Page 26 of Professor and the Seer
Inside being the interior of the most adorable house. Ever seen those picturesque images of a two-story manor house? I stood in front of one, the gray stone covered in vines, the windows narrow with square panes. A chimney puffed smoke. A gravel round-about drive in the front led to a country road, the fields barely visible for the mist.
“Where are we?” Kind of late to ask.
“Home.”
“Duh. Where, though?”
“Just outside of Wiltshire, England.”
“It’s beautiful.” It appealed to me more than the tropics we’d been dealing with this last week or so.
“I agree. I just wish it wasn’t such a long drive for my work. During the week, I stay at a flat I rent by the college, and I come home on the weekends.”
“How far is it?” I glanced at John, always struck by his fine looks.
“An hour’s drive, which is technically doable daily, but I’d rather not lose two hours a day commuting, not to mention the cost of fuel these days.” He grimaced.
“I don’t travel much,” I admitted.
“Do you work?”
I shook my head. “Not unless you call dabbling in stocks a job. But I only invest enough to not be a complete mooch on my sisters. It doesn’t feel right to use my power to get rich.”
“You’re more altruistic than most then.”
“Am I? When it comes to a historical discovery, would you sell it to the highest bidder or share it with everyone?”
He laughed. “Okay, so maybe you and I are alike in that respect. I’m more about the discovery rather than the fame or fortune.”
Just another reason to like him. My mind flashed to the sword that pierced his chest, and I shuddered.
“I am such an idiot, keeping you out in the damp without the proper clothes. Let’s get you inside where it’s cozy.”
He didn’t bother knocking. Why would he since he still partially lived here?
The moment we entered, the scent of tomato sauce simmering on the stove had me salivating. A woman, short and rotund, her gray, curly hair streaked with blonde wisping around her face, turned from the pot, waving a wooden spoon.
“Baby boy! Just in time for dinner.” The woman with florid cheeks beamed even as she eyed me with curiosity.
“Hey, Mum, hope you don’t mind I brought a friend.”
“Mind? I’ve been anticipating this day. Welcome, dearie. I’ve been waiting ages to meet you.”
Her enthusiastic welcome flustered. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Don’t be silly. As John’s future bride, this is now your home.”
Bride? “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We’re not a couple.” I hastened to correct her misassumption.
“If you aren’t yet, you will be. Grams is never wrong,” his mother insisted.
Which led to John clearing his throat before he muttered in an aside for my ears only, “I might have left some details out of my grandmother’s prediction.”
“Such as?”
“Along with my long life, Grams might have said something along the lines of the woman I bring home to meet her and Mom will become my wife."
For a brief second, the thought of being married to John elated. Only to have reality hit. Did I really want to become a widow?