Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (13 page)

Catlin
needed to be more careful dealing with Sir Reynolds. He was already suspicious
about her use of magic. She still didn’t know if he was the dark man who had
appeared in her sister’s scrying glass and her mother’s dire prophecy.

She needed
to fight her intense attraction to the man and remain alert. Her very life
could depend upon it. If only he wasn't so
daminol
appealing.

Chapter Eleven

Catlin and
Griffin arrived back at Mabley Hall as the storm moved across the marches and
left a beautiful rainbow crowning the treetops behind them. The ride back to
the manor house had been quiet, as Griffin seemed disturbed by the events at
the cottage. His dark mood combined with the deep shadows edging his face
revealed his sense of guilt.

When they
dismounted at the stables, Lord Cranbourne was waiting for a horse to be
saddled. He ran out to meet them, his abrupt manner signaling his distress.

“Miss
Glyndwr, we’ve been concerned about your welfare.” He flushed as he caught her
hands in his own. “Your sister is near sick with worry, and even I have been
anxious about your whereabouts.” He frowned at Griffin who still held the reins
of his horse. “Did Miss Glyndwr lose her mount while the two of you were out
riding?”

Griffin tossed
a guilty look in Catlin’s direction, clearly waiting to see which one of them
would offer an excuse for arriving at the manor house together. She decided to
be the one responsible for creating the story. Her confession to Lord Cranbourne
would prepare her for the far more difficult task of convincing her sister of
the tale.

“I went out
for a walk and strayed too far.” She nodded in Griffin’s direction. “I met Sir
Reynolds, who was out riding. He offered to bring me back to the manor house,
for we could see a storm was brewing.”

She slid a
sideways look at Griffin, and while his dark eyes studied her carefully,
nothing in his manner alerted her that he disagreed with her version of events.
“Before we knew it, the storm was upon us and the horse bolted when lightning
hit a tree on the path.” She kept the story simple and easy to corroborate.

Griffin
stepped closer and joined in the recitation. “We managed to get soaked
thoroughly within minutes of the deluge, so we took shelter in the hunting
cottage for a short time. When the storm passed, we rode back here.”

His tone was
light and carefree, as if they had simply been sitting in front of the fire
playing cards, instead of playing a sensual game while they waited for the
rainstorm to subside.

Lord Cranbourne
frowned at his friend. “It would have been better for Miss Glyndwr’s reputation
had you chanced taking a chill and returned immediately to the house.”

Griffin
bowed in her direction. “It was my initial thought to do so, but the horse
became frightened. I couldn’t further endanger this fine lady, could I?”

“I assure
you, Lord Cranbourne,” Catlin said, “it was my own fault. Had I stayed in the
gardens instead of wandering off into the woods, I would have been safe.”

Griffin’s
mouth twitched when she uttered the word safe. She entwined an arm with Lord Cranbourne’s
and gave him a sweet smile. “Would you mind escorting me back up to Mabley
Hall, my lord?”

The Viscount
appeared to have been suddenly frozen to the spot. Finally Griffin
coughed—probably trying to cover a laugh, Catlin thought.

Lord Cranbourne
blushed as he swallowed. “I shall be most honored, Miss Glyndwr.”

As they
strolled up the path towards the house, Catlin twisted to hazard a peek over
her shoulder. Sir Griffin Reynolds stared after them, his mouth set firmly and
his brow knitted into a frown. He was clearly concerned, but Catlin couldn’t be
sure if it was for her or Lord Cranbourne.

Aelwyd
waited for her on the main staircase. From the sour expression upon her
sister’s face, perhaps it would have gone better if she’d been found seriously
injured or ill.

Catlin
considered pausing to confess her identity as the accused witch to Lord Cranbourne
and seek the comparative safety of the gaol rather then the wrath of her
sister. But despite her eldest sister’s anger, Aelwyd wouldn’t actually injure
Catlin. At least, she never had before.

Perhaps this
time would be different. Aelwyd’s expression was as dark and foreboding as the
storm clouds during the recent deluge. Still, she appeared relieved to see
Catlin.

