“Is that for you?” Sam wanted to know.
“No.” Griffin set the plate aside, intending to get it once he’d collected Jordon’s clothes from the kitchen. He was thinking furiously of delaying tactics. He’d decided sometime in the nightthat he was keeping Jordon. Now he just had to convince her of the wisdom in staying.
Mrs Y. sent him a knowing look as he entered the room. Well, she’d known what she was doing when she gave Jordon the room next to his. She’d been trying to get him to wed for years.
He ignored her and headed to the fireplace. Jordon’s things were dry, and most of her clothes had been folded and placed on a chair.
“I washed her socks and underthings,” Mrs Y. said casually. “I’m afraid she’ll have some difficulty, though. Her sweater seems to have disliked the rain.”
He shot her a curious look, then lifted the soft blue sweater from the pile to have a closer look. After a moment, he smiled. Somehow he doubted Jordon would be in a hurry to leave in this.
Jordon was dismayed to see her favourite sweater shrunken to the size of a handkerchief. But she rallied quickly. She was not going to allow it to slow her down. “I’ll need to borrow one of your shirts.”
Griffin made a face. “Darling, it would swamp you! If you’ll be patient, I’ll send for the village seamstress. She’s really very good.”
Jordon looked at him coldly. “I am not sitting around in a blanket all day. Nor am I going to wearthat.” She glared at the maid’s uniform that he’d brought along as an alternative.
He looked over her head and drew a breath as if to control his temper. He did not seem interested in helping her leave. The storm was over. She needed to go home if she could.
She worried about that as she put on the shirt he brought her, ignoring the way it hung to her knees. She grudgingly thanked him for the jacket.
“It’s chilly this morning,” he said off hand. “Shall we?”
She wished he wasn’t the one walking her down the long driveway. Walking gave her too much time to think. She began to feel apologetic. “I’m sorry about last night.”
He raised his brows in enquiry. He was still being cool and aristocratic.
She hated it. “It was my fault. If there are . . . complications . . .”
He stopped. “I suggest you stop right there. We can discuss this after you’ve had a look at the road. Once you’ve ascertained for yourself that you can’t go home, we’ll discuss it further.”
She looked at him grimly. “I think I should say it before I disappear. There may not be another chance.”
“I doubt that.” He began walking again, rapidly this time. “Magic doesn’t work that way.”
“What do you mean?” She had to stretch her legs to keep up with him.
He saw it and slowed to an easier pace. “You were brought here for a purpose. You’d do better to spend your time discovering what that is than . . .” He trailed off. “No, forgive me. I suppose you’re being reasonable enough, from your point of view.”
She looked at him, surprised at his capitulation. “Really.”
He smiled charmingly. “I’m merely upset that you’re so eager to run away from me.”
She coloured and looked forwards. “About that. I’m not in the habit of leaping on men. It’s just that it’s been a while.” She saw that he was listening attentively. “My husband’s been gone two years now. He was killed in battle.”
“I’m sorry,” Griffin said respectfully. “You loved him, of course.”
Her throat tightened. “Yeah.” They were approaching the gates now. It seemed important to make him understand. “I think it’s become a habit, you know? The grief. I’ve been searching for a way to . . . heal, I guess. Last night, I think I used you.” She swallowed.
He stopped her. When she wouldn’t meet his eyes, he took her hands. “Jordon Hearst, I do not feel used. Have you considered that finding a new love is one of the best ways to heal?”
She jerked her hands back with a gasp. She wanted to berate him. How dare he? And yet . . . “I don’t love you. I barely know you.”
“Today, that’s true. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”
She didn’t want to discuss this. She strode through the gate, still hoping he’d leave her alone. She searched the ground carefully, glad for the excuse to hide her eyes. She didn’t love him. There was no such thing as love at first sight.
Of course, there were no such things as griffins, either. Or time travel, for that matter.She ignored that errant little thought, concentrating on her task. She didn’t have time for nonsense.
