"Why did you go alone?"

"What were you thinking?"

"What would we have done if something had happened to you?"

She wanted nothing more than to flee the questions. She had paid the price of her foolishness in her terror of the dark alley. Of course, Ethan and Lavinia didn't know that. She had decided against telling them. It would have only made things worse.

Their expressions when they looked at her were worse than any words might have been. Lavinia's big eyes lingered on her, and she could see the evidence of concern mirrored in their depths. In fact, the effect her short disappearance had had on Lavinia was easy to see in her pale features.

Cassandra had never felt so trapped in such a large house. She almost wished the Fergus's hadn't offered to house them for a few days. She suspected they had done so to make it easier to keep an eye on Lavinia, but Charles had claimed it was only because he needed Ethan's help with some estate papers.

It wasn't that they meant to make her feel so terrible, but the scolding she had received from Ethan about her irresponsibility added to Lavinia's appearance made her feel like a naughty schoolgirl who must be put back in her place. That was what had made her leave out the details of her stay in that dirty little village. They didn't need to know, and she had no need to tell them.

Drawing a deep breath, she shuddered at the memories. Her sleep had been irregular and unrestful since the event—three nights earlier. For some reason, her subconscious saw fit to plague her with visions of her attackers. This time, however, there was no Graham to rescue her.

Clutching the seat of the garden bench, she tried to put the images out of her head. Focusing instead on the vibrant colors of the sky and the peaceful trickle of water from the fish pond. The wind teased at her hair, cleansing her mind and senses, and she wished she could stay out here forever.

She hadn't seen Graham since that night. He'd delivered her to the door, accepting her refusal of his help wordlessly. That had been that. He'd not been there at breakfast or any of the following meals. She hadn't asked about him, either. Maria was already looking at her in a suspicious way after she'd told her—mostly accurate—story. Evidently, Maria thought there was something more to be told, and apparently, she thought it involved Graham.

Cassandra bit her lip. A part of her was disappointed she hadn't been able to see him. There would have been some comfort in having someone nearby who knew everything. Although, she quickly amended, there is nothing—could never be anything—comforting about that man! And when she reminded herself of his insufferableness, she was no longer sorry he wasn't there.

Still, she should have liked to thank him. That would have repaid part of her debt. She hated being indebted to anyone—especially him. Of all people, he had to have been the one to come upon her, to save her. The thought almost infuriated her as much as he did.

A step on the path made her look up. Graham McRoberts was lazily making his way toward her without showing any sign that he was doing so intentionally. The sun was at his back, silhouetting his profile against the evening sky. He was a man everyone noticed, a man women would find handsome, a man who commanded attention because of his easy manner.

Think of the devil, she grumbled to herself. As if knowing he was being studied, he plowed a hand through his hair, letting it fall where it willed. Narrowing her eyes, she turned her gaze to the nearby geraniums, pointedly ignoring him.

"A pleasant evening." He commented. Unable to resist, she shot a glance at him. He was standing in a relaxed position, his eyes on the sunset. If she hadn't known better, she'd've thought he didn't know she was there.

Gritting her teeth, she turned away from him again. "Thank you." There. She had done it.

"For giving you my opinion on the weather? You're quite welcome, milady." He was poking fun at her.

"If I had wanted an opinion on the weather, I would have asked someone clever and saved myself the trouble of having to talk to you." She bit back.

"You offend me, miss." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him place a hand over his heart as though deeply affected. "To be perfectly honest, though, if we were in society, you'd have to get in line to speak with me, sweetheart."

"I certainly wouldn't waste my time." She growled. "And I'm not your 'sweetheart'."

He chuckled. "I suppose it had to come out sometime, then."

"What?" She finally turned to look at him, hoping to find some clue of what he was talking about in his expression.

"Oh, your opinion of me." He looked her squarely in the eyes and grinned.

"I should have thought that was obvious." She raised a brow.

He tossed his head back in laughter. "It is, but then, I can read most women like a child's book. They're far too obvious." She glared at him, opening her mouth to respond before he cut her off. "At least we can face your attraction to me head on now."

"Attraction!?" She spluttered in shocked disgust. Her reaction seemed to please him.

"Why, yes." He shrugged, assuming an air of innocence. "You should, however, thank someone else. These looks didn't come from any mortal design." He winked at her like some brazen bartender.

"My thanks was not in reference to your appearance." She said frostily. If looks could kill, he'd have been dead. "I merely meant to rid myself of any obligation to you. You did, after all, save me from ruin. Society dictates that I show my thanks."

