Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (27 page)

Griffin
wrapped a blanket around them before pulling her even closer. Her teeth
chattered so much, she could barely speak.

“These are
Royal Cavaliers, the King’s own men who were on board to search out a plot to
depose our good King Charles Stuart and put a Puritan back in power in
England.”

Catlin gaped
at his words. He put a cup of water to her lips, and she suddenly realized how
parched she was. After taking several long drinks, the chilblains diminished.

“But, why
did they help me?”

Griffin
smiled. “They did so at the command of their Captain.”

Catlin
frowned. “Master Williams?”

The sloop
made a turn and land appeared instead of the far edge of the horizon. They must
be as close to Jamestown as the Master of the ship had proclaimed.

Griffin put
his mouth to Catlin’s ear to whisper. “The Captain of their corps, and that, my
darling Catlin, is none other than me.”

Griffin was
still in the service of his Majesty the King? How could this be? “Your plantation,
is that real?”

Griffin
nodded. “It was a great advantage that I had the opportunity to come to the
colonies under the guise of settling my Uncle’s estate. Hawthorne Hundred is
real, and I look forward to settling this affair so I can enjoy my new life
there with the woman I love.”

Catlin’s
heart leaped at his words, though one fear niggled at her. Would Griffin blame
her for disrupting his mission for the King?

“I’m sorry,”
she whispered. “You’ll never know who the traitor is because you had to abandon
the ship.”

One of the
other men grunted, but he concentrated on his duty and said nothing.

“Do not be
concerned about it, for we learned everything we need to know. In good time,
the traitor shall be revealed.” Griffin tucked the blankets more snugly around
her. “Lean back against me and see if you can sleep. We should reach my
plantation by morning.”

Exhaustion
overtook her. The day had certainly been eventful. Now that she was safely in
the arms of her beloved Eagle-Lion, she could rest.

“I thought I’d
lost you to the Dream Time,” she mumbled, already slipping into the throes of
slumber.

Chapter Twenty-Six

When she
woke, they were sailing down a river surrounded on both sides by heavy foliage
and woods. The sound of buzzing insects mingled with the chirping of birds
filled the air.

Huge oak
trees raised their thick limbs to the sky, while flowers and bushes blazing
with bright colors delighted them. Butterflies flitted from one dazzling
blossom to another.

She blinked,
unsure if she were in the Dream Time or if this were actually real.

A body
shifted next to her. She still lay within the strong embrace of her lover.

“Griffin,”
she whispered, gently touching a finger to his face. His rough beard was
foreign to her touch, so she stroked his skin, enjoying the sensation of the
whiskers.

He opened
his dark eyes, his look growing heated as she continued to rub her fingers
gently across the skin of his face.

“I would not
do that, my love, for your very touch arouses me.”

Catlin
gasped at the heat of his words, yet she was aware her gentle strokes had
ignited warmth within her own depths. “I’ve missed our stolen moments
together,” she said, her cheeks warming.

He leaned
forward and brushed his lips against her hair. “I’ve missed you too
cariad
.
By evening we should be at my plantation, and after some rest we can once again
renew our intimate acquaintance.”

Catlin
squirmed uncomfortably, aware the others might overhear. Bitsy was curled up in
a large coverlet, sound asleep. The man tending the tiller kept his eyes
focused ahead, intensely studying the water stretching before him. The other
man was stretched across the bow, also fast asleep.

“Have we
traveled far?” Catlin asked.

“Far enough
to be safe from Sheffield. The Master will ensure that the
Lady Bountiful
moves slowly into the bay, and he is sure to set anchor tonight before
venturing onto the river tomorrow or the next day.

“Is Master
Williams also a man for the King?”

Griffin
nodded. “A trusted naval man who took the assignment aboard the
Lady Bountiful
when her previous commander went missing.”

Catlin
frowned. “Is that man dead?”

Griffin
laughed. “Hardly. I’d venture that with the gold he’s been paid to remain on
land, he’s enjoying a rather luxurious holiday.”

Catlin
yawned and stretched with a lazy smile. Her stomach growled.

“By chance
you don’t have any food, do you, Griffin?”

He tousled
her hair. “’Tis a good sign when an appetite returns. God’s tears, but I was
afraid the unpleasantness on board the ship might leave you in a malaise. I’m
relieved to see you have come through it with all your wits intact.”

Catlin
grinned. “You might be wrong about that, for some would say I didn’t even board
the ship in possession of all my wits.”

