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“Yes.” He rumbled nevertheless.
“Pitiful men.” She sighed exaggeratedly.
He gave no answer, for his eyes drank her in with desert-ridden thirst. The woman that chose him.
She did not finish though. “That blasted Fiona must have been a stupid woman, lucky me.” Emphatic, his hurricane. “She did not realise what she had in her hands and threw it away.”
He came so close he could feel her words fanning his bristle jaw. “You are saying…?”
“That I love you, you pig-headed giant!” Her stare so hot it elevated his already soaring temperature.
“You love me, buidseach?” He put his large palms on her dainty shoulders, hardly giving any credit to his ears.
“Despite your pre-historical notions.” Her head tilted back to meet his scrutiny.
“Goddammit, Aileen.” He pulled her to
him. “I love you like a savage!” His ragged breath mingled with hers as their stares merged bottomless.
And then she was on the tip of her toes, her arms banding him. “Time to act as one, I would suggest.”
He did. Completely, irrevocably. Unmistakably.
~.~.~
It was definitely the best Christmas of his adult life, Taran marvelled as he sat at supper with Aileen and Sam in lively conversation.
Sam, encouraged by his wife, recounted about his academic routines, friends and professors with an enthusiasm Taran had seldom seen in him.
“A person has been helping me with my assignments.” He added.
The boy became a man overnight. Taller than when he left, he rivalled his father though in a lankier way.
“Who is that?” Aileen asked.
Also, his red hair darkened a shade giving him a more mature air.
“Miss Stratham.” He adjusted his new glasses, fancier than the ones with which he left. “Miss Harriet Stratham.”
Taran and Aileen exchanged a glance at his son’s enthusiastic tone. Could it be the young man found a romantic interest?
“She is not a student, I daresay.” Aileen probed.
Women struggled to be allowed in universities only later in the century.
“No.” He answered. “But she is as learned as if she was.” He complemented with no small amount of admiration.
“A bluestocking!” Taran interjected, deserving a reproving glare from his wife.
“You will find many as her in Oxford, Father.” The student defended. “She is the governess of Professor Chadwick’s’ children, to tell the truth.”
“Governesses are learned women by definition.” Aileen said. “Not so strange an occurrence.”
“How exactly has she been helping you?” He did not care for his son talking about a possible… amorous prowess in front of his wife.
His son, a boy who left here inexperienced. There happened a first time for everything as they said. Though the young man displayed no sign he already acquired such… experience in fact.
“Oh, writing papers, lending books and the likes.” He dismissed, eyes lowering. Hiding something, the lad, he was.
