“You can see why I love it here, can’t you?”
“Sure.”
Not a flicker of interest. Sasha tried again.
“I mean, there’s a magic to it. Something in the air. Do you know what I mean?”
“The air?” said Will absently. “The air’s arctic. How far are we from your college? My nuts are about to drop off.”
For the first time all day, Will noticed that Sasha was upset. She’d pulled away and started walking faster up ahead of him.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s you. You’re the matter.” She turned around. Snowflakes began to settle on her shoulders. “You were really rude to my friends back there.”
“Oh, come on, Sash. They weren’t exactly the most exciting bunch. Apart from the blonde.” He smiled knowingly.
“They’re my friends, Will. Do you know how bored I am with your friends? But at least I make an effort.”
Now it was Will’s turn to get angry. “An effort? Don’t talk to me about making an effort. At least I came up here to see you, which is more than you’ve been bothered to do all autumn.”
“Well, why did you come? You don’t want to see me. All you want to do is have sex!”
“So? What’s wrong with sex? Jesus, Sasha. If you want to go out with a fucking intellectual why don’t you go and marry Stephen bloody Hawking? It’s not me that’s changed. It’s you.”
That night they lay together in stony silence. Will fell asleep after about an hour, but Sasha lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through her conflicting feelings. Is he right? Have I changed? She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d abandoned him. They’d been so happy last summer, in the woods at Tidebrook. Was this how Professor Dexter felt, lying in bed next to his mean, bipolar wife? A stranger in his own life?
The next morning they patched things up, on the surface anyway. Will’s train was at two, so they spent the morning walking along the snowy trails and had a good-bye lunch at Wagamama.
“How are your noodles?”
“Fine, thanks. Would you like another Coke?”
“Oh, I’m OK. Thanks.”
The politeness was awful.
By three o’clock, Sasha was back at St. Michael’s. It was properly winter now, and the sky was already beginning to fade to a bluish twilight that made the snow-covered college look like a Christmas card. But Sasha couldn’t enjoy it. She’d blown things with Will. It was over. In a few weeks she’d be home in Sussex for the holidays, and he’d be out with some other girl. Carolina Fuller probably. She’s been after him for months. Slut. Would Sasha regret it once she got home? Here at Cambridge, her life in Sussex felt like a dream. But what if it was the other way around? What if home and Will were her reality and her undergraduate life was just a passing phase? What if she never found love again?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Theo, looking ruggedly gorgeous in a blue cable-knit sweater and jeans, emerged from his rooms on First Court.
“It can’t be that bad, surely?”
Sasha shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s bad or not. I think I just broke up with my boyfriend.”
With immense difficulty, Theo suppressed a grin.
“Poor Sasha. That’s hard. Breakups are always hard.”
Sasha smiled. He’s so nice. Maybe it’s because he’s younger than other professors? He can still remember what it’s like to be our age. “How come you’re in college on a Sunday, Professor Dexter? Isn’t it your day off?”
“Sasha, if I have to tell you again I’m going to throttle you. It’s Theo, OK? You’re not in sixth form now.”
“OK.” Sasha giggled. “Sorry.”
“And yes, it is my day off, but to be perfectly honest with you I couldn’t face the silence at home.” His handsome brow furrowed. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said stoically. “What about you? Where are you off to?”
“The library,” said Sasha. “Thank God for research, eh? You can really lose yourself. There’s nothing like astrophysical plasmas to take one’s mind off things, don’t you find?”
Theo laughed aloud. She was so earnest.
“I tell you what. I’ve got a better idea. How about we cheer each other up? Have you ever seen the St. Michael’s wine cellars?”
“Of course not.” St. Michael’s College was renowned for having one of the best stocked, most valuable wine cellars not just in Cambridge but in all of Europe. For obvious reasons, undergraduates were not allowed access to them. Only a very small number of fellows had keys, and even they had to sign in to a logbook and follow certain time-honored security procedures.
“Would you like to?”
Sasha nodded eagerly. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but her dad was a keen amateur wine buff. If she passed up this chance he’d never forgive her.
“Good. Follow me.”
