Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (7 page)

Griffin
frowned and shook his head. “You are not held here against your will, Catlin.
Lord Cranbourne has requested that you be his guest, in gratitude for your
assistance.”

“His guest?
But for how long?”

“You are
invited to stay here at Mabley Hall, as his guest, until you wish to leave,
although I suppose it shall be with some caveats”.

A tremor of
fear whipped through her. “Caveats? Of what sort, might I be so bold to ask?”

Griffin
shook his head and a deep crevasse appeared between his eyes as they clouded
with a troubled look. “We need to protect you, my lady, and the other members
of your family. There is already whispering in the parish about the way you
disappeared from the gaol, and some people believe you used magic to escape.”

“What of
you, Sir Reynolds? How do you think I managed to escape?”

A slow,
wicked grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “I have no doubt, Catlin, that you
bewitched me with your beauty and convinced me you could help my friend. If it
were truly magic that you used, I can only say I look forward to being put
under your spell once again.” He bowed elegantly.

Before she
could ask any more questions, he disappeared out the door. Catlin nibbled upon
her lower lip as his words tumbled about in her head. Few men would mention the
word magic as a jest, so she did not know what to make of his remarks.

He was right
about one thing, though. She and her family were in danger. Catlin needed to
find a way to escape from Shrewsbury, and England. Her mother had urged her to
watch for the signs.

Deep within
her heart a small flame flared to life, and Catlin hoped Sir Griffin Reynolds
might be one those signs. Yet as much as she wished he could be a part of some
scheme to help her escape to the New World, she recalled the other part of her
mother’s conversation.

Somewhere,
there was a man who represented a clear and terrifying danger to her family.

Catlin must
discover what role Sir Griffin Reynolds might play as she searched for answers
to this perplexing puzzle.

Chapter Five

Catlin bathed,
enjoyed a hearty meal with some strong, bracing coffee and finally felt
refreshed and better prepared to cope with her formal meeting with Lord Cranbourne.

A servant
guided her down the huge stone staircase. Catlin had been too distracted by her
need to attend to the young heir of the Earl of Shrewsbury the previous night
to notice her surroundings. Now she took a moment to admire the beautiful
architecture, tapestries, and paintings as she descended into the main entry of
the house.

She recalled
Aelwyd lecturing Catlin and her sisters about the local aristocrats. Mabley
Hall had been the manor house since the time of the Crusades, when the first Earl
of Shrewsbury had earned the gratitude of the King for his service against the
infidels. The property he’d been awarded had been rich and the small stone keep
of the original hall was enlarged through the years of successive Earls. Now
the huge manor house spread across the land like a high-born and well-endowed
lady stretched upon a luxurious chaise in her solarium. The structure was
dignified, admirably situated and massively imposing.

A maid
ushered Catlin into a large room paneled in oak and lined with walls of
shelving filled with leather-bound books. A welcoming fire blazed in the corner
fireplace, and both Sir Reynolds and Lord Cranbourne rose.

Instead of
skin with a deathly white pallor, Lord Cranbourne possessed a warm and healthy
glow. The nobleman moved with a controlled grace as he approached her. He bowed
before her, and a sparkle of delight shone in his gentle brown eyes when he
stood again.

Catlin had
never seen such a transformation in any of the people her mother had healed.
Could she have performed such a miracle?

“I
understand you are the angel I must thank for bringing me back from the brink
of death and restoring my health.” Lord Cranbourne indicated a chair with a
huge carved back. “Please be seated, for I wish to learn more about you.”

Catlin sent
a quizzical look in Griffin’s direction. He stood by the fire watching her, his
face fixed in an expression of cool detachment. He'd promised he wouldn’t
divulge her secret, yet could she truly trust him?

“I wish to
introduce you to the Honourable Miss Catlin Glyndwr, my lord.” Griffin said.

She curtsied
and nervously smoothed the wrinkles from her borrowed dark blue gown before she
sat down, aware of the careful scrutiny of both men. She licked her lips,
hoping to prolong the moment before the interrogation she knew was forthcoming.

“May I offer
you some coffee?” Lord Cranbourne stood next to a table that held a huge silver
tray and a white porcelain coffee set decorated with a pattern of blue and
white flowers.

“No, thank
you,” Catlin said. Silence ensued as Lord Cranbourne returned to his seat
behind the huge desk separating them. 

