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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.
Chapter 52
Sublime Fools
Zachary
WhenMrAmbrosecallsus into his office on our final day at Spearcrest, his face is set in a grim expression I’ve never seen before. Theodora and I exchange a frown but say nothing as he motions us to sit in the chairs across his desk.
“Right,” he says, pinching the top of his nose as if trying to squeeze away a headache. “Where to begin? Well, let’s begin with the simplest thing—as you can see, Zachary and Theodora, you are the remaining two Apostles in the programme. So congratulations on that.”
“What happened to Sai, sir?” I ask with a frown.
“Sai was offered an internship with Novus and will be studying in America. He came to see me last week with the news and decided to withdraw for the sake of fairness since he wouldn’t be able to accept the Oxford scholarship.” He raises his hand to acknowledge the expressions on our faces. “Noble of him—I know. There’s a reason why Sai has always been a particular favourite of mine.”
“Favourites, sir?” I murmur disapprovingly—and, yes, somewhat bitterly.
“Of course. Any teacher who claims not to have favourites would be lying—even if that lie was to soothe a student’s ego. Now. The programme. I have, of course, received both of your final assignments, which you both submitted, as usual, in a timely manner. Since then, I have been trying to solve the dilemma—no, the conundrum—of who should be chosen as my Apostle this year.”
I throw Theodora a sidelong glance. She’s biting into her bottom lip, worrying it.
She seems a little anxious—but I know why Mr Ambrose is being so strange, and I know it’s no fault of hers.
“Common sense would dictate that you, Theodora, should receive the prize. You have been the front-runner through the entirety of the programme. Your work has always been incredibly conscientious, thorough, well-researched and marvellously written. You have proven yourself to be an incredibly academically gifted young woman, but also committed, determined, and admirably resilient.”
He pauses, fixing Theodora with a stony look.
I frown. Everything he’s saying is lovely enough, but why does it sound as if it’s about to precede a significant but?
“Unfortunately—” I freeze in my seat at his words. “I was disappointed to find that your final assessment, while a fascinating read, did not meet the criteria of the assessment nor, in fact, attempt to answer the question set. You didn’t even submit an essay. Am I correct to assume this was purposely done and not a grave administrative error?”
