Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (9 page)

Catlin
shifted uncomfortably. Should she divulge her loveliest secret?

“Well, there
was the kiss.” She tried to mask the words with an innocent smile. “It was just
a little one.”

Aelwyd
stared at her, and after a few moments, laughed. “My dear
bychan
cat,
you have no idea whatsoever what you have done, do you?”

Catlin
resented being referred to as a little cat, even if it was a family endearment.
She shook her head. The kiss had excited her in ways she wished she could
discuss with her older sister, but now was not an appropriate time to query her
about men and carnality.

And why was
Aelwyd laughing at her?

Chapter Seven

Griffin
leaned back in his chair and took a large gulp of claret. He’d discarded coffee
in favor of stronger spirits once the Glyndwr sisters were escorted to their
suite of rooms.

Morgan
joined him, taking a hefty swig from his own goblet. “Extraordinary,” he said.

“They are
unique creatures, I vow.” Griffin took another drink, draining the goblet.
“’Tis a good thing they’re not in London, for the King would be wooing both
ladies to his bed. And likely at the same time.”

Morgan
laughed, and the sound delighted Griffin. Seeing the Viscount returned to full
and robust health had been worth any price, even if magic had been involved.
Although in the light of day, Griffin would not credit it. Spells, witchcraft
and demons were ancient wives’ tales, and in this modern day, when even the
King accepted the validity of the natural sciences, it was not an acceptable
explanation for what had happened last night.

Yet, Griffin
could not discount what he’d seen with his own eyes. He’d watched in awe as
Catlin Glyndwr did something to Morgan. And this morning, the miraculous
recovery of his best friend convinced him that at the very least, she was a gifted
and talented healer. In fact, perhaps the herbs she’d used to help Morgan
breathe easier had also had some effect upon Griffin’s own interpretation of
the events that had taken place.

The one
thing not lost to him was the image of Catlin when she’d dropped her gown to
the floor. She’d been too distracted to see the evidence of his intense
arousal, for which he was grateful, because the memory made his cock grow
harder even now.

“I believe
you have an eye for the dark-haired beauty with eyes like the summer sky.”
Morgan grinned as he stood to refill his goblet. He appeared to waver for a
moment, and Griffin jumped to his feet quickly to offer additional support.

Morgan waved
his arm away and laughed. “These strong spirits are affecting me overmuch, and I
must remember that despite my rather astonishing recovery, I have been a man
closer to the grave then I should like to recall.”

Griffin
nodded. “I think you should rest.” He added with a hint of mischief, “I vow you
shall require all your strength to contend with those beguiling sisters this
evening.”

Morgan
straightened his shoulders and pulled on his heavily embroidered doublet. “I
cannot decide which one of them is the more captivating.” He shot a mischievous
grin at Griffin. “The stunning and tumultuous Catlin or the fiery, outspoken
Aelwyd?”

Griffin
laughed at his friend’s predicament. “And Catlin tells me there are two younger
sisters at home.”

Morgan
winked. “Perhaps I should have them escorted here, so we can bask in their
beauty, too. If they are even near as lovely as their older sisters, it would
make for a most enjoyable evening.”

Griffin
shook his head. “Perhaps you should give yourself another few days to rest
before you decide to accumulate a harem.”

Morgan
nodded, “I find I must agree with you, Griffin. If I am to be a suitable host
to these lovelies, I shall need to get some rest today.”

The two men
proceeded out of the study and down the hall to the staircase. “I believe I
shall retire to my own chamber, Cranbourne. I slept poorly in the chair next to
Catlin’s bed last night.”

Morgan gave
his friend a poke. “At least you were with her. I envy you that my friend.”

Griffin’s
memory flashed back to the sight of a naked Catlin sleeping inches away from
him. An uncomfortable rush of blood tightened his groin.

They climbed
the stairs, each teasing the other as to his appearance, reputation, and sexual
exploits. Their high good humor was evident, and the upstairs maids giggled as
the two men passed by them, the bolder woman offering a ribald remark.

“Ye gents
need a bit o’ help with gettin’ yer breeches off?”

