Chapter 51: Spearcrest Saints: Part 4 – Chapter 51

it, the more I adore Theodora’s short hair. The natural waviness of it, like ethereal wisps; the way she pins the tip back in a hair clip shaped like a moon crescent.

When I didn’t see her after our literature exam, distracted by Evan and his lovesick puppy antics, I assumed she had gone back to her room to get changed, but she’s still in her school uniform. Unlike everybody else, she’s still wearing the winter uniform, with its long-sleeved shirt.

But of course, she still manages to look ethereally beautiful even in her uniform. She looks better now than she ever has, and there’s a new confidence in her movements that makes my heart catch whenever I glimpse it.

Which I do when she slowly, calmly pulls out the seat next to mine—the seat I always occupied during our many hours spent in this very place. She sits straight in her chair and crosses one leg over the other, lacing her fingers around her knees in that prim way of hers. It sends a hot rush of mingled affection and desire through me, and I have to resist the urge to spring up from my chair to sweep her into my arms.

She sits, and her gaze rests on mine, her expression neutral but relaxed.

“Good afternoon,” she says, “my august adversary.”

“A compliment, Theodora? How unexpectedly generous.”

She gives a small, gracious smile. “Yes. A final compliment to add to your piteous list.”

“Final?” I say in a light tone. “I don’t think so, no.”

“I see you’re in one of your arrogant moods.”

“Aren’t I always?”

She laughs. “Unfortunately, yes. I take it the literature exam went well?”

“Exceedingly. I stole Evan’s precious tutor from him; her help and your absence might have given me the edge I needed to match you in getting full marks.”

“How can you possibly know if I’m going to get full marks? I might have done terribly in that exam for all you know.”

I tilt my head and soften my gaze. “Except you haven’t.”

“I envy your certainty.”

“You are just as certain as I am that you excelled in that exam.”

She laughs, almost reluctantly. “I forget. You know me better than I know myself—isn’t that so?”

“Not at all. I know you quite well—very well, even—but I suspect your nature is as complex and unfathomable as the deepest ocean, and I look forward to spending much of my future pondering its mysteries.”

“You might find more interesting things to do once you leave Spearcrest.”

“No, Theodora. You will always be the most interesting thing in my life.” I keep my tone light when I add, “Whether or not you choose to remain in it.”

“Well, you’ll have the summer to ponder over me, I suppose, since your sister has kindly invited me to stay at your house.”

“Did she also tell you she will be holidaying in the south of France with our parents?”

“She did.” Theodora gives a little shrug, a gesture of calculated carelessness. “I told her I would rather stay at Blackwood Manor and rest.”

“Did you?” I murmur. “What a coincidence. So did I.”

“Interesting,” she says.

“Isn’t it just?”

We stare at each other. Outside, in the distant trees beyond the cupola, birds sing the lazy songs of spring evenings. The sun, as it sets, grows more golden by the minute, turning the sky peach and pink above us. A dreamy silence rests like a heavy blanket upon the library.

Theodora is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was Inessa? Why did you let me believe it was you?”

Even though her tone sends a twisting ache through my heart, I keep my eyes firmly on hers and my voice light when I answer her.

“I didn’t you believe it was me. I told you the truth about me and hoped you would believe me. I didn’t tell you about Inessa because I knew it would hurt you to know the truth, and your pain is something I cannot abide.”

“You can’t protect me from everything,” she points out.

“I’ve not protected you against anything at all,” I tell her. “I didn’t protect you when I have—when you needed me—no matter how much I wanted to. I failed in my sacred duty, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to atone for it.”

“It was never your duty to look after me,” she says, shaking her head.

“It was. Mr Ambrose gave it to me the first time I ever met you. I made a vow I would never fail. In the end, I did.”

“You didn’t fail. You tried as best you could—I’m the one who pushed you away, remember? Always one step removed from a stranger?”

I sit up, narrowing the distance between us.

“I only ever wanted to love you.”

“I only ever wanted to be loved by you.” The sincerity in her voice is heartbreaking. “I was just scared this whole time.”

“And I was too blind to see your fear for what it was.” I give her a wry smile. “You call me arrogant, Theo, and you think I believe I’m better than everybody else. But I don’t—I always believed were better than everybody else. I put you on a pedestal at my side, and it never occurred to me that fear could reach you there.”

“And now?” she asks, echoing my earlier movement and leaning forward. “Do you still believe you’re better than everybody else?”

“How could I?” I let out a laugh. “Look at my friends, those air-headed, stubborn idiots. Sev laid his heart on his sleeve and professed his love for his fiancée in front of everyone during the Spearcrest exhibition. Even Evan, after spending so many years trading barbs and blows with his Sophie, has managed the impossible feat of making her fall in love with him. What use is it being the smartest amongst my peers if they are happier than I am?”

“Being less happy than someone doesn’t make you inferior to them.”

“No, I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that at all—not anymore. I rather think the opposite, actually. Happiness is the true marker of superiority—not wealth or power or status. Not even intelligence.”

“We’ll see if you still believe that,” she says with a cruel curl of her lips, “when Mr Ambrose announces the winner of the Apostles programme on Friday.”

