by Deborah Camp
Griffon lounged in the chair, crossing his arms and extending a smile that felt cool on his lips. “How magnanimous of you.”
“Now, Griffon, don’t get your hackles up. I was complimenting you.”
“You were patronizing me,” he corrected. “How can you sit there in judgment of something you know so little about? You have no earthly idea what my work at the Society entails. I don’t gallivant across the country advertising myself as a human bloodhound, you know.” He squinted one eye, struck by a thought. “Or do you? Do you actually think that this”—he extended both arms to indicate his surroundings and situation—“is what I do for a living?”
She turned her head, doing a slow survey of the room. “Isn’t it?”
“Of course not!” He brought one hand down flat on the table, giving her a start. “I’ll have you know, Miss Meeker, that I lecture, I write scientific articles, I research, and I tutor other psychics. I’m a scholar, Lily Jane Meeker. Not a supernatural detective.”
“Then why did you volunteer to find Cecille?”
“I didn’t; I was enlisted. Your father asked Thurman Unger to help if he could, and Thurman turned to me.” He drummed his fingers on the table top, recalling his resistance to leaving his work at the Society for the wilds of Arkansas. “I can’t refuse Thurman. I owe him too much.”
“But now you’re glad you accepted because you met me.”
He regarded her saucy smile and his pulse quickened. Witchy woman, he thought, who could cast a spell on him as easily as casting a net over a submissive animal. “Do you feel different today, Lily? Did Orrie suspect you’d changed?”
“Orrie suspects nothing, but I do feel different.”
“How so?”
“Wiser, more mature.” Her lashes lifted briefly to reveal the glimmer in her brown eyes. “Liberated.”
The restaurant walls closed in, and the drone of the other conversations battered his ears. Griffon captured one of Lily’s hands and pulled her up from the chair with him.
“Come on. Follow me.”
“Griffon, where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.” He glanced around, looking for just such a place. He recalled a hallway, dark and narrow, giving access to the office and storage rooms in the back of the hotel. He led the way, pulling Lily along, turning a deaf ear to her protests.
The hallway was as he remembered: dark and secretive. Halfway down it, he grabbed Lily’s shoulders and pressed her back against the wall. Her eyes seemed enormous, full of brassy highlights. He drew his thumbs over the arch of her brows, sensing her mixture of anticipation and puzzlement.
“You are a beautiful creature,” he murmured, absorbing each feature and locking them firmly in his memory. “Do you know what agony it is to sit near you and not be able to do this?” He rubbed a kiss upon her soft lips. “And this.” He filled his hands with her breasts, but the layers of her clothing thwarted him. “Wearing your armor today, are you?”
“What armor?”
“That bloody corset.” He plucked at the places where her nipples were hidden beneath three or four layers of fabric. She flung back her head and moaned, revealing that he’d found them. Twin flames burned in her eyes.
“Oh, what you do to me, Griffon.” She lowered her voice, giving it a purring quality. “Keeping my hands off you is a sweet torture. My behavior is shameful.”
He laughed at her for thinking she had tarnished her morals. “Your behavior is delightful.” Then he took her mouth as he’d wanted to take it ever since she’d seated herself at the breakfast table. He buried his fingers in her lustrous hair and angled her to slant his mouth more fully across hers.
Her tongue touched his, quivering. He delved deeper, familiarizing himself with her taste and smell. He felt her hands roaming his back and one of her legs slipped between his. Her thigh rode up, rubbed his hardness, made him groan and want her more feverishly.
“Mmm, Lily,” he muttered, dropping his face to the curve of her shoulder and nuzzling her sweet-smelling skin. “There is so much I want to do to you.”
She laughed and raked her fingers through his hair. “Such as, Mr. Goforth?”
“I want to wrap your lovely legs around my waist, and I want to join with you and take you to the brink of passion. Then I’ll worship your honeyed breasts with my mouth, and I’ll go deeper and deeper until I touch off a flood of—”
“Hush, hush,” she begged, shaking her head, eyes closed. “You torment me.”
He caressed her ear with his lips. “Let’s go to your room and lock the door.”
