Chapter 10

Malcolm watched Jean walk away. He'd fought the impulse to go after her. He didn't want her to think him a complete monster. That need was what made him ask about Nicola. Of all of the people in his career he'd destroyed, Nicola Murray was the one he regretted.

Knowing she was happy made him feel, somewhat, better. It also meant he wouldn't go to her. He would trust Jean to relay his message. It was probably for the best. Let her be happy, he really did wish her well.

He grabbed the bottle and made his way to his room. As he opened the door to his suite Jean's words echoed in his head, "Sometimes the best way to love people is to let them go."

She was probably right, he should just walk away, let Laura go. He'd come to Oxford intent on finding her, getting her back, then crushing her the way she had crushed him once upon a time.

But one look at her and his plan had blown to pieces. All of those old protective instincts had returned. Even when he'd seen all of her pictures, the visual reminders of a happy life she'd built, without him. He spared a brief thought to the children, her children with that other man.

He remembered the flash of hurt then anger that had crossed her face when he held her picture. How she had forcefully taken it from his hand. He'd struck a nerve talking about her family. He thought about the family they'd wanted, three kids. He'd wanted all girls who looked just like her. She'd said no, he would spoil them too much. She wanted all boys who looked like him but had her temperament.

He poured another glass of whisky and made his way to the bedroom. He set the glass on the nightstand as he stripped his clothes. As he went to drop them on the ground he was reminded of her incessant neatness. Laughing to himself he neatly put his things away before going back to the bed.

Grabbing the glass his attention was drawn to a framed photograph. It was the only personal thing besides clothes he'd brought with him to Oxford. It was from their wedding day. They were looking at one another, a moment of pure happiness, captured for eternity, Seacliff Beach with Bass Rock in the background. Her hair was blowing, the tawny light from the sun setting surrounded them. He'd kissed her seconds after the photo was taken. He didn't think he'd ever been happier than at that moment. It was simply glorious.

Lifting the picture and pulling it closer as he leaned into the pillows on the bed, he adjusted his thoughts. He'd always been happy when she was around. No one had ever captured his senses the way she had. Even five minutes in a room with her and he was captivated all over again.

He waited, nervously, in the restaurant. He was fifteen minutes early. He was never early, to anything. He made other people wait for him. But something about this woman made him want to make sure everything would be perfect.

He'd forced the Maître d' to change their table twice. He'd pre-selected the wines not sure if she preferred red or white. Now he was waiting. He checked his watch, it was seven on the dot. He looked to the doorway to the dining room and there she was, breathtakingly beautiful. For a single, magnificent moment the world stood still.

The smile she gave him made his blood run hot. Standing as she neared the table he struggled to catch his breath. His hand went to her waist as he bent to kiss her lightly on the cheek, "You take my breath away Laura."

She bit on her lower lip as she smiled up at him, "Thank you Malcolm." He didn't hear a word she said all he could think about was her lower lip and how he would like to bite it as he kissed her.

He helped her into her chair then returned to the safety of his. He needed to put some distance between them or he would never make it through this meal, "Besides being breathtakingly beautiful, how are you this evening?"

Laura looked at him skeptically, "Do you flatter every woman you meet this way?"

Malcolm's instinct was to spar with her. But as he looked in to her crystal blue eyes all desire to spar left him, "No, never. Generally, I am much less flattering to people."

"I guess that makes me special."

He reached across and gently took her hand, "To me, Laura, you are very special."

"You don't know me Malcolm how are you so certain I am special."

He laughed, knowing she would never believe him, "It's my super power. I can always tell about people. It's what makes me so good at what I do."

"And what does your super power tell you about me?"

He wound their fingers together playing with her delicate yet strong hands as he told her, "That you are smart and kind and incredibly passionate. You don't like when people overlook you because you are a woman in a field usually dominated by men. You don't allow yourself to be pushed around; you give as good as you get. You can be prickly but are immensely loyal. Your intelligence intimidates some people and secretly that pleases you. You are intensely private and prefer the company of a few close friends to legions of acquaintances."

Laura stared at him, astounded at what he'd said. This man who had spent a sum total of half an hour with her knew her better than most of the people in her life, "That's some super power you have."

He panicked, had he gone too far? The gentle squeeze from her hand reassured him. The soft smile she gave him when he finally met her eyes relaxed him completely, "I'm sorry. I'm used to being around people that have the manners of wild animals. I sometimes forget that people outside of my world are actually polite."

She stroked her thumb along the side of his hand sending lightning coursing through his veins, "Well then, Malcolm Tucker, it's a good thing I came along. Seems like you could do with someone to remind you of the niceties of the world." That was the moment Malcolm Tucker fell irrevocably in love with Laura Hobson.

Taking a sip of the whisky his thoughts were drawn to Jean. He savored the liquid as it burned a path through his body. Another woman that intrigued him. If he was honest, she was the first woman since Laura.

She'd sat across from him and ordered a £600 bottle of whisky as calmly as if she did it every day. Then she'd blithely drank with him as if she didn't have any reason in the world to hate him. He had to respect her for her composure. He took another sip and thought about respect. It was something he demanded of others but he didn't often give.

As he looked down at the picture of his wedding day feeling the lingering burn of the whisky he wondered if he'd made a mistake. Perhaps coming to Oxford was the wrong thing to do. He traced his finger across Laura's face. She was the one thing in his life that had ever been right.