“Yes. We will.”

I smile, my lips tingling with all the kisses I want to lay upon hers. Her eyes flicker to my mouth, and I wonder if she senses the strength of my desire. Unlacing her fingers, she cradles my face in her hands. A tremor runs through me, half-anticipation, half-dread.

She doesn’t kiss me.

Instead, she says, “I’m so sorry, Zachary.”

I widen my eyes. “For what?”

“For doubting your loyalty when you’ve never been anything but unwaveringly devoted to me. For mistrusting you when you’ve never given me any reason to do so. For punishing you for a crime that wasn’t yours. For—” Her voice breaks. She swallows and continues to speak in a quavering voice. “For not letting you love me—for forbidding myself from loving you back when it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. For wasting all this time.”

“I forgive you,” I answer straight away. “I forgive you for all of it—even though there is less to forgive than you think since you are not to blame for most of the things you’ve spoken of. I forgive you everything there is to forgive—I would forgive you anything at all. You could plunge a knife in my chest right now, and I would still forgive you.”

She gives a warbling smile, and nascent tears glisten in her eyes. I’ve never seen Theodora cry; I should’ve known even her tears would be beautiful.

The sun has almost set now, and the library, without us noticing, has grown full of red light and shadows.

“I might grow tyrannical,” she says, “if my transgressions are so easily forgiven.”

“And I would love you still, my exquisite despot.”

She laughs, and a tear falls loose from her eyelashes, rolling like a pearl of dew down her cheek. I kiss her laughing mouth, stealing her breath away. I kiss her with the anxious reverence of a first kiss, the desperate devotion of a last kiss, and the ardent hunger of every kiss I’ve wanted to give her.

I kiss her until her tears cease to fall and until her entire body is warm and trembling under my hands.

And then we’re standing and embracing and stumbling through the crimson blades of fading sunlight and the soft shadows of the library. I pick her up into my arms, crushing her to me before pinning her back in a dark alcove of bookcases as she whispers a frantic string of words into my ear, an incantation of desire.

“Oh Zach, I’ve missed you, I love you, I need you, now—now.”

I swallow her incantation into my mouth, wrapping one arm around her waist and reaching under her skirt with my free hand.

My mouth is hungry on hers while I stroke between her legs, finding her hot and wet as ripe summer fruit. She wraps her thighs around my hips and reaches between us to yank at my belt, murmuring commands into my ear.

And I obey her—my lustful tyrant.

I hold her tight and kiss her raspberry mouth and drive my hard cock deep inside her, swallowing her rasping moan. One hand clutching my neck and the other holding on to the bookshelves for purchase, she arches against me, sliding herself up and down the length of me, forcing me to bite down hard on a moan.

“What are you doing to me,” I groan, burying my head in her neck.

“Making you mine,” she says in a husky sigh.

“I’m already yours.” I thrust deep inside her, burying myself to the hilt and grinding against her. “I’m already yours—I’ve always been yours.”

“Yes,” she hisses, and I feel her pleasure in the tautness of her neck, the strain in her voice, the tensing of her thighs. “

. Oh, please—”

“I’m yours, my love.” I kiss her neck, her jaw, her mouth. Reaching between us, I brush my thumb over the tiny bud of her clit, slippery with her wetness. “My Theodora. My love. Come for me, angel.”

She comes with a startled cry and writhes against me, clenching around my cock. I pin her hips, forcing her to stay still, her orgasm calling to mine as I fuck her with abandon. Her cries become loud, ragged wails, and I’m forced to stifle them under one palm as my thrusts become faster, harsher, harder, until I have no choice but to come, hard and dizzying, inside her.

We stay entwined, pressed against the bookshelves, my head against her throat, hers resting against the books. Our panting breaths are the only sound in the library, and we wait until both our heartbeats have calmed to finally pull away from each other.

I set Theodora down gently, fixing her underwear and skirt, tucking her hair behind her ears. She lets me, closing her eyes and leaning into each gentle touch. When I’m done, I fix myself, and we stand gazing at each other with sheepish expressions.

“I came inside you,” I whisper, covering my hand with my mouth. “We need to find a pharmacy, or—”

She laughs and pulls my hand away. “Don’t be so dramatic. I started taking birth control pills the moment I got back from the Christmas holidays.”

“Oh.”

Her face is flushed from pleasure, still, and the confidence in her laughter is enough to send blood rushing back to my cock. I grab her waist and kiss her hard—a greedy kiss.

“I really fucking love you, you know that?”

“Such a dirty mouth, Lord Blackwood.” She laughs, but she answers me back with a kiss just as greedy.

“Lord Blackwood is my father,” I tell her. “Technically speaking, you should be calling me the Honourable Zachary Blackwood.”

She pulls away from me with a mocking laugh. “Not on your life. Not for all the lords in the land.”

“Not even in bed?”

“Not unless you find a way to compel me to do so, no.”

I smirk. “I’ll find a way to compel you.”

“Or I’ll compel you.”

“You always compel me. I’ve been compelled from the moment I met you. You have a compelling face—and a compelling mouth, and a compelling—”

She shuts me up with a kiss.

It’s an effective method.

If only she had discovered it earlier.