Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (15 page)

He stared at
the fire dragon shimmering in her hand.

“When I
leave this room, you will not remember this conversation, just the agreement.”

The golden
light turned a bright red, then to orange. He was surrounded by flickers of
fire that weren't hot, but cool and comforting.

She drew
away from him, and with a small, swift movement tossed the fire dragon back
into the flames crackling in the fireplace. A large sputter of sparks blazed
and she uttered a few words he didn't understand.

Griffin
snapped to attention and quickly rushed to her aid. He held out the woolen
throw. “Be careful Missus ap Pryd, for you might catch your gown on fire.”

Aelwyd
touched his arm and whispered her gratitude. Griffin shook his head and looked
around the room. He'd often sat here with Morgan, yet it seemed strange and
changed.

“I thank
you, Sir Reynolds, for your most generous offer. I am sure Catlin shall be
relieved to learn you are going to serve as her escort to the ship and on the
voyage to the colonies of Virginia.”

Griffin was
about to object, but he stared at her, turned to look at the fire, then
returned his gaze back to the widow's lovely face. He wasn't going to refuse
her request. In fact, he felt familiar and soothing warmth. He wanted to agree
to escort Catlin to Virginia. In fact, he was almost sure he had suggested it.

“I, um. . .
it is my pleasure to be of service to your family, Missus ap Pryd.”

Aelwyd
opened the door and nearly toppled Morgan, who was preparing to enter the library
with a footman behind him carrying a huge platter of oysters.

“I beg your
pardon, Missus.” He bowed.

Aelwyd
curtsied and fluttered her fan before her face. “My Lord, you must have some
interesting plans this evening to need such a vast quantity of oysters. I am
happy to see all your appetites have returned in good order.”

With that
she dashed down the hallway, leaving Morgan with his mouth open in
astonishment.

“I just had
the most amazing encounter with Missus ap Pryd.”

Griffin
stared into the fire. He couldn't recall anything that had happened since
Morgan left the room to find his steward except his agreement to take Catlin to
Virginia with him.

“Oddsfish,
what has that woman done to you, Griffin?” There was a note of concern in
Morgan's voice.

“She is not
a woman, she's a devil. Somehow she made me accept a task that I never wished
to accept and yet am anxious to undertake.”

“What in
hell’s name did you agree to, Griffin?”

“It appears
I shall be chaperoning Catlin Glyndwr to Bristol, and then across the ocean on
a voyage of several months. I shall be forced to maintain a close, very
personal relationship with her during that time.” He gave his best friend a
sly, wicked grin.

Morgan's
mouth twisted into an expression of agony, but his eyes glowed with mirth. “Oh,
the hell of it, my friend. That woman is most certainly a nagging slattern and
you the most cursed of men!”

They burst
into a round of loud, raucous laughter.

Chapter Thirteen

“Really,
ladies, we must be going.” Griffin tried to contain his irritation. It seemed
as if their leave-taking had been going on for days instead of only a few
hours. Aelwyd kept remembering tidbits of advice she must dispense to Catlin,
who then dissolved into tears as the final farewell between the sisters approached.

Griffin had little
tolerance for a woman's tears. Surrounded by two weeping females, he found his
teeth on edge, pushed to the limits of his patience. He wanted to escape as
quickly as possible from this flood of female sentimentality.

He pulled
Catlin Glyndwr from her sister’s embrace to deposit her in his coach. He was
already regretting his impetuous decision to bring the woman along. Actually,
he was only guessing it was impetuous, because he had no real memory of the
exchange with Aelwyd ap Pryd. All he could remember was some kind of bargain to
accompany Catlin to Virginia. Whenever he tried to recall their exact
agreement, his head began to ache.

If he had to
endure much more of this crying and lamenting he was going to be forced to
break his own rule about imbibing spirits this early in the day.

Catlin hung
out the coach window, stretching her hands out to her sister. “I shall keep you
informed of my progress,” she promised.

“Do not
hesitate to let me know if you need any kind of assistance,” Aelwyd said.

The exchange
amused Griffin. They spoke as if they could send a courier from one town to the
next. He shook his head. Obviously they didn't understand that a letter from
the New World would take months to travel across the Atlantic Ocean. The Glyndwr
sisters remaining in England could not hope to learn of Catlin’s situation
until fall, if even then.

“Let us get
on the road,” Griffin ordered Carter, and the coach took off in a swirl of
dust. Catlin didn’t move from the window until they turned a curve, obscuring
the view of Mabley Hall. She finally leaned back upon her seat and blew her
nose into a handkerchief. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, her nose was
red from crying, and her cheeks held a bright rose color. Griffin had never
beheld such an appealing sight.

