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Chapter Ten
Catriona
For days after the library incident, I obsess over what happened and how Alex reacted when I said I love him. Aye, I'd told him almost a year ago that I'm in love with him, and I let him get away with not telling me how he feels. But now that I've said those three words, I thought he might say them back to me.
Why did I think that? Alex is Alex. He hasn't changed, and I need to accept that he might never express his feelings in words. He loves me, I know that. He proves that to me every day with his actions and the way he looks at me. Will I actually leave him if he never verbalizes his emotions? I've never met a man who wanted to do that. Maybe it doesn't matter what he says, only how he treats me.
No one has ever taken care of me the way Alex does. He always knows how to make me smile when I'm feeling anxious or stressed. And he remembered the one-year anniversary of the day we met. So I resolve to move on and enjoy my life with him, regardless of what he hasn't said.
I continue my studies in the meantime and secure a position as a teaching assistant for my second year at Ballesteros. Sometimes I even get to teach a class. Whenever that happens, I always notice a familiar face at the back of the room. Aye, Alex likes to sneak in to watch me. At first, that makes me feel nervous, but I get over that soon enough and begin to enjoy knowing he's there, supporting me just by observing. I peek into his classes too, though not as often as I'd like. My studies take up a lot of my time, especially since I've decided to begin mapping out what I'd like my dissertation to be, though I still have awhile to go before I reach that point in my doctoral program. Sneaking into Alex's classes helps me relax. He is mesmerizing, and I think every lass in the room has at least a wee crush on him.
Donnae blame them. I fell for him the day we met.
The months roll by, but I hardly notice the passing of time. My life is too full to worry about that. When I'm not on campus, I'm at home studying or having fun with Alex. When one of my professors asks if I'd like to do more field work at the site of newly discovered petroglyphs, I jump at the chance. An opportunity to study ancient rock art? Aye, that's a chance I can't pass up.
We're sitting on the sofa in our living room when I share the news. Alex clutches his chest and feigns having a heart attack, even falling over onto my lap.
"Are you done with your outlandish display?" I ask.
He doesn't sit up, not even when he smirks at me. "I think I'm paralyzed from the neck down. You'll need to stay home to care for me."
"I'll hire a nurse for you." I shake my head and pretend that I'm severely disappointed. "It's too bad you won't be able to have sex anymore. I'll have to find another man to satisfy my needs."
He springs upright, drags me into his body, and gazes straight into my eyes from inches away. "You don't need anyone else. No other man on earth could make love to you so thoroughly that the table you're shagging on breaks."
I brush my lips over his. "Are you sure you don't mind me leaving for two weeks?"
"Yes, darling, I'm sure. I'll miss you, but I never want to stop you from doing what makes you happy."
"I love archaeology, but you make me happier than anything else in the world."
He lifts my hand and kisses it. "It's the same for me, love."
I won't leave for Utah for another week, which gives me time to sit in on one of his classes the next afternoon. The subject for today is sexual imagery in the ancient world. He keeps the discussion academic and rather dry, probably because he worries he might get in trouble if he unleashes his naughty nature in a room full of fresh-faced undergraduates. I'd love to hear him give a real, no-holds-barred lecture on sexuality in the ancient world. But even this watered-down version is electrifying, thanks to the man giving the lecture. Alex Thorne is always a force to be reckoned with and the most unashamed person I've ever met. I think he would strip naked on the quad if he thought that would entertain his students and engage their minds.
Once all the students have filed out of the room, Alex approaches me. "Did you enjoy the show, Cat?"
"Aye, it was wonderful. I think you made all the female students blush. I'm dead sure they all want to shag you."
"The only woman I want is you."
I might be blushing now too. Donnae know why, but every time Alex says something like that, I feel like a silly schoolgirl again.
We walk out of the building while holding hands, then find our favorite bench on the quad so we can discuss my upcoming trip. We agree that while I'm away in Utah, Alex and I will talk on the phone at least three times a day. He suggests we could try phone sex to avoid "the tragedy of not actually fucking each other for two weeks." I feel strange about the prospect of doing that. It's not real sex. We would masturbate while listening to each other over the phone. Besides, I'll be sharing a room with another student, so we wouldn't have privacy.
Alex expresses his disappointment with sarcasm, of course, but I know he doesn't really mind. That's one of his best qualities—his desire to make me happy, even if that means he doesn't get exactly what he wants. I wish I could make him happy too. And aye, I've been thinking of ways I can make it up to him once I get home. My plans involve lots of sex, of course, but also plenty of kissing and cuddling. Alex loves to make cheeky comments about snuggling, but I know he secretly loves it.
On the last day before I fly to Utah, I'm sitting on our bench waiting for Alex. He often gets waylaid by students after class, most of whom want to talk about their studies. A few of the lasses just like to bat their eyelashes at him. I've never been jealous. I know he loves me, and he has no interest in other women. He doesn't even glance at buxom blondes who wear skimpy clothes.
While I wait, I admire the clear blue sky and the birds flying past overhead.
A group of students wander over to my bench—three lads and two lasses. One lad steps closer to me and leans in to study my face. "You're Dr. Thorne's girl, aren't you? Everybody knows about you two."
"If you know who I am, why did you ask?"
He shrugs and sits down at the opposite end of the bench, draping an arm over its back. His fingers are inches away from my shoulder. "I love Irish chicks."
"I'm Scottish."