Morgan gave
a deep sigh. “There are so many lusty delights to savor, Griffin. How shall I
ever be able to choose?”

Sir Griffin
Reynolds stood at his own chamber door and grinned. “A starving man is always
overwhelmed at his first sight of the banquet table, Cranbourne. You must first
learn to enjoy the variety of tastes and refrain from gorging yourself.”

Morgan gave
a resigned sigh. His gaze flickered over the maid with the full, round bosom.
She tossed her hair.

With obvious
reluctance, he proceeded into his chamber, but before closing his door, he
bowed in Griffin’s direction and grinned “I’m most grateful to Miss Glyndwr,
for I am discovering that life is good, my friend. Very good indeed!”

Griffin
lurked in the dark shadows of the upstairs gallery, his senses as alert as if
he were out on the hunt stalking his prey. Which, in a manner of speaking, was
true.

The door he
so carefully watched opened and a footman exited carrying an empty copper pail.
A giggling maid followed the man, and the door slammed shut.

He'd wait as
long as need be, for he would not be deterred from his quest to seek Catlin
Glyndwr out, corner her, and get some answers to the multitude of questions tossing
about in his head.

She finally
marched out the door. Her mouth was twisted into a peeved expression as she
brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I'll arrange for some of your things to
be brought from the house as soon as possible, stop making such a fuss.” She said.

As a torrent
of intense objections erupted from Aelwyd, Catlin slammed the door. She leaned
against it and rubbed a hand across her forehead.  “God’s tears but she can be
a
daminol
woman when she wants her own way,” she muttered.

Griffin
smiled at Catlin’s sour tone.  She stepped away from the door to head down the
murky, candlelit hallway towards him. There were few windows in this part of
the house, where the oldest section of the original stone keep connected to the
newer construction, and the shadowy darkness hid him well.

As Catlin
scurried toward the staircase, he snaked out an arm to capture her about the
waist. His other hand quickly covered her mouth to silence a scream as he
pulled her behind a wall of heavy tapestries and into a small hidden alcove. “I
beg your pardon, milady, but I felt we needed to speak in private,” he
whispered.

Her blue
eyes took on a dark, stormy hue, and her body stiffened against him. Still, he
was enjoying the sensation of her soft breasts snuggled against him too much to
release her.

Griffin
removed the hand covering her mouth.

“I will not
attempt to escape from you, Sir Reynolds, so you can release me.” Her voice
contained an icy primness that made him laugh quietly.

“We have no
need to stand on formalities, Catlin, for I believe we are well acquainted
after the experiences we shared last night.” He inhaled the womanly scent that
rose from her warm, soft skin, and the familiar wave of desire for her washed
through him. “Please call me Griffin.”

Fear
flickered in her eyes as she looked up at him. Was she afraid he’d expose her
to Cranbourne? “I’m your friend, Catlin, and you need not be concerned that I
shall divulge your secret to anyone.” He gently stroked an ebony curl that had
escaped her attempts to confine it. The glossy length wrapped itself around his
finger.

She was all
silk and softness and a lightning flash of desire reminded him of the many
weeks he’d gone without female companionship. He prided himself on his ability
to control his carnal appetites.

Being in
service to King Charles offered ample opportunities to indulge in the sensual
activities of a lascivious court. Until recently, he’d always been most happy
to do so. But he’d tired of the games the women played, of the lies and social
climbing. He was realizing he wanted something more. Yet he didn’t exactly
understand what  it was he craved.

Catlin
licked her lips as she stared up at him, igniting a flame that burned hot and
slow within him. His cock ached to plunder the treasure between her soft, shapely
thighs.

The urge to
kiss her again overwhelmed him. He finally released her to take a deep breath,
step away, and regain some control.

“I do not
think Lord Cranbourne realizes I’m the same woman who was accused of
witchcraft, arrested, and thrown into the gaol.” She looked away from him,
nibbling on her lower lip.

Griffin took
another small step away from her to escape her intoxicating scent of herbs and
flowers. Magic wasn’t such a far-fetched notion when one was in the presence of
Catlin Glyndwr. She certainly seemed to be bewitching him.

“Does that
sort of confusion usually happen, after, well, you know . . . ?”

