by Deborah Camp
“Lily! It’s Griffon, Lily!”
The world she knew engulfed her again. Griffon stood before her, concern etched on his face. She began to shake, afraid of what had happened to her. It had occurred before—this slipping into another world and seeing with someone else’s eyes—but long ago. She’d thought that it wouldn’t ever happen again. But it was upon her once more, this helpless, irrational journey to somewhere else in time.
“What did you see, Lily?” Griffon asked. “Did you see Cecille?”
She stared at him in amazement. He knew what had happened to her! Lily clung to him, grateful for a strong shoulder and an understanding heart. But then denial topped her inner horizon, riding to her rescue, and she shook her head violently. No! her mind screamed. You’re normal. You’re not a freak. Nothing happened. You imagined it.
“Lily, talk to me. Tell me what you saw while it’s still fresh in your mind.”
“N-nothing. I saw nothing. I was … was daydreaming.”
“Daydreaming?” he repeated, incredulous. “Quit this silly game and tell me what you saw.”
“Nothing. I told you.” She struggled, trying to escape him, but he held fast. “I was only imagining things.”
“Like hell.”
“Don’t speak to me that way!”
“You’re lying. Don’t you want to find Cecille?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then why are you blocking my way to her?”
“I’m doing nothing of the kind. You’re the one who’s supposed to see things.” This time she was successful at jerking from his grasp. “You’re the strange one, not me.”
He delivered a speculative glare. “Strange? You find me strange, do you? I’m not the one who went into a trance a moment ago.”
“I wasn’t in a trance. But, of course, that’s what you would call it.” She tried to laugh it off. “I was imagining what it might have been like for Cecille here, something quite common for normal people to do.”
He crossed his arms against his chest. “All right. If this is how you want to play the game, what did you imagine?”
Resentment stirred in her at his condescending tone. “It’s not important.”
“It’s important to me.” His voice rapped like hard knuckles.
“Very well.” She sighed, surrendering to his obstinate manner. “I imagined her with a dark man—the Gypsy dancer.”
“He’s not a Gypsy.”
“Well, whatever he is,” she said, waving aside his point. “He was angry.”
“About what?”
“About Cecille not wanting to see him again, I suppose. He said he wouldn’t let her go. She belonged to him, he said.”
“Was she frightened?”
“Oh, yes. She felt panicked. She knew she’d made a mistake by expecting him to be civilized. He’s not civilized. He’s wild and exotic. That’s why she likes him … liked him.” Lily realized she’d slipped backward into her waking dream, finding feelings she’d overlooked before. She blocked out the rest and glanced nervously at Griffon. He smiled arrogantly.
“Quite an imagination you have there, Lily.”
“At least I call it by its rightful name and don’t try to dress it up as something it isn’t.” She looked around at the roomy loft. Bird nests took up every corner and spilled over cross beams.
Griffon removed his hat and twirled it on one finger. “You’re telling me that you think all I possess is an active imagination? That’s what you really think about me, Lily?”
She didn’t answer, but pretended to examine the rusted pulley suspended outside the loft opening. She wished he’d concentrate on Cecille and not on her.
“I’ll be glad to concentrate on Cecille, if you’ll only quit this stupid game of pretending I’m a lying thief who has come to lift your uncle’s purse.”
Almost against her will, her gaze shifted slowly to him as an ice-cold drop of alarm rolled down her spine. Her exact mental words, she thought. He’d spoken them back to her.
“I can’t read your mind entirely or constantly,” he said, still twirling his hat, his light-colored eyes bound to her. “But I can pick out bits and pieces. Enough to know that your refusal to believe me or in me has very little to do with me. What happened, Lily, to make you so afraid of the sixth sense?”
“There’s no such thing.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I just said it, didn’t I?”
“Yes, like a recital, like something you’ve been told to say. But you don’t believe it.”
Lily kicked irritably at the hay. “What has this to do with Cecille?”
