid softly against my fingers.
I needed to touch every inch of him to prove that he was real.
His long fingers were already pulling out the pins that held up my hair in its proper headmistress’s knot. I pulled back just far enough to shake out the last of them with a breathless laugh, letting them scatter to the floor as my hair fell down in a thick brown veil around my shoulders.
Finally.
“You’re late.” I measured his shoulders with my hands. “Our wedding night should have been five weeks ago. Remember?”
“It was worth the wait.” Wrexham’s voice was fervent. His gorgeous brown eyes dilated as his gaze swept across me. “If you had any idea how impatient I’ve been for this moment...”
“How impatientyou’vebeen?” Rolling my eyes, I pointed imperiously at the empty bed. “There.Now. Immediately, husband!”
He broke into a grin that left me helplessly dazzled. “As my wife commands.” With a sudden lunge, Wrexham scooped me up into his arms and swept me across the room with him. We landed in a giddily breathless and laughing pile on the bed a moment later...and I rolled over to bury my face in his neck, wrapping my arms tightly around his chest, finally and exactly where I belonged.
“I’vemissedyou,” I whispered into his skin. It tasted of salt and of sweat and ofWrexham, unique and irreplaceable. My husband. My best friend in the world, all these years. The man I’d tried to give up for his own good when I had lost my magic—but who had never, ever given up on me in return.
The second half of my soul, from the moment we’d met.
...And, according to Lionel Westgate, the man whose life I had ruined through my own unforgivable self-absorption.
“What’s amiss?” One hand gently stroked my hair; the other slid across my back, pulling me even closer into Wrexham’s embrace. “Harwood. What are you worrying over now? If you’ve remembered some vital work that needs to be done before you come to bed, I’ll wait. You know I’ll understand. Just—”
“No.” I bit out the word as frustration and guilt cascaded through me, burning deep underneath my skin.
There was no chance of me abandoning him when I’d finally got him back—but it wasexactlythe wrong moment to be reminded of my work.
“If you have any real affection or respect for your own husband...”
Wrexham had never argued against my school. From the first moment I’d envisioned it, he’d listened enthusiastically to every one of my plans and offered intelligent suggestions and unstinting support. He wasproudof what I had achieved here—or at least, so I would have sworn, an hour earlier.
“Now, Harwood.” He shifted beneath me, brushing aside the veil of hair between us and nudging gently at my downturned face. “You might as well come out with it. You know we don’t keep secrets from one another anymore.”
“Then why didn’tyoutell me?” The words blurted themselves out almost without my volition. Like a tortoise hiding from the truth, I kept my face buried in the safe hollow between his neck and his shoulder, his silky black hair pillowing my forehead as I awaited his reply.
“I...beg your pardon?” He let out a half-laugh of confusion, still stroking his fingers soothingly through my hair. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be clearer than that, my love, because I haven’t slept much for several weeks now. I’ve been longing for my wife, you see.” He dropped a kiss on my head. “What exactly do you think I’ve been hiding from you? And when would I have even had the time?”
I sighed into his neck. “Mr. Westgate is here with the Boudiccate’s inspectors. He told meexactlywhat’s been happening to you because of me.”
“...Ah.” Wrexham’s fingers stilled on my head in mid-stroke.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows, and he let me go, his hand slipping free from my hair. As I braced myself above him, frowning, I searched in vain for any clues in his aggravatingly neutral expression.
He had always been too good at hiding his thoughts. It had served him well over the years as one of those rare scholarship students who’d successfully won his way into the Great Library, but it made my whole body clench with frustration now. I couldfeelhis agile brain working furiously behind that blank façade, holding his true reaction secret from me.
“Why would you not tell me I was ruining your career?”
He took a deep breath...and then released it, carefully. “You haven’t ruined my career.”
“But I’ve ruined all your prospects, haven’t I?”
“Harwood...”
“Your supervisortold me so, Wrexham. In no uncertain terms.” I tried to give a humorless laugh, but it caught painfully in my throat. “Trust me, I couldn’t have mistaken his meaning.”
At that, Wrexham winced and reached out as if to touch my face. “Don’t let Westgate make you miserable over this. You know he has old-fashioned ideas. He—”
