Page 12 of Lessons in Touch

“Just checking in. Carry on, Professor.”

He winks at Rose before he leaves, and I resist the urge to follow him and demand an explanation. The interruption sours the air, and I can see that Rose is tense now, and that her composure is shaken.

“Ignore him. He shouldn't have interrupted us like that. You did well today. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

She nods and gathers her notes, preparing to leave.

“See you next time… Professor.”

After she leaves my office, I find myself alone. The study is suddenly too quiet.

I cross to a side table and pour myself a glass of scotch from a crystal decanter.

The thought of being with Rose is reckless. We are a professor and a student, bound by rules I’m tempted to break. I set the glass down, and my fingers linger on its edge.

I’m in danger, and I know it.

But as her face flashes in my mind, I realize I don’t care.

Chapter 5

Rose

The Wolfswood library is incredible, unlike anything I’ve seen. It feels like a huge forest of books. The domed ceiling is adorned with faded gold stars, and the bookshelves stretch into all the corners, uncountable.

Among the abundance of books, I’m searching for corporate law and the Devereaux history for my assignments. It’s cold here, very cold, because they keep the temperature down to protect the valuable books.

Even though I have so much homework to do, my mind is half on my task and half on Professor Gabriel Thorn. His image lingers—tall, lean, jet-black hair tousled just enough to hint at something untamed beneath his tailored suits.

I turn a corner, clutching a heavy volume on maritime trade, and freeze. Gabriel is sitting at a long table, bathed in the glow of a brass lamp, and reads what looks like an old book.

He looks up and notices me. Did he know I would be here?

“Miss Devereaux,” he says, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Join me.”

Why do I have the intense feeling that he was aware I would be going to the library today? Or am I just imagining things? Is it just my fantasy that this handsome professor wants me badly enough to arrange a surprise meeting with me? Or is it real?

I hesitate, and my heart pounds, then cross to the table, setting my book down with care.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” I tell him, and hope that my burning cheeks don’t betray what I really am thinking about.

In his company, the vast library feels intimate, as if we’re the only two in this world of ink and secrets.

“I come here to think,” he says, closing his book with a soft thud. “It’s my personal space. But I love that you’re here today as well. May I say that, or am I too… bold?”

His question is direct, and his gaze holds mine. It makes me feel a flush creeping up my neck. His attention is both thrilling and overwhelming.

“Bold is not the word I would use to describe you, Professor. It’s not my place to do that. I am, after all, just a… student here,” I say, carefully choosing my words. My honesty surprises me, and I wonder if he senses how much his presence draws it out of me.

“Well said. Then how would you describe me, Rose? What words would you use?”

His knee touches mine under the table, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. Was it an accident?

“Umm… Hmm… I… well… I don’t know you well enough to describe you, Professor,” I try to keep my cool.

He laughs very softly, and his knee moves closer to mine under the table. Alright. This definitely isn’t accidental.

“Then, let me share something of my own legacy, Rose, so that you can get to know me better.”