“No. We can’t.”
“My room then.”
“No.” Suddenly her hands weren’t gentle, but strong and insistent. “Griffon, no.”
He raised his head slowly and regretted that the fire had died in her eyes. “Why not?”
“You were going to speak to the sheriff, were you not?”
“I can do that later.”
“Do it now.” She stepped sideways, escaping him. “Cecille must be the priority. Besides, while I don’t regret my time with you yesterday, I’m not entirely sure we should continue in that vein.”
He propped his hands at his waist. “Is that so? Then why were you kissing me just now and rubbing against”—he dropped his gaze to the body part that ached the worst—“me?”
She covered her embarrassment with a spate of laughter. “I love kissing you and being held by you. What I meant is, I’m not sure I should make love with you again … that is, it’s morally wrong. Lovely as it was, my conscience is calling me all kinds of vile names.”
“What happened to your being liberated?” His Gypsy blood revolted against her attempt to make him play by gadjo rules. “Why do you follow standards set by a society that doesn’t even regard you as equal to men? You have no voice, no vote.”
“That’s true, but it’s where I live, and I can’t fly in the face of those standards and expect to benefit.”
More arguments sprang to mind, but he shook them off. “This is a fight you must wage against yourself. It’s really nothing to do with me.” He bumped into her, flattening her against the wall again. “Know this, Lily. When the battle is over, and if the victor is truly liberated and wants her reward, then you come to me.” He captured the lower half of her face in one hand. “With regard to you, my conscience is clear. I’m going to keep my appointment with the sheriff, but I’ll be back this evening in time to escort you to the Fishbines’ dinner.” He pressed his mouth to hers and licked the seam of her lips. “I love kissing you and holding you, too. But it’s not enough for me, Lily. Now that I have tasted jam, don’t expect me to be satisfied with only bread and butter.”
Chapter 15
“Oh, my!” Lily stood back to admire Griffon’s dark suit and the red rose gracing his lapel. She took the three white roses he offered shyly, overcome by his powerful masculinity. “You look like a dark knight,” she told him. “I think I’ll place these in my hair.” She went to the bureau mirror to position the roses in the soft waves of her upswept hairstyle.
“You’re quite dashing,” Orrie agreed. “And isn’t Lily a vision in that peach-colored dress? I packed it for her just in case there was a social occasion. Got a mite wrinkled, but I borrowed a flatiron from the hotel and touched it up right quick.”
Griffon fingered his wide tie, checking to make sure it was straight. “Zar talked me into packing one good suit. I’m glad he did. What will you and Zar do with yourselves this evening, Orrie?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Orrie said, turning Lily to face her. She secured the flowers and fussed a moment with the puffy sleeves of Lily’s gown of peach satin and pale pink lace.
“They’ll read poetry to each other,” Lily teased. “And they’ll retire to their rooms directly after dinner and lose themselves in their books. Is that about the size of it, Orrie?”
“You hush your sassy mouth.” Orrie gave Lily a gentle push. “Off with you. Remember your manners and thank your host
s for the invitation.”
“Yes’m.” Lily essayed a curtsy. She linked her arm with Griffon’s and let her pleasure shine in her smile. “Shall we take our lovely selves out onto the drab streets of Van Buren, Mr. Goforth?”
“Let’s.” He waved to Orrie and winked at Balthazar, who was standing outside their room, then escorted Lily from the hotel.
“I see that you’re wearing a hat again,” Lily noted. “Your wound is less tender?”
“Nearly healed. I’m tough as boot leather.”
She tucked her free hand in the crook of his arm. “Anything to report? Are you still planning on your trip to Devil’s Den tomorrow?”
“Yes, and I have little to report. The saloon girls say that Anson is charming and dangerous. Oddly, he never slept with any of them. He just flirted. They seemed to think he was faithful to his wife.”
“That is odd. It’s not the image I have of him.”
“Nor mine. Perhaps he really fell in love with Cecille and broke his marriage vows for the first time with her.”
“What did the sheriff have to say?”
“Nothing new. He warned me again to go armed to the teeth. It’s hostile country, as we well know.”
