“Job. University?” Maybe she was insane after all.
Gabrel’s quick smile lit his face. “He has been eager to resume his academic work, you know. And I was able to persuade him that a junior lecturer in Esilian Affairs would bring new perspective and insights to the History Department. Apparently he has the dean under his thumb. Your father is actually quite a competent politician, you know, and doesn’t need nearly as much help from his daughter as you’ve been imagining – and he says that the appointment is pretty much a foregone conclusion.”
Isovel sank down on a conveniently placed stone bench, warm in the afternoon sun. “You already made all these plans. Before talking to me. Why did you make me think I had to choose between exile with you or Harmony and loyalty to my father?”
“I had this silly desire to know if you would choose me in spite of all the good reasons working against us.”
“And if I hadn’t?”
“Oh, then I would have mentioned the permanent residency and the lectureship at the university. Don’t worry; I had no intention of letting you get away.”
“But you thought it would be amusing to test me first!” Isovel felt a white-hot column of rage rising to her head. “How dare you, how dare you play your mind games with me!” She grabbed the basket and threw it at his head. Picked up the secateurs and started toward him.
Gabrel backed up so fast that he tripped and fell. “Mercy!” he cried, but he was laughing. “Not the secateurs! Anything but the secateurs!”
“And another thing!” She raged. “You lied to me from the beginning, pretending you were my age!”
Gabrel was still laughing. “I was afraid you wouldn’t take me seriously. You wouldn’t cut off my… nose… to spite your face, would you?”
Isovel offered her free hand to pull him up. “Never do anything like that to me again!”
“Will I have the chance?” As soon as he was standing, he slipped an arm around her waist. She fought to keep from melting against him and forgiving him immediately.
“Oh, yes. You will have years to demonstrate your good behavior. I’m not letting you go again.”
Standing at the open French windows, Rauf Dayvson coughed gently. “I did warn him that you are a terribly managing woman, and that he’d never be able to call his soul his own, but he’s still willing to take you off my hands.”
“And you!” Isovel was still holding the secateurs, but as she brought her hand up to point at her father, Gabrel caught her wrist.
“Peace, my love. Peace. We’ve achieved a happy ending. Let’s not waste it.”
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Insurgents (Harmony Book 1) Page 21
