Sean watched her storm into the house. A strange mix of emotions churned in his chest. Before the door could shut behind her, he jogged forward and grabbed her, pulling her body close to his. She gasped—a small, surprised sound—and his heart pounded against his ribs.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He pulled her even closer, pressing her head against his chest, forcing her body to mold to his. She felt delicate in his arms—soft and defenseless. The floral smell of her shampoo wafted up from her hair, and he reluctantly relaxed his grip.
"Sean, you're scaring me," she whispered.
"You're my wife," he said. "Do you understand what that means?"
Her enchanting eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly, "I-I do. And I am grateful that you're helping me. King's College is much better than Queen Mary, and it's much better than any school I would have gone to in the US."
"What?" he asked, surprised by the sincerity of her answer.
