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    Windmera: Illusion
    Windmera: Illusion
    Windmera: Illusion
    Ebook237 pages3 hours

    Windmera: Illusion

    By Claudy Conn

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    About this ebook

    Windmera is as lovely as she is illegitimate. Two rivals, both handsome and virile sought to have her for his own. One was the bold young American buccaneer captain, the other the bastard son of an English lord.
    Against the exotic backdrop of Barbados and then the Cornish countryside, a tumultuous love story unfolds. Reckless passions and wild adventures take a young strong woman into her soul because she dared to love the stranger in her heart.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClaudy Conn
    Release dateJun 28, 2018
    ISBN9780463837221
    Windmera: Illusion
    Author

    Claudy Conn

    New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Claudy Conn is a multi published author who got her start with her bestselling historical/regency romances.She tells us that she fell in love with the fantasy/paranormal genre and created a world of paranormal.She hopes you will read and enjoy and join her on her facebook where she loves to interact with her readers.page.http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445

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      Book preview

      Windmera - Claudy Conn

      Windmera—Illusion

      By Claudy Conn

      CONTENTS

      Copyright

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Sneak Peek

      About Claudy

      Copyright Page

      Windmera-Illusion

      By Claudy Conn at Smashwords

      http://www.claudyconn.com

      Copyright © 2018 by Claudy Conn

      Edited by: Alicia Carmical

      Cover Artist: Dawn Sullivan

      All rights reserved

      Published in the United States of America

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

      No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

      When we left Heather Martin in her story, Windmera-Desperation, decisions that would affect all their lives had been made.

      Thus, it was that Heather made her fateful decision that day and kept her promise to God. In so doing, a portion of Heather Martin was put to rest, perhaps never to be recalled.

      Godwin of Ravensbury, the love of her life, was set aside. Such was the joining of Heather Martin and the Comte de Brabant in Barbados.

      Across the ocean, at Windmera, in Cornwall, Godwin felt as though a knife had sliced through his heart and hopes. She wasn’t coming back. It was whispered to him on the wind as he stood there looking out to sea. Heather was forever lost to him.

      Godwin of Ravensbury’s life, his hopes, and his dreams were over. His shoulders slumped, but the sound of a pony’s hooves on the hard earth caught his attention and he turned around.

      Ah, at least there was Roderick.

      Roderick jumped off his horse and approached Godwin, eyeing his father worriedly. Come, sir, the horse auction in town will be starting soon. We have just enough time to get there—together.

      Yes, son…off we go then, Godwin said, but as he left the Windmera cliff, he turned again to look out to sea.

      And so a chapter ended only to be reopened in later years.

      Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,

      Brief as the lightning in the collied night,

      That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,

      And ere a man hath power to say, Behold!

      The jaws of darkness do devour it up:

      So quick bright things come to confusion.

      Shakespeare,

      A Midsummer Night’s Dream

      ~ One ~

      February 1812

      VARIEGATED SHADES OF GREEN AND blue sea oscillated before her vision. Those beautiful shades rose heavenward in a sky that seemed to meet and stroke the earth.

      Ahead, a creamy sand stretched beneath bare feet. Huge boulders of aged grey, coral rock traced a path to the translucent sea of aqua and deeper blues. It was as though an ancient God had painted the scene and then brought it to life with a flick of magic.

      It was perfection. She walked amongst the isle’s offerings, her roan doggedly following her steps in the sand at her back.

      Her hair of thick black silk blew around her face in the wind, and she had to constantly remove it from her eyes. She stopped at a pool of water left by the receding tide and thought of her father as she gazed into its clear stillness.

      He would watch her antics, her bold behavior, and laugh, calling her an English hoyden, and demand she behave. She never really believed he meant it.

      He had also been fond of telling her she had her mother’s violet eyes and exquisite face, the only difference being her black hair. Her mother had been a redhead.

      Windmera gathered up the folds of her pale blue skirt, hiking them up and tucking the hem into her waistband, before she stepped into the shallows of the beautiful aqua colored water. She was sure that her father, had he been alive, would have scolded her to take care for the proprieties and not display her legs in broad daylight.

      She sighed, to think she would never hear him scold her again.

      Windmera, mistress now of Brabant, believed that a woman should have the same freedoms as a man. Her guardian, Tante Louise, did not agree. She laughed to herself as she thought of how shocked her aunt would be if she could see her hiking up her skirt.

      Windmera had been born to Heather and Maurice twenty years before. Her life had started on a stormy night. The island had been struck with the tail of severe gale winds. That gale blew fiercely, making it impossible to ride for the doctor, but it was her time to be born, and born she had been. Windmera arrived fighting for breath, determined to take her place in the world, and so she had.