“At least tell me this—do you feel she was taken away against her will by this dark stranger?”
“How should I know? I wasn’t there!” She heard the edge of hysteria in her voice and strove to erase it. What was it about Griffon Goforth that put her on edge, made her want to scream and cry and run away? He was always pushing her into corners, that’s what.
“Very well, do you imagine this man might have kidnapped Cecille, or did she go willingly? Do you imagine she’s still alive?”
“I don’t know,” she said, frostily. “But I imagine if we don’t leave this silly talk behind I shall be forced to slap your arrogant face!”
He paced briefly, hat in hand, eyeing her as if she were a puzzle he had to solve. “Stand near that post again.”
She looked at the spot. “Why?”
“Just do it,” he bit out.
With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she obeyed and then fixed a bored expression on her face. “What, pray tell, does this prove?”
“That’s where you were standing when you went into your trance.”
“I wasn’t having a trance,” she objected, but not heatedly. Arguing with him, she found, drained her. She leaned a shoulder against the post to show her weariness.
A chilly breath blew over her and the world dimmed again. She felt smothered. She tried to make a sound, but couldn’t. Something was over her mouth, cutting off her wind. Terror blossomed in her. Pain, sharp and piercing, exploded in her skull. Lily grabbed her head in both hands and squeezed her eyes shut.
As quickly as the events had galloped over her, they were gone. She opened her eyes. Griffon stood in front of her, his knowing eyes seeing everything, understanding what confused her, embracing what frightened her.
“What do you feel, Lily?” he asked, hands framing her face with a gentleness that found its way to her heart.
“He took her away,” she whispered, slowly gathering her senses again. “I think he hit her on the head. She blacked out. He took her with him. The pain …” Lily blinked as tears stung her eyes. “The pain in my head. Something hit me—her.”
Griffon nodded. “Okay then.” He pulled Lily into his arms and held her against him. He pushed her bonnet off. It fell, unheeded, to the loft floor. “Now we have a direction. I’ll go to Van Buren. That’s where he took her, don’t you think?”
She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his lapel. He smelled of masculine things, and she purred with contentment. Curiously, she had no wish to leave his sheltering embrace. She liked the security of his arms around her waist and back, the solid strength of him.
“I’m certain I’ll find something in Van Buren. Vick didn’t even try that hard. He asked, got an answer, didn’t question it, and left. I won’t be so easily pacified.”
“She’s still alive,” Lily whispered. “I know it.”
“So do I, but time is precious.” Treasured seconds ticked by before he spoke again. “Lily, are you all right? You’re not trembling anymore. Feel chipper, do you?”
“Yes.” She hadn’t been aware of trembling until he mentioned it. She eased back to look into his face. The understanding she saw in his eyes was comforting. “I think if anyone can find Cecille, you can.”
“I appreciate that, especially coming from you.”
Lily sensed he wanted to kiss her. She knew she could simply step out
of his arms to elude the kiss, but her heart held her in place. It beat wildly, pumped longing in her veins. Her hands inched up under his collar to his shoulders as he bent over her. A thrill arrowed through her when his lips touched hers. She rose on tiptoe and pressed her mouth more firmly to his. Her response started a fire in him that blazed out of control in a split second.
He caught her against him and his tongue probed the seam of her lips. A relative novice at deep kisses, Lily resisted the urge to part her lips, partly in fear of what such an action might trigger in him. She turned her head, and his mouth left a moist trail across her cheek. He buried his face in the side of her neck.
“Lily, kiss me again,” he said, his voice hoarse, his breath like the lick of a flame.
“We shouldn’t …” She managed to squirm from his embrace. Her heart fluttered like the startled birds overhead.
This is lust, she thought, somewhat dazed. This is what Cecille had described; overwhelming warmth that steals the breath and sets the heart to beating like a drum. Lily had never felt it … until this moment. It stunned her that she should feel passion for Griffon Goforth, but a wiser side of her made her see how true to character it was for her to want this dark, mysterious Gypsy. Like Cecille, she had been raised on Orrie’s romantic stories. But unlike Cecille, Lily thought, she wouldn’t succumb to such nonsense.
