Page 41 of Magdalene Nox

“This school is the only home I’ve ever known. It wasn’t always hospitable, or kind, or even welcoming to me. But Dragons was always there. And it raised me, through thick and thin.”

Ah, definitely both then. Defensive, scared, yet truthful as well.

“And does this love and adoration of brick and mortar prohibit you from seeing that Dragons requires massive changes to allow the school to keep pace with the times?”

Sam bit her lip before slowly letting it go and schooling her features. “You talk about modern times, yet you ordered the restoration of the chapel which was quasi-abandoned for years. You talk about reform yet you closed down half the clubs—”

“Three-quarters of those, I believe.” Magdalene’s mouth twitched, yet the evening breeze made her shiver. As if sensing her chill, Willoughby moved closer to her, his whole back now warming her thigh.

“If he wasn’t so cute, I’d regret all the scraps I’ve fed him from the faculty table. The traitor.” Sam’s attempt at humor did nothing to soften the blow as the hit landed. Even in teasing, Sam still drew the lines of demarcation in such a way that they were on different sides. Magdalene felt her cheeks heat, a disturbing sensation of betrayal despite this woman owing her no allegiance. And on the heels of that betrayal came annoyance. At herself mostly. At how stubbornly her heart kept wishing Sam Threadneedle would choose her.

“Oh, don’t take it out on the cat. You have made it very clear that you believe I want to dismantle Dragons brick by ancient brick, so I’m not sure I am capable of disabusing you of the notion, Professor Threadneedle.”

Sam’s eyes blazed with something akin to anger, and Magdalene held her breath, the sight in front of her halting it. With the cliff at her back, her hair in disarray around the narrow face, and that sinful mouth full and crimson, Sam was magnificent.

All fury in motion, a storm brewing in those cloudy eyes, ready to make landfall at any moment. But when it did hit, Magdalene suddenly wished she hadn’t baited her.

“And why do you persist in calling me that? We had sex, for Christ’s sake, surely you can call me by my first name!”

Well, Sam was many things. But she was also unflinchingly honest. Even if it meant Magdalene was left with questions, the answers to which she had no desire to give. Yet under the light of that tempest, she felt that she had to.

“That would be unprofessional of me, Professor.”

Sam’s face, as open and honest as her words, gave away how Magdalene’s little whispered confession doused that burning rage dead. She stood, the slim shoulders slumped and her eyes desolate before she took a few steps away. Not that there was anywhere in particular to go.

Judging by the clouds in the distance, the island would soon be engulfed in a storm, one that would certainly match whatever was raging inside both of them. And they’d retire for the night, alone with what ate at them and what warmed them and what confused them.

A sudden sound behind her had Magdalene whirl around, pulled from her musings in fear of having been overheard. Surely, enough time had passed between Sam’s outburst and the arrival of whomever was skulking about in the dark?

When George revealed herself near the jasmine bushes, looking sheepish, Magdalene exhaled sharply. The expression on George’s face was nothing out of the ordinary, so Magdalene brushed away the earlier concern as no more than a piece of lint on her skirt. Willoughby raised his head, but didn’t growl at the intruder. If George was surprised at the company Magdalene kept—either of them—she didn’t say. Smiling broadly, she approached.

“Been searching high and low for this one. Finally remembered about this place. You’re being urgently summoned to the office, Headmistress.”

At Magdalene’s questioning eyebrow, George grimaced.

“The trustees are having a conniption over the Houses proposal, and your ex-husband is here in person.”

Magdalene suppressed an eye roll. “Ah, they made him abandon his undoubtedly important pursuits in Boston and return to the island to stay my hand from cutting off the dragons’ heads. Some of them really should have gone into acting, for all the drama and theatrics they stage.”

Well, there went her plans for whiskey and brooding.

With George heading off towards the school ahead of her, Magdalene rose swiftly and carefully picked up Willoughby, setting him back on the ground as she shook out the blanket, before draping it over Sam’s shoulders with care. She knew she’d probably regret showing her hand this much, since the gesture was so uncharacteristic for her. There was no question it also didn’t follow her earlier protestation about being professional.

But the wind was cold and cutting, another harbinger of impending storm, and Sam was only wearing a thin shirt and after all—somewhat to her regret—Magdalene was not made of stone.

As she started towards the school, Willoughby yawned, growled in clear displeasure, but proceeded to fall in step with her again.

She did not look back to see Sam’s face in the moonlight as she threw, “It’s rather chilly here tonight. Stay warm,” over her shoulder. At Sam’s soft sigh of pleasure, Magdalene shivered.

So much for professional detachment.

12

OF MISSED CALLS & STEAMY SHOWERS

By the time she made it back to her office, the storm clouds had enveloped the island. She could see the tempest outside the window as she leaned against the doorframe and cleared her throat to get the attention of the man currently occupying her space.

Timothy, standing with his back ramrod straight and his hands playing with her phone, abandoned as it had been on the desk, heard her come in but didn’t turn around. Instead, he wiggled the phone next to his body, making sure she could see him holding it like a wagging finger in her direction.

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