Theo led her over the bridge into Second Court. Pulling out a cluster of keys, he unlocked the heavy oak door to St. Michael’s Formal Hall and pushed it open. Sasha had eaten in Hall a few times. Like Theo she loved the formality and tradition of it, getting dressed up in her gown and all that. But she’d never seen the place empty. Being here now, alone, she felt like Beauty exploring the Beast’s enchanted castle. It was illicit and exciting.
“This way.”
She followed Theo up the steps to the high table, where the master and all the senior fellows sat. Sasha couldn’t resist running her fingers along the polished mahogany table as they walked its length, eventually coming to some steps that led down to a red velvet curtain. Behind the curtain was another door.
“It’s like Oz!” Sasha laughed.
“Isn’t it?” Theo unlocked the second door. A smell of damp stone, musty and ancient, hit Sasha in the face like a punch. Behind the door everything was dark. Theo fumbled for the light switch and a dim thirty-watt bulb flickered to life, revealing a winding stone staircase. “Either that or Scooby Doo. When I first came down here I confidently expected a mummy to leap out of one of the alcoves and start chasing me.”
Sasha thought, He’s so much fun. Guiltily she realized that she’d forgotten about Will already. His train wouldn’t even have reached London yet.
Edging their way down the staircase, leaning on the stone wall for support, they finally emerged into a vaulted redbrick crypt. Fumbling in his pocket for a lighter, Theo pulled it out, and to Sasha’s delight reached up and lit an old-fashioned oil lamp bracketed to the wall. The effect was marvelously Dickensian. Hundreds, no, thousands of dusty bottles danced in the light of the flickering flame. Theo lit another lamp, then a third. In the middle of the room was a simple refectory table with two benches and a single, high-backed chair with a cushion at the head. It was laid with about twenty wineglasses, long-stemmed and each topped with a bowl almost as big as Sasha’s head and an exquisite ivory corkscrew. At the back of the room was a rather tatty sofa and a rattan ottoman with a lid. Idly, Sasha wandered over and opened it. Inside were piles of neatly stacked blankets.
“It can get pretty cold down here,” Theo explained. “You should put one on. And get one out for me.”
He was writing something in a thick, leather-bound logbook by the door. Signing his name with a flourish, he smiled and turned to Sasha.
“Can I offer you a drink, Miss Miller?”
“Oh, no, we can’t.” She handed him his blanket. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Theo. “The master’s an old friend. Red or white?”
Sasha hesitated. This felt like the sort of thing you could get expelled for. On the other hand, if Professor Dexter said it was all right…what the hell. After the weekend she’d had she deserved a drink.
“Red.” Georgia’s always telling me to be more impulsive and let my hair down. If only she could see me now!
“Red it is.”
Theo selected a bottle thick with dust and pulled it out. “This should do to get us started.”
&nb
sp; Sasha looked at the label and gasped. It was a Château Petrus Bordeaux, 1984. “Petrus? No, no, no we can’t possibly. Do you realize how much this is worth?”
“I do,” said Theo, expertly drawing the cork with a gentle pop and pouring two glasses. He handed one to Sasha. “The question is, Sasha: do you realize how much you’re worth?”
He was staring at her, holding eye contact. Sasha felt her insides liquefy and her knees start to wobble. Is he coming on to me? But no, he couldn’t be. He was her professor. Her married professor. Besides, even if he wanted to be unfaithful (understandable in his situation), a man like Theo Dexter could have any woman he wanted. He wouldn’t be interested in a teenaged nobody.
Holding out his hand, Theo stroked her cheek. Oh my God. Sasha felt like she was about to pass out. “Sasha. Beautiful Sasha…”
“Professor Dexter, I…”
“Shhhh.” Leaning forward, he put down his wineglass and stopped her with a kiss. It started as a tender brushing of the lips. But before Sasha knew it their whole bodies were entwined, pressing against each other. Theo’s tongue felt hot inside her mouth, caressing her, teasing her. The only other person Sasha had kissed was Will, and that had felt…well, nothing like this, that was for sure. It was all very disconcerting. Her limbs seemed to be acting with a mind of their own. Were those her fingers in Professor Dexter’s hair? Theo pressed his hard thigh between Sasha’s legs, and she jumped like a flea on a hot plate.
