Whistle Down the Wind (Mystic Moon) (6 page)

She was
relieved the outcome had been so much better than her last attempt at a healing
spell.

Weakness
overcame her, and Catlin stumbled against the bed. Only the silent support of
Griffin’s arms kept her standing upright. His thick erection poked at her
bottom, and flame slid through her veins, the heat of desire finally pooling at
the cleft between her legs. Fever seemed to grip her, despite the cool chill of
the room upon her naked skin.

Griffin turned
her gently, lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “I have never. . .” he
whispered.

Their faces
were mere inches from each other. The
sylphs
buzzed in her ears.
The
kiss, the kiss. We want the kiss
.

Her
sylphs
were ever eager for even a small taste of pleasure. She had always disappointed
the gloriously sensuous creatures in that respect. Not this time. She licked
her lips.

Griffin
didn’t need much urging. He leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers.
She sighed. She'd grown accustomed to joining with the wind, but this was
totally different. The hard muscles of Griffins arms pulled her closer. The
heated length of his tarse rubbed against the cleft of her womanhood, and a
throbbing need made her spread her legs in invitation. Her nipples hardened
against the smooth fabric covering his chest, and the tingle of this kiss was
so unanticipated that she could have collapsed with surprise.

The pressure
of his lips increased, and emotions she didn’t understand swept through her.
She opened her mouth to welcome him. His tongue parted her lips, capturing her
own tongue to parry and joust like two warriors entangled in a delicious
battle.

His hand
moved down to gently trace a pattern across the tender skin of her breast. His
touch was light, reverent as he stroked her.

It was like
standing before a blazing hearth fire, as heat flickered wherever his fingers touched
her body. Her arms crept up to wrap around his neck. She wanted to hold him
prisoner, to make this moment linger on for hours, yet she wanted more than a
kiss. An aching need devoured her good sense, as she pushed away the flash of
warning that she was dangerously close to being seduced by this handsome
knight. 

She moaned,
and her response seemed to ignite Griffin, who leaned her back, almost touching
the bed that held Lord Cranbourne, to deepen the kiss.

She wanted
this moment to last forever. It was enchanting torture to feel his lips upon
hers, his strong arms encircling her. Yet the soft edges of sleep began to make
her limbs feel heavy, her head was filled with the gentle lullaby of her
sylphs
and knew she was slipping into Dream Time. Warmth suffused her body, and a
sweet humming filled her ears.

No, she
begged silently. Not yet. Let me enjoy more of this delightful kissing.

Before she could
utter a word, the
sylph
s had dragged her into their world of delight.
She couldn’t resist, despite her desire for one more kiss, and for more of the
sweet agony of being touched by Sir Griffin Reynolds.

Chapter Four

When I open
my eyes, I discover I’m in the garden at Llithfaen. It was my mother’s favorite
place, with the scent of roses filling the air, the warm sun splashing the
gentle paths and the cool water of the brook meandering through the flowers and
herbs. I inhale the familiar fragrance and smile because I know we will soon be
spending time together.

Sitting up,
I stare around in confusion. Usually when I travel to Dream Time, she's here
waiting for me. I turn in the direction of the stone keep, the place that in
the real world of Cymru is our ancestral home. Was she still inside, distracted
by her duties as the lady of the manor? Would I be forced to wait even in this
magical between world? Was I going to be abandoned once more by her need to
respond to a call to duty?

Fear always
lurks at the edge of my thoughts when I encounter my mother in the Dream Time.
Our time together here is always too short, the things I need to ask her
overwhelming my ability to hang on to her for even a few moments longer. Of
course, I could stay in the Dream Time with my mother forever, but then my body
would slowly wither away and die. I would cease to exist on earth.

“You’ve done
well my child.”  Her soft voice alerts me to her presence. “Healing that man
was the honorable thing to do.”

I turn,
delighted to see my mother dressed in the soft blue gown that favors her
sapphire blue eyes and golden hair. I have always regretted I do not favor my
beautiful mother the way my younger sister Meaghan does. With my unremarkable,
brown length of hair that hangs thickly down my back, I envy the blonde curls
of my sibling. The only feature I inherited from her was my eye color. I take
the rest of my coloring from my father’s side of the family.

“I know it
was the right thing to do,” I finally reply, “yet he’s done much to harm our
kind, allowing the Witch Hunter to charge even those without powers.” I raise
my gaze to implore my mother. “Wouldn’t his death prevent others who are
innocent from suffering?”

My mother
moves with a gentle, sweeping grace to stand beside me. “It is not for us to
say how things will turn out for this man. Perhaps he shall change.” She
shrugs. “We cannot know what the fates have woven into the pattern of his
life.”

