The Headmaster (13 page)

Careful? Good question. Did they teach sex ed at this school? Seemed like an entirely reasonable thing to do. She should ask the headmaster about it. And she should insist that he teach the class himself and that she should be allowed to sit in and watch while Edwin talked about penises and vaginas to thirty sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds.

Once the school day ended, Gwen walked up to the fourth floor of Hawkwood and found Edwin in his office.

She shut the door behind her and Edwin looked up.

“You’re smiling,” he said. “Stop it.”

“I can’t. It just happens when I’m in the same room with you.”

“I hope you’re here to discuss work.” He gave her a stern look, which failed to snuff out her smile.

“I am.”

“Good.”

“And sex.”

“Not good.”

“Do we teach sex ed at Marshal?”

“Sex ed? You mean health class?”

“I guess you could call it that if you needed a euphemism,” she said. “But specifically sexual education. There’s at least one boy on campus with a girlfriend.”

“Not this again.”

“This again,” she said, coming around his desk. It was a big desk, a grand desk, an impressive, manly desk. Thus she felt perfectly justified in sitting on it and crossing her legs right in front of Edwin’s face.

“We don’t need to teach sex to the boys.”

“I’m not saying we teach them the best way to do doggy style. But they should know about birth control and STIs.”

“STIs?”

“You know—gonorrhea, syphilis, HIV…”

“You mean venereal diseases?”

“Those,” she said, amused by his tenacious clinging to old-fashioned terminology. He even called the bathroom “the water closet” once. Adorable.

“It’s hardly anything we need to be concerned about.”

“Edwin, it’s very sweet that you think the boys are all virgins who will be angels until the day they get married, but this is the real world. Teenagers have sex almost as often as adults do. And let’s see…we’ve had sex…” She paused. “Three times on Friday, three times on Saturday, twice on Sunday. Day of rest, I understand. And then Monday night, Tuesday night, Wednesday—”

He raised his hand.

“No need to tally it up,” he said, suppressing a smile. “I was there, too.”

“You were, weren’t you? If the two of us are having this much sex, how much do you think a bunch of teenage boys awash in hormones are?”

“I’m not saying they’re all monks, Gwendolyn. But there’s no reason to worry about them.”

“I’m not worried. I just think they need to know more than Latin and geometry. There is more to life than school,” she said, uncrossing her legs and putting a foot on either side of his legs. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Gwendolyn.” Edwin gave her a cold, hard stare.

“Edwin,” she replied, smiling seductively.

“This is highly inappropriate.”

“I locked the door when I came in.”

He continued to stare at her. And then, just like that, he stood up, took off his glasses, grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to the edge of the desk.

“Edwin!” she gasped in shock, but he silenced her with a kiss. If the boys wanted some sex ed, they could get it now if they watched Edwin at work. He’d amazed her with his skills as a lover. He never let her go to bed still wanting more. Of course, as soon as she woke up she wanted him again.

Again. Always. And now.

Especially now.

“Are you absolutely entirely certain you locked the door?” Edwin whispered in her ear. She didn’t know what it was—the accent most likely—that made his whispers as erotic as his touch.

“I promise I did.”

“Good.” And with that good he unbuttoned her blouse. But he didn’t stop with unbuttoning it. He pulled it completely off. He then proceeded to strip her naked, completely naked but for her pale pink kitten heels on her feet. Edwin’s large, strong hands roved all over her body. As he kissed her again on the mouth, he took her breasts into his hands. He pinched and rolled her nipples between his fingers until she panted against his lips.

He laughed softly and shushed her at the same time. Unless they were in his bedroom, they had to make every effort to be as quiet as possible. But it wasn’t easy to stay silent when Edwin massaged her breasts like that, when his hips ground against hers, when his mouth caressed her neck in that spot that made her tense and tingling and wet.

Edwin cupped her between her thighs and pushed a finger inside her. She pushed against his hand, craving more. He pushed a second finger in and her vagina tightened around him.

“God, Gwen,” he said against her skin. She loved these little moments when he was so turned on he called her Gwen instead of Gwendolyn. That was Edwin’s version of losing control.