“I have been
terribly worried about you, Catlin,” Aelwyd said between clenched teeth. “You
did not inform anyone you were leaving the manor house.”

Aelwyd’s
cold and emotionless voice chilled Catlin’s blood.

“Shall we go
up to our chamber, for I would not want you to catch cold in those wet clothes,
or did you somehow manage to dry them?” The caustic edge was a warning to
Catlin of the consequences for her indiscretions this afternoon.

“I do need
to change,” Catlin whispered, climbing the stairs with apprehension. As she
slid past her sister and continued up toward their suite of rooms, Aelwyd did
not move.

She stared
down at the entryway. Griffin had finally arrived back at the manor house.
Aelwyd pointed an accusing finger toward him.

“I shall
deal with you later, Sir Reynolds.” She gathered up her dark skirts, turned on
her heel, and followed Catlin.

When they
finally closed the door to their chamber, Aelwyd released her anger and
frustration.

“Alone with
a man, a Cavalier no less! How could you ever agree to such a thing? Do you
care so little about your reputation? Don’t you understand what could have
happened? Your virtue was in danger!” Aelwyd spat in disgust. “Have you no
desire to make a good marriage?”

Catlin
stripped off her wet clothing and found a large linen towel to rub herself dry.
She ducked behind a screen to remove her shift as her sister droned on about
her behavior.

“Come out
from behind the screen, Catlin, for I shall rebuke you to your face.”

Catlin quaked
at the icy chill in Aelwyd’s voice. She slid across the chamber and stood a few
steps away from the fire. Although she wished to warm her toes, her sister’s
temper could still flash out of control.

“You created
that storm for your own benefit, did you not?” Aelwyd’s emerald green eyes
flared with a touch of amber

“I wished to
speak with Sir Reynolds alone. It was imperative.”

“So you
whistled down the wind for a second time in the presence of this, this
sophor
?
Does he suspect you of using your powers again?”

“Aelwyd,”
Catlin said sternly, “you must guard your words and lower your voice.”

Aelwyd
blushed at what should have been an unnecessary reminder about speaking so
freely about magic in a place that could have spies. Her voice shifted to a
rough whisper. “He already knows too much about you, and from the image my fire
dragons gave me, you could have been compromised in that cottage!”

Catlin’s
cheeks warmed. “I think perchance they might have misinterpreted, exactly,
well, what they were seeing.”

In an
instant the fire roared, red and orange flames licking the top of the
fireplace.

“They do not
appear to think so, my dear sister.” Aelwyd responded, slapping her hands on
her waist.

Catlin tried
to recall how Sir Reynolds had turned the conversation when they encountered
Lord Cranbourne in the stables. A flicker of inspiration hit her.

“I needed to
convince Sir Reynolds to take me with him to the New World, and I thought I
might use my feminine wiles to manipulate him.”

Aelwyd made
a rude noise before laughing. “Feminine wiles? Why, as far as I know, you’d
never even been kissed by a man before yesterday. It takes a great deal of
expertise to exert the kind of influence you speak of upon a man.” She thinned
her mouth and her eyes became emerald slits. “Even a
sophor
!” She
marched across the room. “Are you inclined to take up the guise of a whore in
order to get your own way, Catlin?”

The ugly
words hung in the air, and Catlin’s body chilled even more as her sister’s
accusation slapped her. “I did, manage--events.” Catlin knew her sister
understood what she meant. “—in order to contrive a meeting alone with Sir
Reynolds.”

Aelwyd’s
face wore a hard mask of condemnation, her mouth a thin line slashed across her
face.

Catlin wrung
her hands. “But, not for the purposes of the things you believe. I wanted
passage to Virginia and for Sir Reynolds to act as my escort.”

Her blurted
confession did not have the effect she had wished for, as the expression on her
sister’s face grew even harsher. The amber highlights in Aelwyd's jade eyes
grew darker.

“You believe
you have influence with these men, and you asked for that instead of for his
help in reclaiming our lands in Cymru?” The winter chill of Aelwyd’s voice put
ice in Catlin’s veins.

