Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (18 page)

Catlin lifted
on her tip toes to give him a grateful kiss. His hands grasped her waist and he
pulled her closer. Their mouths slid against each other in a wicked tease.

“I can’t
tell you why he frightens me so, but ’twill be easier for me if I know he isn’t
stalking my steps each day.”

Griffin
touched one cheek gently. “Of course, now the lout’s name, so I can make sure
he never troubles you again.”

“Lord Purdy,
the Earl of Sheffield.” Goosebumps rose on her skin at the name.

Griffin’s
body stiffened and he stared down at her with a shocked expression. His hands
dropped suddenly to his sides.

“The Earl of
Sheffield,” he said in a hollow voice. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”
She nodded. “He seemed quite proud of his title, and I think he tried to use it
to impress me. He even thought I’d allow him the liberty of kissing my hand.”

Griffin’s
silence troubled her, and she backed up to better see the expression on his
face.

“What’s
wrong?”

“I cannot
ask the Master to remove him from the ship.” His voice was cool and detached.

Catlin felt
a lump form in her throat. Griffin had assured her he'd get rid of the man who
frightened her. What would make him change his mind so quickly?

“He’s an
evil man, Griffin. You must ask the Master to leave him here in Bristol. I
cannot bear the thought of traveling on a ship for several months with such a
man.” She shuddered at the thought, her skin growing icy cold with goose bumps.

Griffin sat
down on the bed. His eyes held a dark storm of emotion, and he held his hands
out to her, as if begging for her forgiveness.

“It isn’t
because I don’t wish to do as you ask, Catlin. It simply isn't possible.”

His remorse
failed to move her as she stamped her foot in protest. “You swore you believed
me, Griffin. Was that merely a ploy to get me to share your bed?” Tears filled
her eyes.

He stood up,
anger transforming his face into a mask of fury. “I asked not once, but twice
if you were sure you wished to surrender your virtue to me. Do not play these
games with me. 'Tis too late for regrets.”

She tossed
her hair and her temper flared. “I believe it is you who are the more practiced
at such sport, for I am a simple country lass with no worldly veneer from
traveling the continent or visiting the lascivious court.”

Griffin
stood above her, his fists clenched as the muscle beneath the faint scar on his
cheek twitched. “I have not teased your maidenhood from you nor played false
with your emotions. I pledged my protection to you upon my honor, and would do
as you ask if only ’twere possible.”

“Pretty
talk,” she spat at him, “but I wonder if you are afraid of the prowess of this
earl and think he might challenge you to a duel over his right to travel on the
Lady Bountiful.”

Gray clouds
shadowed his eyes, and the twitch in his cheek grew to a pulsing throb. “Enough
of these insults to my honor, for you know nothing of the ways of the world.
You've just admitted that.” He drew one hand through his hair. "It's not
possible to put the man off the ship because in truth, he owns the damned
thing. He’s a powerful lord who has been appointed to a high post in the
colonies.” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I am neither rich enough nor
influential enough to challenge the man, so I cannot do as you ask.”

Catlin
stared at Griffin and tried to absorb his words. “He owns the
Lady Bountiful
?”
She stood in the center of the room, as if frozen to the spot by an icy wind
swirling down from the North Country. “Then we shall be forced to seek passage
on another ship, perhaps one that leaves next week.” She tried to keep the quiver
of fear from her voice. “It should not delay us too long, for ships sail every
day from Bristol to the colonies.”

Griffin
crossed the floor and grasped her shoulders. “We cannot wait for another ship,
for I have paid passage on this one.” He released her and and she felt like a
great weight sat upon her chest.

“I’m not a
rich man, Catlin, and I need every copper I have for improvements to the
plantation.” He walked to the window and opened the shutter.

He gestured
out the window toward the water. “My future lies out there, across the sea. I
will not give up my dream because you experienced some childish foreboding when
you encountered a stranger.”

Catlin's
belly cramped as though she'd been struck, and she reeled in shock at his
words.

