Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (14 page)

“I saw the
Phoenix in the tree where the lightening bolt hit. It must have been the sign
we’ve been waiting for.” She turned back to face Catlin. Her fingers touched
her throat, and there was a tremor in her hand. “To find our new path?”

Catlin
couldn’t hide her astonishment as her mouth dropped open.

“The
Phoenix? But, it’s so rarely seen by any adept. How could you, I mean. . .

“Exactly,”
Aelwyd said. “If the Goddess sent such a powerful sign, we must not ignore it!”

 “I do not
envy your meeting with that termagant.” Morgan had his booted feet upon the
desk and a glass of claret in one hand. “That woman fascinates and terrifies
me, and I’m not too proud to admit it.”

Griffin
shifted in his chair and shook his head. “Missus ap Pryd has every reason to be
angry with me, for I acted foolishly this afternoon.” He took a sip of his
drink from the pewter goblet in his hand. While he refused to agree with Morgan
out loud, he did harbor some trepidation regarding an audience with the Widow
ap Pryd. It was not her temper he feared as much her obvious right to demand
that Griffin do the right thing in order to protect Catlin’s reputation. He was
hardly in any position to make an offer of marriage, not with the King’s errand
weighing heavily upon him.

In truth,
he’d tarried overlong at Mabley Hall already. He stared down at the dark red
wine in his goblet, realizing things had started to swirl out of his control.
He did not relish being at the mercy of destiny.

“So, what
really happened between you and the dazzling Catlin Glyndwr?” Morgan gave him a
sly smile. “I know you are both hiding something.”

Griffin drew
his goblet to his lips and took a long drink. “You know I do not indulge in
tales about women, Cranbourne. We have been friends long enough for you to
understand that.”

Morgan swore
beneath his breath. “So, there is more story to tell, and you simply refuse to
give me the salacious details.”

Griffin
picked up the crystal wine decanter and refilled his goblet before handing if
off to Morgan. “There is nothing to tell that is scandalous enough for your
tastes.”

Morgan
pulled his feet from the desk and slapped his hands upon his knees. “How I
regret your bloody damned sense of chivalry, for it has robbed me of many a
delicious tale.”

Griffin
stood up before giving his friend a smirk. “Cheer up, my friend, for now that
your father has acquired a bride for you, I shall be regaled with stories of
your vigor in the nuptial bed.” He winked. “You shall need to work quickly, as
your father is already bragging about the heir to be born next year.”

Morgan spat
out a stream of wine. “He’s going to saddle me with some pasty-faced country
lass who will do nothing but badger me and give birth to a bunch of loud,
disruptive children.” He wiped at his mouth. “Marriage is an institution
created by women to torture us poor men.”

It was
fruitless to argue the point. As the third and most useless son in his family,
Griffin  need never worry about pressure to marry and have children.

And yet,
there were times recently when he’d begun to imagine watching his own children
grow up in Virginia, as proud and strong as the trees he heard grew there in
profusion. It was only a far-fetched fancy. His King still required his
services. Dreams of settling down with a wife were just that—wild, unobtainable
dreams.

Chapter Twelve

“The
Phoenix?” Catlin’s voice was hushed, as if even speaking of such a wondrous
thing was forbidden.

In her
lifetime, no one had ever mentioned seeing the rare and beautiful firebird. It
was thought to be a legend, even amongst elemental fire adepts.

Catlin could
barely contain her excitement. If her sister truly had seen the immortal bird
with feathers that could burn to ash, only to rise again, it could be the sign
her mother had mentioned.

Aelwyd
stomped back and forth across the room, stumbling several times. Finally, she
pulled off her offending slippers and threw them across the room.

“It means
that despite all of my warnings against Sir Reynolds and the fact that I cannot
trust the man, nor you, sister, when you are with him, that I am forced to
concede you are right.”

Catlin couldn’t
determine what was making Aelwyd angrier—the idea of sending her off with
Griffin Reynolds or being forced to admit she was wrong.

Catlin
smiled. Aelwyd was full of pride, one of the deadly sins. It was too much to
ask that she resist a moment to enjoy a small tumble from the pedestal her
sister had placed herself upon since the death of their father.

“Well, I am
relieved you finally believe me, and imagine, it only took the sight of a
legendary immortal bird during a fearsome tempest to convince you.” She rolled
her eyes and giggled. “I hope it shall be as easy to convince Sir Reynolds to
do my bidding.”

Aelwyd
stopped pacing. “I do not think it shall be you making the request, for I
suspect he might need a bit of prodding in order to do as we wish.”

Catlin
stared at her most powerful sister. Aelwyd was the protector of all elemental
mysteries, a high priestess, invocator, and mage. For her to even suggest using
her powers to control a
sophor
was forbidden. A simple glamour was one
thing, but casting a spell to force a
sophor
to your will was dangerous.

