I couldn't breathe. The dark waters had a hold of me and threatened to never let go. I kicked my legs against the pull of the drowning ship, while the hazy pinpricks of lights, floating above the surface, became smaller and smaller as I lost the battle.

Fingers wrapped tightly around my upstretched wrist. Strong hands wrenched me up and into the world of air.

Cassandra had brought me back to life. For how long was anybody's guess. She smiled at me, something so natural but absurd in our current circumstances. Her damp hair curled free off its usual severe restraints, her long skirts weighed down by the water that sloshed around her boots, her ankles, her calves! We had to move.

I tore free of my dinner jacket and tossed the heavy garment into the water. It immediately submerged, floating with an elegance of silk down into the dark.

"Which way?" Cassandra's voice, calm and clear as always. Nothing rattled this amazing, young woman. Once again, I thanked the stars above that she had said yes to me, and not Lord Torrey.

Climbing free of the bubbling, icy waters, I rubbed my numb hands back into action and searched for an answer.

The ornate oak staircase gleamed under the flickering wall sconces. The power would soon be out. They wouldn't be able to keep it going down below for much longer, not if the rise in the level of flooding here was anything to go by. I grabbed her hand, barely feeling the connection between our frozen skin, and attempted to reply in as balanced a tone as possible.

"There, I believe, up there, to the left of the stairs. It should bring us out on the boat deck, near the gymnasium."

Cassandra's smile weakened this time. Her eyes betrayed her fear. I wrapped my right arm around her waist and coaxed her up the stairs.

The great ship moaned. Low and deep. An animal wounded to the core. We made it out, into the madness of that night, together.

*****

"You're snoring again, Daniel."

I opened my eyes to a vision of messy, chestnut curls and large, laughing brown eyes. How I loved Sunday mornings.

Raising myself up onto the crook of my elbow, the soft, Egyptian cotton sheet squeaked beneath my motion. I rested my chin on the palm of my hand and gazed at the love of my life.

Cassandra Gregson. My heart, my love, my life.

This woman had bewitched me from the moment I caught her eye. There at that dammed boat race in Oxford. She'd been cheering on her wayward younger brother for the Oxford team, I'd been yelling support for my cousin's secret lover on the Cambridge side. Never the twain shall meet, I suppose.

The sun had been furious that day, as only a strong, English April sun could be. So high in the atmosphere as to burn and blister the fool of an English man who dared to stay out in the midday sun without the aid of a hat.

The lovely vision of chestnut curls, bursting loose from their catchment from under the wide, straw bonnet of Miss Cassandra Gregson's possession captured my eyes and my breath.

She was leaning forward, perched on the rim of a skimpy, fragile looking stool by the water's edge. A gaggle of girls and hopeful young men hanging around her. Her white, tightly fitting dress held onto her voluptuous curves, the purple ribbon along the seams accentuated every beautifully sculptured line of her body.

As she shouted her encouragement across the hazy river, her left arm flew out, waving like she was drowning, her freckled face wrinkled with desperation. She gasped at herself, seemingly in astonishment at her own behaviour and clutched at the arm of her female companion to the left of her, then sat back in fake acceptance of conformity.

I understood from that first glimpse of this lady that nothing was ever truly under control. Much like myself from that point on. I had no choice but to meet her.

My feet took me to her far too quickly. I stumbled through the strewn bodies of her acquaintances and found myself standing next to her. I opened my mouth to speak as she tilted her head upwards to see who had approached her.

"I..."

She smiled.

That was it. All I ever needed to know. Kindness radiated through her smile, encapsulated in her beautiful hazel eyes.

She reached out her ungloved hand and took mine in her warm grasp.

"Please, do sit with us, Mr?" Her voice purred like a kitten. Yet her smile curled slightly at the corner of her lips and her left eyebrow raised.

"Hawkins." I stuttered, forcing my voice to behave. "Daniel Hawkins."

Cassandra waved her hand at me in distraction while her eyes focused on the boats streaming past us on the river.
"Well, do join us, Mr Hawkins. Although, I must insist that you inform us of which side you are cheering for today." She briefly bent her head to catch my eye as I squatted down Indian fashion beside her. "No fraternising with the enemy is allowed you know."

"Oh."

The rest of the party around us raised to their feet and yelled encouragement at the Oxford rowers. They had a slight lead on the Cambridge group.

"I'd have to say the Dark Blues team, as I'm one of their professors." I held her gaze and mirrored her raised eyebrow in what I hoped would be taken as a well-meant jibe. "Although, the Cambridge boys have a lot to be said for them this year, Miss Gregson."

She kept a steady view on me. Her expression gave nothing away. The group around us bounced and cheered. They faded out of my focus. Out of the world. Only she remained. Her deep, sharp hazel eyes. Her beautifully sculptured cheekbones. Those cupid bow pink lips. Her thick, curly almost auburn hair. The strong sunshine bringing out the golden red hues to each curl. Her freckled neck and shoulders, bare to the day and ending under the cover of her white dress. Purple ribbon tapered along the border drew the line between flesh and material.

So ethereal.

"Why do you stare, Mr Hawkins?"

I gulped and sucked in my breath, breaking my stare from her. Repositioning my attention on the boats, I shook my head while my mouth conjured up an excuse.
"I, I thought you looked familiar, I recognised you from the fundraising ball. Forgive me."

Cassandra smiled and gazed out at the race. She reached out her hand and wriggled her fingers.

I swallowed, then took her cool hand in mine. Her blood pulsed under my palm. Her fingernails grazed my skin as she tightened her hold. A smile crept upon her lips while we watched the rest of the race.