Under the Bridge (19 page)

She swallowed. “Make an effort. If for no
other reason, you don't want to father a child tonight.” She had
not been on birth control since her husband had passed away, nearly
two years ago now. She had not been ready to risk her heart
again.

To her surprise, his eyes flared with
interest. “Don't be so certain! If I thought such a thing were
possible....” He took a careful step back. “Children require a more
careful level of courtship. I will have to consider this.” He made
her a slight bow. “Goodnight.” Before Jordan could ask him what he
meant, he was gone.

As a man of duel nature, Griffin had often
had to battle his animal side. Tonight, he was inclined to agree
with the Griffin. He wanted her, and when she'd mentioned
children...

He shook his head. Well, it had been coming
on him for some time now. He had fought the urge to take a mate,
partially because he'd enjoyed his freedom, partially because he'd
never found a woman who seemed right. Of course, he'd never met a
woman like Jordan.

She was a puzzle. He wasn't particularly
bothered by her origins, but he was interested to know why the
banshee had come after her. As far as he knew, banshees were never
far from their native bogs and moors. He'd never met one in person
until tonight. Had she somehow angered them?

He reviewed what she'd told him. Someone from
her time tried to kill her; a man. Lightning brought her here and
apparently it had saved her life. The banshee attacked her. Had
they done that alone, or had they been sent? A powerful fae could
arrange that. Fae could also time travel.

An interesting puzzle, and griffins loved
puzzles. He would have to consider this. And since the lovely
Jordan was part of the puzzle, he would have to think very
earnestly of her as well. Smiling to himself, he made his way to
his room.

Jordan dreamed of her killer. She could not
see his face, could not seem to remember it, either. Yet she knew
it was him.

He was a shadow in her dreams. Warm,
seductive. “Ah, Jordan, my love! We got off to a bad start. I've
come to make amends.” He held a white rose in his hand, a sign of
peace. “Do you forgive me?”

Jordan was in the same room she'd fallen
asleep in, but instead of soft quilts and cotton gown, now her only
covering was a thin silk sheet. In the dream she was aroused,
deeply so. It made her angry. “Go away!”

His voice was teasing, though he pretended to
be wounded. “Ah, but I've promised to make peace with my sister.
She was very upset that I put you in harms way.” He moved closer as
he spoke, trailed the rose over Jordan's calf. “I've been very
naughty.”

She gulped and kicked the rose through the
sheet. “Get out!”

He ignored her, sat on the bed. Jordan
hunched into a ball at the headboard. “You're making me angry,” she
bit out. Even the force of her arousal was not enough to combat
that.

He scanned her slowly. “It will come to a
choice, you know. There could be peace if you chose me.
Griffin...he is an animal, you know.” He shook his head
chidingly.

“Jordan.”

She didn't know who spoke her name, but the
shadow seemed annoyed. “He would come,” it said.

“Jordan!” It was Griffin's voice, and he
sounded concerned.

“Interfering animal,” the shadow said, and
stood up. “Very well. There will be other nights.”

“JORDAN!” Griffin roared, and this time her
eyes flew open. She sat there staring at him...and then she looked
down at her foot. A single white petal lay on the quilts. With a
cry of alarm, she kicked it off as if it were a spider. It flew
into the air and vanished.

“Did you see it?” she asked Griffin,
panicked. “The rose? He brought a rose!”

“I believe you,” Griffin said soothingly,
stroking her back. “I heard you through the wall.”

“W-what wall?” she gasped. She was hardly
coherent. The dream had scared her badly.

“Mine is the next room,” he said, still
soothing. “I'm glad you woke me.”

But Jordan was in no mood to be soothed, not
like this. Fear was not the only lingering effect of the dream, and
Griffin was a handy outlet. She threw herself at him, ground her
mouth into his...and suddenly it was not the dream alone that drove
her.

He tasted delicious. She'd never had a kiss
so luscious. His hair was like silk....

Griffin was not the least put out by her
demands. After one startled murmur, he enthusiastically took over,
curling a hand around her hip to draw her closer. Moments later,
her gown flew over her head, apparently by magic. He was not
interested in going slowly, and neither was she.

He loved her breasts with tongue and gently
nipping teeth. She urged him on, gasping when he reached down and
squeezed her butt. Her legs fell open on reflex, and he laughed as
his mouth trailed down.

His lips were oh so soft, but not as hot as
his gently lapping tongue. Jordan screamed, writhing to escape his
wicked torment. It pleased him so greatly that he prolonged it,
lashing her again and again.

He didn’t warn her when he was ready, just
rose over her and thrust deep. She screamed in instant climax, then
moaned as he rode her, watching her face, milking every sensation
from her until she was soaked and begging. Once there, his face
changed, and he snarled. He sank his teeth gently into her neck and
drove hard, shaking the entire bed.

She fell asleep on top of him, still
intimately joined, and woke again in the night. The words they
exchanged during their loving could not be termed conversation.
“More,” and “yes” were more than enough.

Jordan woke to an empty bed. Hazily, she
raised her head and surveyed the tangled sheets. The quilt was
sideways, and her feet stuck out. A glance at the window showed it
was almost dawn.