“You
shouldn’t, Aelwyd,” Catlin protested. “You’re needed to initiate Meaghan and
Seren.” Her voice rose an octave. “If the watchtower guardians learn of it,
they could strip you of your powers.”

Aelwyd waved
her hand with a languid air. “I have no intention of endangering my position as
an elemental mage. But from what my fire dragons have shown me, Sir Reynolds
has an intense attraction to you, Catlin. I can judge how best to use that
knowledge and perhaps not exactly cast a spell, but invoke a small glamour.”

Catlin shook
her head. “He resisted the one I tried to cast upon him in the coach, so I
doubt if it will work.” She gave her sister a mocking smile. “He is very
strong, you know.”

Aelwyd ap
Pryd gave a tiny, secret smile in return. “You have no experience in convincing
men to do your bidding, while I had the most perfect of subjects on which to
practice.” Her expression transformed into a grim mask. “An uncooperative
husband.”

“I am near
starved, Griffin.” Morgan swirled the dark liquid in his goblet. “You missed
dinner today, so I dare say you are as hungry as I am.” He set his goblet down
upon the scarred wood surface of the desk. “I instructed cook that I wanted
oysters for supper this evening, and I'll ask Flanders to get me some now to
ease our hunger pains.”

Jumping up,
he opened the door, catching himself before he bumped into Aelwyd ap Pryd.

He bowed in
her direction. “Begging your pardon, Missus.”

“My Lord,”
she responded with a deep curtsy.

“I am
searching for Sir Reynolds; do you perchance know where I might find him?

The corners
of Morgan’s mouth lifted into a smile. “I believe he has been most anxious to
speak with you. Please come in, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”

“Thank you,”
she murmured, before striding into the room and snapping the door shut behind
her. She blinked.

“Sir
Reynolds,” she called out in an authoritative voice.

Griffin rose
quickly to his feet. “Missus ap Pryd,” he said, his tongue heavy and thick in
his dry mouth. He gulped as he came to a full stand. “May I help you?”

“I wish to
speak with you regarding my sister.”

A sliver of
fear slipped down his spine. “Catlin?”

Aelwyd sat
in a chair opposite the desk. Her expression was as dark as the sky during the
storm earlier in the day. The storm that was the reason for their meeting.

“Of course,
Catlin. I do not believe you have had the opportunity to have congress with my
other sisters yet, have you?” she snapped.

Griffin fell
back into the chair at the desk. “No, Missus, not yet. I mean, I would not,
with any of them, have congress, I mean . . .” His voice trailed off as he
seized a goblet sitting on the desk and took a large gulp.

Aelwyd
pursed her lips and inhaled a deep breath. She frowned up at him as he took
another long drink from the goblet.

"Liquid
courage", she suggested. "But aren't you a seasoned soldier,
accustomed to facing your enemy?"

Griffin
leaned forward and stretched his hands out in supplication. “I don't want you
to think of me as an enemy, and I wish to apologize for everything that
happened this afternoon, Missus ap Pryd.”

He stood and
forced his body to relax his tense muscles. “I am well aware I demonstrated
poor judgment in taking Catlin to the hunting lodge, and as for what transpired
while we waited out the storm, she is blameless.” He straightened his
shoulders, prepared to accept her anger. “Please do not punish her for my
actions.”

“Then I
should punish you, shouldn’t I?”

Griffin's
head jerked back. Now the bargaining would begin. What price would he be forced
to pay for a brief interlude with Catlin?

“I was
making a jest, Sir Reynolds.” Aelwyd finally said.

He sat back
down and drained the goblet before turning. He grasped a crystal decanter and
refilled his empty cup.

“Do not excuse
her behavior so quickly, Sir Reynolds. She has confessed to me she is quite
infatuated with you, and I suspect she had some influence upon the events that
transpired between the two of you today.”

“I could not
blame a lady for the actions of a knave.” he said.

“Are you
truly a knave, sir? Are you the sort of man who seeks to deceive women and
trick them into a seduction, only to break their heart and desert them when you
grow tired of their charms?”

Sir Reynolds
jumped to his feet. He clenched his hands into fists at his side. “If you were
a man charging me with such trickery and slandering my good name, I would
demand satisfaction from you.”

Aelwyd
remained composed with her hands folded primly in her lap. “You speak so
casually of dueling that I think you must participate in such games frequently.
Can I assume you often find yourself in need of defending your reputation, or
do you have frequent need to stand in defense of someone else’s honor?”

Fury clouded
his vision with a haze of blood red. He smacked a fist upon the surface of the
desk. “I have defended the innocent, who were the victims of unfounded gossip
mongering and envy.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper. “In
cases when I found it necessary to draw my sword, it has been to protect others
or to defend my king and country.”