“You will be careful, won’t you?”
He squeezed her hand on his arm. “I will.”
“I’ve thought of Cecille all day,” she confessed. “Even when I took a nap, I dreamed of her.”
“What did you dream? Tell me everything you remember of it.”
“Why? Surely, you don’t give credence to dreams.”
“I do, and so should you. Dreams are wishes or fears. Often they are the most honest revelations, the most naked. If you care to study them, they’ll guide you over life’s bumps.” He patted her hand and smiled his encouragement. “So, tell me, Lily.”
She watched the motion of her skirt as she walked, heard the whisper of satin and silk. Around her the town of Van Buren had lowered its voice to a murmur. The street was dark, lit only by lantern light spilling from the windows of the hotels and saloons. She thought of the figure they cut on the boardwalk. Griffon, tall and darkly attired, his face set in pleasant lines as he looked at her. She, petite beside him, avoiding his ardent gaze because it brought a blush to her cheeks.
“It wasn’t a dream, actually. It was a nightmare.” She pressed her shoulder against his, needing to be close to him while she recalled this bit of horror. “I was walking in the woods and a hand shot up from the ground, grabbed me by the ankle, and pulled me right down through the ground and into a dark, cold place. I saw Cecille. She looked so sad. She was crying. Tears glistened on her cheeks. I asked her where we were, and she said we were in hell. Then she pointed to one side and introduced me to the devil. But I was too afraid to look at him. I heard him laughing and that was enough. It was horrible. Then I woke up.”
“Vivid,” he said after a few moments. “When dreams are that vivid they are most certainly a message. I wouldn’t be surprised if that particular nightmare came from Cecille.”
“Came from … You mean, you think Cecille sent me that nightmare? Sent it with her mind?”
“Not exactly.” He frowned, deliberating. “You caught it. Like a cold. It was out there, floating from Cecille, and you caught it.”
“Are you joshing?”
“No.” He dipped his head to arrest her gaze. “You’re a magnet, just like me. You receive thoughts and feelings without courting them or asking for them. Haven’t you ever felt that? Haven’t things dropped into your head, things that weren’t any of your business but there they were suddenly, bouncing about in your mind?”
“Yes, sometimes.” She shook off the uneasiness such talk created in her and checked her stride. “Isn’t this where we turn?”
“So it is. Another three blocks to their house, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. How shall I introduce you? Do you want them to know you’re investigating Cecille’s disappearance?”
“I’m not ashamed of it. But if you’d rather make up a pretty lie about me—”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I’ll let you introduce yourself.” She lengthened her stride. “I wonder what I must do to convince you that I’m not ashamed to be seen with you. You should be less defensive, Griffon.” A blur of movement drew her attention, and she leaned forward to look past Griffon in time to see Jasper Jeffers loping across the street toward them. “Griffon, look who’s following us.”
“Hey, purty gal.” Jasper grinned at Lily, then bobbed his round head at Griffon.
“Good evening, Jasper. What are you doing in town this late?” Lily asked.
“Lookin’ at you.” He blushed and giggled.
“We’re going to dinner at the Fishbines’.”
“Can Jasper walk a ways with you?”
“Well, I …” Lily looked at Griffon inquiringly.
“Of course.” Griffon placed an arm around Jasper’s hunched shoulders, and the boy/man fell into step with them, his bright eyes trained on Lily. “Have you been following us, Jasper?”
“Naw, not much. Jasper was worried about the purty lady and wanted to see that she was feeling fine again.”
“As you can see, I’m quite fit,” Lily assured him. “It was sweet of you to be concerned. How’s your family? Everyone well?”
“Sure. They’s healthy as hogs.”
“Even Anson?”
“Sure, him too.” Jasper’s eyes bulged, and he darted a scared look at Griffon and Lily. “Far as Jasper knows, he is. Anson’s not at home no more.”
“Where did he go?” Griffon asked, but Jasper only shrugged and pressed his lips tightly together. “Jasper, do you know that it’s wrong to lie?”
“Uh-huh. Maw-Maw tole me.”
