Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (16 page)

“Will you
someday take a wife, Sir Reynolds, in order to have heirs?”

Griffin’s
brow creased into a frown. “A wife is a heavy burden to assume, so I believe it
will be many years before I can marry. ’Tis just as well, for I am not a man
inclined to be ruled by the desires of another.”

A small lick
of temper flared in Catlin. “So, you believe marriage to be a burden, then?”

Griffin
laughed. “I have a preference to play the unencumbered rogue, Miss Glyndwr.”

Catlin was
shocked into silence. Any games of seduction she played with Sir Griffin
Reynolds would be perilous. He was very clear about his intentions, and she
should heed the warning.

If only she
could somehow conquer the impetuous slave to sensation that lurked within her.
For that was a part of her nature she sensed could lead her directly into
Griffin’s arms, and potential disaster if it remained unchecked.

Chapter Fourteen

The
Lady
Bountiful
sat at the quay. The masts stood tall in the dull shadows of the
late afternoon, and the poor light did nothing to inspire confidence in the
aged ship. It was plain looking, with little paint and no ornate carving. With
a high forecastle on one end and a raised poopdeck on the other, the middle of
the ship was a buzz of activity. Crew members moved up and down the gangplank
rolling barrels and carrying wooden boxes of various sizes.

“’Tis
smaller then I expected.” she said to Griffin.

“There are
many ships leaving port for the Chesapeake this spring, but the Master of this
ship is known to me, so I chose passage with a man I can trust.”

She
continued to stare at the ship, but grasped his sentiment. “An honest man is a
rare commodity, so I have been told.”

“We'll stay
at an inn I know until we can board the ship. The winds must be satisfactory to
set sail.”

A small
flicker of light appeared at the very edge of her sight, and she understood the
signal. “What day did you hope to sail, sir?”

Griffin
grinned, and she felt her heart skip a beat as his gaze seemed to stroke her.
“’Twould be most fortunate if we can sail before Easter, for the fair winds are
rumored to carry one quickly to the Azores in the early season.”

“I expect
you are eager to leave, to gain access to your fortune and estate?”

He grinned.
“Since I now have you by my side, my fair Catlin, there is naught holding me
within the borders of England.”

She warmed,
and a flicker of excitement spiraled down to her toes. “I have been warned,
even by you Sir Griffin, to resist your honeyed words and subtle flirtations.”

He leaned
back in his seat and brushed a fleck of dust from his breeches. “I warn all
ladies to avoid congress with rogues and scoundrels, but alas, few are willing
to take my sound advice.”

Catlin
laughed at him, enjoying this opportunity to relax in his company and practice
flirting. “I believe you offer such advice to confound us, Sir. For if you are
warning us away from you, does that not increase the attraction?”

Griffin
rolled the brim of his felt hat in one gloved hand. Sparkling good humor
reflected in the dark chocolate hue of his eyes. “I certainly am counting upon
it in your case, Catlin, for temptation is the very heart of seduction, is it
not?”

Catlin
tossed her head, several curls unraveled from the bondage of the bodkins
holding her coiffure in place. “Perhaps, Sir Griffin, but are we not always
advised to resist temptation? I believe to succumb to our carnal appetites will
put our very souls in jeopardy.”

Griffin
tapped the roof of the coach and ordered the driver to continue on to the inn.
“I can only offer our Lord’s continuing pledge of forgiveness as my defense.”
He grinned. “Besides, isn’t the verse ’tis better to rule in hell then to serve
in heaven?”

Catlin eyed
the profile of the handsome man sitting next to her. She faced a long and
arduous battle between her conscience and her desire —a battle that could
change her destiny if fought true and well.

Or cost her
everything if she made a foolish and impetuous choice.

A light tap
on the door startled Catlin. She spun around, patted her hair in place, and
smoothed the wrinkles from her dark gray silk traveling gown.

A young girl
not more then eleven or twelve years old stood on the threshold with eyes
downcast. Her hair was a muddled brown beneath a dirty cap. Her worn
linsey-woolsey dress was covered by an apron of the same dingy color. Beggin’
your pardon, Mistress,” she muttered to the floor while executing an awkward
curtsy. “Sir Reynolds told me I was to be yer maid.”