Griffin
pulled his leg from beneath her and reached across the small boat to grab a
gunny sack. “And when your good humor returns so quickly, it only proves you
are a most extraordinary woman.” He pulled a large chunk of cheese and some
hardtack from the sack. “I shall be relieved to find food other than these
ship’s rations at the end of our journey.” He broke off a piece of the hardtack
and handed it to her. Using his dagger, he sliced some of the cheese to share
with her too.

“Are you so
sure there will be foodstuffs on your plantation? I’ve heard rumors tobacco is
so dear that little land can be set aside for the purpose of growing food.” She
took a bite of the cracker and winced. She too was weary of eating the
tasteless stuff.

Griffin
waved his hand in the direction of the rich foliage surrounding them. “My Uncle
assured me in his letters that he was never so foolish as to rely upon England
for his sustenance. He planted a good kitchen garden and corn for trading with
his neighbors.”

Catlin
stretched again, aware that the cramped quarters of the small boat provided no comfort
and even less privacy. She’d removed her gown beneath the blanket, but her
shift was still damp and clammy. She felt sticky and coarse and found herself
anticipating even a tepid sponge bath to remove the salty brine from her skin.

They
continued to eat in silence for a while, enjoying the peacefulness around them
as the sloop sailed up the river. Finally, after a sideways glance at the man
tending the tiller, Griffin leaned forward again to whisper in her ear.

“Did you see
them?”

Catlin
turned to study his expression. She suspected she knew what he was talking
about when he said,
them
.

“The
passengers?”

“No.”

“The crew
then,” she suggested.

Griffin
frowned. “I think you know what I mean when I ask about, well. . .
them
.”
He pointed over the side of the sloop in the direction of the water. “I know
you must have seen them. They were surrounding you when you surfaced.”

“The
mermaids?” she said.

A huge smile
spanned his face and his eyes lit with delight. “Yes, of course.” He laughed.
“I can’t fathom how they could be real. Yet if you also saw them, they must be
real.” A dimple appeared at the edge of his charming smile. “They were so
beautiful, I swear, their long hair was the color of starlight.

Men had
always been an easy target for these magical female creatures of the sea. Had
Griffin only heard one of the mermaids sing, he’d be lost to her forever. Their
power to enchant
sophor
men was legendary. Catlin struggled with how
much information to share with Griffin.

“I believe
they heard my plea for help and decided to assist me. I’ve never seen one
before, and while they’re the loveliest creatures I’ve ever seen, I’ve heard
their hearts are as cold as the depths of the sea they dwell in.”

“It makes me
wonder if other magical creatures are more than legend and nursery tales.”

“Such as
dwarves, fairies and dragons?” She kept her expression as innocent as possible.

“Exactly,”
he muttered. “If you can be wrong about one thing, then it simply follows all
patterns of logic that there can be many magical creatures we rarely see, and
therefore dismiss as legend.”

“I have long
thought that simply because we cannot see a thing doesn’t necessarily mean it
doesn’t exist.” She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Even a Vicar can agree
to that, don’t you think?”

He nodded,
and she thought he would have continued the conversation if he’d not spied a
jut of land before them. He drew a map from his pocket and surveyed it
carefully before handing it to the man at the tiller.

“I believe
that’s Raven’s Point, one of the landmarks I was told to watch for.” He grinned
at Catlin. “’Twill not be far to Hawthorne Hundred now. We should be there
before dusk.”

Catlin
nodded, aware that this was neither the time nor the place to disclose her true
nature. The fact that Griffin had responded to the mermaids with more curiosity
than fear reassured her.

Still,
observing a fey creature was very different from sharing a bed with an
elemental witch. While he might think the idea of a mermaid charming, accepting
that he slept with a powerful magical creature might be a bit more challenging.

She sighed
deeply as she settled herself upon the bottom of the sloop. While it would be
easy to simply blurt out the truth to him, she needed to consider her words
carefully when she finally revealed the extent of her powers to Griffin.

Each day those
powers grew stronger and she was quickly becoming an elemental adept. He knew
she was more than a healer but he couldn’t even begin to suspect the nature of the
magic she controlled.

An odd
screech, louder then any bird she’d ever heard, echoed through the woods
surrounding them. For some reason, Catlin recalled her dream of the creature
with eyes like coals, feet of fire, and a huge maw of a mouth. She shivered
from the cold air.

Windago.

The
sylphs
whispered the name Catlin did not recognize.

Danger. The
Windago is a ghost who walks here in search of men. She seeks to destroy those
who would take what is not theirs.