“Have you ever lied?”
Jasper shuffled to a halt, and his eyes seemed big and sad in the fading light as he trained them on Griffon. His lower lip quivered slightly. “Jasper’s a good boy.”
“Of course you are,” Lily said, touching his shoulder. “Poor dear. Griffon, be careful. He’s sensitive, vulnerable. Can’t you see that?”
“Jasper, you want to be Lily’s friend, don’t you?” Griffon asked.
Jasper nodded, smiling shyly at Lily.
“Friends always tell their friends the truth.”
“Griffon …” Lily frowned, trying to veer him from this tack.
“Fam’ly more better than friends,” Jasper said, pushing out his lower lip. His dark, unwashed hair hung over his forehead and into his eyes. “Got to do what fam’ly says or Jasper gets whupped.”
“We don’t want you to get whipped,” Lily said, pushing the hair from Jasper’s eyes. “We only want the truth, Jasper. But if you can’t tell us the truth, then that’s all right. Don’t you fret.”
“Lily, quit coddling him. Jasper knows right from wrong. He knows the difference. He knows it’s wrong to lie and it’s wrong to steal people from their homes. Lily’s cousin has been stolen, Jasper. How would you like it if someone snatched you from your mother and wouldn’t let you go back home to her?” Griffon leaned down to be at eye level with Jasper. “Wouldn’t you want someone to find you and get you back home safely?”
Jasper nodded. “Uh-huh. Maw-Maw would cry if Jasper went away.”
“Lily’s been crying because her cousin Cecille went away.”
Jasper looked from Griffon to Lily. “You been cryin’?”
“Yes, I have. I’m frightened for my cousin.” She untwisted the strap of his overalls. “I’m very sad, Jasper. If you really like me—”
“Jasper does,” he cut in, his head bobbing like a horse’s at a fast clip. “You chased those bad boys away from Jasper.”
“That’s right, and I’d do it again for you. We’re friends.” She laid a comforting hand along his chubby cheek. The prick of whiskers felt odd since she thought of him as a child instead of a grown man. “Friends help friends, Jasper.”
“Don’t cry, purty gal. Jasper is your friend.” Con
cern clouded his eyes. “Anson done gone and—”
“She is mighty pretty,” someone drawled from across the street, making all of them jump guiltily.
“Who’s there?” Griffon called.
Ham Jeffers stepped into the light thrown from the second-story windows of a boardinghouse. He sauntered toward them, hands thrust in the pockets of threadbare pants. He wore no shirt, only a plaid vest left unbuttoned to expose a muscled chest. He was shorter than Griffon, but probably outweighed him by ten or twelve pounds. A slouch hat hid the upper part of his face, but his mouth sneered at them. Jasper scrambled toward him, ducking behind his big brother, not for protection but to show submissiveness. The action infuriated Lily, and she gritted her teeth to keep from hurling insults at Ham.
“You’re right, little brother. She sure does look purty tonight all gussied up, prancing down the street like a proud filly with roses in her mane.”
Griffon stepped forward. “I thought you Jeffers boys hardly ever came to town, but it seems you’re always hanging around.”
“Jasper here was worried about this gal, and I had a hankering for some female meat, so I brought him in to town tonight.” He lifted his head enough for the light to reach his eyes. They reminded Lily of a snake’s, slanted and mean. “Not that it’s any of your business, Gypsy.” He said the last word like a curse.
Lily shivered at his reference to women as something to devour. “Griffon, we should go. We’ll be late.”
“Y’all going to a party?” Ham asked. His laughter added more insult. “I thought y’all was looking for a lost relative. Guess you’re not so worried that you can’t take time to kick up your heels.” He winked at Griffon. “Never pass up a chance to rub up against decent folks, do you, Gypsy?”
“Eva is Gypsy,” Griffon pointed out.
“She’s his blood, not mine,” Ham said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Jasper. “I got no use for Gypsy trash.”
“You’d do well to watch your mouth,” Griffon said, pitching his voice low to a near growl.
Lily plucked at his sleeve. “Come on, Griffon. Please.”