I want to
believe it is possible for a sophor to change, yet I witnessed how the people
of our own village turned on my mother. Because she was a healer, they blamed
her when the plague began to decimate the people in our parish, and they
demanded her torture and death because of the pestilence attacking them. In the
end, their demands went unheeded, for it was the plague that took my mother
from me. Ultimately, it was I who failed her.

I shudder at
the ugly memories and work to push them away.

“You have
faith that sophors can change, yet I see no proof of such things.” I reach out
to touch her, yet my hand passes through her, and the cold void recalls a
familiar ache of loss deep within my soul.

“We do not
judge, Catlin,” she reminds me. “We serve the Queen of Heaven. She demands we
offer our very lives in her service, if necessary. You must remember the
creed.”

Her lecture
is constant, because I rebel at the idea of sacrificing myself for those sophors
who attack my kind. They call us the servants of the Devil and accuse us of
heinous rituals and ghastly crimes. Yet my mother has always implored me to
look beyond their anger, to the fear and hopelessness that fills their lives.
My great burden is to set aside my hostility and learn to care for sophors.

“I’m afraid
for my sisters,” I offer, in an attempt to sway her from delivering her favorite
sermon. “We are all in danger.”

“Aye,” she
says, still watching me carefully. “And who is responsible for creating the
fear of magic that has seized the sophors of this village?”

I want to
turn from her searching gaze, but find myself frozen in place beneath her
scorching scrutiny. Even when she was alive, I could never escape my mother’s
interrogation. Now that she lives in the spirit world, her inquiries are even
more intense and frightening. I can hide nothing from her.

My mouth is
dry, filled with the vile taste of the truth that I must confess to her.

She leans
forward, as if to study me more carefully. The words of denial die before
reaching my lips.

I remember
how I always tried to escape from my mother's judgment as a child, hiding in
cupboards or running to the sanctuary of the woods near our home.  I am now a
grown woman, and I stand taller, throwing my shoulders back as I realize it is
necessary to accept full responsibility for my actions.

“I escaped
from the Witch Hunter by using magic. Doing so has cursed all of us. Once Lord Cranbourne
fully recovers, my sisters shall be in danger because of my foolish actions.”

Denial is
pointless, for she knows these things as well as I do. Nothing escapes my
mother’s attention, even in this place.

She nods and
I briefly hope she can change things, that my mistakes can somehow be reversed.
She was a powerful witch on earth. Even here in the spirit world she might find
a way to intervene.

“The Witch
Hunter is a truly evil man who accuses innocent women and delights in their
torture and execution.” She paces across the worn stones of the garden path. “But
there is another—a powerful dark lord who has been searching for you and your
sisters. I sense danger, but I cannot discover who he is. I can only warn you
to beware.”

My heart
skips a beat. Griffin Reynolds? Could he be the dangerous stranger who
threatens my family?

She stops
pacing and turns back to me. A gentle smile softens the curves of her face.
“You must be brave my bychan cat, for it is up to you to discover the way and
lead your sisters on a new path. It is no longer safe for our kind in Britain,
for a great terror has seized the land. I have seen that your destiny shall
lead you across the sea to the New World.”

I nod, but
how can find a way to travel across the great ocean that separates England from
the new continent of America. And why I am given this mission instead of
Aelwyd? As the eldest and most powerful witch in our family, shouldn’t she be
the one to find the path?

“I know we
are not safe here, Mam, but how will I ever manage to find a way to the New
World?”

My mother
leans forward as if to touch my cheek gently with one delicate finger. “You
must trust in the Goddess, Catlin. Pray to her, conduct the rituals, and watch
for the signs from her. I cannot know all that will take place in the future,
but I do know our family’s destiny lies beyond the shores of Britain.”

She drops
her hand, but her gaze and her words hold me enthralled.

“You are the
dreamer, Catlin, the one who can see beyond the boundaries of existence in the
old world, a place that has grown to hate our kind. In the new land, there is
opportunity and hope for a fresh beginning.”

My mind
tumbles with questions, but she steps away from me and into the shadows of the
garden. My heart clenches and I ache with the familiar pangs of grief that make
my chest tighten and my throat sore. Tears fill my eyes as I lose her once
again. Each time we part is as painful and wrenching as the day I sat beside
her, holding her hand as she slipped away from me to travel across the barrier
of death and into the spirit world.

“Mam,” I
implore, “stay just a bit longer, please.” Tears leak from my eyes and trail
down my face. “I am so afraid.”

She waves.
“Trust in the Goddess, Catlin, and watch for the signs.”

Then I am
alone, and despite the beauty that surrounds me I want to be gone from this
place. There is always suffering within the splendor—that is the painful lesson
I’ve learned.

