He choked back another oath and walked towards me, a dangerous look on his face. I watched him approach with some trepidation; if he was violent in his anger, it was better I learn the worst now. He grasped my arm in a strong grip and pulled me to him.
“You are trying to drive me insane, woman, admit it.” His kisses had a fire in them I had not experienced before. They were everywhere, bruising my lips, burning my eyelids, and branding my neck. “You drive me mad with desire. Tell me you are trying to make me insane.”
Waves of passion and love swelled within me, setting my skin alight and making my heart pound loudly.
“Griffin, please,” I begged, returning his passionate embraces with a fervor I did not know possible. My fingers were buried in his hair as I pulled him to me, the hunger within me frightening in its intensity. “Please…”
“Please what?” he asked, kissing the answer off my lips.
“Please don’t stop,” I breathed, slipping my hands up the wonderful curves of his behind to his back.
“I was mad with worry,” he growled as he nipped my earlobe, his hands cupping my breasts. The warmth of his palms seeped through the three layers of my clothing and scorched my flesh.
“So was I,” I answered, desire overwhelming me as I tasted his mouth. The feel of his hard body crushed against mine sent my senses reeling. As I breathed in his masculine scent, shivers of sensual delight rippled down my back. The power of my desire was literally breathtaking, leaving me giddy and helpless against the ache that threatened to consume me. He was everywhere, everything to me. I felt him in my blood, heating me to a fever pitch. Deep, primitive urges cascaded until my head swam.
He looked deep into my eyes, his own a hot, burning brand of passion and need. “Tell me you want me, Cassandra. Tell me you need me.”
“I do,” I gasped as he lifted me up and pressed me back against the wall, pulling my legs up and wrapping them around his waist. “Touch me, Griffin. Hold me. Fill me. Now!”
The sound of cloth tearing was muted as he ripped my drawers off, and then he was there, hot and hard and surging into me with sure, strong strokes, filling me, thrilling me with his touch.
“You’re so hot,” he groaned against my mouth. “So hot and tight, I’ll never have enough of you.”
Words were meaningless sounds on my lips as I kissed him, kissed his jaw, curling my tongue into his ear as he pounded into me, my hips lifting to meet each thrust. I yanked his collar off, tearing at his tie until I bared his throat, that delicious strong throat, and scattered kisses along it as the familiar tension began to build within me.
“Ah, sweetheart, you’re so good, you’re everything I need,” he moaned as I flexed my legs, nibbling that sweet spot beneath his ear. “I can’t take it, I can’t stand any more. Oh, God, Cassandra, tell me you’re ready. Tell me you’re with me.”
“Always,” I whispered against his lips, sinking within them to fire his frenzied emotions even higher. “I will never leave you.”
He slammed me against the wall, his body moving in short, hard, fast strokes that matched our breath, his eyes wide with rapture as his muscles strained, my body answering by tightening around him as he sent us both flying to the stars.
He stood holding me for long minutes, the wood behind my back as hard as the man pressed against my front, our chests rising and falling in desperate attempts to get air, our hearts beating wildly. I let my legs slip from him, holding tight to him when they refused to bear my weight. He leaned against me, still struggling for breath, his voice low and deep, resonating deep within me.
“You infuriating woman.”
I looked at him with surprise. This was not the lover’s speech I was expecting. Instead, it had the hint of the lecture I had expected earlier.
“You exasperating, impossible…lovely woman.”
I smiled at the last words, but it was a short-lived smile. Griffin quickly adjusted his trousers as I made what repairs I could to my drawers, halting when he wrapped his hands around my upper arms.
“Do you have any idea what hell I’ve gone through the last day?” He shook me slightly to emphasize his words. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you know,” here he shook me very hard, “how worried I was?”
I tried to raise my hands, but my arms were pinned down tightly. The door to the library opened. “Are you all right, miss? I thought I heard—”
One look at Griffin’s face was all it took. Mullin spun around and closed the door quietly behind him.
“I’m sorry—” I started, but was cut off.
“What were you thinking, woman?” he thundered at me. “You could have been seriously hurt! Helena could have been hurt! You could be in prison!” He stopped, let go of my arms, and sat down on the leather couch, one hand over his eyes. “You are the most maddening, unreasonable, delectable woman I have ever met.”
I sat next to him, and placed my hand on his, pressing a little kiss to his ear. “I truly do appreciate the trouble you’ve gone to. I know my actions have caused you much grief, and I can assure you that in the future, I will do my best to keep Helena from any further participation—”
He snatched his hand away from mine and looked at me in horror. “Do you have the audacity to tell me—do you mean to say that you—that you can even consider further involvement with this group—” He choked to a stop.
“Of course I will consider further involvement. What happened today was a bizarre mischance. There’s no reason I shouldn’t participate in future events.”
Scorched by the look on his face, I stood and walked over to the window with a nonchalance I was far from feeling. He followed, muttering oaths to himself as he took me by the shoulders and put his face very close to mine. “I forbid it! You will stop your association with that group immediately!”
“You forbid me?” My eyes narrowed in warning. I had not survived my father to have the first pig-headed man who caught my fancy to order me about. “What right do you have to forbid me from doing anything?”
