Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (22 page)

His own
breath came faster, as his blood heated only to pool in the hardness between
his legs. He ached to push into her, yet he wanted to savor their lovemaking,
make it last.

He moved his
mouth to minister to her other breast and pulled her petticoats and gown to her
waist. He gently inserted one finger deep inside her. He discovered her woman’s
honey warm and slick between her legs.

“I want
you,” he said, fumbling eagerly with the laces of his breeches. “I can’t wait
much longer.”

Catlin’s sky
blue eyes darkened. “Yes,” she responded, “take me now.”

It was all
the encouragement Griffin needed. He was thick and heavy with his desire for
her. Without another word he pushed her against the wall while he lifted her
legs up to encircle his waist. With one eager plunge, he entered her. She was
wet and tight. It was exquisite torture to keep from spilling into her with
just the first thrust.

“Yes,” she
moaned, arching toward him.

Griffin
moved his hips in a steady rhythm of entry and withdrawal. She locked her arms
around his neck and held him captive within her embrace.

They rocked
together, their bodies moving in a timeless measure in search of mutual
pleasure and satisfaction. Griffin ached for release, each surge into the
sensual heat of Catlin’s body bringing him to the brink of satisfaction. Yet he
refused to cheat Catlin of her fulfillment. Finally, she arched against him,
crying out his name as her sheath pulsated with wave after wave of release. She
collapsed against him, her head settling upon his shoulder.

Griffin
plunged deeply into her several more times before crying out his own climax.

They
trembled against each other. He kissed her lips gently, still cradling her
against him, still deep inside of her.

Catlin
traced one finger along the side of his face. He cringed when she touched the
scar, but he didn’t pull away.

He carried
her to the bunk, setting her down upon the blanket as if she were a fragile
glass figurine. He stretched out next to her. Their coupling had left him
sated, but spent. He took several deep breaths and worked to calm the staccato
beating of his heart.

Finally as
Griffin leaned up on one elbow to stare down at Catlin. He admired the rosy hue
of her skin and reveled in the soft, satisfied tone of her voice when she
giggled up at him. He’d never known a woman so comfortable with her sensual
appetites, and the more time he spent with Catlin Glyndwr, the more he craved
these lusty interludes they shared too rarely.

“Why have
you refused to come to my cabin? You’ve ignored my most unpleasant state of
arousal.” He played with the nipple still exposed to his view and it puckered
beneath his fingers.

Concern shadowed
her brow. “My family has practiced a means of preventing a woman from
conceiving a child for many centuries.”

Griffin was
intrigued. “Is it truly possible to do such a thing?”

She nodded.
“We keep a record of our courses, and because we are all so tied to the cycle
of the moon, it is not difficult. But there are times when it is not possible
for us to lie with a man, for to do so would make us quicken with child.” She
smiled. “I thought it best to avoid you at those times, because as I’ve
confessed before, ’tis impossible for me to deny you.”

Griffin’s
heart soared at her words. If she couldn’t resist him, then she held strong
feelings for him. Feelings aside from lust. She had to care some for him.
Perhaps she didn't love him, at least not yet. But he hoped someday she would.

“I’m always
astonished by you,
cariad
. Your family holds secrets I can't even
imagine, and when we are more settled, I hope you'll share more of this strange
knowledge with me.”

Her mouth
snapped shut and her eyes changed to a midnight blue hue. She shrugged her
shoulders. “Many have wanted to learn the secrets we possess, and some have
even killed in pursuit of that knowledge.”

Her words
shocked him. She was a capable herbalist and a gifted healer, but now he was
beginning to realize her family possessed secrets that put their very lives in
danger. No wonder Catlin had been so anxious to escape from England.

He sat up
and pulled her into his arms. “I will protect you, Catlin. I make you this vow,
while I live, no one shall threaten you or your family.”

She put her
head on his shoulder. “You can protect me with your sword, Griffin. I have no
doubt of that, but there are forces in our world that require more than courage
and strength. I can only hope I possess the power to protect you from such
evil.”

