A Thief of Nightshade(3)
Just as well, you didn’t deserve him anyway.
Of all the thoughts she’d courted since his disappearance, that thought—that simple, yet insidious truth that she thought she’d buried—had taken root and now she felt it clear through to her soul. She hadn’t deserved him. Jullian should have married someone stronger, someone worth all of the opportunities life had afforded her, someone who hadn’t tried on more than one occasion to end her own life. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time.
The look on his face that morning in the hospital ...
She walked out onto the dock feeling small and alone in relation to the vast expanse of water around her. The surface rippled, distorting her reflection.
The looking glass, Jullian had called it.
She’d always held a tight rein on her emotions, but here in the stillness and sanctuary of the one place in the world where she felt like she could be herself, she was brought to her knees. She clutched at her chest, confused as to how she could feel so much pain and yet still not cry. She leaned down, let out a strangled scream and gripped the edge of the dock with shaky hands.
“Come back to me,” she whispered.
“Please. I’m so sorry.”
Just below the surface of the water, something shimmered.
Startled, she reached into the darkened waters of the lake, but there was nothing close to the surface. She hadn’t pulled her hand all of the way back out when she saw the shimmer again, this time brighter than before.
Images from the last time she and Jullian had stood on the dock flashed through her mind, his voice as clear as when he’d first said it.
What if you could pass through the looking glass? What if there was more than just this—another world entirely unlike this one? Could you ever believe that?
Jullian, you know that I love you, but sometimes you don’t make any sense at all, she’d teased him. No, I couldn’t.
Aubrey stood and peered into the water. The temperature was dropping steadily, the air significantly colder than when she’d first arrived. The surface of the lake, with the wind blowing, should have appeared
choppy.
Instead,
it
remained as still and motionless as glass, almost as if she could lean over and fall into the mirrored sky.
I should have stayed at the funeral.
Dread knotted in her stomach at the realization that she’d eventually have to face her family again and it would inevitably come to a confrontation about why she’d left—how inappropriate it was.
Without hesitating long enough to discern why the urge had come to her, she stretched out her arms and stepped off the dock.
Chapter Two
Once Upon a Time ...
AUBREY DRANK THE REST OF HER COFFEE
and bent down to dig a pen out of her messenger bag. As soon as she’d wrapped her fingers around one, something skittered across her skin and she paused with the distinct feeling of being watched.
Trying to remain cool and unflustered, she sat back up and flipped open her notebook. She might have been successful had she kept her eyes on the paper.
Looking back at her were the most stunningly blue eyes she’d ever seen. The kind she’d read about in a hundred novels ... the kind that weren’t really supposed to exist.
“Miss Wright?” His voice matched his winsome features with equally enchanting measure.
An elbow struck her in the side.
Samantha scowled. “Earth to Aubrey.”
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, her cheeks warm. “Present.”
“Smooth,” Sam whispered. “Maybe Adonis’ll say your whole name next time.”
She tried to will the color from her face, but as he caught her eyes again, she realized her efforts only made things worse.
“You may address me as Dr. Sellars.
I’ll be your professor for the next semester, assuming no one drops the course. That’s Voice in Fiction, in case any of you are in the wrong room.”
Aubrey was grateful he didn’t direct his last comment toward her. She usually wasn’t expected to find any more interest in the arts than what any child of wealth would be required to know for dinner conversation, and there was no denying that Aubrielle Wright was, or had been, a woman of considerable means. Her boots alone had cost more than a whole semester of graduate classes.
“Let’s talk about what you should expect from this class,” he began.
She wrote down everything he said, pretending
to
be
transfixed. After
introductory items, he went on to read aloud
a
lengthy
excerpt
from
S ha ke s p e a r e ’s Midsummer Night’s
Dream and she melted into the soothing sound of his voice. He seemed to savor it —the joy of reading aloud and it came through every word he spoke.
He stopped reading ten minutes past the end of class. As the students rose to leave, he called out a reminder to look at the syllabus for the assignment.
“Share the love a little,” Sam remarked.
Aubrey stopped threading the leather pull of her shoulder bag. “What are you talking about?”
“He stood in front of your desk the whole time!” Sam said, quickly shushed by Aubrey.
“God, do you even know what the word ‘tempered’ means?” She braved a glance and found to her relief that Dr.