Catlin
shivered again, this time from fear.

Catlin had
read many tracts about the settlements in Virginia, and expected a small
wattle-and-daub cottage to be the main house on Griffin's plantation.

Hawthorne
Hundred plantation boasted a stately brick mansion with multiple chimneys and
narrow casement windows that could have been in a manor house in England. It
was neither small nor rough, and she couldn’t hide her astonishment.

“By God,
’tis not what I expected to find waiting for me.” Griffin grinned. “But, I’ll
not complain that my Uncle was too reticent in his descriptions of the estate.”
He tugged on her hand to pull her up the sand path behind him.

Catlin
laughed, delighted to see him so happy and relaxed. “Lud, now that you're a
rich landowner, I expect you’ll throw me over for some wealthy lady who can
endow you with more then her simple wit and nominal charms.”

Griffin
pulled her into his arms, his dark eyes glowing with warmth and tenderness. “I
shall never forsake you, my cariad, for you are the Queen of my heart. Even
royalty could not displace you.”

Catlin’s
breathing grew shallow, her lungs tightened with the emotion he stirred within
her. His honesty brought tears to her eyes. If only she could be as truthful
with him.

Her family
had been forced to hide their secret from
sophors
for generations.
Caution and silence had protected the Glyndwr witches from the terror of the
witch hunters. She would tell Griffin of her true nature, but first she wanted
to enjoy watching him take possession of his lands.

A gathering
of people stood in front of the house, and Catlin surmised from their garb that
they were indentured servants. One tall, thin man stepped forward as they
reached the portico guarding the front door. He removed his hat before bowing.

“I ken ye
are Sir Reynolds,” he said.

Griffin
nodded. “I am the new owner of Hawthorne Hundred, and I hope you will find me
an easy man to understand. If you are honest and hardworking, you shall find me
a fair master.

The Scotsman
dropped to one knee, and the others gathered around him and followed his lead.

“We made our
pledge to your uncle, and we’ll do the same to ye. We’re all loyal and honest.
We ask only to be treated with a fair hand.”

“I shall
endeavor to be as fair to you all as my uncle has been in the past. Nothing
needs to change here at Hawthorne Hundred, for it appears that even without a
master the plantation is thriving.” He smiled at the gathering.

The
expressions on the faces of the servants relaxed, and one by one the Scotsman,
Hugh MacDonald, introduced the others.

Catlin’s
head swam with the names, until an ethereal dark beauty stepped from behind the
crowd. The others parted for her. Her hair was as thick and dark as Catlin had
ever seen, and her skin glowed a golden shade in the late afternoon light. She
moved with an undulating grace.

“This is my
wife, Kanti.” Hugh took her hand in his. “Her father was a great chief and
she’s an Indian Princess. She’s taught us many things about growing tobacco and
has helped make this plantation successful.”

Griffin
stepped forward and bowed to the dark-haired beauty. “I am most grateful to
you, Kanti, for your assistance.”

Without
turning, he beckoned for Catlin. “I hazard a guess that you are of the same age
as my companion, Catlin Glyndwr.”

Catlin made
a stiff curtsy to Kanti, for an Indian Princess could well be considered
royalty. Her curiosity stirred as she wondered how this lovely woman had ended
up married to a Scotch bondsman. Kanti smiled and Catlin relaxed.

“We have hot
food and a soft bed ready for ye, Master.” Hugh indicated the direction of the
door. “Kanti will send a lassie up to yer rooms with some buckets of hot water,
for I’m sure ye would like to scrub a bit o’ the sea grime off ye.”

Griffin
slapped the Scotsman on the back. “We surely would. There are several men and
Catlin’s serving girl following behind us. I trust you to settle them while we
make our ablutions.”

Hugh nodded
and opened the great oak door with iron hinges. With one swoop Griffin gathered
Catlin in his arms, and laughing heartily, he carried her across the threshold.

“We’re not
newly married,” she whispered harshly, embarrassed by the laughter following
behind them.

Griffin
settled her upon the stone floor of the great hall and took her chin gently in
his large, roughened palm. “’Tis only a technicality,
cariad
, and one we
shall remedy as soon as we find a clergyman.” He touched his lips to hers. She
expected a brief, perfunctory kiss, but once their lips met, the fire between
them sizzled to a blaze. The kiss deepened and Catlin curled her arms around
Griffin’s neck and pulled him closer. He hardened as he leaned against her. The
fierce attraction they felt for each other possessed a magic all its own.