“You must
decide, Catlin, because I aim to leave on that ship on the morrow. You may come
or you may stay. It is of no consequence to me.” He stormed out the door and
slammed it behind him, leaving his angry words hanging in the air.

Hot tears
slid down Catlin’s face. She recalled Aelwyd’s warning.

Trust no
man, for they all turn faithless in the end.

Chapter Seventeen

All her
life, people had warned Catlin to beware of her impulsive notions, and yet time
and again she’d been the victim of her own recklessness. Perhaps never more so
then today, she mused, as she left Griffin’s chamber and headed for her own.

Not that she
regretted her sensual interlude with Griffin. She’d never felt so many
wonderful, delightful things. But, she needed time to sit and sort out her experience
with him. Griffin had given her several weak excuses for remaining on the
Lady
Bountiful.
But, she knew he wasn’t telling her the true reason.

Catlin need
not have worried about Bitsy, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor in
front of a blazing fire. She had a large trencher balanced on her lap and was
finishing a hearty meal. Her eyes grew wider as Catlin entered the room, and
she stumbled to perform an awkward curtsy.

“Beggin’ yer
pardon, Miss, but I was hungry, and the food smelled so good, I didn’t mean
to...” She indicated the empty platter. “I guess I didn’t know me own belly.”

“I ordered
all the food for you, Bitsy. I can see you’re much too thin and anyone working
for me will need to be strong and hearty. Now finish up, and then you can have
your bath.”

Steam rose
from a large wooden tub in front of the bed. Catlin bustled to her clothing
chest to grab a bar of wrapped soap scented with lavender, a rough cloth, and
one of her linen shifts.

She turned
to Bitsy. “I want you to scrub yourself until every inch of you shines, do you
understand?”

“Egad,
Mistress," the girl protested. "Don’t ye know too much scrubbin’ is
bound to give ye the smallpox? That’s what me Mam always said.” Bitsy stepped
closer to the fire and away from the hot water in the tub.

“Nonsense,”
snapped Catlin. “I suspect you're full of vermin, and a good scrubbing will rid
you of them.” She straightened to her full height. “I cannot abide filth, so if
you will not bathe I shall just have Sir Reynolds return you to the gaol.”

A look of horror
crossed the young girl’s face. Catlin hadn’t meant to terrify the child, but
her mother had held that better bathing habits would save many a life if
practiced by the more unfortunate members of society.

Catlin put
the shift on the bed and pointed at Bitsy. “I haven’t had time to purchase new
clothing for you.” Her cheeks warmed when she remembered exactly what she had
found time to accomplish this morning.

“I can wear
me own things after I wash.”

Catlin put a
finger on her mouth as she considered the girl’s clothing, which was little
more than tattered rags. “I'll give you a few things to wear, and once you are
cleaned up and dressed we shall go out and buy you new shoes.

Bitsy
squealed. “Egads, Mistress, I ain’t never had me no new shoes.”

She crossed
the room and stripped off the torn and filthy clothing. “I swear, I’ll scrub
meself until my skin peels off."

Catlin
turned her back as the girl splashed into the tub. Bitsy gave a surprised yelp
and Catlin whirled quickly.

“Are you
alright?”

Bitsy
nodded. “I’ll be fine, just the water was hotter than I s’pected. No worries,
Mistress.” She held the bar of scented soap to her nose. “Will I smell as good
as this when I’m done?”

“Surely, and
I’ll even find a few ribbons for your hair if you allow me to comb out the
snarls.”

Catlin’s
promise elicited another squeal. “Ye and himself must be the best folks there
ever was, for I’ll be the envy of every girl on the ship with all me fine
clothes and such.”

Catlin
sorted through her carved wooden chest and found a gown, apron, and stomacher
for Bitsy. She kept wondering what compelled Griffin to hold to his decision
that they sail on the
Lady Bountiful
. He’d always been honest with her
before. But it was clear he harbored a secret. It was a mystery she became
determined to solve.