It had been
an impulsive and foolish idea, but upon hearing it put into words, even Catlin
was horrified at what she’d attempted to do. She bowed her head. “I am sorry. I
know it was imprudent of me to consider making such a request. I shall go
directly to the Earl of Shrewsbury and ask for his assistance with all haste.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I confess, of late I have not been thinking clearly. I
simply am trying to do as I was advised. Mam told me to find the way, because
I’m the dreamer. She said it was up to me to discover a means to get us all to
the New World.” Catlin drew one hand across her eyes, wiping the tears that now
trailed down her cheeks.

“But that
cannot be true, because all I have done is to make a huge muddle of everything.
I don’t understand why I cannot make it right, but I’ve failed, and I was
trying to watch for the signs, but I didn’t know what to look for, then Sir
Reynolds came along, and, and. . . ”

Her babbling
explanation dissolved into a fit of weeping as she sat down in a chair placed
near the fire. What difference did it make if Aelwyd became angry enough to
blister her skin or singe all the hair from her head? She was cold, tired, and
defeated. She had failed her family quite miserably.

Catlin’s
sobbing filled the air for a few moments before she lifted her gaze to find
Aelwyd studying her carefully.

“Mam said
there would be a sign? Why have you failed to mention this before?”

Catlin
sniffed. “I tried to tell you, but you kept insisting I was only creating this
story because I was infatuated with Sir Reynolds.”

Aelwyd
tapped one toe of her slipper on the floor. “I’m still not convinced that isn’t
the truth of the matter, but the mention of a sign does change things.”

Catlin shook
her head, “No, it doesn’t, for I haven’t seen anything that could be
interpreted as a sign. There hasn’t been any indication of what I should do,
and in truth, I doubt there ever shall be.”

“Oh, stop
gushing you silly goose. Did Mam ever explicitly say that you had to see the
sign?”

Catlin blew
her nose. “No, she said to watch for a sign, but I’m sure she meant I was the
one who would see it.”

Aelwyd
folded her arms across her bosom and shook her head. “I do not think so, my
bychan
cat.”

Catlin
bristled at being once again referred to as a little cat in her own language,
then realized what Aelwyd had said. She stared at her sister with anticipation.

“Did you see
something?” she whispered. “Something strange and wonderful?”

Aelwyd
maintained eye contact with Catlin. “When I was out searching for you, the
storm came up suddenly and I was caught unaware in the garden. Just before the
rain came, there was a flash of lightening.”

Catlin
nodded. “I know. I haven't yet learned adequate control of the storms.”

With her
lips thinned to a judgmental line, Aelwyd nodded. “You need to spend more time
practicing your spells and less time practicing your feminine wiles.”

Catlin was
about to protest when Aelwyd held up a hand to silence her. “That's not the
point, though. When the bolt hit I was still out of doors.” She moved across
the room to stand by a window that looked down on the garden. “In fact, it
split a tree so close I thought it would shake me out of my slippers.”

Catlin bit
her lip. “I’m so sorry, Aelwyd, and I swear tomorrow I shall begin practicing
the phasing so that the next time I can—”

Aelwyd wouldn’t
let her finish. “That is not the point!”

Catlin
avoided interrupting again, as she watched her usually composed sister twist
the velvet curtain.

“I did not
truly know what to make of it, and then I realized you were lost out in the
storm so I needed the assistance of my fire dragons to help find you.” Her
words tumbled over each other in her rush to get them out. “And well, with
everything else happening so quickly, it simply slipped my mind.”

“Sister,
you’re not making any sense,” Catlin said, aware that this in itself was
alarming. Of all the Glyndwr sisters, Aelwyd was the most sensible and
composed. She was trustworthy, dependable, and decisive. Even though they all
knew how hard she fought against her fiery, tempestuous nature to be all of those
things for their family.

And yet, at
this very moment, Catlin had no idea what she was talking about. Aelwyd stared
out the window nibbling at her lower lip and looking totally bewildered.