Free The Headmaster by Tiffany Reisz

lecture.
    Eat some lunch.
    Get ready for dinner with the headmaster. She didn’t care what he said about only discussing students. That was all smoke and mirrors. She knew it. He knew it. They both knew it. This wasn’t a work dinner.
    This was a date.

Chapter Seven
    Gwen’s second class went as well as her first, and her third class even better. With such a small student body every class was like an intimate conversation instead of herding class like her old teaching job had been. These kids had manners, real manners, old-fashioned manners. Someone—the headmaster most likely—had drilled good behavior into them. She’d be sure to thank him for that unexpected gift tonight.
    Tonight…she was having dinner with the headmaster tonight. She fully intended to be on her best behavior. No flirting. No teasing. She’d hate for the headmaster to think she was willing to sleep her way into a full-time job at the school. Still when it came time to dress for dinner¸ she put on the prettiest outfit she’d packed—a strapless blue dress with a black cardigan and matching black sandals. The dress came down to her knees but just barely. There was a time and a place for conservative clothes. On a “work” date with the headmaster wasn’t one of them.
    With some trepidation she headed out at five before eight. She was certain eyes followed her all the way from her cottage to Hawkwood Hall. Were the boys watching her cross the courtyard in her dress with her hair down and curled? Did they know where she was going? Maybe dinner with the headmaster had been a bad idea. And yet, she couldn’t back out now. She headed up to the fifth floor and raised her hand to knock on his door, equal parts nervous and excited. Here it was again—a new path in front of her. Everything in her told her to go for it. Everything else told her to run back. But back where? Her old life was gone. All that waited for her outside this school was a couch in Chicago. Nothing to lose. Everything to gain.
    She knocked.
    He opened the door and at first she didn’t recognize him. He wore his usual three-piece suit but without the jacket. But it wasn’t his clothes that confused her. It was his face.
    “Where are your glasses?” she asked, seeing his naked face for the first time.
    “I don’t need glasses to eat dinner. They’re more for distance vision and reading,” he said, letting her into his private residence again.
    “You look so different,” she said, standing in front of him and studying his face with unabashed curiosity.
    “Is something the matter with my face?” he asked.
    “I thought your eyes were dark blue but they’re more dark green, aren’t they?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve never checked.”
    She rolled her eyes.
    “I don’t believe that for a minute. Everyone knows what color their eyes are.”
    “They most certainly do not,” he said as he escorted her to the dining room. Dinner was already laid on fine white china. Two tall taper candles illuminated their table.
    “Unless somebody’s blind, they know what color their eyes are,” she said as Headmaster Yorke pulled out her chair. She sat down and tucked her skirt around her knees.
    “What color are your eyes?” he asked.
    “Blue,” she said. “Boring old blue.”
    “My point is proven.” He sat opposite her and laid his napkin across his lap. “You don’t have blue eyes at all.”
    She smiled at his accent.
At all
sounded like
a’tall
. She wished she had a phone book so she could make him read from it.
    “They are blue. I’ve seen them. More than once.”
    “They’re not. They are azure, a common color used in heraldry. Azure is a jewel tone. It also represents Jupiter. It is a noble color carried on the crest by noble French houses. To call your eyes blue would be to call an emerald ‘green’ or a ruby ‘red.’ An emerald is emerald. A ruby is ruby. Your eyes are azure. I’ve seen the crown jewels and they sparkle less than your eyes do. So