Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (8 page)

Chapter Six

Catlin
settled upon the window seat as Aelwyd poured several bowls of coffee for the
small group gathered in Lord Cranbourne’s study.

Frowning at
her younger sister, she remained silent as she added several spoonfuls of sugar
to Lord Cranbourne's coffee.

“I need to
discuss the terms of my sister’s release, Lord Cranbourne.” She said.

Morgan
paused. The cup stood frozen in the space between the table and his lips.
“Release? I don’t think you understand—”

“I’m aware
Catlin’s behavior has been reckless, but you must know she was falsely
accused.” Aelwyd indicated her sister with a nod of her head. “She was simply
protecting herself from being ravished by that blackguard who calls himself a
Witch Hunter.” She sniffed. “Tit hunter is more of an apt description if you
ask me.”

Griffin
nearly snorted as he watched Lord Cranbourne’s head jerk up at her comment.

“I’m sure we
can, well, what I mean to say is, um, without your sister’s assistance last
night my life would be. . . ”

“I’m sure
she was helpful in her own way.” Aelwyd raised a delicately arched eyebrow.

Griffin
grinned into his porcelain bowl as his friend attempted to maintain his
composure. Few people were bold enough to interrupt the heir to Mabley Hall.
Seeing these Glyndwr women behave in such an honest and forthright manner
amused him, a welcome change from the court of Charles II, where he’d grown
weary of all the lies, subterfuge, and treachery.

“Catlin
tends to speak and act before she has completely thought through all of the
consequences.”

“Aelwyd!
It’s mean-spirited to talk about me as if I'm not in the room.” Catlin’s
petticoats rustled as she crossed the room. “And if you’ll stop flapping your
tongue long enough to allow Lord Cranbourne to finish a sentence, perhaps you
could avoid making the same mistake you ascribe to me.”

Aelwyd rose
a bit in her chair. She glowered at the two men, then appeared to reconsider
and sat back down again. “Of course, how rude of me.” She glared up at Catlin.
“And how blessed I am to have a sister always eager to point out my shortcomings.”

Morgan
cleared his throat several times and his face shaded a tinge red. “Well, as I
was saying, had it not been for Miss Glyndwr’s offering her services as a
healer, I believe this house would be in a state of mourning today.”

Aelwyd’s
dark green eyes widened and her lips opened to form an O. She stood and leaned
forward to whisper into her sister’s ear again. Despite her effort at
subterfuge, Griffin’s highly trained ears picked up the conversation.

“Mam warned
you,” Aelwyd hissed. “You were never to perform another healing without all of
us being present.” She frowned, and the crease between her eyes grew deeper.
“It was far too dangerous, and you could have, well, it might have . . .” She
didn’t finish the sentence, but the bleak look she threw in Morgan’s direction
belied the dire consequences.

“But
everything turned out fine,” Catlin assured her. “Lord Cranbourne is in
excellent health today, despite all the doomsday predictions of what could have
happened.” She gave her sister a peeved look. “Quit fussing about all that and
let’s go home.”

“That would
be a dangerous mistake,” Griffin interjected. The two women watched him, waiting
for him to continue like sleek, shiny ravens perched upon a limb studying their
quarry. Feeling their eyes upon him, the hair on the back of his neck prickled
a warning. A shudder of alarm crept up his spine. Why did these women bestir
him so much?

“Pray tell
us why my sister would be in danger were she to return home with me?” Aelwyd
asked.

Griffin
stood up. “There is more to this tale then a healing.”

He took a
few steps to face Catlin. Her complexion had blanched. Did she think he
intended to betray her to Morgan? Despite his vow to keep her actions a secret,
he sensed she still didn't trust him.

He turned
back to face Aelwyd. “There was a disturbance in the gaol last night. Doors
were somehow opened and a powerful wind swept through the lower cells.”

He watched
Aelwyd’s face carefully for a reaction and was surprised that she displayed
only mild interest.

