Bram jerked his head up, gaze seeking Sinclair’s. “Ready my horse at once.”
Willing his hands not to tremble, he gently laid the tablet back in the box with all the care of a newborn babe.
“Where are you going at such an hour?”
He straightened, hardly able to stand for the thrill coursing through his veins. “I must return to Cambridge immediately. This is exactly what my uncle and I had hoped to find.”
Her brows knitted. “But that is not the Holy Grail.”
“It does not need to be. These tablets are a covenant for the members of Caelum Academia—indisputable proof there was a Roman settlement here, serving as both an intellectual refuge for artists and a secret place of Christian worship during a time of religious persecution. Just as my uncle said!” He grabbed hold of her shoulders, grin wide. “Do you understand what this means, Eva? My uncle will be vindicated. His pension, his position, both restored. It is a miracle!”
She smiled. “How wonderful!” But then her smile faltered. “I, em, I suppose you shall be reinstated as well?”
“Likely, but what really matters is my uncle’s career will no longer end in shame.”
“You are right. I am very happy for him—and for you. Though I cannot say I am pleased about you riding all the way to Cambridge in the dark. Please be careful.”
“Don’t burden yourself on my account. I generally land on my feet.” He reset the lid, then wrapped the canvas tightly around the box and tucked it all beneath his arm.
“I guess this is good-bye, then.” Her voice rang surprisingly hollow.
He faced her, searching her gaze for the cause of such a strained tone—but her eyes were still waters, unwilling to give their secrets. “It is good-bye, though I am sure Penny shall have something to say about me leaving without any parting words to her.”
“She will survive.” Eva turned away, words traveling under her breath. “Though I am not sure I will.”
He cocked his head, turning her around with a firm grasp to her arm. “What was that?”
A battle waged on her face, her jaw shifting as if she chewed on something too large for her to swallow. What on earth troubled her so?
Alarm churned in his belly. “Eva? What is it?”
She inhaled so deeply, the rise of her chest pressed hard against her coat buttons. And when she blew it out, she tipped her chin defiantly. “If this is good-bye, then you should know you take my heart with you—just as you did when you left all those years ago. Whether I like it or not, you are part of me, Bram Webb, and I am a better person for it. I wish you all the best and brightest.”
Flinging her arms around his neck, she lifted to her toes, her lips meeting his with an abandon he’d never known. He’d kissed plenty of women in his day, but none had given themselves to him so earnestly, so pure and raw that the touch ached in his soul.
And then she was gone. Before he could pull her into hisembrace. Before he could kiss her back with all the passion inside him begging to be released. He should follow her. Chase her down. Profess the love that beat with each pound of his heart and tell her he would return as soon as humanly possible.
But the box beneath his arm weighed heavy. If they were to have any kind of future, he must see to this now.
Duty called. God help him.
Duty called.
31
Trinity College was a veritable crypt. Not even the headmaster’s clerk was at his desk this morning. Standing in the empty office, Bram reached for his pocket watch, his fingers coming up empty. Blast. How he missed that timepiece. Still, lamenting the loss or even waiting around here would do no good. He’d simply have to come back later and hope—and pray—Sir George Gabriel Stokes hadn’t left Trinity altogether to make merry elsewhere for Christmas.
For there was no way he’d present this precious antiquity to Grimwinkle.
Clutching the canvas-wrapped box, Bram strode from administration, cold air nipping his cheeks as he passed through the front entry. He welcomed the brisk slap in the face chasing away the fatigue that dogged him after his midnight reunion with his uncle.
His footsteps clapped unchallenged on the stone walk that eventually spilled onto Trinity Street—where a tall man in a black coat was about to ascend into a lacquered carriage.
Of all the providence!
Bram dashed ahead. “Sir George, a moment, if you please.”
A face with a sharp nose and even sharper eyes turned his way, and as recognition dawned, the headmaster shook his head. “You are wasting your time, Mr. Webb. I will not rescind Professor Grimwinkle’s decision. Good day.” He grabbed hold of the coach handle and alighted the step.