Lily fit her bonnet onto her head again and tightened the bow under her chin. “We won’t speak of this again.”
“Speak of what again?”
“Of what just happened between us,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to find him looking perplexed. “It was a … a momentary lapse. A mistake.”
“Speak for yourself.”
She touched her lips, remembering that flash of pure pleasure. “I think we should go now.”
“Yes, I have to make travel plans.”
“So do I.” She started for the ladder, but he hooked her elbow.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m going with you to Van Buren.”
“Oh, no you’re not. Zar and I will handle this from here on.”
“I’m going with you,” she repeated, snatching her elbow from his hand.
“We’ll see about that.” He went to the ladder and started down first. “I don’t believe your aunt and uncle will allow it.”
“And why not?”
“A young woman running off with two bachelors?” He clucked his tongue, chiding her. “I think not, Miss Lily. You’ll just have to trust me.”
Mischief sparkled in his blue eyes, so she didn’t bother to argue. She’d save her arguments for when she spoke to her aunt and uncle. She’d need her full arsenal then.
Chapter 5
Seated under a grape arbor in the backyard, Griffon and Balthazar listened to the angry voices drifting from the Meeker house.
“Absolutely not!” Howard Meeker boomed. “What would your father say if he heard that I’d allowed his only child to travel with two unmarried men?”
“I doubt if Father would care all that much,” Lily answered, her voice calmer but nonetheless agitated.
Griffon looked across at Balthazar and arched a brow. “Sounds like there’s trouble between Lily and her father.”
“I asked Orrie about that earlier. I thought it odd that Miss Lily lived here instead of with him.” Balthazar slouched lower in the cane chair. “She said Lily preferred living in Fort Smith, and she said several times that Professor John Meeker is quite a busy man. Must not have had time to raise a child by himself, so he let his brother and sister-in-law do it for him.”
“I wonder how Lily feels about that,” Griffon mused.
“She surely resents it. Who wouldn’t? Show me an abandoned child and I’ll show you an adult with a grudge.”
Griffon chuckled. “True. So true. Heaven knows, I’ve nursed my own share of them.” He lifted a finger to his lips as the voices rose again.
“… tired of playing by rules I had no part in making!” It was Lily. “If I wanted to sport with either of those men or both of them I could do it right in my own backyard. I surely don’t have to travel to Van Buren for such behavior.”
“Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Such talk…. I feel faint,” Nan Meeker wailed. “Orrie, the smelling salts. Quick!”
Balthazar started laughing, and Griffon shushed him, although he, too, was amused by Nan Meeker’s theatrics.
“Look what you’ve done,” Howard Meeker said. “Hasn’t your poor aunt had enough woe without this?”
“Orrie can go with me,” Lily said, her voice rising with hope. “Orrie will be my chaperone. That’ll make everything proper, won’t it?”
“Why do you want to go in the first place? Mr. Goforth and his assistant will only be hindered by you,” Howard said.
Balthazar grunted. “I hope she listens to him. One thing we don’t need is two nosy women dogging our footsteps.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Griffon stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “Might make the trip that much more interesting.”
“I do believe that redheaded witch has cast a spell over you.”
“Zar, I told you about the trance. She’s psychic. I swear she is.”
Balthazar shrugged. “And so? You can find Miss Cecille without Miss Lily’s help. This might be dangerous business, Griffon. We shouldn’t involve the weaker sex. They should remain here, safe and sound.”
“She might be useful, Zar. Lily seems to have a connection with her cousin, even though she doesn’t realize it. Also, I’m intrigued by why she’s so afraid of her gifts. I’d like to find out—” He chopped off the rest, sensing someone’s approach.
“Mr. Goforth?” Howard Meeker ducked under the arbor.