She groaned and stuck her head under her
pillow. She could still feel him inside her, was still slightly
damp from the last time he'd seduced her. She could not have
managed the fourth round without his promise that he'd do all the
work. Not that he had, in the end...She just couldn't help
herself.

She muttered to herself and threw the pillow
off. Lurching to the washstand, she surveyed herself in the mirror,
and winced. No hiding that hickey! The man did like to leave his
mark. A glance at her breasts showed faint evidence of his
attentions there as well.

She hung her head and sighed. Stupid, girl.
Nice going. One bad dream and she threw herself at the first
available man. Lovely.

She looked around for her clothes and
remembered that she'd come up here wrapped in nothing but a
blanket. Growling to herself, she cleaned up at the washstand and
then wrapped herself in last night's quilt.

She kept her head high as she marched down
the stairs, just in case she ran into a servant. Fortunately, there
didn't seem to be any lurking about. She'd just made it down the
stairs and was marching for the kitchen when she was suddenly
scooped up like a doll and carried into an empty parlor.

“Griffin!” she shouted, not appreciating his
enthusiastic greeting.

He ignored her and sat in an armchair,
arranging her on his lap. He kissed her with great energy, as if he
hadn't spent all night enjoying her. “Good morning.”

She pushed him away, gasping a protest.
“Griffin! Do you mind―” she broke off in a yelp as he tugged down
her blanket and kissed her breasts.

“Good morning! Hell-o,” he murmured
appreciatively. “I've missed you.”

She growled at him, but there was no heat in
it. It was hard to be stern when he caressed her that way. She
slowly relaxed under his soothing hands, loving the rumble of his
voice as he praised her.

“Am I interrupting?” a languid voice
intruded.

Jordan gasped and covered her chest. There
was a man in the doorway, studiously looking at the portrait above
their heads. Dressed all in white and cream, he looked like a
gentleman. He held a folded newspaper in his hand, and he seemed
rather disapproving of the goings on.

Jordan struggled to get up. Griffin tightened
his arms around her and stood up, gently setting her on her feet.
“Hello, Sage. This is Jordan Hearst. I'm afraid I waylaid her on
her way to the kitchen.”

“Indeed.” Sage glanced over what he could see
of Jordan's neck and swollen lips. “Perhaps I should escort her the
rest of the way. You seem to be a somewhat negative influence.”

Jordan flushed, but walked toward him and
through the door, saying over her shoulder, “I can escort myself,
thank you. I was leaving this morning anyway.” Oh, she couldn't
wait to get away! How embarrassing.

Griffin was at her side in an instant. “I'm
certain you don't want to pass through the dining room right now.
That's what I was going to tell you before I got distracted.”

She stopped outside the door and said
suspiciously, “Why? Is someone in there?”

“My youngest brother is likely having
breakfast.”

Jordan paled. She definitely didn't want any
of his brothers seeing her like this. She shot a glance at Sage,
wondering if one already had. She started to run a hand through her
hair, then had to grab for the blanket again. “Okay,” she said
shakily. “I need my clothes. Coffee, too. I think you can manage
that much.” She glared at Griffin as if it were his fault. “Once
I'm dressed, I'm leaving.” She looked around, seeking a refuge.
“I'll wait in the parlor. The front door is closer from there.”

Griffin raised his brows, but seemed to
agree. He inclined his head and headed for the dinning room. Sage
went with him.

Jordan retreated to the parlor and sat
stiffly on a chair. She couldn't wait to get out of there!

Griffin met the interested face at the dining
table with a cool stare. He knew his brother Samhain had heard
every word. He also knew it wouldn't be repeated. Sam was no more a
talebearer than Sage. It didn't stop him from asking questions,
though.

“Miss Hurst sounded upset,” he said calmly.
His ears gave him away, though. He couldn't flatten them as a man,
but the slightly pointed tips twitched. He peered through his mane
of black hair as if waiting for a chance to trample his older
brother.

Griffin grimaced. “She's embarrassed. Sage
arrived at an inopportune moment.” He fixed a plate for Jordan and
poured a cup of coffee. No doubt she'd be hungry. He'd been starved
this morning. It had taken two heaping plates to satisfy him.

“Is that for you?” Sam asked.

“No.” Griffin set the plate aside, intending
to get it once he'd collected Jordan's clothes from the kitchen. He
was thinking furiously of delaying tactics. He'd decided somewhere
in the night that he was keeping Jordan. 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 Jordan
the room next to his. She'd been trying to get him to wed for
years.

He ignored her and headed to the fireplace.
Jordan's things were dry, and most had been folded and placed on a
chair.

“I washed her socks and under things,” Mrs. Y
said casually. “I'm afraid she'll have some difficulty, though. Her
jumper seems to have disliked the rain.”

He shot her a curious look and lifted the
soft blue garment from the pile to have a closer look. After a
moment, he smiled. Somehow he doubted Jordan would be in a hurry to
leave in this.

Jordan was dismayed to see her favorite
sweater shrunken to the size of a handkerchief. She rallied
quickly, though. 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.”

Jordan looked at him coldly. “I am not
sitting around in a blanket all day. Nor am I going to wear
that
.” 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. Too bad. The storm was over and 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 inquiry. 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 really had to stretch
her legs to keep up.

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 was 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 colored and looked forward. “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.”