She nodded.
“Then I am satisfied you are no knave, sir. Please, let us try to be civil to
each other, for I have no wish to offend you with my questions.”

“I
apologize, Missus. Perhaps this conversation could take place another time,
when I am in more control of my passions.”

Aelwyd shook
her head. “I fear there isn't sufficient time for us to assume a more composed
state to discuss the matters I find most pertinent. I understand you leave for
Bristol tomorrow and sail to the New World before the month is out.”

Griffin
nodded, glad to be discussing a different topic. “You must be relieved to know
I shall no longer pose a threat to the honor or reputation of your sister.”

She drummed
her fingers upon the desk and glanced around the room, as if studying the
furnishings until finally her gaze settled back on Griffin. “On the contrary, I
have actually come to make a proposal to you regarding my sister’s welfare.”

He could
feel the muscle near the thin scar edging his face twitch, and his breath came
faster and deeper. Now would come the demand he marry Catlin for the sake of
propriety.

“I should
think you’d consider it best for your sister if I left as soon as possible,
especially since you have made it clear you possess no high regard for my
character and know she has expressed a certain, ardor, towards me.” He folded
his arms across his chest and glared down at her.

His obvious
displeasure had no effect upon the widow. She primly slid her hands down the
black velvet of her gown to smooth the wrinkles. Finally she tilted her head up
at him. "I wish for you to conduct Catlin safely across the ocean and to
the colonies. I want you to protect her during the voyage and ensure she is
settled once she arrives in Virginia.”

Griffin
laughed out loud and stared at her

“Have you
become a smashing bloody damned lunatic?” he shouted, before draining his
goblet in one gulp and slamming it down upon the desk.

“I cannot
think of anything I would rather
not
do.” He stomped across the room.

“Your sister
is of a tempestuous nature, given to rather strange pronouncements, and
uninhibited actions. She seems to be followed about by great drafts of wind and
storms.” He marched back to the desk and pointed towards Aelwyd. “I think she's
lovely, but to be quite honest, I value my freedom.”

Aelwyd
laughed. “Do not be so foolish, Sir Reynolds. My sister simply requires an
escort. She would be little trouble to you, and your intentions are to travel
to the colonies anyway. I believe it is quite a convenient coincidence.”

Griffin
could not believe the confidence of this woman. And it confused him that
although she was demanding he escort her sister, she hadn't mentioned marriage.

“Catlin
requires a chaperone to Virginia and it happens that you are going there soon.
I see that as a solution to a problem, not a vexation.”

Griffin
stared at her, still unable to comprehend what she was saying. “You would trust
her to travel under my guardianship?” He plowed one hand through his hair, “I
would suggest that is rather like setting the fox to guard the henhouse.”

“Perhaps,”
Aelwyd said. “But I suspect you are a fox who at least has some trepidation
about consuming the hen.”

Griffin
raised an arched brow. “But destined to consume nevertheless, because it is his
nature.”

“I do not
doubt that,” Aelwyd said. “The unknown element in this equation is the hen,
because she can be as cunning and scheming as the fox.”

He slid her a
devilish grin. “Regardless of the game, I will win because I am the more
seasoned player. Are you prepared to wager your sister’s honor in exchange for
safe passage to the colonies?”

Aelwyd stood
and ambled slowly to the fire. She held out her hands as if to warm them in the
glow. “A wager is safe when you know you will win.”

She bent
forward and put her hands directly into the dancing flames. Griffin scrambled
across the room to grab a woolen throw tossed upon the back of a chair.

“God’s blood
but you are mad, woman. What have you done?” He snatched the throw intending to
quickly wrap her hands.

Aelwyd took
several quick steps in his direction and held out her hands.

Griffin
stared down in astonishment as a tiny flame-licked creature, glowing with the
red, blue and gold of the brightest fire, sat in the palm of her hand.

The changing
colors of the fire dragon mesmerized him, and he couldn’t look away. In a few
moments he relaxed and his breathing slowed. A soothing warmth suffused him,
surrounding him with a soft, golden glow that smelled like cinnamon.

“Very good,
Sir Reynolds.” Aelwyd still held the fire in her hands, which had assumed the
form of a tiny dragon. “Take several large, deep breaths. Feel the air moving
into your lungs and out again.”

She waited
for him to do as directed. “Keep your eyes on the colors of my fire dragon, do
not look away, but listen carefully.”

He silently
did as she asked.

“You will
take my sister, Catlin Glyndwr, with you tomorrow when you leave for Bristol.
You will guard her well, making sure she is comfortable and safe while she
travels with you to Virginia.”

She paused
for a moment. “Take several longer, deeper breaths.” She urged.

He did as
she asked. He wanted to fight against her, release himself from her control,
but he was weak as a newborn lamb. He couldn't resist her voice

“You will do
everything you can to protect and care for Catlin.”