Her kiss
silenced his protest. He’d never before heard a woman make a pledge to protect
him.

Yet while
she’d vowed to shield him from harm, she had never once told him she loved him.

Chapter Twenty-One

I face a
wild creature. A great giant maw of a mouth filled with sharp pointed teeth
stretches beneath two bright eyes burning blood-red and orange with an angry
fire. Flames burn at the foot of the apparition, and the creature is well over
ten feet tall. Long sharp claws protrude where fingers should be on the ghost’s
hands A pale green aura surrounds the creature. The color of change.

The ghost
doesn’t seem capable of speech, but stands at the edge of my consciousness. It
turns and points to the west. Somehow, even without words, I understood.
Danger. Something dark and threatening waits for me in that direction and the
ghost is warning me.

But, I have
no choice. I must face whatever dangers necessary to find a safe place for my
family in the New World. It's too late to turn back, but I will heed this
strange messenger and be more careful on this mysterious adventure to Virginia.

Catlin
smiled as she recalled the all too brief interlude with Griffin in his cabin
yesterday afternoon. She wondered if they might manage to steal another hour
alone together today. Sir Griffin Reynolds had awakened an insatiable and
unbridled appetite for sensuality within her. Passion was tantalizing to
explore.

A moan
snapped Catlin back to reality, and she sat up, aware that only Bitsy could
have made the sound. Leaning over to look at the small figure curled up on the
pallet next to her, she reached out to shake her maid, who moaned again.

Catlin
pulled the covers back and slipped out of her bunk. The coldness of the rough
floor shocked her, but not as much as the gray pallor of the girl lying on the
pallet. Thick, green bile trickled from the corners of Bitsy’s mouth.

Catlin found
the pitcher of water, copper washing bowl, and a linen towel back with her. She
knelt next to Bitsy and gently wiped the filth from the girl’s face and hair.

“Don’t
worry, Bitsy, I’ll take care of you.” Catlin rinsed the cloth. “You’ve taken a
fever, but I’ll brew you some tea and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

Catlin stood
to throw her gown on over her shift and yanked the bodice closed as best she
could. Without Bitsy’s help, she couldn’t fasten the ribbons tightly. To
protect her modesty, Catlin pulled her velvet cloak around her shoulders.

“I’m going
to get Sir Reynolds to help me, Bitsy.” Catlin hated to leave the girl alone,
for even a short time, but she needed someone to fetch hot water and alert the
crew one of the passengers had taken ill.

Stepping
from her cabin, a flash of fear shot through Catlin. Lord Sheffield stood just
outside her door, almost as if he expected her to be leaving. He held a heavily
bandaged arm with his other hand.

Catlin
squeezed her fists closed, ready to fight the man should he attempt to seize
her again. Even though she’d woven a powerful protection spell to guard against
the evil lord, his dark powers terrified her. She swallowed. Her pulse was
beating a thundering rhythm in her ears, but she needed to pretend a calm she
didn't really feel.

“Experiencing
difficulties this morning, Miss Glyndwr?” His voice was smooth and oily, the
pretense of concern evident to her.

“Nothing you
need worry yourself about, milord

As she
turned toward Griffin’s room, Lord Sheffield snapped out one arm in the small
passageway to prevent her from moving.

Catlin’s
temper flared and she held out her hand, ready to use a repulse spell if he
came any closer.

“I know you
are too well protected to harm.” His eyelids thinned to ugly slits. “Some
spells work better on weaker creatures who do not possess magical powers. If
you cannot be persuaded to come to me for yourself, perhaps you will do so to
protect others.”

Catlin’s
heartbeat echoed in her ears. Of course, she should have been prepared for
this. The dark magician wouldn’t abandon his quest to possess her, but he could
change his tactics. He’d watched her and knew Bitsy was more than a servant.
Catlin had grown very fond of her young maid. Now Lord Sheffield would use
Catlin’s affection for the girl against her.