“Yes, Mr. Meeker.” Griffon stood up from the chair. “Zar and I are taking advantage of this lovely evening. Is something wrong?”
“My headstrong niece is trying our patience. She wishes to go with you to Van Buren.”
“Yes, she mentioned that to me.”
Howard tugged at his beard. “Would you strongly object? I know it’s unorthodox, but she seems to think she might be able to help find Cecille. Orrie has agreed to chaperone her on the trip. I’ll quite understand if you’d prefer to go alone with Balthazar. The important thing is that Cecille is found. If you think Lily and Orrie will hinder you in that, then I’ll demand that this whole idea of theirs be dropped.”
“Hinder, yes,” Balthazar said, lurching to his feet. “Griffon, you must concentrate solely on locating Miss Cecille. Having others along will distract you.”
“Then it’s settled,” Howard said, starting to turn back to the house. “I’ll tell Lily that you’ve—”
“No, wait.” Griffon faced Howard Meeker. “I have no objection to Miss Lily and Orrie coming along with us to Van Buren.”
“Griffon, don’t be a fool,” Balthazar said. “You’re not thinking with your head, but with your—”
“Your opinion is noted, Zar.” Griffon glanced at his friend, and Balthazar backed off. “Now, as I was saying, Mr. Meeker, if Miss Lily wishes to travel with us, she’s welcome. She won’t be a burden.”
“Well, if you’re sure …” Howard ran a hand through his beard. “I admit I’m baffled. I thought you’d be adamant that she not be allowed to go along with you.”
Griffon smiled. “If by accompanying us she’ll receive some peace of mind, then I’m happy to let her come along.”
Howard studied Griffon for a few moments, then nodded. “Of course, you’re right. Lily has little patience. She’s been chomping at the bit ever since I hired Mr. Vick. Perhaps this trip will calm her.” He chuckled under his breath. “Making her stay here certainly won’t make our lives any easier. When she doesn’t get her way, Lily can be quite cross and unpleasant.”
Griffon laughed with him, knowing this to be true, if not an understatement.
“However, I will require your word as a gentleman that Lily won’t be compromised in any way. This tri
p is unorthodox, and I allow it only because Orrie swears she won’t let Lily out of her sight. I must have your solemn promise that you’ll not take advantage of my niece or of this situation, sir.”
Griffon nodded. “A gentlemen’s agreement. You have it.”
Howard looked pleased. “I’ll inform Lily of your graciousness.” He pumped Griffon’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome. It’s nothing, really,” Griffon assured him, and the man took his leave.
“A gentlemen’s agreement? How magnanimous,” Balthazar said sarcastically when Howard had returned to the house. “Since when have you ever taken such an agreement seriously? What has gotten into you, Griffon? Has this girl gone to your head like cheap wine?”
“Zar, I’m a man who lives by his instincts. Do you want me to go against them this time?”
“You mean, your instincts tell you to let Lily Meeker have her way with you?”
Griffon smiled, liking the sound of that, although he knew Balthazar had meant it to rile him. “I mean that there’s more to Lily Meeker than meets the eye. If you’d seen what happened in that barn loft earlier today, you’d understand. She could find Cecille by herself, probably, if she believed in her own mind power.”
Balthazar shrugged. “You’re the boss. I am merely the lowly assistant to the great and glorious Griffon Goforth.”
Griffon shook his head. “Zar, our carnival days are over. We are trying to be taken seriously these days, remember?”
The larger man fashioned a pitiful expression. “I miss the good old days. There was more drama back then … more excitement!”
“More money,” Griffon added, drolly.
“Exactly!” Balthazar rubbed his hands together and his eyes glinted with greed.
“And most of that loot was ill-gotten,” Griffon reminded him. “It’s a wonder we weren’t caught and thrown into prison.”
“We were too good to be caught. Not feeling guilty, are you? Where’s your Gypsy morality?”