Despite
their argument, Catlin never wavered in her resolve to travel with Griffin to
Virginia. Their dinner conversation that evening was stilted, with references
to the mild weather, questions about Bitsy, and comments regarding the food.

As she
watched him eat, she considered using a tiny spell to make him change his mind.
It would be easy to convince him that they could wait a few days and sail upon
another ship. Yet Aelwyd had used magic to convince him to bring her on the
voyage in the first place. And there was the matter of the love spell she'd
cast when they were stranded in the cottage.

Griffin was
no fool, and he might grow suspicious if he once more agreed to something he
didn’t remember.

“Did you
find the items you needed for your little maid?”

“She was
absolutely delighted with everything I purchased for her. I've never seen
anyone so happy about a new pair of shoes.” Catlin smiled despite her annoyance
at Griffin. “When I bought several very serviceable linsey-woolsey gowns for
her, she acted as if I’d given her the finest velvet and brocade.”

Griffin
smiled back. “She’s likely to be a mischievous imp, but I couldn’t stand seeing
her sent back to that cesspool of a prison.” A dimple appeared at the corner of
his mouth.

“I should
warn you,” Catlin said. “I believe she’s quite besotted with you. She chatters
on endlessly about how handsome, strong and noble you are. You’ve gained an
ardent admirer.”

He shot her
an amourous look. “If only her mistress still held the same regard for me.”
Griffin’s coffee-colored eyes sparkled with a sensual invitation.

Catlin
grabbed her wine goblet and took a long drink. Gads, the
damniol
man was
irresistible. When he looked at her like that, her blood nearly boiled. Details
of their afternoon tumble sprang into her head, nearly making her choke.

“I possess a
high regard for you, Sir Griffin.” She took another sip of wine.

“Really, and
yet I think you are perturbed with me at the moment because I would do your
bidding today.”

Catlin
shrugged, suddenly aware that the room was too warm. She pulled her woolen
shawl from around her shoulders. “I was distraught because you said you
believed me about the things I sensed regarding Lord Sheffield, yet you refuse
to change your plans for sailing upon his vessel.”

Griffin
speared a slice of roast beef. “It is quite possible you sensed the man is
evil, for I’ve heard enough tales about him to know he possesses a bad
reputation. But that changes nothing.”

Catlin
wanted to object, to find out why he was being so pigheaded, yet she didn’t
want to argue with him again. She wasn’t sure of the depth of the spell Aelwyd
had cast upon him. If it wore off before they left Bristol, she might find
herself stranded upon the shore.

“I won’t
deny many of the gentry have behaved in a most deplorable manner these past few
years. I think ’tis a pity our king doesn’t always demonstrate good judgment
when considering who shall be rewarded for service to his majesty.” He tore a
bit of dark bread from the loaf.

Catlin toyed
with the stem of her pewter goblet. “And yet you insist we sail with such a
man, and I cannot fathom your reasoning.”

Griffin gave
her a dark glower. “I’m not a man accustomed to explaining myself to anyone,
much less to a woman.”

Catlin’s
heart thumped. The stern tone of his voice frightened her a bit.

Griffin
sighed. “I beg your pardon, Catlin, for my foul mood, and for being such a poor
supper companion.” I have been forced to neglect the properties left to me for
many months, to serve the king. I’m anxious to finally be off to take control
of my plantation. If I seem too abrupt or gruff with you, ‘tis simply my
eagerness to become a man of means.”

He returned
to his meal. A ribbon of dark brown interwoven with dull red appeared, just
barely visible, above his head.

Griffin
Reynolds was lying.

Griffin
hated deceiving Catlin, especially after she’d offered him the gift of her body
and her trust, but if he divulged his true purpose for insisting they sail upon
the
Lady Bountiful
, her life could be in jeopardy.

Damn the
king and his constant demands. Such thoughts were treasonous, yet he couldn’t
help feeling constrained by the stipulations his majesty, Charles Stuart II,
put upon anyone who declared their loyalty. First he’d faced the debacle in Ireland,
now another dangerous mission to the New World.