“What have
you done to her?” Catlin’s voice shook and tears wet her eyes despite her
attempt to control her emotions. “How dare you threaten a
sophor
? ’Tis
against the creed, and you well know it.”

Lord
Sheffield offered her a malicious grin. “My kind does not subscribe to your
precious creed. Such rules make you weak, and I have no time for those who are
weak and helpless.”

Catlin
longed to summon her magic and punish this malevolent magician. His kind gave
adepts a bad name, and were the reason witches were hunted and executed
throughout Europe. Black magic had forced Catlin and her family from their ancestral
home.

A dark,
angry power slammed through her. A red haze glowed just beyond her vision, and
the desire to destroy Lord Sheffield became a hot, wild force within her. Her
raised hand warmed, as if growing ready to hurl a painful curse in his direction.

A tiny
bright light sparkled before her.
Do not
, a small voice chirped at her.
Evil
tempts you to do evil
.

Catlin let
her hand fall to her side. “I will not use your tactics to fight this battle,
Lord Sheffield.” Power tensed within her, then she twisted her head, and the
man was smashed against the wall. “But I warn you again, the protection we
offer to sophors does not include your kind.” She eased her way to the large
oaken door to Griffin’s cabin.

“Your powers
have grown even stronger.” Lord Sheffield rubbed one shoulder. “Or perhaps it
is your hatred of me that feeds your power. Have you ever considered that?”

Catlin’s
temper flared, and the lanterns lighting the hallway flashed too, as if an
invisible wind fanned the flame. “You should avoid tempting me to test that
theory, Lord Sheffield, for your own life could be at stake.”

He barked an
unpleasant laugh. “’Twould be a most exciting contest, my
Bychan Dewines
.”

Her angry
retort to remind him she would never be his Little Witch dissolved before she
could form the words, for he quickly climbed the ladder to the upper deck.

Catlin
paused before tapping on Griffin’s door. She dearly wished she could cast one
good cursing spell on the earl. Despite the fact that it would come back upon
her three times, the cost might be worth it if she could finally be rid of the
loathsome Lord Sheffield and the threat of his dark, ugly magic.

Griffin
answered her knock, his white linen shirt open at the neck to expose the smooth
muscles of his chest.

“I need your
help, Griffin.”

His
expression immediately turned to one of concern. His brows knotted and his lips
went thin.

“What’s
happened, Catlin?” He started out into the narrow passageway. "Is it
Sheffield again?"

She touched
his thickly muscled arm, seeking reassurance and shook her head.

“Bitsy has
taken ill, and I need some hot water to make a tea and some cool, clean water
to wash her and bring down the fever.”

Griffin
frowned. “Do you think it could be the plague?”

The Black
Death had swept through Europe, dragging thousands to a quick, painful demise.
If the disease was on the ship, it could quickly decimate both crew members and
passengers.

“I don’t
know, she was fine last evening, chattering as usual before bed. Mayhap she ate
something that didn't agree with her.”

“Everything
we eat of late is so disagreeable,” he said. “I suspect that to be the case.”

Catlin
nodded. “You’ll bring what I need then?”

He gently
kissed the top of her head. “I told you before,
cariad
, I shall always
be your must humble servant. You have but to ask it of me and it shall be
done.”

"Thank
you," she whispered. The tears she'd held back finally leaked from the
corners of her eyes.

Griffin
pulled her into his strong arms, wrapping her in the familiar cocoon of safety
and warmth. She leaned against his broad chest and listened to his heart beat.
It was a strong, steady rhythm that reassured her.

"You
are a gifted healer, Catlin. I'm sure Bitsy will recover with your help."
Griffin released her.

“Go take
care of the girl and rest assured I’ll bring the things you need to your
cabin.”

“Thank you,
Griffin.” She slid out the door and ducked back into her own cabin, to find
Bitsy on the edge of consciousness and shivering. Catlin hung her cloak upon
the peg near the doorway and pulled her counterpane from the bunk. She covered
Bitsy and knelt on the floor next to the girl’s pallet.