“The rushes
and candles were doused, there was a terrible howling sound and it greatly
disturbed the inmates.” He added.

Morgan
leaned forward. His friend had confided he had no memory of anything that
happened before waking up feeling healthy and refreshed this morning. If Morgan
had truly forgotten what had transpired at the gaol, perhaps it could be used
in Catlin’s favor.

Griffin
motioned toward Morgan. “Lord Cranbourne has been suffering from an illness,
and when the dust and filth was disturbed, he was overcome by an attack of lung
fever.”

“That’s why
I’m so grateful to Miss Glyndwr, because if not for her sudden appearance—”
Morgan frowned. “Although I confess, I cannot seem to remember exactly how she
happened to appear in the coach with us.”

“I was
waiting for Sir Griffin.” Catlin moved to Griffin’s side and entwined her arm
with his.

The intimate
gesture pushed the blood from his brain to his nether regions, and a rush of
intense heat suffused his body.

“He
intervened when that horrid man, Bodwell, attacked me.” She looked up at
Griffin, a blissful smile painted on her lips. “He chased my attacker away, and
we discovered we had mutual acquaintances in London. He told me to wait in the
carriage while he fetched you for dinner, and then he would take me home on the
way to the Inn.”

The easy way
Catlin Glyndwr composed the tale astonished Griffin, yet he admired her quick
thinking at the same time.

“It was most
fortunate that when she observed your condition, she felt she could be of some
assistance,” Griffin added.

“Of course,
and bloody right she was.” Crimson color rose from Morgan’s neck to turn his
entire face red. “I apologize, ladies.”

Aelwyd
tapped her fingers on the table as she watched Catlin and Griffin.

“I’m pleased
my sister could be of service to you, my lord, but now it’s time she returned
home to her family.”

“No!” Catlin
objected.

Griffin
stared at Catlin, amazed at her outburst. While they shared the same sentiment,
he wondered at her motives for suddenly protesting her release, especially since
she’d been so concerned about being able to leave earlier in the day.

“You have
been invited to stay here at Mabley Hall, but if you feel you must, you may
leave.” Morgan blushed deeper as Aelwyd stood and put her hands on her hips.

Before she
could speak, Morgan held up one hand to silence her. “I would like to extend my
hospitality to all of your family members, in gratitude for Miss Glyndwr’s
assistance last night.”

Aelwyd
appeared to relax, and a beneficent smile graced her face. “That is most kind
of you Lord Cranbourne, but we could not possibly—”

“Offend you
by refusing,” Catlin interjected. “I think I should stay here for a few days,
just to make sure you are fully recovered.”

The heat of
the glare from her older sister could have blistered skin with its intensity.
“Perhaps we need to discuss this privately, Catlin.”

Catlin still
had her arm linked with Griffin’s. When she attempted to pull away from him he
put his hand over hers. She smiled at him.

His reaction
was quick and unmistakable, as his blood heated and his cock grew hard. He
tried to shift his attention away from his carnal needs “I think that’s a
sensible suggestion.” He allowed his grasp upon her arm to relax, hoping he
might be able to step away from her before she became aware of his state of
arousal.

“And my
dear—” He gazed down at her with what he hoped was a rapt expression “It will
allow me to become better acquainted with your family.”

His words
hung in the air. Catlin’s sister surveyed him with an expression that
transformed from suspicion, to annoyance, to outright curiosity. He’d intrigued
her, and that was certainly his purpose. He’d do anything to gain a few more
hours with the delectable Catlin. But he slid a few inches from the enticing
warmth of her skin and the fragrant scent of her hair.  At the moment, she was
too much of a temptation.

After what
seemed like an eternity, Aelwyd nodded. “I believe I will remain here for a day
or so, Sir Reynolds, and rest assured, I’m extremely curious about your
relationship with my sister.”

He winced. A
clear image of a moth dancing around a dangerous flame popped into his head. It
was clear that Aelwyd ap Pryd intended to guard and protect her younger sister.

