The cut of his jaw was a diamond, hardened at her deterrence. “I thought to save you the trip to Cambridge, what with your colicky horse.”
He may as well have given his whole explanation in Greek, so little did she comprehend it. “Why would I be going to Cambridge?”
“You will need an expert’s opinion on whether this ring is of Roman origin. The history professors at Trinity College are unmatched in their scholarship. It is not proper or seemly for you to travel such a distance alone. I shall accompany you. Does tomorrow suit?”
Pah! She’d sooner travel three hours seated next to the Grim Reaper. “That won’t be necessary. My steward’s been meaning to visit his brother there anyway, and I’m sure he’ll be glad for the diversion from his work. Our pony is also quite well now and will likely enjoy such a jaunt. All that being said, you may return the ring.”
Once again she held out her hand.
And once again he ignored it, holding the bit of silver up to squint at it.
“Mr. Blackwood. The ring, please.” It took all her willpower to keep her tone pleasant.
“Hmm? Oh. Of course, Miss Inman.” He lowered the ring to within an inch of her palm, his unsettling gaze boring into her soul before he dropped it. “But be mindful of the past you’ve unearthed. More often than not, things are buried for a reason.”
4
Whereforefain would I sit out in my heart
That Imight see the marvel of the Grail;
But ever Idread me that I be not worthy.
Bram smirked as he tossed back a mouthful of cider. Sitting in a pub stinking of sour ale and sweat probably didn’t make him quite the worthy soul Sir Thomas Malory had written about four centuries ago ... which didn’t bode well for him to see “the marvel of the Grail” anytime soon. If ever. Apparently only a man who was brave of heart, stalwart in spirit, and had led a life of valorous purity would unearth that sacred relic. He was sufficient in the brave and stalwart departments, but after his delinquent younger years, the life of purity was out of the question.
He heaved a sigh while toying with his now-empty mug. At least he didn’t have to produce the grail itself, just the settlement of Caelum Academia, which wasn’t as stringent a requirement. Unfortunately, after three days of scouring every word in his uncle’s leather-bound journal—the last half of which made no sense—he couldn’t pinpoint where the settlement might be, though from what he’d pieced together, it could be somewhere around Royston.
A place he’d hoped to never see again.
“There he is!”
The shout was followed by three strapping young men jostling onto the bench across from him. Foam sloshed over the sides of their tankards.
Jonathan Barker, the usual spokesman of the trio, slapped the table with his hand. “We’ve been looking all over for you, sir.”
“And so you find me.” Bram saluted them with his mug.
“You’ve got to come back to the classroom. Grimwinkle’s killing us!” Barker tugged at an imaginary noose, emphasizing his claim.
“Come now.” Bram chuckled. “It can’t be all that bad.”
Charles Wimble, a tall fellow with tousled dark hair, grimaced. “We’ve had three exams in as many days—and I’ve failed every blasted one of them.”
“Please, Prof,” the lad next to him joined in. “We’re close to a mutiny.”
“Hear, hear!” The three clacked their tankards together, then drained them dry.
Bram couldn’t help but grin. It was gratifying, this show of allegiance from his undergrads. “I appreciate your vote of confidence, men. Truly. But I’m afraid I’ve a task to complete before I can return.”
“Then let us help you.” Barker swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the frothy remains and knocking his tie further askew. “We’ll speed up the process.”
The other two nodded vehemently. “Aye.”
“I shall take that into consideration, gentlemen, should the need arise. Until then, there’s nothing for you to do but lash yourselves down and weather the storm, eh? No mutinies allowed on pain of death.” He eyed all three. “Understood?”
Barker nodded and rested one elbow on the table. “But only because you ask it, sir. Were it up to us, we’d keelhaul ol’ Gruff Grim and not be the sorrier for it.”
“Then it is a very good thing it is not up to you fellows.” Or to him. Ever since he’d trudged out of that misconduct meeting, it had been a struggle to push aside wicked thoughts of what he’d like to do to Grimwinkle. “Now, off with you. I’m sure you must study for tomorrow’s exam.” He waggled his eyebrows.