“I heard you
were exhausted from your efforts to heal me the other night.” Lord Cranbourne
tapped his fingers on the desk nervously “I apologize for all that transpired
before we ...” His voice stopped as he frowned. Finally he shrugged his
shoulders. “I have no memory of what happened, other then I left for the
Shrewsbury Gaol to interrogate a woman accused of witchcraft.” He lowered his
gaze to study his hands. “I knew I was ill, but I thought I would be finished
quickly with that nasty piece of business and arrive home in time to meet Sir
Reynolds.”

Catlin
twined her fingers together to stop them from trembling. She wandered into
dangerous territory, but she needed to know this man’s true feelings about her
kind. “So, are you especially interested in the prosecution of witches?”

Lord Cranbourne’s
head snapped up and his mouth went hard as his eyes devoured her.

A tremor of
forewarning coursed through her.

“I believe
more accusations are made then can actually be proven.” His scrutiny never
wavered. “But I have a responsibility to ensure the parish is protected, and
this particular witch was accused of malfeasance.”

“And you
allow the witch hunter, Bodwell, persuade you to condemn women accused of
practicing witchcraft, even when the evidence is scant?”

Griffin
Reynolds coughed, and Catlin wondered if he meant it as a warning. It didn’t
matter, because this was her only opportunity to ascertain how Lord Cranbourne
would proceed should he discover her secret.

“I serve the
law, and it is my duty to determine if a woman has committed blasphemy or done
harm to another. If she is accused of magic, then it is my job to discover the
source of her powers and protect the people of Shrewsbury.” He looked away.

“Have any so
accused ever been found innocent?” Her question hung in the air, like a bad
odor that offended the noses of the perfumed gentry.

Lord Cranbourne
shook his head. “I’m afraid that is the fatal flaw in our system, that no woman
seems capable of proving her innocence once charged.” He stood and moved next
to Griffin near the fire. “To be honest, ’tis one of the most troubling aspects
of this whole ugly business. I cannot know who is innocent and who is guilty.”
He shrugged. “That is out of my hands and for the Assizes to consider.”

A surge of
anger sizzled through Catlin. “And so the innocent must die, too? For if you
cannot find proof to hang all the witches, you must at least condemn all the
women accused of witchcraft?” A hard edge vibrated in her voice, but she didn’t
care. The injustice of the legal system infuriated her.

Griffin
Reynolds shifted from his place near the fire, placed his hands on the desk,
and leaned forward. The thick, heavy muscles of his arms bulged beneath his
linen shirt, and familiar warmth swirled through her. Damn the man for making
her react this way.

“This debate
is for another time and place. Today we must decide upon your fate, Miss
Glyndwr.” Griffin said.

Her mouth
went dry at his implication. Her fate? Were they planning to return her to the
gaol? She shuddered at the memory of that dank, suffocating place filled with
misery and misfortune. Sir Reynolds had made a vow to keep her use of magic a
secret. Had that been merely a ploy to gain her cooperation?

“I wish to
return to my sister’s home.” She rose shakily to her feet, close to losing
control of her emotions as fear washed over her.

“I’m afraid
that would not be safe.”  Lord Cranbourne said.

She shook
her head. “But how can I. . .”

Before she
could finish her protest, a knock sounded at the door.

“Yes!” Lord Cranbourne
barked.

A maid
opened the door and peeked in, she smiled weakly as she tiptoed into the room.

“The
Honourable Missus Aelwyd ap Pryd is here to see you, milord.” Her voice
squeaked. When there was no response, the woman bobbed a curtsy in the
gentlemen’s direction before opening the door wider to disclose a woman
standing on the threshold.

Relief
swirled through Catlin at the sight of her eldest sister. Aelwyd was a powerful
fire adept, who always seemed capable of handling even the most challenging
situation. Catlin rushed forward to greet her sister.

"Aelwyd,"
she paused at the storm clouds raging in her sister’s green eyes. "This is
Lord Cranbourne and Sir Griffin Reynolds—”.

“Gentlemen,”
Catlin pointed at her sister. “This is Aelwyd , my eldest sister.

The men
stood transfixed for a moment, until Lord Cranbourne finally cleared his
throat. “If I have died and face an ancient goddess, I can only hope she will
be kind enough to forgive my paltry offerings in her honor.” He made a
spectacular bow in her direction.