Catlin
frowned. This sprite was very young and likely had no training in service. How
useful could she be as a lady’s maid?

The girl
looked up and curtsied again. “I knows I ain’t got the skills yer be needin’,
but it was the colonies for me or back to the gaol.” She took a deep breath.
“Sir Reynolds bought me bond and is givin’ me passage. He says he thinks I’m
right smart and could learn quick.”

“Well, if he
sent you then I'm sure he is quite right about your abilities.” Catlin pointed
at the girl’s clothing. “But before you enter into my service, we need to get
you cleaned up and into some decent clothing.”

The girl
lifted the edge of her soiled gown and and a tinge of rose colored her cheeks.
“’Tis all I’ve got, Mistress, for before I was arrested I lived on the streets,
makin’ me way any way I could.”

Catlin
shuddered at the idea of this young girl forced to live in the shadows and find
a way to survive on the dangerous streets of the port city.

“Come in,”
Catlin said, “and let me have a good look at you.”

The girl
scuttled into the room to stand near the fire, her small hands stretching out
in an effort to warm herself.

She wasn’t
even five feet tall, and so thin. She obviously hadn’t eaten a decent meal in
months. Yet, underneath the crust of dirt, clear skin glowed. Her bright eyes
and compliant disposition could make her a decent servant.

“What is
your name, child?”

“Elizabeth
O’Brien is me baptized name, but me Mam always called me Bitsy, ’cause she said
I always goin’ to be just a little bit of a thing.”

Catlin
laughed. “Perhaps she is right about that, Bitsy. But, where is your mother
now?”

A dark
shadow seemed to pass over the girl’s face. “Mam died right after Twelfth night,
of lung fever. I ain’t got no more relations here in Bristol, for me Da died
when I was only five.”

“And how old
are you now, Bitsy?”

The girl
looked down at her worn shoes peeking out from beneath the frayed hem of her
gown. “I got but thirteen summers, but I ain’t afraid of workin’ hard,
Mistress.” When she lifted her gaze, tears edged her brown eyes. Catlin was
reminded of her youngest sister, Seren, and sympathy for the girl jolted
through her.

“Sir
Reynolds, he’s givin’ me a chance, and I want to show him I can earn me keep,”
the girl said.

Catlin gave
a sigh. How could she refuse to take this poor urchin under her wing? “We shall
have to get you cleaned up, Bitsy, for I cannot abide filth of any kind.”
Catlin circled the girl. “Once we find you some suitable clothing, you will
need a bath.”

The girl
took a step back, a look of alarm crossed her face. “Mam always said too much
bathin’ causes sickness.”

Catlin shook
her head. “I believe the reason we have so much sickness and pestilence is
because of the fear of a good hot wash with soap. Now let me speak with Sir
Reynolds regarding your clothing. Do you know where he is?”

“In the
taproom, Mistress. You want I should fetch him?” Bitsy rushed to the door.

“That won't
be necessary, I'll go down and find him.”

Bitsy's
brown cow eyes went wide. “T’ain’t proper, Mistress, for you to go down there
by yerself.”

Catlin
flipped a curl over her shoulder and gave the girl a patient smile. “But, when
I find Sir Reynolds, I shan’t be alone now, shall I?” She tossed her dark blue
velvet cloak with the rabbit fur lining over her gown and swept out the door
before Bitsy could offer any more objections.

She needed
to thank Griffin for being so considerate of her comfort on the voyage. It
would have been difficult to fasten her bodices and get into her gowns without
assistance. And she certainly did not wish to invite him into her cabin to
assist her in undressing. Although the image of his strong fingers slowly
untying the ribbons to her bodice and helping her out of her petticoats was
enticing.

Too
enticing. Catlin sighed deeply. She must gain control of these silly fantasies
about the handsome and charming man. It was indecent. Unseemly. Perhaps even
lewd!

And so
delicious, a small voice chirped. We like him very much. We like the kiss. We
want more kissing.

Catlin shook
her head to clear it. As if her own imaginings about the man were not troublesome
enough, now her
sylphs
had designs upon the man.

At least she
could console herself that she wasn’t the only one tempted by the good looking
and charming Cavalier. But her elemental spirits could be mischievous and might
interfere.

