Graham watched her drift out of consciousness. Still, he waited. He couldn't risk going up just yet. He knew all too well the panic that came with the realization that there was nothing to breathe but water, and then the horrible knowledge that this might be the end as you sucked in your first mouthful of water.

She was so limp in his arms. Her hands had been clutching at him, grasping for something to save her. Now, they hung like wilted flowers.

It had tormented him to see her go through that struggle. Something was wrong with him. Her wide eyes staring into his as she doubted him had almost driven him to allow her to go to the surface, but he knew all too well the consequences of that.

He needed to get her away from him. Fast. They were already going after Ethan and Lavinia, but her, too? No, he needed to get her somewhere out of the way. Granger wasn't too interested in her yet, but if he kept this up, there could be only one outcome.

Pulling her into a more comfortable position, he moved. He'd known they'd come for him, but he'd thought he might have a little more time to figure everything out. He needed to know exactly what they were planning if he intended to stop it.

He came to the surface in the reeds along the bank. There was precious little time before they had to move again. Lying on his back with her pressed against his chest, he placed a hand under her chin. Pressing his other fist into her upper abdomen, he thrust it sharply against her. It was difficult to maneuver with her corset, and for a moment, he thought it might not be doing anything, but then she coughed quietly.

As quietly as he could manage, he flipped her over and allowed her mouth to open as she coughed up the water. She breathed raggedly clawing at the ground beneath her as though that would help her draw in the much needed air. Holding her up, he looked over his shoulder quickly.

They needed to get to the other side of the lake. The only way to do so without exposing themselves horribly would be to swim. Underwater. He couldn't leave her behind, so he would drag her along in her half-conscious state. Thankfully, it wasn't a wide body of water, or he wasn't sure she'd survive the swim.

In all her fine clothes, she would be far too difficult to carry along. There was only one thing for it. Removing the knife from its sheath in his boot, he began to cut. He didn't have time to figure out the intricate fastenings and workings of this particular dress.

The gown fell away from her in moments. They had approximately a minute until they were found. Slashing through her petticoats, he shoved the knife back into its place. Stripping off his coat, cravat, waistcoat, and shirt, he set them on the bank carefully. With a grin, he marked a greeting into the mud, enjoying the thought of them finding it.

Taking the thinnest of her underskirts, he fashioned a sling and tied her to him. He was going to need both hands for this swim. She had barely stirred in all this time, simply breathing—more dead then alive at the moment.

Drawing a breath, he checked his surroundings and slid further into the lake. Taking one last draught of air, he plunged beneath the surface, shoving off the ground to get a start. It would be mere moments until their little hideout was discovered if he knew anything, and he wanted to be as far from it as possible when that happened.

There would be shelter for them on the other side. They could lay low for the night, and then he would return her to Fergus Manor and face this alone again. How they'd discovered the truth was beyond him, but he didn't really care.

As of now, he felt the old rage rising in him. They'd gone too far this time. He was more determined than ever to put an end to the madness.

His arms carried him swiftly with great, powerful strokes. He'd swum further distances before, carrying heavier weights and in far worse physical condition. This was nothing.

They were close to the opposite bank now. He tried to move faster. Cassandra had struggled for a moment when they'd gone back underwater, but she had stilled almost completely now. The way they were pressed against each other, he should have been able to detect something that indicated life. He couldn't.

...........................

She was struggling to breathe, but there was no longer water pouring into her mouth every time she opened it. Her face was pressed against something hard that smelled earthy. Something was toying with the laces of her corset.

She opened her eyes. Someone was gasping for air nearby. It was cold. Her sluggish brain registered the sharp bite of the wind against her bare arms.

Wait, bare arms? What was going on? Then she realized she was the one gasping for breath. Shock and memories came pouring back.

She inhaled sharply, turning suddenly over onto her back. A fit of coughs took her, and then she shivered. When she opened her eyes, Graham's face was right above hers. Instinctively, she screamed, but his hand covered her mouth, holding the sound in.

He lifted a finger to his lips. "Don't scream." And he moved his hand away. "We need to move."

"What's going on?" She heard her own voice rasp.

"I can't explain now. You're just going to have to trust me." He moved lithely to his feet, offering her a hand.

Stars danced before her eyes as she got to her feet, and she felt him catch her before she pitched over. Her vision slowly cleared, but she felt weak and limp. It was as though she were trapped inside someone else's body, and she had no idea how to work it.

Around her, she could make out the strange, blurred shape of trees. Evidently, they were near some forest. She found herself squinting into the woods as though they might give her some clue as to where she was.

"We have to move, Cassandra." His steady voice drummed in her ears. "I'll carry you if I have to, but we've got to get out of here."

As her brain registered the words, she jerked away from him. Looking up at him in horror, she realized he wasn't wearing any shirt. Quickly looking away, she caught sight of her own shivering body. Somehow, her dress and petticoats were gone, and she was standing in some unknown forest with a man who may or may not have tried to kill her—and in her underwear, no less.

"No time." His fingers closed over her arm, and he began pulling her along.