"Show?" He raised a brow. "I haven't witnessed any show of thanks." She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to reply. "I know many a woman who would be ecstatic at the thought of owing me something. They'd be all too happy to come up with a way of. . .showing their appreciation of me." He grinned suggestively.

She got to her feet. "I would rather die." She uttered each word clearly, so he could never say he hadn't understood her.

"Perhaps you should have told me that before I hauled you away from your friends the other night."

Sucking in a sharp breath, she drew back her hand to slap him. He grabbed hold of her mid-swing, jerking her against him.

"I told you." His voice was low, and she was frozen in place, her eyes locked on his. "Women can't keep their hands off me." That grin, that infuriating grin. She wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his smug, little face.

With an unintelligible exclamation of disgust, she struggled out of his grasp. Glaring at him, she smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress.

"Excuse me." She said frostily, whirling and marching away. She was determined not to give him the pleasure of getting at her. Again.

"No need for that. You haven't done anything to warrant my excusing." He caught up to her and matched her stride with ease.

"I am perfectly capable of walking on my own." She turned on him, raising an eyebrow pointedly.

"I have no doubt of the fact." He smiled genially. "But I wouldn't be so cruel as to deprive you of my company."

"What a perfect gentleman." She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

He sighed, placing a hand over his heart with mock modesty. "It's been said by many. I can only assume it's true."

He winked at her, and she turned away from him, walking quickly in hopes that he would tire of trying to keep up with her. He, however, seemed to be in no mood to live up to her hopes. He matched her, step for step, with ease.

"Those who said it must have been blind." Cassandra growled.

"Hmm, yes, blinded by my easy charm and natural good looks."

Nothing she said seemed to phase him. He wasn't easily offended like a youthful gallant from a London ballroom, and she had no idea how to deal with him. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was stumped. She was the one who stunned others into silence, not the other way around.

"Oh, and on the off chance that you need rescuing again, you're entirely welcome to call upon me, sweetheart." When she looked up at him, he winked brazenly again.

She swallowed her retort with great difficulty. Where was the serious, commanding man of the other night? She could hardly believe they were the same person. True, that man had been equally difficult and annoying, but there had been a certain. . .steel underlying his words. He hadn't been this same ridiculous, joking fool.

"I should go see to Lavinia." She said abruptly. He was an infuriating, terrible man, and she really couldn't care less what made him the way he was.

"You should." He replied easily.

Sucking in a draught of air, she turned to go. The garden was no longer peaceful and relaxing with him in it. It would be better to face Lavinia's pale features than to put up with him any longer.

He caught her hand in his as she moved away, making her stumble toward him. With a mischievous half smile, he brought her hand to his lips.

"See you tomorrow." He raised a brow.

Jerking away from him, she wiped her hand on her skirt, challenging him to get offended with her eyes. "I don't expect you will. I have much better things to do with my time."

"Of course, but you'll see me." There was arrogant promise behind the words, but before she could form a sentence to tell him exactly what she thought of him, he had turned on his heal and left her standing there.

Fine then. She'd play his game, whatever it was. But he'd better be prepared. Cassandra Antrucha had never lost. Not once. And she didn't intend to start now, no matter how exasperatingly good her opponent was.



Hmm. Well, this is getting interesting. . .Haha. To say I am enjoying myself would be an understatement. I'm having so much fun writing this book, because it's quite different than Her Sister's Fiancé, and while I loved writing that story, it's wonderful to have some variety.

Ah, yes, Saturdays. . .I did well in the beginning! Sort of. . .This past Saturday, I was at some friends' graduation. It was a lot of fun—well, besides the fact that the weather was gray and cloudy and steady rainy, and I was driving through city traffic without someone who knew what they were doing to direct me. Ugh. I'm so glad I don't live in the city. I have a lot of respect for people who do, but I just couldn't bear it. I mean, I'd get used to it, but I'm too much of a fan of house-less spaces and green, so much green! I love spring! In fact, I really love all the seasons and their different advantages. I'm a winter/cooler weather lover overall, but when the weather warms, you can bet I'll be one of the first in short, and I'll be right there—swimsuit in hand—the first day it hits the 80 degree (fahrenheit. . .woah, I just spelled that correctly) mark!

Anyway, I'd better go before I start to ramble on and on. Sorry, I just can't help myself! Random things remind me of other things which remind me of stories or situations that were funny, and then I just have to tell it! See, there I go again. So, goodbye! 'See' you on Saturday!