Since he had
no idea how to offer her any comfort, he feigned interest in the passing
landscape. Once she had composed herself, he would engage her in conversation.

She blew her
nose again. “I suppose you think all that was just a loud, bawling muddle of
overwrought women.”

“You shall
be separated from your family, probably for a very long time.” He nodded at
her. “I understand that can be extremely difficult for someone as young and
inexperienced as you.”

“Do you?”
she said, tears still trailing down her cheeks. “I can’t imagine a man would
truly understand.”

Her temerity
shocked him. “Do you believe me a cold, unfeeling brute?”

She
shrugged. “I do not know you well enough to make any judgments regarding your
character.”

He frowned at
her. “And yet you sought the opportunity to travel as my ward on a long and
arduous voyage to the New World.” He tapped his fingers on his knee. “A most
unusual condition to find yourself in with someone you know so little about.”

Catlin
lifted her pert little nose and sniffed. “I believe I’m a good judge of
character, and the fact that you have kept my secrets up until now suggests you
can be trusted.”

Griffin
crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against the seat. “Can you say
the same of our interlude in the cottage the other day?”

She turned a
bright pink. And Griffin found himself shifting in his seat as he recalled the
way her body had responded to his, the way her lips had opened to invite him to
taste the sweetness within her mouth. He didn't intend to embarrass her, but he
needed to be honest regarding this issue.

“I would not
expect a repeat of such behavior between us.” She said, lifting her chin and
pasting a patient smile on her plump lips.

Griffin gave
a hearty laugh. “Catlin, we are going to be on board a ship, in dreadfully
close quarters for several months. Do you actually believe we can fight this
attraction we have for each other?”

The blush
turned her cheeks scarlet before flowing down her neck and shading even the
small décolleté visible at the edge of the ecru lace on her gown. He tried to
look away, but she was like a luscious fruit that tempted him at every turn. 
They had been alone together for a less then a quarter hour and his
self-control was already waning. Why in hell didn’t he foresee this dilemma
before agreeing to escort her?

Even as the
thought occurred to him, he knew it would have changed nothing. He had probably
agreed to Aelwyd’s proposal because he wanted to be alone with Catlin Glyndwr.
He found her innocence charming, her mind fascinating, and her sensuous curves
attracted him like a butterfly to the sweet nectar of a rose. The fact he had
imbibed too much of the good earl’s claret that evening had given him the
freedom to easily agree to something that appealed greatly to him anyway.

No, he could
not blame anyone but himself for his current predicament. He had vowed to
protect and defend Catlin, but he could end up being the biggest threat to her
virtue.

“I know we
share a certain, mutual attraction.” She paused to wet her lips.

The movement
of her small, pink tongue caused a quick, sharp hardening in the area of his
groin.
God’
s
teeth
, the woman could arouse him with no effort
whatsoever. How in the hell was he going to resist her charms for months on
end?

“We are
adults, and so can recognize the need to manage our behavior. I trust you
implicitly, Sir Reynolds. I believe you are a gentleman and would not take
advantage of me.”

Once again
the image of the fox guarding the hen house entered his mind. The Glyndwr women
had too little experience in the world to recognize a rogue when they
encountered one.

But did he
want to destroy her image of him as a fine and noble gentleman? For some
reason, her innocent trust in him appealed to his sense of chivalry. Emotions
he had long thought dead rose to bewilder him.

“Of course,
I was not speaking as though my intentions were to pursue you, I simply wished
to have a discussion before events transpired that we might both regret.” A
thin film of sweat coated his brow and he wiped it away with one gloved hand.

Catlin
shifted in her seat and gave him a winsome smile. “Do not assume I would ever
regret anything that transpired between us, Griffin.”

The soft,
sultry tone of her voice drove a hot explosion of desire through his blood. His
ears hummed for a moment, and he shifted again in his seat to relieve the
discomfort of his tightening breeches.

“Are you
telling me you would welcome a seduction?”

Catlin
lifted her dark eyes. “I said I would not regret it.”

The blood in
Griffin’s veins began to sing.

Aelwyd had
warned Catlin to guard herself around Griffin. Around all men. That once a man
bedded her, he would have no interest in pursuing her as a wife.

But Catlin
wanted to know if the things she felt when Griffin kissed her were common to
kissing any man, or specific to kissing one she especially liked. She found it
impossible to forget the way her body had responded to Griffin the day they
were caught together in the rainstorm. When she spent time with him, she felt
dallu
,
dazzled by rugged good looks that threatened to steal her breath away when they
were together. Even sitting in the coach with him was a trial, for she wanted
to move closer to him in order to enjoy the warmth of his body against her own.
She had never felt such things before and she wanted to experience those
sensations again. She could not imagine living in close quarters with Sir
Griffin Reynolds and not feeling anything for the man.