Her feet squelched noisily in her wet shoes, but the sound only caused Graham to quicken their pace. If she stumbled or dragged behind in any way, she was sure he'd throw her over his back like a sack of grain and continue that way, so she walked with him, doing her best to stay upright.

He was kidnapping her. The thought flashed through her mind, and she realized she was following along silently. She wasn't even trying to escape.

As if reading her thoughts, he turned and looked at her over his shoulder. There was something reassuring in his look, but there was also a hint of concern and perhaps a pinch of uncertainty—things she'd never seen in him before. Something was wrong, horribly, horribly wrong, and she had the strangest feeling that she should do as he asked and just go quietly.

She wasn't sure how long they walked. Sometimes, they would pause, and Graham would close his eyes as though he were listening intently for something. This would only last half a second before he was dragging her onwards again.

He seemed to have some goal in mind. There was purpose in his every step. Clearly, he knew where they were and where they were going, and all she could do was stumble after him.

After what seemed like an eternity, when her body was numb with cold, the trees thinned to reveal a clearing. On the edge of the open space, there was a cabin or sorts. There was shelter from this cold!

Cassandra felt the sudden urge to cry as Graham pulled her to a stop. Dry warmth was so close, and he seemed unwilling to go a step nearer. Didn't he understand? She couldn't feel her fingers, and she was fairly certain her face had turned the color of a blueberry.

Finally, he moved forward again. Leading her to what appeared to be the back door, he bent and removed a stone from the right side of the wall. Pulling a key out, he unlocked the door and returned the key and stone to their place.

When he opened the door, he revealed a small room. It smelled musty inside, but it was at least little warmer than the outdoors, and it would be shelter from the wind. Before she had time to inspect further, he pulled her inside and shut the door quickly.

There was a small table and two chairs on one side of the room. On the other, there was a chest and a fireplace, but other than these things, the room was bare. There were two doors and a single window. It was evident this place wasn't here so much for comfort as for necessity.

Crossing the room with her in tow, Graham opened the chest. There were several blankets on top, but he dug under these and pulled out stacks of what appeared to be clothing.

"We need to get dry." He said. "I don't have anything that will be exactly your size, but there should be something here that will work."

"What exactly are you planning to do?" Cassandra's teeth chattered together as she spoke. "Why don't you light a fire to help us get warm?"

"Because we're not staying here." Graham began sorting through the piles of clothing. "We have to move."

"I don't understand. Explain." She sniffed.

"Look, we don't have time for this. You can survive without an explanation." Graham's voice was clipped.

Seeming to find what he'd been looking for, he pushed a stack of clothing into her hands. Cassandra felt anger push through the fog in her brain. He'd gotten her into this mess, and now, he wasn't willing to tell her why? Who did he think he was?

Well, that was obvious. He thought he was Mr. Dashing Debonaire Handsome that every woman in creation would be grateful to be with. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't every woman in creation, and she wasn't about to take everything he said and did at face value.

Without giving her time to respond, Graham made as if to go to the other side of the room. Cassandra stood, with her feet planted firmly on the ground, glaring after him until her arm jerked up, and she realized she was still holding onto him. His eyes went from her hand to her face, and he raised his brows. Shocked, Cassandra tried to will herself to let go, but her fingers were frozen in place.

"Look, sweetheart," he drawled. "I know you like the feel of my arm in your hand, but now really isn't the time."

"I most certainly do not!" Cassandra bit back. "And don't you call me 'sweetheart'!"

He raised a brow. "Please, it's obvious you've been fascinated with me from the start. You've never seen someone with my inherent good looks and charm, and it's taken you captive. I've seen the look before."

Finally, her fingers responded to her brain's command, and she jerked away from him as though bitten. She glared up at him, unable to think of anything to say, not least because she did, indeed, find him attractive and fascinating.

No! That wasn't it! It was only her foggy mind talking. He was infuriating and annoying, not attractive. She'd rather punch his smug face than kiss him—then the memory of their kiss flashed through her mind.

She started suddenly, realizing she'd been lost in her thoughts. Graham was standing there grinning at her as if he knew exactly where her mind had taken her. She wanted nothing more to throw something at him and wipe that look off his face, but she knew it would do nothing but make her look childish.

"Get changed." He had a way of looking at her that set her soul on fire.

"Not unless you turn around." She retorted, feeling like a ridiculous child.

Raising a brow, he did as she asked. "Satisfied?" He said.

Angrily, Cassandra turned to face the wall opposite him. She hated what he had the power to do to her. Fumbling with the wet laces, she glared fiercely at the stones.

"You're no gentleman." She attempted to put every ounce of venom she possessed into the words. "Otherwise you would have done so without my asking!"

"Is that so?" She knew she was in trouble the moment she heard him speak. "Well, then, there seems to be no need for me to turn my back as that would be the act of a gentleman."

She heard him turn which meant that it had been deliberate, because she knew how silently he normally moved. She spun around to face him and got a clear view of his well-muscled chest before she could avert her gaze.