Griffin had
no doubt the woman could be a relentless and unforgiving enemy if provoked.

Catlin
needed to steal away from her sister and find Griffin, yet she couldn’t seem to
get even a moment of peace and quiet solitude, much less privacy. The beautiful
suite of rooms they were lead to couldn't even fully distract Aelwyd.

While her
sister marveled at the rich ruby colored silk and velvet fabrics draped at the
windows and surrounding the bed, she also watched Catlin carefully. Catlin
trembled, waiting for the questions she knew were coming and wishing she could
avoid the inevitable angry confrontation.

“Just how
well acquainted are you with Sir Griffin Reynolds?”

Catlin’s
cheeks heated.

“We met the
night I was arrested, when I was being questioned in the gaol.” She took a deep
breath. “I wasn’t waiting for him in the coach, as you well know.” She spoke
slowly, pausing dramatically to buy some additional time. “I was facing serious
charges and when he came to speak with Lord Cranbourne, he seemed . . .
sympathetic.”

Aelwyd
snorted. “I imagine he was especially so after you cast a glamour to entice
him.”

Catlin shook
her head vehemently. “I couldn’t, at least not when we were at the gaol. I
tried, but it was much later, when we were in the carriage with Lord Cranbourne.”
She twisted her hands as she paced across the room. “I discovered he’s
unusually strong and resistant to spells.”

Aelwyd
laughed harshly, but the sound clearly held no mirth. “Resistant? By the
Goddess, I find he is just as easy to fool as all
sophor
men.”

Jealousy
flashed through Catlin. Of course, as a fire adept, Aelwyd’s magic was so
intense when focused that few
sophor
s could resist her. In fact, she was
one of the strongest practitioners of the arcane arts in the land. Few Mages
possessed the ability to resist her will when she chose to impose it.

Catlin had only
been initiated as an air adept for three years, and the weakness of her powers
compared to those of her older sister incensed her.

“So if he
resists you so strongly, how did you make him agree to corroborate your lies?”
Aelwyd’s voice dripped with incredulity, like wax from a sputtering candle.

Catlin shook
her head. “I’m not sure why he didn’t tell Lord Cranbourne the truth today.”
She licked her lips. “But he was in the room last night when I cast the spell
to heal his friend.” 

Her sister
stared at her, an expression of shock and horror widened Aelwyd's eyes and
silenced her for several long minutes.

“You let him
watch you?” Aelwyd spat at her like a furious house cat. “What kind of silly
dunderhead are you?”

Catlin
couldn’t find the words to defend her actions. To allow a
sophor
to
witness a magical rite was one of the most serious offenses a witch could
commit.

“Why didn’t
you use a sleeping spell upon him?” Aelwyd marched back and forth across the
smooth wood floor, stumbling upon the edge of one of the Persian carpets.

“I told you,
he resisted the spell I tried to put upon him, and I had already asked the
sylphs
for their assistance to escape from the gaol.”

To remind
her sister of what had transpired in the confines of the jail was a mistake. Aelwyd’s
wrath spun out to the far corners of the room. “Can I assume that you called
upon your elemental spirits to help you perform your escape?”

When Catlin
nodded, Aelwyd bowed her head.

“We shall
all be strung up at the gallows for practicing witchcraft!” The doom in her
sister's voice made Catlin shiver.

’Twas
Catlin’s greatest fear, yet she trusted Griffin Reynolds more then any man
she’d ever known despite their brief acquaintance.

“Sir
Reynolds gave me his word not to divulge my secret, and so far he has kept that
promise.”

“The word of
a Cavalier,” Aelwyd spat as she rolled her eyes. “You’ve hardly chosen the most
trustworthy of allies. The King sets a standard for his men with a lewd and
debauched court that values the ways of a libertine more than that of
chivalry.”She paused, one long fingernail tapping her temple. “Yet he lied for
you, and to someone who appears to be an old and treasured friend.” She folded
her arms across her chest. “Are you sure you didn’t cast even a tiny spell upon
him?”