Catlin’s
body grew heavy as she returned from the Dream Time. She lay in a bed, covered
by a rich, luxurious fabric. Opening her eyes she discovered Griffin Reynolds
sleeping nearby. His hard-muscled, lean body seemed too large for the small
wooden chair he was seated upon. The shadow of a beard darkened his cheeks and
chin.

She wondered
if he sat watch on her throughout the night. Then it occured to her that
perhaps he was more guard than guardian. He’d witnessed her capture of the wind
in order to complete her spell, and even though she was doing magical work to
heal his friend, Griffin must be suspicious of her. He denied a belief in
witchcraft, but that was before she healed Lord Cranbourne.

His eyes
flickered open, and they were rimmed red and bloodshot. She felt a pang of
guilt for keeping the man from his bed.

Catlin tried
to swallow her fear. “Sir Reynolds, I bid you good morn.”

Griffin
smiled faintly at her words. “I bid you good day, Catlin, for you have slept
through one day and into another.”

He stood to
stretch, and Catlin once again admired his long legs and the way the muscles of
his chest pushed against the fabric of his doublet. He was a handsome man, and
one who obviously possessed great physical prowess. He’d said he was a soldier,
so the granite-like muscles she’d felt when he held her in his arms must be
from long days in the saddle and the battles he’d fought against the King’s
enemies.

She blushed
when she recalled their kiss before she slipped into Dream Time. He probably
thought she was a woman of loose morals, and doubtless he hoped to continue the
seduction she'd so artlessly interrupted.

“I humbly
beg your forgiveness for sleeping overlong and keeping you from your own bed,”
Catlin said. “’Twas not necessary to stay by my side, for I could not have
escaped even had I wanted to.”

Griffin hovered
closer, and for a brief, exciting moment, Catlin wondered if he were going to
kiss her again. With such a virile man so close, she felt defenseless and
seriously tempted, especially since she was still naked.

“I could not
abandon you when I had no inkling if you were ill or simply exhausted from
your—” He paused “—ministrations.”

It was a
safe word, and one that would not bring the condemnation of the household down
upon her head nor lead her to the gallows.

Catlin
attempted to sit up in the bed, but slid back down beneath the quilt when she
discovered she might expose more of herself to Griffin Reynolds. “How is Lord Cranbourne?
Has he regained consciousness?”

It was silly
to try to hide her nakedness from the man, and she recalled the way his gaze
had slid over her body last night, when she’d removed her gown to invoke the
healing spell. It was a bit late to play the coy maiden. The heat on her cheeks
made her want to slide completely beneath the covers.

The memory
of his hands stroking her body created that glorious tingling in between her
legs. Griffin Reynolds had somehow ignited a new hunger within her.

If Griffin
noticed her discomfort, he didn't speak of it. Instead he walked to the window
to open it a bit. Catlin leaned back into the down pillows and inhaled a deep
breath of fresh air.

“If I hadn’t
seen him with my own eyes this morn, I would have called anyone who told me of
his condition a bold liar.” Griffin turned and smiled. “Lord Cranbourne appears
to be hale and hearty. He has already consumed a meal that would challenge a
starving hog, and now he’s out walking.” Griffin swallowed and bowed. “You have
done a miraculous thing, my lady, and I shall never forget that you’ve given my
friend back his life.”

Catlin
wanted to wave away his words, but the cost of demonstrating even this small
amount of emotion shone in his eyes. He honored her with his praise.

“’Twas only
what I am bound to do when help and healing is requested.” She considered her
next words carefully. “What did you tell him of the healing ritual?”

Griffin
returned to her bedside and knelt, his face now level with her own. He took one
of her hands in his and brought his lips to the knuckle. The gentle kiss made
her skin prickle. “I told him a beautiful creature appeared as if by magic and
promised me she would heal him. I described you as a young but wise woman, who
knows the ways of potions and herbs. He knows nothing of what transpired last
night, and I give you my word of honor, my lady. No one shall ever learn of it
from me.”

Catlin
nodded as he rose from his knees and pulled himself up to his full height. She
gave a deep sigh and leaned back into the pillows. She uttered a blessing to
the Goddess that Griffin didn't plan to expose her to Lord Cranbourne.

“I had Cranbourne
send for your eldest sister, for I know she must be concerned for your
welfare.” He waved toward a large oak wardrobe. “You’ll find clothing that
should fit you in there. I’ll have hot water brought up to you for a bath, and
I’m sure you would like something to eat.” He grinned, and the deep dimples
she’d admired the night before appeared at the corners of his exquisite mouth.

“If you are
near as famished as I, then I offer you my deepest sympathy.”

“My
sister—”Panic seized her. “Will she be held prisoner here too?”