Rumors that
a group of Puritans conspired to assassinate the king had surfaced. Griffin had
been dispatched to investigate. That he’d recently been named heir to a
tidewater tobacco plantation was a convenient coincidence. Griffin had assumed
a ruse, at first, pretending an eagerness to find a new life in the colonies.
Later, the idea had seized him, and he began to dream that he might retire his
commission and become a gentleman farmer.

Never before
had the idea of exchanging his adventurous life as a member of the elite corps
that spied for his majesty appealed to him. Lately, though, the thought of
settling down, staying in one place for longer than a few weeks and gaining
some peace had obsessed him.

The more
time he spent with the bewitching Catlin Glyndwr, the more intense his longing
became for that bucolic life in Virginia.

He watched
Catlin surreptitiously as she sat across from him in the coach, engaged in
earnest conversation with her little maid. Just as he had suspected the moment
he spied the small, dirty urchin standing with the other prisoners offering
indentured service to escape their sentences, the girl had stirred Catlin’s
nurturing sensibilities. He grinned at how the girl kept pushing her feet out
from beneath her gown and petticoat to admire her new shoes.

The coach
stopped at the quay and the door opened. Griffin descended and held out a hand
to assist Catlin. She dazzled him, garbed in a gown of dark blue silk that
mimicked the color of her eyes. Silver lace edged her generous bosom, and his
eyes were drawn to the deep valley between her breasts. In a flash his desire
made itself apparent, and he chastised himself for acting like a boy smitten
with his first maid. She fired his blood with passion. When she was this close,
her breath warming him with its sweetness, her womanly scent rising to entice
him, he had to force his mind elsewhere to maintain his composure.

“I’ve been
able to arrange a cabin for you, so you won't be forced to sleep t’ween decks.”
Griffin pointed at the Lady Bountiful bobbing at anchor. “It'll provide you
with a bit more privacy.”

He’d paid
dearly for the cabin at this late date, bribing the Master to ensure Catlin was
not put in the large communal living quarters that many passengers shared
between decks. Privacy was especially important now, considering the events
that had transpired between them yesterday. He fully intended to become her
tutor in the many ways of carnal satisfaction, just as she'd suggested. She was
too rich a temptation for him to resist.

Catlin
frowned as they faced the ship. “’Tis still too small a craft for such an
arduous journey, if you ask me.”

Griffin put
his hand on her back and steered her toward the gangplank stretched from the
quay to the ship. “I assure you, this ship has made the journey many times, in
addition to being sent to the East Indies for trade. It is a small ship, but
sea-worthy.”

The crew
scrambled to stow barrels and large wooden crates below in the main hold.
Griffin didn’t miss noticing the many heads that turned when he strolled on
deck with Catlin upon his arm. She was a beautiful woman, and he’d need to
guard her well on the journey. They’d be many weeks at sea, even with a fair
wind, and other men aboard would covet her.

As the
Master’s eyes dropped to feast upon the expanse of creamy bosom Catlin
displayed, Griffin felt the urge to issue a warning to the man. He resisted,
and then stepped forward to block the other man’s view.

“Please
allow me to introduce Miss Catlin Glyndwr.” He flicked a hand in her direction
but still blocked the Master’s eyes from a full view. “I'll be escorting her to
Virginia and have been given the privileged position of guarding and protecting
her on the voyage.”

“And who
serves to protect her from you, Sir Reynolds?”

The smooth,
cultured voice was familiar, and Catlin took a quick step closer to Griffin,
bumping against him as another man stepped from the shadows.

Griffin
bowed. “Sheffield, I didn’t expect to see you on board so early.”

Ioan Purdy,
the Earl of Sheffield, crept closer, his cat-like green eyes never straying
from Catlin. “I have much to look forward to on this voyage and was eager to be
here when our most honored passengers came aboard.”

Catlin’s
breathing quickened and her skin flushed. She trembled as Griffin turned to
grasp her arm. She was visibly shaken by the sudden appearance of Sheffield.