      Her parents and everyone at Brabant Plantation lavished affection on her, thus she grew into a maid full of willfulness, only overset by her heart. Her father was fond of telling everyone that she was headstrong in everything, and yet modifying such faults were her capacity for compassion, her ability to love the smallest and meekest of God’s creations, her scampish charm, and her naughty wit. She smiled because, at the memory, she knew herself to be a fighter, and a rebel.

      Losing her mother who she adored, and now more recently her beloved father, had hurt, but had not broken her.

      She had turned to her Tante Louise, who had been a light in her life. And, of course, Bunky. After her father passed less than a year ago, those two people had seen her through the crisis of grief that had sorely challenged her.

      Dear Bunky, who had come with her mother to Barbados. Bunky, her cherished uncle, ‘never a servant’, her mother had often said when he called himself their head groom.

      She could hear her mother laugh and say, Head groom? No, you are my brother, always my brother.

      Between Bunky and her Tante Louise, and, of course, Jokai, she found much joy and laughter, each she thought funny in their own way and they had been there for her.

      Her mother’s memory, beloved and dear, often troubled her. During the last moments of her mother’s life, she knew her mother wanted to tell her something and kept looking at Windy’s father, as though asking for help in that regard.

      In the end, Windy had to lower her ear to her mother’s lips and she heard only one word, Godw…

      And then her mother passed.

      Now, shoving the dulled grief away, she waded into the aqua ocean’s stream, the sound of a man’s voice called out and caught her attention.

      She shaded her eyes to see a sailor in a captain’s hat and a billowy, white shirt walking her way.

      He was an older gentleman and oddly enough, he called her by her mother’s name. Heather…Heather Martin?

      * * * * *

      Windmera stared at the man whom she did not know. Why was he calling her by her mother’s name—maiden name at that? Had he known her mother before she came to Barbados?

      He was tall and wore a merchant’s captain’s garb. His captain’s hat was tilted over a bulk of thick grey hair. His beard, also grey, was short and neatly cropped around his pleasant face. As he approached, she saw that his eyes were warm and his smile broad.

      What did you say? she asked, just to be certain she hadn’t heard incorrectly. What did you call me?

      He was only a few feet away and his smile faded into a frown. Er…my mistake, miss. You look so much like a young woman I knew many years ago in Cornwall, he answered doubtfully.

      Windmera beamed, and clapped her hands together. Oh, then you did call me Heather Martin. She extended her hand. Heather was my mother.

      He took her hand almost reverently and Windy was surprised by it. As he didn’t speak, she broke the silence. I am told I am much like her.

      Yes, yes, you are, the very spit and image of her, and though I met her only once, she was not the sort one forgets. Aye, but…I am being rude. What is your given name?

      Windmera could see he was more than usually excited at discovering the daughter of an old friend. He seemed absolutely gleeful. Her mother must have made quite an impression on him?

      She smiled and said, "I am Windmera de Brabant, sir…and you are?"

      His smile vanished abruptly as he said sadly, Windmera, of course your name would be Windmera, but you said, ‘de Brabant’?

      She laughed, just a bit confused. Why did he say ‘of course her name would be Windmera’? If he had only met her mother once, how had she told him about the Cornwall cliffside she loved so very much? Windy knew she was named for it. Why, yes. My father was the Comte de Brabant. But please, who are you?

      Captain John Pearson, he said, and inclined his head. But your mother? Is she at home? May I call on her?

      Windmera’s eyes darkened with sadness. I am sorry…I lost my mother some years ago.

      His face dropped and she could see he took this news very hard. She reached out and touched his arm. I am so sorry to give you this news just when you thought you had found her again.

      He stared at her and said, You are so much like her…your violet eyes, your face…but your hair is much like your father’s.

      Oh, did you know my father? She frowned then. But…my father’s hair, though turning white, was auburn…not black. She beamed. I often asked my mother where I got my black hair from and she would say ancestry is a funny thing.

      Forgive me…this has all been such a shock, the captain said slowly, suddenly withdrawing.

      Come along, Windmera said, taking command of the situation in a way that was all her own. You and I should walk this lovely beach and talk. I am certain you have many questions.

      You are most perceptive and kind…again, much like your mother, he answered as he fell in step beside her.

      She had so many questions and started by saying, My mother often described Cornwall. She loved the rugged landscape she left behind. She took a long breath. She never spoke of family…ever. Do I have family in Cornwall?

      As I understand it, Heather had an uncle…a vicar, who was not an amiable sort.

      Oh, that explains why she never spoke about him.

      How did she happen to find her way here?

