Diana had hoped that some time spent on the river that morning would help her relax and shake off whatever the opening of Ashmole 782 had done to her the day before. But as she propelled herself down the Cherwell, she found her strokes more aggressive and haphazard than ever before.
The soft flurry of a gaze drifting across her skin wasn't helping matters. Diana had never been more aware of it than she was at that moment.
When she lost control of her strokes and the front of her shell collided with the edge of the embankment, she decided that enough was enough. Diana steered herself down to a small dock close to a local pub, before pulling herself up and out of the boat, and then the boat from the water.
"I know you're here," she called out. Her voice was oddly calm given the storm of emotions whirling inside of her. "You might as well show yourself … Professor Clairmont."
For the longest moment, she was sure he wasn't going to reveal himself, and Diana actually started questioning her sanity a little. Had she imagined the feel of his gaze on her skin? But when the shadows near the deserted pub began to move, she knew that she'd been right. He'd been watching her every morning since their chance encounter at the Bodleian, at the start of term.
"Why are you following me?" she asked, as Clairmont took one final step forward to bring himself out of the darkness and into the early morning light.
"I'm not."
"Don't lie to me. I can feel you watching me every day so why are you following me, Professor Clairmont?"
Diana watched as his mask of calm cracked a little when he realized that she'd been able to sense his presence all along, but it wasn't enough to tell her what he was thinking.
"Someone needs to make sure that you're safe," was all he said, and Diana's anger flared brighter with his vague reply.
"Safe? From what, Professor? You're the one following me! If anyone here is a danger to me, I'd argue it's the professor who stalks his students."
"I'm neither stalking you, nor your professor," he reminded her gently.
"Oh, I'm sure that will make all the difference when I report you to the head of your department." Diana folded her arms over her chest as she waited for Clairmont to attempt to try and defend himself. But he remained just as stubbornly silent as she was.
"What do you want from me, Professor?"
"I told you before, I just want to make sure that you're safe."
"Safe from what?"
Clairmont's mask of neutrality remained firmly fixed in place as he stood silently before her. Diana contemplated hitting him to see if that would finally get it to crack again, but before she could begin listing all of the reasons why that wouldn't be a good idea, he finally spoke.
"From whoever is the first to work out that it was you in the library yesterday evening, and that you were the one who caused the disturbance felt throughout the city. And they will, Diana. They will find out that it was you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, because how could he have possibly known what had happened? She was alone virtually all day in the Duke Humphries reading room. She'd have known if he was there. She'd have felt it.
"Really? Because it looked to me like you'd felt it too when you left the building last night."
Diana wanted to be outraged that he'd obviously been following her for longer than she'd thought, but her mind was stuck on his words instead. Had he felt that same sense of unease that she'd experienced? Why hadn't Sean said anything about it at the time?
"What did you do, Diana?"
"I didn't do anything. I just … why am I even discussing this with you?"
"Because I might be the only person in this city who can keep you safe. So tell me, what did you do, Diana?"
Clairmont took a small step forward, not large enough to come across as threatening, but just close enough for her to see the concern in the corners of his eyes. Whatever his reasons had been for following her, Diana knew that he truly believed he was keeping her safe by doing so.
"I told you, I didn't do anything. I just opened this manuscript and –"
"– What manuscript?"
Clairmont looked like he wanted to reach out and hold onto her arms, almost like he knew that what she was about to say would end up changing both of their lives forever. But instead, he balled his hands into fists by his side as he waited for her reply.
"An Ashmole manuscript," she whispered.
Clairmont's face showed no signs of change but Diana could almost sense his body tensing under the all-black ensemble he was wearing once again. "Which manuscript?" he repeated. His eyes were locked with hers, pleading with Diana to trust him, to open up to him, and she was helpless to refuse.
"Ashmole 782."
Professor Clairmont's mask finally shattered as the series of numbers fell from Diana's lips. A wide range of emotions flashed across his face before he finally pulled himself back together again, and Diana realized with a start that clearly, the book meant something to him.
"Are you sure it was 782?" he asked.
"Yes. I might only be a lowly grad student, Professor, but I'm not illiterate."
Clairmont shook his head fondly at her feisty reply but Diana's anger was returning once again, making the action seem more infuriatingly condescending than adorable.
"How did you find the book?"
"The same way that I find all of the books for my research proposal. I filled in the request slip, handed it to Sean, and the books were waiting for me an hour later."
Matthew was almost frozen with surprise as he tried to process the implications of what Diana had just said. Could the missing Ashmole manuscript really have been in the Bodleian Library all this time?
"And where is it now?" he pressed, because if that manuscript was what had caused the disturbance he'd felt the day before, then Diana was in much bigger trouble than he'd initially thought.
"In the library," she replied slowly.
"You returned the book?"
"Of course I did. I wasn't about to steal a manuscript from the Bod. What kind of person do you think I am?"
Matthew ignored her question in favor of the ones racing through his mind. The book was finally in touching distance and a large part of himself was urging the rest of his body to move. To run to the Bodleian and take it for himself before someone else could. But something kept his feet rooted to the floor – or, more accurately, someone.
"Would you care for some company in the library this morning, Miss Bishop?" he asked after a moment, as he offered her one of his most charming smiles.
Diana simply huffed in his direction before turning back to her boat so that she could ease it down onto the water once again.
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