“Good God!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in a gesture of exasperation. “I give up! Will I never learn to get mixed up with independent, aggravating women?”
“I don’t know, how many independent, aggravating women have you been mixed up with?” I asked curiously, aware that a sharp spike of jealousy accompanied the question.
“One too many,” he said, pacing the length of the room.
He walked to the door and for a brief moment, I thought he was going to go out, but then he turned and paced back towards me. I watched him with concern, a vein in his temple bulging out in a most alarming manner, a fact he did not appreciate when pointed out.
“Damn my vein!” he shouted. He stopped pacing, and turned to me. “Do you not see,” he began in a more reasonable tone, “that there are…feelings—”
I looked at him, confused by what he was trying to say. “We are lovers, so of course there are feelings. But, Griffin, that has nothing to do with my suffrage work. I am a New Woman, and you are a modern-thinking gentleman, and what we do in private can be of no concern to anyone else. If you are worried about my reputation, I can assure you, I don’t mind.”
“No, damn it woman, I’m not talking about that. Or maybe I am, I don’t know, you have everything so twisted up, I can’t tell what I’m thinking anymore.”
He had to be worried that I would tell him I loved him, and demand the same in return. I knew men shied away from the softer emotions, and although I knew now that I loved Griffin with all my heart, until he felt the same way about me, I would not burden him with the truth. “Griffin, if you are worried about me putting demands on you because I asked you to be my lover, I can assure you that I won’t. I understand that to a man, the act of lovemaking can give physical pleasure without emotional engagement.”
“Damn it, woman, what I feel for you is not just lust!” he exploded. His hair, an unruly tangle, stood on end.
“Oh. I’m very happy to hear
that. You, too, are more than just a lustful pleasure to me. “ I chewed my lip, hesitating to put anything more into words.
“Cassandra,” he growled again, pulling me to his chest, taking my chewed-upon lip into his mouth. I was just about to reciprocate when one of the library doors was flung open, two golden-haired girls romping into the room, accompanied by two large, reddish-brown dogs. The dogs leaped upon Griffin with a display of tongues and tails, while the girls threw themselves upon me.
“Auntie, Auntie, we’re home!” they shrieked together, racing around me to chase the dogs.
“So I see,” I said, looking with dismay at Griffin.
“Cassandra, my dear, we have had the most tedious journey. Amanda was seasick the entire way….” Mabel walked in and kissed me on the cheek, then stopped abruptly when she saw Griffin. She smiled and held out her hand to him. “How do you do? I am Mabel Garner, Cassandra’s sister.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said. “Mabel, this is Mr. Griffin St. John. He is…a friend,” I finished lamely, feeling Mabel wasn’t quite ready for my New Womanhood just yet.
Griffin shook Mabel’s hand politely, and sat down at her request.
“You have to forgive my daughters, Mr. St. John,” she said, shooing them away. “We have been at sea for the last two weeks and they are a bit energetic. Oh, there you are, Joshua.”
Two men stepped into the room, one of whom was Joshua, Mabel’s husband. He was a round, short man with a pleasant countenance, and he held out his arms to me when he saw me.
“Cassandra, my dear! How long it’s been since we’ve seen you!” I hugged him, kissing him on the cheek with great affection. He waved his hand toward his companion. “And you know Robert Hunter.”
“Robert?” I said, turning to the second man. “Can it be? Robert?”
He stood behind Joshua, grinning at me. It was Robert! His skin was a dark tan, his blonde hair whitened by the sun, but his cornflower blue eyes were the same as when we were children. I squealed and threw myself into his arms, hugging him as tight as I could. He laughed and spun me around once before setting me back on the floor.
“Cassandra, you haven’t changed a bit.” He surveyed me from head to toe. “Well, I amend that statement—you have changed, and for the better.”
I blushed and clung to his arm, gazing at him with admiration. Not a tall man, he was slight of build, but strong.
“You have changed, though, Robert.” I touched the end of his golden mustache. “That’s new.”
“Cassandra!”
I turned to see why Mabel was outraged. Griffin stood awkwardly behind her.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said, and introduced Joshua to Griffin.
“And this,” I grabbed Robert’s arm and led him to Griffin, “is an old friend, Robert Hunter. Robert and I grew up together. Next to Emma, he’s my oldest and dearest friend, and one whom I have not seen for many years.”
The men shook hands, while I beamed at first at Robert, then at Griffin, delighted that the two men I loved most were together. Griffin was pleasant, but I noticed he watched Robert closely.
“I met Mabel and Mr. Garner in Jo’burg,” Robert said, turning to hold my hands. “I was on my way back to England when they convinced me to delay my trip and travel with them.”
“Now Robert, let’s not have any more of that discussion. You will stay here with us as well,” Mabel told him. She appealed to me. “He wants to stay at a hotel! Come, girls, I want you to get washed up. It was very nice meeting you, Mr. St. John. Will we have the pleasure of having you dine with us one night?”
Griffin bowed stiffly. “Thank you, I would enjoy that.”
He excused himself, and started for the door.
“I will be back in a moment,” I told Robert, and hurried after Griffin. I caught his arm at the front door, and stopped him.
