Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (26 page)

The aching
fear that seizes my heart tells me so.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Catlin stood
on the upper deck, a light breeze teasing the unruly curls that had escaped
from the tight chignon she’d carefully arranged earlier. The sun warmed her
cheeks, and usually this was exactly the kind of day that would bring her
topside to enjoy the freedom of the ship skimming across the waves with a
sturdy wind filling the sails.

Unfortunately,
as Lord Sheffield stormed across the deck in front of her, haranguing her about
the many foul deeds she’d undertaken in the name of the devil, she found it
impossible to find even a tiny slice of delight in the fresh air. The assembled
passengers and crew scattered about her seemed more entertained than fearful
about the proceedings. How often had she observed the same expressions of
amusement at the hangings in Shrewsbury, when innocent women had been executed
for the charge of practicing witchcraft? A mob could turn deadly at any moment.

Sheffield
manipulated the innocent encounters between Catlin and other passengers into a
diabolical plan to recruit minions for Satan.

“And this
evil consort of the devil even called upon the demons of hell to attack me in
my cabin.” He pulled up the sleeve of his linen shirt to display deep scars on
his arm. “See what her cursed familiar did to me! It was a monstrous black cat,
with eyes glowing red in the night.”

“Lock her in
the brig to keep her from hurtin’ any other innocent God fearin’ folk,” said
the crew member who had accompanied Lord Sheffield to her cabin several days
before.

She could
offer no words in her defense, for she was gagged and chained to the midden
mast, a necessity Lord Sheffield assured the Master was to prevent her from
using her magic to call upon the demons that served her.

In her mind,
Catlin had begged for Griffin’s help. Yet she had no way of knowing if her
pleas were effective. For all she knew, he was still in the thrall of Dream
Time, enjoying the many pleasures available to him in that magical realm.

Even if her
petition had somehow pierced the veil between the worlds, she couldn’t be sure
he would respond to her plea.

“We all know
what the Bible says. ’Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’.” Lord Sheffield
pointed at her. “By her actions, this woman has shown she practices the art of
witchcraft. The law demands she be punished!”

Members of
the crowd muttered and nodded.

“’Tis a sin
against God,” one woman yelled.

“Blasphemy,”
added another.

“A bunch of
nonsense and palaver,” a voice called from the crowd. Dorothie Colebank
emerged, her sister holding her hand. “Miss Glyndwr is one of the sweetest,
kindest women on board this ship.”

“And it is
expected that you would believe so.” Lord Sheffield circled the two women like
a bird of prey anticipating an attack. “She has put the mark upon you, held you
prisoner in her cabin while she converted you, and now you have joined her evil
minions!”

The mood of
the crowd grew more anxious. Some of the people moved away from the two
sisters.

“They’ve
been strange since she kept them locked up,” an ancient crone suggested.

“Why
wouldn’t she open the door? Mayhap these women were possessed by devils, went
flying about, and were not even in the room,” someone else said.

“Punish
them, punish them all,” another harsh voice cried out.

Lord
Sheffield held up a hand to demand silence. A sinister glow flickered in his
eyes.

“We should
not blame those who have been captured by black magic, for they are innocent of
any wrong doing.” His frosty smile settled upon the two Colebank sisters. “It
will require prayer and a constant vigil to insure these two still possess
their eternal souls.”

He waved in
the direction of a crewman. “Take them below and secure them in a cabin, for
’tis not safe for them to wander about on board the ship.”

Tears
pricked at the edges of Catlin’s eyes. She’d worked so hard to maintain a calm
and composed demeanor during the proceedings, but time grew short. Sheffield
had devised a plan he intended to use to punish and ultimately control her.

“Hang her,
she’s a witch,” came a cry from the crowd.

“Hang her,”
several more voices joined in, until the entire crowd assembled on the deck
chanted, demanding Catlin be executed.

Lord
Sheffield drew closer to Catlin, the glint of satisfaction evident in his eyes.
“What say you now, my little witch?”

Catlin’s
mouth went dry and a sharp metal taste coated her tongue—the essence of fear.

She couldn’t
draw on her powers without invoking a spell, and with her hands tied and her
voice silenced, that was impossible. She was truly at the mercy of a man she
recognized as having no mercy whatsoever.

Sheffield
turned and spread his arms. “I invoke the punishment of the sea. Let us lash
this witch and pull her beneath the ship. Keel-haul her and let the water
determine her guilt or innocence!”

The crowd
roared approval.

“I object,
my Lord.” the Master stood on the bridge, looking down at the crowd. “We are
close to shore now. Let the authorities in Jamestown deal with this matter.”

Ioan Purdy,
the arrogant Earl of Sheffield, crept closer to the Master’s perch. “I am the
wounded party here, sir, for I am the one who has been accosted by demons,
attacked in my own bed, and all because I refused to surrender to the seductive
wiles of this woman.” He turned back to the crowd. “I wonder how many men on
this ship have been milked by her and the succubus demons at her beck and call.
How many men have spilled their seed in the night with visions of this
blue-eyed beauty haunting their dreams?”

Grunts and
nods of acknowledgement buzzed from several men scattered around the edges of
the crowd.

The nobleman
then appealed to the women standing on deck. “And can we allow this to
continue, even for a few days, without punishment?”

Howls from
the women on deck demanded Catlin be severely penalized for her sins and
transgressions.

Catlin was
shocked at the way Lord Sheffield managed to easily manipulate the members of
the crowd. He was using a spell or enchantment of some kind, but she couldn’t
tell how he was doing it.

“Bring her
down here,” Lord Sheffield demanded.

Catlin was
quickly released from the mast, only to be wrapped in rope and taken to the bow
of the ship. The crewmembers behind her laid out the lines that would haul her
beneath the ship. Several men would work a pulley to wench her from one end to
the other.