When Aelwyd
entered the room, a gentle golden light, spread out behind her and the soft
scent of cinnamon filled the air. Catlin hid her grin as the two men succumbed
to the simple glamour Aelwyd cast. It was clear her more powerful sister
wielded her magic easily.

“I
understand I need to express my gratitude to both of you for rescuing my sister
and sheltering her from the storm last night.”

While her
voice was of a sweet, even timbre, anger flashed in her jade eyes. The
gentlemen under her scrutiny squirmed.

“Of course,
if it were not for her own foolishness she would never have been in such a
predicament in the first place.”

Catlin
frowned at her older sister.

“But, I am
most grateful to both of you for your assistance. A woman battling the elements
on such a stormy night could have, well . . . ," she batted her thick
black eyelashes. "Things could have ended very badly for Catlin.”

All of
Griffin’s senses reacted to the presence of the Glyndwr sisters. The pull of
their exotic and enticing sensuality confused him. He rarely had a need, or a
desire, to pursue a woman. He never had to because they eagerly pursued him.

Catlin
turned and smiled. The red-haired beauty with dark green cat's eyes that tilted
just a bit at the corners considered him for a moment, before glancing in
Catlin’s direction. Her lips pursed with an expression of concern. “How much
time have you spent with my sister?”

Griffin
shrugged with what he hoped was an air of nonchalance. “We only met again
recently the other night, when she was—.” He paused for a moment. “In need of
some assistance.” He glanced at Morgan.

”I watched
her perform her tasks in order to heal my friend. After that she fell into an
exhausted sleep.”

Aelwyd ap
Pryd narrowed her eyes at her sister before turning her attention back to him.
“How long did she sleep?”

Griffin
relaxed. Of course the older sister would be concerned about Catlin’s health.
After all, being arrested was a difficult experience for anyone, and even more
so for a lady of quality.

“She slept
for a full day and then a bit, Missus, but I sat with her through the entire
time to keep watch.”

Aelwyd’s
thin smile disappeared. “Did she seem overly disturbed in her sleep?”

Griffin
pondered her question, for it seemed odd. Especially considering the strange
and bewildering ritual he’d watched Catlin perform before she collapsed in his
arms. And then there was that kiss. That sweet, beguiling kiss they’d exchanged
that promised so much sensual heat in just the brief touching of their lips.

He recalled
Catlin’s nude body as she moved about the chamber performing her odd rituals to
heal Morgan, and a shocking hunger seized him. He was not a man captivated by a
woman, even a woman as beautiful and delightful as Catlin Glyndwr.

If he were a
superstitious man, he’d imagine himself under some sort of spell. As a man who
appreciated the nuances of sensuality, he ascribed his desire for the
russet-haired beauty to his long sabbatical without satisfying his carnal
needs. He needed to find himself a willing female to appease this hunger.

“She was
uneasy,” Griffin finally answered, “but the circumstances prior to coming to
Mabley Hall were enough to keep even the strongest person troubled with
nightmares for a fortnight.” He turned apprehensively to Morgan, wondering if
he recalled any of the events that took place at the Shrewsbury Gaol. “Your
sister is a remarkable woman, I grant you that.”

Aelwyd
tilted her head before responding. “We are not like other women, Sir Reynolds,
and that is both our allure and our curse.”

She twisted
away to whisper with Catlin.

Morgan
watched the two women with a look of pure enchantment upon his face. “Have you
ever seen such a thing, Griffin?”

Griffin
watched the women from across the room. “Two beautiful ladies chirping gossip
at each other like birds? ’Tis a most familiar sight at court.” Irritation with
Aelwyd ap Pryd and her secretive ways grew within him.

Morgan
frowned at him. “Not that, you horse’s arse, don’t you see how unique these two
women are?” Griffin frowned. This was an unusual reaction from a man who’d
spent years avoiding the machinations of a father intent upon making a good
marriage match. If he’d been asked any other day about his friend’s interest in
females, Griffin would have laughed.

Yet here
stood Morgan gaping at two women like a besotted schoolboy. Especially when his
soft gray eyes beheld the vivacious Aelwyd ap Pryd.

His friend’s
fascination with the women disturbed Griffin, and he vowed to watch these
Glyndwr sisters very carefully.