“I am sorry about the interruption,” I said with a wry smile. “I do want to thank you again for having me released. I will always be grateful to you for your kindness.”
“No gratitude is necessary,” he said coldly, not looking at me.
I gazed at him with dismay. One minute he was making love to me with a fire that would put hell to shame, the next he would not even look at me. Who could explain the minds of men?
He stepped forward to leave, then apparently thinking better of it, turned and looked towards the library door. In one swift, violent movement he gathered me into his arms and kissed the breath right out of my lungs. Releasing me just as quickly, he left.
I stood with one hand on the door, the other around my bruised ribs, out of breath and surprised.
“Will someone,” I asked the empty hall, “explain to me what goes on in the mind of that man?”
The sound of my unanswered echo sent me running upstairs, where I had a quick wash and changed my dress.
Chapter Fifteen
Robert and I sat in the library after dinner, gossiping like two old women, fondly remembering the good times. It was from Robert that I received my first kiss, the day he sailed to South Africa to work on a farm owned by his older brother. I was sixteen at the time, and had thought myself in love with him.
When I recounted this, he looked sad and held my hand. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Robert, I wasn’t in love with you. I was bereft because I had lost a friend, not a lover. Mabel had married Joshua that spring, you remember, and Emma was away at school. I was alone with Father.” I paused, remembering the anguish I had felt. “You and Emma were all I had. I was devastated when you left. I thought my heart would break, but later I realized I was just grieving for a very dear friend.”
He looked at me curiously. “Do you…do you think you could love me now?”
“Oh, Robert! I do love you,” I said with tears in my eyes, pressing his hand. I opened my mouth to tell him just what a dear friend he was to me when a blast of cold air swirled around my ankles.
Mullin was in the open doorway. Behind him, in shadow, Griffin stood with an impassive face. Our eyes met briefly. I gasped, feeling as if I had been struck when I saw the agony in his eyes. Suddenly, he was gone.
“Oh, blast!” I exclaimed, leaping to my feet. Pushing Mullin aside rudely, I grabbed Griffin’s sleeve as he was going out the front door. “Griffin!”
He shook my hand off, and strode out the door. I paused for a minute on the doorstep, looked behind me to see Robert coming out of the library, then turn and ran down the steps. Griffin was mounted on Winston, urging him forward. Gathering my skirts, I leaped off the curb and grabbed onto his stirrup.
“Wait!” I gasped. “What you saw…it wasn’t…Robert is an old friend—”
Griffin looked down on me, his face in shadow. “I quite understand. There’s no need to explain.” His voice was stiff and cold.
“No,” I said. “You don’t. If you will just give me a chance to tell you—”
“Let go of my stirrup. You do not owe me an explanation. You do not owe me anything.”
“Of course I don’t owe you anything, but I want to tell you—”
“Release my stirrup, woman!”
For a moment I had a picture of what a ridiculous scene we presented.
“Oh, this is stupid! I will not stand out here in the street begging you to listen to me as if we were two characters in a badly written novel. If you wish to deliberately misunderstand the situation, then do so. When you’ve returned to your senses, I will be happy to explain everything to you.”
I turned on my heel and went back into the house. Stepping through the door I looked at Robert hovering ineffectually, and burst into tears. Robert, appalled at the scene, urged me back into the library where he offered me a handkerchief and brandy. I accepted the former, refused the latter, and indulged in a good cry.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” Robert sat next to me, concerned by my outburst.
“Nothing other than shaking some sense into that horrible man.”
/> “St. John? Why is he horrible?”
“Because…he heard me say…oh, it’s too complicated,” I sniveled into his handkerchief, annoyed at myself for being so weak. “I will just say this: I had never been fond of those novels whose plots revolved around foolish misunderstandings between characters, but it’s a thousand times more intolerable in real life.”
“Ah, I begin to see.” Robert sat back and watched me with a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Could it be that your answer to my question was going to finish but I love you like a brother?”
“Yes. You know that, Robert, I do love you like a brother.”
He grimaced, thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “I guess being loved like a brother is better than not being loved at all.”
I sniffed.
“And St. John, he is the object of your affections?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. So when he heard you say—”
“—that I loved you—”
“—he misinterpreted the statement.” Robert smiled again. “This is a problem easily solved. I will go to him in the morning and explain everything.”
“You will do nothing of the kind. I tried to explain the situation to him, but he is the most obstinate man I have ever met. When he is tired of playing the martyr, then I will tell him what I meant.”
“Ah, Cassandra,” he shook his head at me, “you are playing a dangerous game. It’s best to clear up misunderstandings like this before they grow too big.”
I thought about that for a few moments. “I suppose you are right. I could write him a letter explaining it.”
He patted my hand. “There’s no need. Since I was the unwitting stumbling block in your romance, I will go to the man and explain. Now, tell me about him.”
I spent the rest of the evening talking to Robert about his life in South Africa, suffrage work, and Griffin. He was an excellent and compassionate listener, so it came as no surprise that by the time I retired I had agreed to let him call on Griffin. On my way up to bed, I encountered Joshua. He stood outside my room, fidgeting with the doorframe.