She would
not survive being submerged in the icy ocean water. It was a rare man who could
endure being keel-hauled, and Catlin didn’t have the strength or stamina of a
burly seaman.

She
shuddered as hands lifted her to the railing. Her feet slipped on the wet,
uneven surface.

Her mind
numbly called to Griffin once more for help. She closed her eyes and imagined
his beloved face. If these were to be her final memories, she wanted to make
them good ones. Her only regret was that fear had prevented her from saying the
words of love she longed to share with him now.

“Release
her,” she imagined her lover’s voice demanding, “Or I shall slit Sheffield’s
throat where he stands.”

Her fantasy
was so real, she even envisioned the crowd growing silent.

“Stand
away.”

Her spirits
soared as her fantasy lover continued to bark orders. Even the hands that held
her fell away to release their hold.

This is a
fine death, she decided before stepping off the edge of the ship to plunge into
the sea far below.

As she
twisted and turned in the air, a voice cried her name. Catlin opened her eyes
to see Griffin gazing down at her, the color of his skin blanching as she
dropped away from him.

Before the
rope snagged her, a sharp blade cut through the air and sliced the rope holding
her tethered to the ship.

Griffin
flung himself over the railing after her.

Then the sea
opened and swallowed her, sending her down into the deep, dark depths of the
ocean. Still bound by the rope, she tried to kick her feet to rise to the
surface, but her heavy brocade gown and thick cotton petticoats pulled her
deeper. Light faded as she sank farther and farther away from Griffin.

She held her
breath, but knew there wasn’t much time. With all the strength she could
muster, she called to her
sylphs
.

Within a
heartbeat, hands grasped at the fabric of her clothing. The soft, dreamlike
faces of mermaids swirled about her. Long, golden strands of hair floated
around them as they gently lifted her to the surface. They were breathtakingly
beautiful, each movement like a ballet through the dark water.

The mermaids
gave her one final push and she surfaced, coughing and choking on the sea water
she’d swallowed.

Struggling
to stay afloat, Catlin searched for the elemental water spirits who had rescued
her. Although she couldn’t see them, she sensed they still guarded her—a warm
and comforting thought.

An arm
grasped her from behind and she fought against the hold, afraid Sheffield was
taking her prisoner again.

“Catlin,
cariad
,
don’t fight me!”

Griffin’s
arm circled her waist and pulled her through the water. She stopped struggling,
as relief washed through her. Her heartbeat slowed, and despite the icy cold of
the ocean, she was warmed by the thought that Griffin had answered her plea.
She was shivering, but her heart sang because he lived, and he'd returned to
her.

Finally,
they bumped up against a boat and Griffin’s strong arms lifted her up. They’d
been rescued by the ship’s sloop.

A flash of
terror gripped her. Was she headed back into imprisonment? The faces of the men
around her signaled she had nothing to fear. They looked concerned and worried,
not triumphant at having captured the malicious witch.

Bile and sea
water filled her throat, and she leaned over the other side of the boat,
letting the fear purge out of her.

“Bloody
Hell, Mistress liked to have died at the hands of that lyin’ bastard!”

Catlin
twisted her head to find Bitsy seated in one end of the small boat next to a
hearty young man who was handling the tiller.

Another man
sat near the jibe, sailing them across the waves and away from the
Lady
Bountiful
. Catlin looked behind her. Griffin was there, using a cloth to
dry his hair. He tossed her a devilish grin.

He pulled
her into his arms and used a sharp dagger to free her from the prison of rope
that had kept her arms captive. She used her damp gown to wipe her mouth before
collapsing into his arms. Happiness to see him alive and well mingled with her
sudden awareness of how precious her feelings for him were.

“I love
you,” she whispered. Then she leaned back to examine him.

"But--are
you all right? What about your stab wound?"

His grin
widened. “I'm fine, and I’m grateful it only took a knife attack, the threat of
keel-hauling and nearly drowning for you to finally admit you love me.” He
wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll count myself a lucky man today!”

Catlin
nuzzled into his warmth, marveling at the way his strength revived her. How
silly she’d been before, afraid to tell him what she really was, afraid to
confess her love for him. She vowed there would be no more secrets between
them. Griffin loved her. He’d proven that today when he jumped overboard,
following her into the depths of the sea.

“How did you
get the sloop into the water so quickly?” She glanced at the other two men
seated in the tiny boat.

“’Twas Bitsy
who helped us with that. Apparently she’s not trusted Lord Sheffield since he
pulled her into his cabin and tried to bribe her.”

Catlin
stared at the girl in horror. “He didn’t! Why, the man should be whipped until
the skin falls off his back. She’s just a poor innocent child!”

Griffin
nodded. “I couldn’t agree with you more, but he’s a rich and powerful man.
We’ll deal with him another day.”

Bitsy pulled
her shoulders back and lifted her head. “He didn’t reckon on me fightin’ him.
Near scratched his eyes out, I did. Lucky for me, he was still hurtin' from his
injury in the fire. I whacked his burnt arm and sent him to his knees."

Catlin
smiled at the note of pride in the girl’s voice. She’d come a long way from the
starving waif afraid of her own shadow.

“He wanted
me to tell lies about ye, Mistress. Said he’d give me silver coins and fancy
dresses.” She sneered. “As if that would be enough to make me turn traitor on
the only folks what been good to Bitsy since her Mam died.” She spat out the
side of the boat. “May the bastard burn in hell!”

“But I still
don’t understand how you managed to get the sloop away from the ship without
anyone noticing.” Catlin turned her head from side to side to look at the two
strangers. “And who are these men?”