That quick look eat her face on fire, and with a gasp, she snatched one of the blankets off the floor to cover herself. She knew it was silly. She'd walked God only knew how far beside him in her undergarments, but she couldn't stop her instinctive attempts at modesty.

"You turn back around!" She fairly shrieked, forgetting her anger in her embarrassment.

"I've seen it all before." He smiled wickedly, rubbing a towel over his skin. "What's the harm?"

"I—You—" Cassandra stuttered, trying in vain to find her voice. "It will damage my reputation." She finally managed weakly.

"What care I for your reputation?" He snorted. "In fact, since people are going to gossip anyway, why don't we give them something to talk about?" He stepped toward her, casting aside the towel and raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"You wouldn't dare!" Cassandra gasped, stepping backwards. Despite what she said, she found that she wasn't sure entirely sure of the words.

"Wouldn't I?" His gaze traveled over her body. "I think I'd rather enjoy it."

She'd never felt the way she felt now before. She was trembling, but she wasn't sure that it was from fear. Her heart was pounding inside her chest.

"You're not like that." She managed to say.

"You don't know what I'm like." He frowned suddenly.

"But you wouldn't. . .not to me." Panic welled in her chest. She knew all too well how helpless she would be against him. An image of Robert Smithers flashed before her eyes, and she fought for air. "Please." Her voice small even in her own ears.

She heard him moved toward her, saw his hand reach for her, and terror flooded her being. She flinched away from him until her back was against the wall. When she finally managed to look up at him, the sight took her breath away. He was frowning in disgust.

"You don't know me. Now, get changed." And he stepped back, turning away from her.

For some reason, the way he'd turned around made her feel bereft and worthless. She moved to face the wall, an odd ache in her heart. She was miserable.

Fighting against the feelings of worthlessness his scathing glance had inspired in her, she turned back to face the wall. For some reason unknown to her, tears welled in her eyes and threatened to spill over her lids. Dejectedly she reached back to undress herself.

It was surprising how much she relied upon another to assist her. Without Eliza's expertise, she fumbled endlessly with her corset strings. The numbness of her fingers didn't help, but she couldn't help feeling utterly useless as they refused to give way beneath her struggles.

It didn't help that she couldn't see the knots, either. Her frustration welled within her. She couldn't ask for help, because the only person to help was Graham, and there was no way she was going to ask him for anything now.

"You almost done?" His voice was quiet and reserved.

For some stupid reason, she felt her throat clamp up. If she spoke, she felt like she might cry, and she hated the thought of that. He already saw her as some pampered, silly fine lady, and a torrent of tears wouldn't help that opinion. It was foolish to want to cry, anyway.

Her hands stilled in their struggle, and she bit down on her lip. She'd never been one to cry, but at the moment, she wanted to do nothing else. Perhaps it was the near death experience she'd just had, but all she could think of doing was curling up in a ball and sobbing in a way she hadn't indulged in in years.

Suddenly, a hand touched hers. "Do you want my help?" His voice was quiet and gentle.

Cassandra wanted to say 'no' but knew she didn't have any other option. "I guess I don't really have a choice." She managed to say, biting down on her lip to stop its trembling.

With all the gentleness of a summer breeze, he moved her hands aside. He said nothing as he worked at the knots. She was grateful not to have to speak, but the silence pounded in her ears like a beating drum.

After a brief moment, she felt the corset loosen. Of their own accord, her hands held the front of it close to her body to preserve what little modesty she had left. As if understanding her helplessness, Graham began to undo the laces.

Slowly, his fingers burnt a path of fire down her spine. The way his hands moved made the action somehow more. . .sensual. She drew a deep shuddering breath, glad that he skin was already covered in goose flesh, so he wouldn't know what his touch was doing to her.

His fingers lingered for perhaps half a second longer than necessary when he reached the end. There was no fear in her any longer. Her heart was pounding wildly, and she turned around to face him. He stood looking at her for half a second.

He drew a sharp breath suddenly. "I'll be outside when you're finally done." His voice was gruff, harsh, and he was gone in an instant as though the thought of being in that room with her for another minute disgusted him.

Numbly, Cassandra changed into the outfit he'd given her—a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a thick jumper. She gritted her teeth against the strange emotions boiling in her chest and blamed her time in the lake water for causing these problems. It wasn't as though she could possibly be feeling anything for him. She was just tired. Yes, that was it. All of this would come to an end once she'd gotten a little rest.

The thoughts gave her no comfort as she stripped off her stockings and shoes. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly and utterly miserable. She was letting things affect her, a rare and ghastly mistake in her book.

—————————————

So he wasn't trying to kill her. That's a relief! But, oh dear, is Cassie falling for him? Heaven forbid! What do you think will happen next? And Graham, what about him? What secrets do you think he's hiding?

I think you guys might get a lot of enjoyment out of the next chapter, so maybe I'll try to post it sooner than I'd anticipated. . .

I think Wednesdays might become my new update day, since I seem to have more time to work on them. Out of curiosity, what do you guys things about chapter titles instead of just stating the chapter? I find that I rather like it when books have them, but I was wondering what other people think?