That could
ultimately have disastrous results.

Chapter Fifteen

Catlin
entered the large taproom of the Boar’s Head Inn and paused to allow her eyes
to adjust to the smoky haze. Men were seated at rough wooden tables all around
the room, but when she entered their voices died down. The proprietor rushed to
assist her. “Miss Glyndwr, might I be of service?”

Catlin
scanned the many faces. “I was told Sir Griffin Reynolds was here and I wish to
speak with him.”

“Aye, he
was, Miss. But I believe he’s gone to his warehouses.”

He had
warehouses? There was so much about him she needed to learn.

“I thank
you.” She remembered the dirty young woman waiting back in her room. “Could you
send up some hot water for a bath? And a dinner plate too?”

The
proprietor nodded and scuttled off.

Catlin
pulled her hood up and turned to leave the room.

“Are you
Miss Catlin Glyndwr by chance?” a deep male voice said.

Catlin
blinked. She had not been introduced to anyone except the Innkeeper since
arriving with Griffin last night.

She turned
to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with long, dark hair staring at her. He
was handsome and had the slick polished manner of the born aristocrat. His lips
formed a smile, but there was iciness in his eyes.

“I do not
believe we have been formally introduced.” She backed away from him. Something
about him alarmed her. A ripple of fear slowly swirled up her spine, while tiny
pricks of alarm raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“I apologize
for being so bold as to introduce myself, Miss.” He made a small bow, but his
tone mocked her

“Sir
Reynolds mentioned you would be traveling to Virginia on the
Lady Bountiful
when we met this morning. Because of the way he described you, I was sure when
you walked into the taproom you were the beauty he spoke so eloquently about.”

His pale
green eyes glowed with an unnatural light that frightened her. “I am Ioan
Purdy, the Earl of Sheffield, and will also be traveling to Virginia on the
same ship.”

He held out
his ungloved hand.. She didn’t want to touch him, but to ignore a peer of the
realm would be most discourteous. She tentatively stretched out one hand, and
regretted that in her rush to come downstairs she'd forgotten her own gloves. 
When their fingertips touched a jolt of pain arched into her hand and made her
wince. She closed her eyes.

When she
opened them, a purple and black glow surrounded Lord Sheffield. She yanked her
hand away from his as inexplicable dread filled her.

Lord
Sheffield stepped closer and sneered. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, “for I
know all your secrets and I intend for us to become good friends. Powerful
friends, because our kind should stick together, don’t you think?”

Catlin
whirled away from Lord Sheffield. Clearly, this man meant her harm.

Evil,
whispered her
sylphs
in warning, but Catlin didn’t need their counsel.
The dark circle of black and purple told her everything she needed to know.

The Earl of
Sheffield was a magician who practiced the dark arts, and the fact that he
could perceive her own abilities made him even more dangerous.

She jerked
her arm free and scrambled up the stairs, terrified Lord Sheffield might pursue
her, yet too anxious to reach the safety of her chamber to look over her
shoulder. She stumbled as she reached the top step.

Strong arms
stretched out to catch her before she tumbled backwards. Catlin was so
terrified that she struggled against the man who had captured her within his
embrace.

“Catlin,
what’s wrong?”

Sturdy
fingers grasped her chin and when she lifted her face, she found Griffin’s dark
eyes studying her with concern. “What's happened? Are you injured?”

Catlin
collapsed against him, grateful for the familiar safety of his strong, muscular
body. “There was a man--he approached me in the taproom.” She trembled as the
wave of terror washed over her again. “I was so afraid,” she whispered, hot
tears sliding down her cheeks. Her body was shaking and her throat felt dry.
Her heart was thumping in her chest.

Griffin took
a quick look down the stairs before gently giving her a tug and leading her
into a nearby chamber. He kicked the door closed, led her to the bed, and sat
down. Then he carefully settled her upon his lap. His fingers traced the
outline of her cheek as he made soft, soothing sounds to calm her.

“It will be
all right,
cariad
. I would never allow anyone to hurt you.”

She leaned
her head against his shoulder, comforted by the way he called her darling in
her own language.

“I’m sorry,
Griffin. It seems such a foolish thing, but there was something strange about
the man. He was so evil, that it terrified me.”