Bitsy was
still feverish and her eyes fluttered open.

“Mam,” she
whispered her voice thick with pain. “It hurts, me belly, Mam. It hurts so
bad.”

“I’m going
to help you, Bitsy.” Catlin kept the tone of her voice as calm and soothing as
possible. “Just close your eyes and try to sleep.”

Griffin and
a young boy returned with the supplies.

“Set the
kettle of hot water on the charcoal brazier over there.” Griffin pointed across
the small space. “And put some of the cool water in that basin.”

The boy
complied, then bowed in Catlin’s direction. “If ye need naught else, I’ll be
leavin’.”

“Thank you,”
Catlin uttered, already dismissing him. She wrung a linen rag in the water and
gently wiped at Bitsy’s face. The girl moaned.

When the
cabin door shut, Griffin squatted next to Catlin. His mouth formed a hard line
and a deep furrow of concern wrinkled his brow. “There are three other cases of
sickness this morning. The Colebank sisters have taken ill, and a servant to
the Whitman family. All young women. Is it possible they ate something to cause
this ailment?”

Catlin shook
her head as she wrung the cloth out again.

“’Tis hard
to say, as the victuals we’re given to eat are so disgusting it surprises me
all of us have not taken ill.”

Griffin
nodded. “Still, it baffles me that of all those who ate yesterday, only four
young women are ill. Can you think of another cause for the sudden sickness?”

Catlin stood
and opened the carved wooden trunk at the end of her bunk. “Many things that
can make one sick on board ship—contagion, bad food or water, filth and vermin.
It’s all made worse because of the close quarters we live in.”

She pulled
some small paper packets from a collection at the top of the trunk. “Still, I’d
expect more people to be sick if it’s the food or water. ’Tis most strange that
only these few have taken ill.”

Catlin
sprinkled the contents of several packets into a small crockery pot, then added
hot water. The brisk scent of mint diffused through the small space.

“I’ll brew
some herbs that should settle the stomach and get rid of the bile. I’ll give
you some to carry to the other sick women, and I hope you can encourage them to
drink it.”

“Will you
need to call upon the wind spirits to assist you in this healing?” he asked.

His tone
held curiosity, not condemnation. Should she tell him her suspicion that Lord
Sheffield was using dark magic to inflict this illness upon the women?

She longed
to share her concern, yet something held her back—a lack of trust she needed to
overcome, and fear. Fear was a heavy burden, difficult to purge once it seized
hold.

“I don’t
think so, but I need to wait and see if this brew can bring down the fever and
soothe the stomach.” She stirred the concoction with a wooden spoon. “Does the
idea of my power to call upon the wind frighten you?”

The light of
the lantern shadowed Griffin with an ethereal, golden glow, as though he were
an avenging angel dedicated to fighting pain and evil. The vision comforted
her.

“You
inspire, delight, and entice me,
cariad
, but frighten?” He crossed the
room and touched her shoulder. “I cannot believe there is ever anything you
could do to frighten me.”

Catlin
looked into his ebony eyes, her heart beating faster. “I wish I could believe
that Griffin, but I fear a time will come when you turn away from me. That what
I truly am shall sicken and disgust you.”

He took her
into his arms. “I know other men have failed you, Catlin. I cannot repair the
damage they’ve done.” He stroked her hair. “I can only keep repeating my
promise to protect you. It’s a vow I shall never break.”

Catlin
leaned into his embrace, enjoying the comforting scent of sandalwood and
tobacco she’d come to associate with him.

“Vows
between lovers are made to be broken, Griffin. ’Tis the nature of desire.”

He touched
his lips to her forehead. “I love you,
cariad
, and those are words I do
not utter lightly. I have sworn an oath to protect you, and now I swear one to
stand by your side. If there ever comes a time when I deny you, use my sword to
pierce my heart. Death is the only fit punishment I can imagine for ever
hurting you.”