“That’s my smart girl,” he whispered.
Chapter Sixteen
Julia made the rounds during the coffee break, speaking to Professor Wodehouse and others about her paper. It was almost universally acknowledged that her research was very good and that she’d handled the questions admirably. In fact, more than one conferencegoer remarked that they were surprised she was only a graduate student and not a junior professor.
While his wife enjoyed her academic triumph, Gabriel strolled outside, sipping his coffee in the Oxford sunshine.
He was grateful for the fine weather and lack of rain. He was also grateful that Julia’s presentation had gone so well. Yes, she’d appeared nervous, and as always, there was room for improvement. But given her status as a doctoral freshman, many of the attendees had been duly impressed. He silently offered a prayer of thanks.
Midprayer, Paul Norris approached him, his hands jammed into his pockets.
They made patient, polite small talk at first. Then Gabriel noticed that Paul was regarding him with something akin to agitation.
“Is there a problem?” Gabriel’s voice was deceptively soft. Soft like Scotch.
“No.” Paul removed his hands from his pockets. He was about to reenter the college when he stopped.
“Fuck it,” he muttered.
He squared his shoulders, facing his former dissertation director.
“Professor Picton would like you to be an external reader on my dissertation.”
Gabriel regarded Paul coolly. “Yes, she mentioned that.”
Paul waited for the Professor to continue, but he didn’t.
“Uh, is that something you’d consider?”
Gabriel rocked back on his heels. “I’ll consider it. Your dissertation topic is good and I was satisfied with the work that you did for me. I passed you to Katherine for personal reasons, otherwise, I’d still be directing your dissertation.”
Paul looked away uncomfortably.
“Julia did well.” He changed the subject.
“Yes, she did.”
“She even handled Christa.”
Gabriel’s face wore a look of pride. “Julianne is a remarkable woman. She’s much stronger than she looks.”
“I know.” Paul’s eyes hardened into what could have been a glare.
“You seemed to have a lot to say to and about my wife.” Gabriel’s tone grew progressively cooler.
“What are you doing to put a stop to the rumors? I was out at UCLA in March and people were talking about how Julia boinked you in order to graduate and get into Harvard.”
A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s jaw.
“Those rumors are the fruits of Miss Peterson’s poisonous tree. She will be dealt with, I assure you.”
“Well, you need to step it up.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”
Paul shifted his weight, but he would not be deterred.
“When I arrived yesterday, I overheard a couple of the old folks talking about Julia. They assumed she was a bimbo and that’s why she was on the program.”
“I think it’s safe to say she proved them wrong. Julianne’s paper was well presented and well received. There’s also the little matter that rather than simply boinking her”—at this, Gabriel waved his hand distastefully—“I married her.”
“She may be your wife, but you don’t deserve her.”
Gabriel took a menacing step closer.
“What did you say?”
Paul drew himself to his full height, which was an inch taller than his former professor.
“I said you don’t deserve her.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
Gabriel threw his china coffee cup in frustration. It smashed on the pavement.
“Every night when I fall asleep with her in my arms, I thank God she’s mine. Every morning when I wake up, my first thought is that I’m grateful she married me. I will never be worthy of her. But I spend every day trying my damnedest. You were her friend when she needed one. But listen to me when I tell you, Paul, you do not want to push me.”
A long silence passed between them. Gabriel held on to his temper as the result of a Herculean effort.
Paul was the first to look away.
“When I first met her, she was so jumpy. I felt like I had to whisper just so I wouldn’t scare her. She isn’t like that anymore.”
“No, she isn’t.”
Paul hunched his shoulders. “She was telling me about her program at Harvard over lunch. She loves it.”
“I know that.” Gabriel’s expression grew even darker. “And I know you want her. I’m telling you, you can’t have her.”
Paul met his gaze. “You’re wrong.”
“Wrong?” The Professor challenged him, taking a step forward. They were now mere inches apart, the Professor’s posture angry and threatening.
“I don’t just want her. I love her. She’s the one.”
Gabriel stared at him incredulously. “She can’t be the one. She’s my wife!”
“I know.”