Catlin shook
her head. “I’m not sure, because I’ve never cast a healing spell by myself, and
I have certainly never done so in the presence of a
sophor
.”

“What, pray
tell, is a
sophor
?” He inquired.

A rosy blush
flowed down her cheeks to the plush expanse of her full bosom, deepening from
pink to scarlet as it traveled.

“It’s just a
word we use, to describe, well. . .” She blinked and gave him a tiny smile.
“Some kinds of people.”

The word
struck Griffin as more humorous then insulting. “Do you mean those who have no
imagination?”

Catlin
brightened. “Yes, that’s it.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I mean those who
are not like us.”

“Witches?”

She looked
up at him, and her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated to expose little of the
white space surrounding the irises. “You know the penalty for that accusation
and it is doubtful I could escape again if I’m imprisoned.”

Griffin
raised his hands to reassure her. “Have no fear, my lady. I swore to protect
you and I would never break a sacred promise made to a friend.”

She nodded
and her shoulders relaxed as she shot him a tremulous smile. “I must trust you
with my life, Sir Reynolds, because you witnessed my spell casting last night.”
Her voice softened. “I believe I have the ability to judge an honest person,
and if I might be so bold, you appear to be a trustworthy man.”

Griffin had
no intention of betraying the trust Catlin Glyndwr placed in him. “You needn’t
worry, Catlin, your secret is safe with me.” He took a step closer. “You
offered to heal my friend, and I certainly cannot argue with the results,
whatever means you used to achieve it.”

She touched
his arm gently, but her soft blue eyes still reflected her anxiety. “If he
recalls what transpired before we brought him here last night, I fear he'll
return me to the prison.”

Heat surged
through Griffin at her touch, as if he’d suddenly been settled before a blazing
fire. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he marveled at the intense arousal he
experienced whenever she was near. If this truly was magic, it should be
desired and explored, not feared.

Catlin put
her hands upon his chest and lifted her gaze to meet his, a tiny, mischievous
smile playing upon her lips. “What shall I be expected to offer in payment for
your silence, Sir Griffin?”

Griffin
wrapped his arms around her, bringing their bodies closer together. He was now
fully aroused. Could she feel the evidence of his desire through her gown and
petticoats?

“I believe
the same price you demanded from me last night will suffice.”

Catlin
started to protest and tried to pull from his embrace. Griffin leaned his head
down, his mouth covering hers in a gentle trace of a kiss that soon deepened.
His lips and tongue teased her mouth lightly, and she quickly responded. He
grew bolder, pushing his tongue between her lips to explore the tender, secret
delights within her mouth.

A light
chirping sound echoed in the tiny space and Griffin opened his eyes, half
expecting to see a bird in the room with them.  Catlin moaned softly. He closed
his eyes again, relishing the way she tasted of sweetness and spice. Her hands
gripped the thin linen of his shirt. Fire sizzled in his veins and through his
body as desire sharpened to become an overwhelming, passionate hunger. This was
more than a simple reaction to a beautiful and desirable woman. There was
alchemy between them. It baffled and intrigued him at the same time.

Finally, he
forced himself to lift his lips from hers for a moment. “I don’t believe you
are a witch, Catlin Glyndwr, but it occurs to me you could be an enchantress.”

Before she
could answer him, the tapestries were ripped aside and Griffin faced a livid
Aelwyd ap Pryd. Her expression was hard as glass and her green eyes flashed
with bright gold flecks as she grabbed Catlin to pull her from Griffin’s arms.

“I should
have known,” she sputtered at Catlin. “Telling you kissing Sir Reynolds was
forbidden was probably the surest way to entice you to seek him out again.”

She yanked
on Catlin’s arm. It was obvious she intended to drag her to back to their suite
of rooms.

“Forbidden
pleasure?” Griffin’s voice reflected his amusement. “You make kissing sound
like a most perilous endeavor, Missus ap Pryd.” He shrugged. “I’ve never been
seriously injured by kissing a beautiful woman, although in the aftermath, I
confess I have been forced to fight several duels in defense of a lady’s
reputation. Shall you be challenging me at dawn?”