Griffin
turned from studying the landscape to look at her. “Despite what you’ve just
said, you might regret your impetuous decision to travel to Virginia with me?”

Catlin
bristled. “I’ve hardly had time to formulate any regrets. I suppose it is a
long and arduous journey, so perhaps you are correct.” She lifted her gaze to
blink at him. “But I’m not a woman to whine and bemoan my fate. Once I’ve made
a decison, I find a means to make the best of my situation.”

He nodded.
“I believe you. But, after the invitation you just issued, Miss Glyndwr, I cannot
promise to hold to the vow I made to your sister to protect your virtue.”

She shivered
her own temerity. What had she been thinking to say such a thing to Griffin?
She was no jade, accustomed to flirting with men. She lifted her chin to gaze
out the window, attempting to ignore his teasing tone.

They were
crossing the River Severn, and she knew the plan was to transfer their baggage
to Lord Shrewsbury’s barge to travel to Bristol and meet their ship. The
excitement that was creating butterflies in her stomach spread up to make her
heart beat faster. She was on her way to a grand adventure, and her hopes were
high that she’d find a way to keep her family safe.

She changed
the subject. “How long will it take for us to reach Bristol?

“If the
weather holds as mild as it has been, perhaps only three days.” He turned his
gaze down to study a map he’d pulled from a case and spread across his lap.
Catlin felt dismissed.

She wished
she could think of some lively banter to trade with him, but she didn't have
the advantage of a season at court. Her life had been lived in the confines of
the family keep, with a cadre of loyal servants who had known her all her life.
Now she felt like a rough country girl, lacking in all of the social graces.

“Is that a
map of Virginia?” she asked.

Griffin
lifted his head. “Yes, in fact it is the area surrounding Hawthorne Hundred,
which is what the property—” he paused to give her a sheepish grin. “My
property is called.” He pointed a large, well-shaped finger to a spot on the
map. “The main house is here.”

“Main
house,” she echoed. “Is your plantation that large then?”

He shook his
head. “I have no inkling as to the size of the house, but the lands surrounding
it consist of over six hundred acres. With the indentured servants I'm bringing
on the ship, I shall add another three hundred to that parcel.”

“And are the
woods still inhabited by the naturals?” She shivered. A terrible massacre of
colonists by the natives only a few years before had decimated the colony.

“My uncle
said in his letters to me that most of the tribes have moved on, or have
suffered a great loss of members due to disease.” His gaze flickered over her.
“You have little to fear, Catlin, for within the confines of Jamestown, you
should be safe.”

Catlin had
no real plan for what she would do once she arrived at Jamestown. She could
probably marry quickly after arriving. Even widows were not allowed a natural
mourning period in the colonies, for a single woman was a rare commodity and
many men were in search of a wife.

She stared
down at the map. “Is your plantation close to Jamestown?”

Griffin
shook his head. “I do not believe so, for my uncle said it was fortunate to
have such deep draft on the James River so the ships can be loaded with tobacco
right at Hawthorne Hundred.”

“It sounds
like a lonely and desolate place.” A sudden tremor of fear surged through her
at the thought of being abandoned at Jamestown without Griffin’s supervision,
guidance, and companionship.

“His letters
were filled with visits from neighbors and friends, even stories of parties and
balls. I think the planters must have their own society and find congregating
with each other to be most cordial. He never spoke of loneliness.”

“Did he
never marry?” she asked, wondering about this strange man who could abandon his
native land for a dangerous life in the New World.

“No, he
never married. He hated Cromwell and fought for the King. When Charles the
first was beheaded, my uncle told my father he had no use for a country that
didn’t respect the monarchy, and he would leave England forever.”

“So much
pain and sadness, and he was in exile just like our own King Charles.” She gave
a deep sigh.

Griffin
patted her hand gently. “Do not pity my Uncle Henry too much, for he lived a
good and prosperous life. He wrote that he made a better life as a farmer in
Virginia then he ever would as a gentleman in England.”

“It sounds
as if he were content enough.” How did one achieve contentment? Her parents had
seemed happy enough together, but had they truly experienced a deep and
profound love for each other?

Was her own
yearning for a love that transcended the usual business arrangement of marriage
as foolish and impractical a dream as Aelwyd had always insisted?

She regarded
Sir Griffin Reynolds, for lately her thoughts had strayed to fantasies of this
man. The thought of taking him as a husband was enticing. Yet he’d never made
any reference to the need to acquire a wife. She wondered of his opinion
regarding the state of matrimony.