“Stop! We can’t.” Panicked, she pulled away from him. “I’m…you’re…this is definitely against the rules.”
“Whose rules?” Theo kissed her again. God, it was heavenly.
“Everybody’s rules!” She squirmed free again. “I’m your student, Professor…Theo. You’re my teacher. And you’re married.”
Theo’s quick mind was working overtime. He had to tread very carefully here. He’d put in a lot of groundwork with Sasha all term, and he didn’t want to blow it at the last hurdle. I mustn’t be the bad guy. I have to make her feel sorry for me.
“I know.” He sat down on one of the benches and put his head in his hands. Sasha tried to feel relieved, but part of her—a big part—wished he would wave aside her objections and start kissing her again. What am I getting myself into? She took a big slug of her wine, choked, then took another, draining her glass. She sat down next to Theo, who wordlessly reached for the bottle and poured her another.
“I’m being selfish,” he said. “I know that. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my marital problems. Sometimes I just feel like…” He paused, as if struggling to find the right words. “Like I’d like some happiness for myself for a change. It sounds awful, doesn’t it?”
“No. Not at all.” Instinctively, Sasha put her arms around him. “And you’re not burdening me. I’m happy to listen.”
The mothering instinct, thought Theo. Women can’t resist a bird with a broken wing.
“You’ve been so kind to me since I got here, Pro…Theo.” She blushed. “The least I can do is return the favor.”
Theo swirled the Petrus around in his glass, gazing into the deep-purple liquid as if the secret to his life’s problems might lie hidden in its depths. Then he took a slow sip and said quietly, “You’re not attracted to me. Well, why would you be?” He flashed Sasha a sweet, self-deprecating smile. “In your eyes I’m probably only a few years away from my pension.”
“That is absolutely not true!” Sasha touched his cheek, turning him to face her. The Petrus must have gone straight to her head or she would never have been so forward. But her inhibitions seemed to be deserting her. “I think you’re extremely attractive. Everybody does,” she added, immediately regretting blurting out the last part. She didn’t want to sound like some sort of groupie.
“I can’t help it, Sasha.” Tears welled up in Theo’s eyes. “When I’m with you, I feel like I can glimpse my future. And for the first time in years, I see happiness.”
“Oh, Theo.” Sasha leaned forward and kissed him. There was no hesitation this time. Slipping his hands under her shirt, cupping her magnificent teenage breasts, it was all Theo could do not to punch the air in triumph. Swiftly, joyously, his practiced hands unclasped her bra and helped her out of her jeans, stripping off layer after layer of clothing like he was opening a carefully wrapped present. Bending his head to kiss her belly, then tracing his tongue slowly down to her smooth, creamy thighs, Theo felt Sasha’s back arch and heard her gasp involuntarily, lost in pleasure and too inexperienced to hide it.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered. “Are you cold?”
“A little,” murmured Sasha.
Theo grinned. “Let’s warm you up then, shall we?”
Hastily throwing one of the blankets down on the table, he lifted her up as easily as he might a rag doll and laid her down on her back. Still dressed himself—there was no need for both of them to catch hypothermia—he unceremoniously unzipped his fly to release an erection that put poor Will’s in the shade. Grabbing Sasha’s hand, he curled her fingers around it.
“Good God.” Her eyes widened. “It’s huge!”
Could this get any better?
“It is all yours,” he whispered, thrusting himself inside her with so much force that she slid two feet up the table. Her body was exquisite, perfectly proportioned, slim yet succulent. He couldn’t keep his lips off those perfect breasts, and his hands groped greedily for her buttocks as he fucked her harder and faster, racing toward climax. But best of all were Sasha’s responses. So desirous, so uninhibited! She made him feel like Mick Jagger.
Theo had been bored of Clara for months now. The porno body that had once so excited him now seemed grotesque. It was like fucking a pregnant sow. When sex with your wife was more exciting than sex with your mistress, something was very wrong. But now dear, sweet little Sasha Miller was here. And everything was very, very right.