She reached between their bodies and unzipped Edwin’s pants. With both hands she stroked him to his full hardness. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back while she touched him. It was a beautiful thing to see him lost in his pleasure, pleasure she gave to him.

Gwen let him go long enough to grasp the fabric of his jacket and push it off his shoulders. She yanked his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt halfway down. She didn’t care about getting him naked right now as long as she could kiss and touch his chest and shoulders. She needed his skin against her skin as much as she needed him inside her. He must have felt the same, because he gripped her hard by the hips again, pulled her to the edge of the desk, and with both hands pressed her thighs wide open. He lowered his head and pressed his tongue inside her. The sensation was exquisite, but the act unnecessary. She was already wet and ready for him.

Edwin rose up and wrapped an arm around her waist, cushioning her as she rolled onto her back. He lifted her legs over his shoulders and with a thrust entered her. She lifted her hips to take all of him into her. Briefly she wondered what important paperwork they were on top of and possibly getting wet. But then he pulled out and thrust in again, hard and deep, and she decided she didn’t care if they were fucking on top of the original draft of the Magna Carta itself as long as he kept…doing…that.

She half-closed her eyes, let herself bask in the heat of her own body and the hardness of his inside her. But her erotic reverie dissipated when she heard Edwin saying her name.

“Gwendolyn?”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Edwin?”

“You’ll stay, won’t you? No matter what happens? You’ll stay here with me?”

His voice was quiet, serious. He seemed to be saying more than his words revealed. She rolled up and put her arms around his neck, pulling him close. He thrust into her again as she wrapped her legs around his back, clinging to him out of pure desire.

“I shouldn’t ask you to stay. You don’t even know what you’re giving up,” he said as he stroked her hair, kissed her neck. “But please…”

“I’ll stay,” she said, making the promise so easily she couldn’t imagine why he’d called it a sacrifice. For Edwin she would stay. For the boys. For the love of teaching and the love of learning and the love of the life she’d been granted here like a wish she didn’t remember making. It was a wish. It was a dream. It was everything she’d wanted and hadn’t had the courage to ask for. And here it was, in her hands. And she would never let it go.

Locked in each other’s arms, they moved together and against each other and with each other until she shuddered in his arms and he came inside her body. And yet still they held each other, moved by the pledge she’d made him, knowing what it meant without even needing to say it.

Edwin was in love with her, too.

And she would never leave him.

Never.

Chapter Twelve

Gwen spent a good hour on Edwin’s lap in his office after they’d finished making love on his desk. Fully dressed, unfortunately. They didn’t want to push their luck. And with that thought in mind, Gwen finally spoke up.

“We should tell the boys,” she said.

“Tell them what?”

“That we are a we.”

“We should?”

“We are a we, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he said, grinning.

“Good. Then we should tell the boys we are a we before they figure it out on their own. Better to hear it from we—I mean, us. Otherwise the rumors will start flying.”

“They are nosy gossips.”

“Especially Laird.”

“He’s likely already planning our wedding.”

“He loves you like a father,” Gwen said. “He wants to see you happy.”

“I am happy,” Edwin said. “You on my lap in my office…I must have died and gone to Heaven.”

“I didn’t know they had sex that good in Heaven. I need to rethink my theology.”

“Wouldn’t be Heaven otherwise.”

She gave him a heavenly kiss goodbye and left him to his work. Apparently they’d only slightly soiled Edwin’s desk blotter. No report cards, thank goodness.

Gwen returned to her cottage, graded papers, and had dinner in the dining hall with Mr. Price and Mr. Reynolds. After dinner she went for a walk in the paths outside the orchard. She spent an hour trying to figure out a way to tell the students she and the headmaster were a couple. Had it been a larger school, it wouldn’t have mattered. But everyone knew everyone here. All told there were thirty-three people at the school. No keeping secrets in a school so small. She’d much rather be open and honest about their relationship than keep sneaking around, waiting for someone to catch them kissing or holding hands. Or worse.

Laird.

That was it. Of course Laird. He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. That gossipy twerp was just who she needed. Next time he asked about her and the headmaster—probably tomorrow—she’d tell him the truth. A heavily edited and family-friendly version of the truth, of course. And by dinner, everyone on campus would know. Probably everyone within a fifty-mile radius.