Griffin
stroked her back gently. “You should not have gone down there by yourself, you
know. Why didn’t you send that girl I hired to be your maid, the little bit of
a thing?”

Catlin had
forgotten all about Bitsy, who was probably still standing in the middle of her
chamber waiting for her to return. She stood, reluctant to leave the safety of
Griffin's arms, but aware the close proximity of their bodies made her think
about long, lingering kisses.

“That is
exactly what I was coming down to speak with you about, but then you weren’t
there, and so this man, he said he knew you, and then. . .” Her voice trailed
off. She blinked back tears as she recalled the image of the tall, dark man who
had terrifed her with just a touch of his hand. The same horrible, retching fear
consumed her again.

Griffin
stood up and wrapped his arms around her. “Catlin, I don’t understand, but
please trust me. What is it about this man that terrifies you so?”

Catlin
stared into his eyes. Could she trust him with one of her most precious
secrets?

“It might
sound ridiculous but this man had a strange light surrounding him, and it--”
She took a step back away from him in order to better watch his expression.

“A light,
coming from behind him?” Griffin said, a quizzical look on his face. He seemed
to be struggling to understand her.

Catlin
straightened her shoulders. “No, it comes from within a person. It's a way of
judging his, or her, true purpose. And even more than that, my sisters and I
can tell if a person is truly evil.”

Griffin’s
brow wrinkled. “You can actually see such a thing?”

She nodded.
"All the women in my family have the gift.”

Griffin drew
one hand through the long length of his hair.” I don’t wish to sound as if I
doubt you, Catlin, but this thing you're describing, it's difficult to
understand.”

Catlin shook
her head sorrowfully. “That’s not the only problem, Griffin. This man--” She
took a deep breath. “He’s going to be on the ship with us.”

Griffin
stared down into her eyes. “I’ve promised on may occasions to protect you,
Catlin, and I will honor that vow with my life, if necessary.”

She
swallowed hard at his statement. Her body relaxed against him, leaning into the
strength of his courage and gallentry. She closed her eyes, inhaling the
wonderful scent of sandalwood, tobacco, and unique male essence that always
surrounded Griffin. A small flame of desire swirled within her and the sensitive
tips of her breasts seemed suddenly too tender and painful against the fabric
of her shift.

When she
opened her eyes, Griffin stared at her, his eyes smoldering. Catlin wrapped her
arms around his neck. All conscious thought flew from her mind, and she felt as
if her very bones were melting into a puddle of hot, molten pewter. A sultry
heat cascaded through her, making her skin warm and tender every place their
bodies touched. His strong, thick fingers gently stroked her hair and the heavy
curls tumbled down her back as the bodkins came loose and tumbled to the floor.

His mouth
conquered hers in a kiss that was tender yet demanding. The joining of their
lips progressed to an eager, hungry exploration. When his tongue gently
flickered across her mouth, it was as if he patiently tested her willingness to
give him more.

She was more
then willing, as the spiral of desire that had started out as a tiny flame
built to an uncontrollable inferno. His fingers moved from her hair to unfasten
the clasp of her cloak, and the heavy velvet fabric fell from her shoulders and
pooled at her feet.

“My sweet
Cat, you are so soft and delicate, yet so filled with fire.” He murmered.

His lips
moved across her mouth again, tenderly exploring the sensitive interior of her
mouth just beyond her teeth. When his tongue surged forward, she tasted rich
coffee in his kiss. She wanted more of him, as every sensation her body
experienced was heightened to the point of inflicting pain.

“I vowed to
protect your innocence, yet at every touch I desire you more.” His eyes pleaded
with her. “How can I fight this urge to sweep you up, carry you to my bed and
ravish you?”

She peered
at him from beneath her lashes. The heat between them sizzled. The way he
gently caressed her, making her feel treasured and protected, filled her with
an intense desire to share herself with him--mind, body and soul.

“Why must
you resist, sir?”

With a
groan, Griffin swept her up into his arms and carried her across the room to lay
her gently on the coverlet of the high, four-poster bed.

“Catlin, are
you sure about this? I don’t want you to regret this later.”

Catlin drew
put her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her for another sweet,
sensuous kiss. “I am sure that I want you, Griffin Reynolds, and no other.”