Chapter 148

She could feel the controlled strength in the arm he placed around hers. His hands settled over hers as he guided them to take aim with the pistol.

Cassandra’s breathing hitched.

She knew the touch of a husband in another life, but that knowledge belonged to memories firmly in the past, memories she rarely allowed herself to examine. This was different. Draven was not John. He did not touch her with entitlement or expectation. And somehow, that made the awareness of him more difficult to ignore.

Draven was not even doing anything inappropriate, really. So why then was her pulse fluttering like the wings of a frightened bird?

"Stop flinching away every time you take aim," he said near her ear. His voice was low, close enough that she felt the sound more than heard it. "You will never hit that damn target otherwise."

Her throat suddenly felt dry. She concentrated on the target rather than the man standing behind her.

"Breathe," he said.

She did. She did not realize she was holding her breath until he pointed it out. His scent of cedar and bergamot filled her lungs.

"Steady. Steady." A second passed. "Now."

His hands remained over hers as his finger joined hers against the trigger.

The pistol fired. The noise echoed across the grounds.

Cassandra barely noticed the recoil this time, and she did not flinch at all. She attributed it to his assistance and was beyond grateful.

When she looked toward the target, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the shot hit considerably closer to the center.

"I did that," she gasped, bouncing excitedly. Finally, she managed to accomplish this one thing that felt impossible to her until now. "Thank you."

Draven chuckled behind her, but he still did not move away.

Instead, he helped her reload, adjusted her grip on the gun slightly, and guided her through another shot.

Then another.

Each landed nearer the target than those she fired alone.

"So, what happened to all that talk about quitting?" he asked smugly.

Cassandra shook her head at once. "It was nothing. Nothing at all."

She knew how to concede defeat.

"Excellent." He gloated. "Now, before I forget, you never told me you were such an academic."

Her brow furrowed.

She turned her head enough to catch his gaze.

"What?"

"I know about your visits to the university."

Shock rendered her speechless, but her mind was in a state of crisis, her thoughts pure chaos.

Draven’s voice remained conversational. "Is this a new interest, or something you have always wanted to do?"

From what he discovered, she was far more fixated on the sciences.

Yet, as a woman, she could not be formally enrolled at the university or obtain a degree of any kind.

She could attend lectures, study the subjects that fascinated her, and pursue her interests independently, but she could never officially become a student.

If this was something she was truly passionate about, however, Draven knew he would stop at nothing to make her dreams a reality.

What was the use of having power, money, and influence if he could not use them to make life easier for the people he truly cared about?

Cassandra’s shock waned a moment later, and she found her voice again.

"Are you stalking me, Your Grace?"

"I would not put it that way." He was more amused by the accusation than offended. "Besides, it is normal for a man to be interested in his fiancée’s habits, wouldn’t you agree?"

He knew something.

Cassandra suspected that, sooner or later, he might uncover it, but hearing him acknowledge it aloud made the danger feel real. It forced her to confront an uncomfortable truth: she did not prepare herself for what would happen if someone discovered what she was doing.

And if Draven already knew, who else might have noticed?

What if there was someone else watching her, studying her every move and waiting for her to make a mistake?

"You didn’t answer my question. Why are you so interested in academics?" Draven asked. "I never took you for an academic."

Adrian was not too far away and could hear every word.

Cassandra’s eyes shifted toward him.

Adrian gave the smallest shake of his head.

It was barely perceptible, but the message was clear.

Do not tell him.

Cassandra understood.

It was not because Adrian believed Draven was incapable of keeping a secret, but it was difficult to trust just anyone at this stage of their investigation.

The fewer people who knew the full truth, the safer everyone remained.

"I simply find the lectures interesting," she said, turning back toward the target to avoid his gaze.

Draven regarded her for another second. "I would not have expected it."

"You have discovered something new about me, then."

"Apparently."

Cassandra decided she gave the subject enough attention. So she decided to change it.

"There is a ball coming up."

"A ball?"

"An acquaintance of mine is hosting one. I thought we might attend. Together. I haven’t been to a ball in some time, and Lady Chandler’s ball was the last one you attended."

Her back was still stubbornly turned, still looking away from him.

Draven wasn’t having it. He stepped around her and came to stand directly in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.

When she finally did, the first thing she noticed was the endearing creases at the corners of his eyes, made more pronounced by the intensity of his gaze.

"Are you keeping track of my activities, Cassandra?"

She scoffed. "There’s nothing wrong with a woman keeping track of her fiancé’s activities," she said, deliberately using his own words against him.

He laughed, and she knew immediately that he remembered saying almost the same thing to her earlier.

"Is that so?" The invisible magnet that seemed to exist between them was pulling him towards her once again.

"You said it yourself."

"I did, didn’t I?"

"Then you cannot object when I apply the same principle to you."

Her logic was sound, and Draven could find no fault in it.

"I suppose I cannot."

"So you will attend?" she asked.

"If you are going, I am going."