Gwen walked back to her cottage and took a long bath. When she checked the clock she saw it was hardly past nine. If she was good and asked very nicely, maybe she could talk Edwin into a repeat of today’s performance, but in his bed instead of on his hard office desk. She peeked out her front door. First she looked left. Then she looked right. Then she looked toward the dormitories. No one seemed to be out and about. She was safe to jog over to Hawkwood and hunt the headmaster down. After how good he’d made her feel today, she thought she should return the favor. It was the only ladylike thing to do.

The image of giving Edwin another ladylike blow job put a grin on Gwen’s face and preoccupied her so thoroughly she almost didn’t notice the lady in white standing near the wall. But when Gwen did see her, she decided that now—right now—she’d get to the bottom of this mystery. Gwen didn’t care that “The Bride” was dating one of the boys in secret, but she was sneaking on and off campus in all hours of the night. It wasn’t safe. Not out here in the middle of nowhere.

Miss?” Gwen called out. “Miss, can I talk to you?”

The Bride froze but only for an instant. In another instant she ran off so fast Gwen couldn’t keep up with her. She’d never seen a woman run so swiftly and so surely. She skirted every bump, every stone. She disappeared around a corner of Newbury and was gone.

Gwen stood staring at the school courtyard. Where on earth had the girl gone? She couldn’t just disappear into thin air, could she? Had she gone over the school wall?

With her heart pounding from the chase, Gwen walked back to Pembroke where she’d seen The Bride standing. She saw some footprints in the soft soil, but nothing else. No, something else. She found a scrap of white fabric on the porch that had gotten caught on a nail. Gwen pulled it free and studied it.

White. Lacy. Embroidered. It was nothing but a handkerchief. She sensed no magic in it, no ghostly presence. It didn’t even smell of a woman’s perfume. And it belonged to The Bride. Or did it?

Gwen turned it over and noticed a tiny set of initials sewn into one corner. She recognized the initials in an instant and knew something was very wrong here at William Marshal Academy. She’d hoped the girl was simply a girlfriend. But now Gwen knew better.

She marched back to Edwin’s quarters and knocked on his door. When a knock didn’t get his attention, she pounded on it.

Edwin threw the door open. He wore silk pajama pants, his dressing gown, and a look of consternation on his face.

“Gwendolyn, what on earth—”

“Call the police,” she said. “Miss Muir’s still living on campus.”

Chapter Thirteen

Gwen sat across from Edwin at the kitchen table. He’d ordered her to calm down and drink her tea.

“You haven’t called the police yet,” she said.

“You haven’t touched your tea.”

“I’ll drink it if you promise to call the police after I finish it.”

“I’m not going to call the police, Gwendolyn. There is no reason to involve any outsiders in this matter.”

“I saw her at the boys’ dorms, Edwin. I can’t believe you would be cavalier about the safety of the students.”

“I would die for these boys and you know that. But I know more about this situation than you do. It’s not something I can discuss.”

“You can’t discuss the fact that a crazy ex-teacher is roaming around the school?”

“Miss Muir is not roaming around the school.”

“Then why did I find a handkerchief with her initials on it? It was on the porch of the dorm. R.L.M.—that’s Rosemary Leigh Muir. I saw her name and her initials in her Bible she left behind in the cottage. She is nuts, and she is dangerous, and she is clearly still on campus.”

“She is not mad, and she is not on campus. She left and is not coming back.”

“What did Miss Muir look like? Can you tell me that?” Gwen demanded.

Edwin shrugged. “She was a woman. She had a woman’s features.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Hair? Did she have any hair?”

“Yes.”

“What color was it? Black? White? Blonde? Red?”

“Black and long, if I remember correctly.”

“That’s her then. Long, black hair.”

“It is not her,” Edwin insisted. “Miss Muir is gone. I don’t know how many more times I can tell you that.”

“Why did she leave?”

“She left to get married.”

“What? Left to get married? Who quits working just because she got married? My mom didn’t even do that in the seventies.”