With one final jerk of the hips, Theo Dexter closed his eyes and came. He felt the glorious tightening of Sasha’s muscles around him, heard her moaning with her own orgasm as she bucked and writhed helplessly beneath him.
This was going to be a great year after all.
Back at home, Theresa was putting the finishing touches to her signature chocolate fudge cake. It was Theo’s favorite, and she’d spent the entire afternoon baking it, neglecting her book, in the hope of cheering him up. He’d disappeared after breakfast this morning in a foul mood, mumbling something about going into college, and hadn’t so much as texted her since.
Staring out the kitchen window at the snowy front garden, Theresa watched a little robin hop tentatively across the lawn, eyeing the bird feeder in her apple tree.
Poor thing. I forgot to fill it. Theo was always getting cross with her for her forgetfulness. But how was one supposed to remember not to forget things; that was the question? I’ll do it as soon as I’ve iced the cake.
Biting her lip, eyes narrowed in concentration, she began tracing a perfect italic T in icing sugar across the gooey chocolate. Like snow on a ploughed field. Jenny and Jean Paul had gone out to Grantchester to make snowmen with the kids. Sensing Theresa’s loneliness, Jenny had asked her to join them, but Theresa didn’t feel like being the odd man out. Besides, Theo might be back any minute. Whatever was troubling him, he wouldn’t want to come home and find a dark, empty house.
She finished the cake, then disappeared to hunt for kindling so she could light a nice, welcoming fire.
She’d completely forgotten about the robin.
In St. Michael’s wine cellar, curled up naked on the sofa under a big pile of blankets, Sasha Miller lay in Professor Theo Dexter’s arms in blissful shock.
Will Temple’s Casanova reputation would never recover.
“What are you thinking?” Theo softly stroked her hair.
I’m thinking about what my wedding dress will look like. I’m thinking about waking up with you every morning for the rest of my life. I’m thinking about spending long
, heavenly days in a laboratory with you by my side, unraveling the mysteries of the universe together. I’m thinking that maybe I do like sex after all…
“Nothing. Only that I’m happy.”
He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “So am I, Sasha. You do realize we’re going to have to be discreet about this? We know we’re not doing anything wrong. But the university authorities might not be so understanding. And Theresa…”
Sasha put a finger to his lips. “I completely understand.”
I’m a mature woman now. I’m in love with an important, brilliant, troubled man. I must handle this like an adult and show Theo that he can trust me.
The truth was, she didn’t want to tell anybody anyway. Some nameless, inner voice told her that Georgia and the rest of her undergraduate friends might not understand. Keeping it a secret somehow made it all the more precious. As for Theo’s wife, well, life was complicated. They’d have to cross that bridge when they came to it.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE END of her first year at Cambridge, Sasha Miller was already being spoken of among the physics faculty as a rising star. Not only did she gain the top score in the university in her first-year exams—her independent research project on astrophysical plasmas was easily PhD standard—but she consistently showed an instinctive flair for experimental physics that was rare in one so young. Especially a woman. Girls at Cambridge tended to play it safe, dutifully learning and regurgitating the prevailing academic wisdom of their elders and betters. But Sasha Miller took risks. She was an original thinker, a scientist not just of the mind but of the soul. If she fulfilled just half of her early promise, she might well have great things ahead of her. As long, that is, as she didn’t blow it by doing something reckless.
There was no such thing as a secret at Cambridge. Like all universities it was a hotbed of gossip and intrigue. Within a month of their first tryst in the St. Michael’s wine cellar, news of Professor Dexter’s love affair with his star pupil began to spread. Rumors in the Senior Common Room became whispers at high table. Soon every science fellow in the university knew—or thought they knew—about Dexter’s latest extramarital escapade. Among Sasha’s friends, however, the affair was still a deadly secret. As instructed by Theo, Sasha had told nobody, not even Georgia. The Chinese wall between fellows and undergraduates meant that the gossip was effectively contained. Theo got to bask in the envy of his peers, safe in the knowledge that nothing could be proved against him, while Sasha found herself becoming more and more isolated from her friends, unable to confide in them or share what was rapidly becoming the most important part of her life.
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