      Ah. Windmera frowned for a moment. Apparently my father was in Cornwall on business. They met, went to France where he rescued my aunt, Louise, and came here…they were married here. She frowned, as this had been a question never answered quite adequately by her mother. In fact, it was her father who had supplied the answer. She always wondered why they had not married in Cornwall.

      Windy had always dismissed it as meaning nothing.

      Did she ever mention me or any of her friends back home? Pearson asked.

      No…I don’t think so. I would have remembered because I always wondered about her friends and family in Cornwall, Windmera answered.

      He touched her face. You have never heard the name Godwin?

      Godwin? Her face clouded up. Wait, in the last few moments, my mother whispered part of a name…Godw. I just assumed she was calling to God. Windmera eyed him. Who is this Godwin? A relative I should know?

      He shook his head. Ah, well, no, not really.

      She eyed him and thought there was something he was holding back.

      * * * * *

      They parted company then, as he had remained steadfast and refused to go back to the plantation with her for refreshments. How could he spend any more time in her company and keep himself in check?

      She knew nothing about her mother’s past. She knew nothing about her ‘true’ father back in Cornwall. This young woman was a happy being whose life he was not about to disrupt.

      How could he burst her pretty little world with truths that would do her no good—no good at all?

      How could he call himself a friend to Godwin of Ravensbury by keeping silent?

      He was terribly conflicted as he returned to his ship. This had been tragic from beginning to end. There was no need to carry the tragedy further. Was there? Could something good come from all the pain?

      He didn’t have any answers.

      Perhaps, when he returned and told Godwin of Heather’s passing, his friend could find some peace.

      Perhaps? Should he keep the truth away from Godwin? Would it drive the man to further madness to know Heather was gone and his child carried another man’s name?

      Damnation, he wished he had not come across Windmera this day!

      ~ Two ~

      IN MYSTIC, CONNECTICUT, THE SEAPORT thrived and bustled with life. Jules Landon had often told his son that the potential for growth was enormous.

      He and his family had been hardworking, and they had flourished. Yes, they were a hearty brew, and yes, they had originated from English noble stock, but Jules had been the third son and he traveled to the state of Connecticut with a huge plan in mind.

      With just enough of a competence to get started, he built his shipping domain, and with foresight, grit, and great determination, his business flourished.

      They were a small but hearty brew of English noble stock. They had made the American town their home and had quickly adapted to the culture.

      Jules took the walk along the docks, looking for his son, Lance, and spotted him standing at the edge of the long pier, staring out on the dark waters of the calm bay.

      Lance! he called, and grinned. Lance my boy. He knew that what he was about to try and talk his son out of was a useless effort, but his darling wife, Lance’s mother, had set him to it.

      Lance turned as his father approached, and blue eyes gazed into blue eyes. His son never failed to sweep his heart with love, and looking into Lance’s twinkling blue now, it made him swell with pride and affection.

      However, his son was built along rebellious lines.

      Jules eyed his handsome son, whose black hair was slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck. Egad, but the lad was the very broth of a man. It was no wonder so many mamas in Mystic threw their daughters in his path.

      Ah, Jules thought, for the set of his son’s lips was not lost on him. He could see that Lance knew very well why he had come. Well, there wasn’t much he could do, as he told his wife. After all, their son was twenty-eight years old, and had a great deal of stubbornness in his mien. Still, he had to give it a try to keep his word to his wife.

      He shook his head. Right then, look, my boy, I know you are a man with your own set of rules—anyone with eyes can see you are also capable of making up your own mind. I know you have your mother’s Irish temper and her zeal for life, but where you get your impulsiveness from is anyone’s guess…

      Papa… Lance’s voice warned as he interrupted him.

      Hear me out, Jules Landon cut right back in. I’m not here to foster your mother’s plan to get you wed. No, you will do that in your own good time, and when the right lady takes your heart and you have no way to get it back. No, I’m not here for that.

      I know what you are here for and it won’t answer, Lance said, but smiled warmly at his father.

      Your mother has pointed out to you and, he sighed heavily, "to me, that there is no reason in the world that you must personally fetch Isabelle’s sugar."

      But you mistake, Papa, Lance said on a chuckle. "There is every reason for me to fetch Isabelle’s sugar. I desire the journey. The errand suits me."

      Do not play on words, Lance. It won’t answer, his father objected strongly, but he couldn’t help but smile. He actually agreed with Lance that this voyage would do him good. He loved his children and often gave in to their whims. He shook his head. Lance, you know we have any number of captains who can make the trip.

      Papa, you and Mama know that our Izzy will not rest until she gets the sugar for that settlement she and Jim are so proud of. True, any number of captains could make the voyage in my stead, but you know we were lucky to negotiate this consignment with Brabant. Besides, I need the exercise, the salt air, and the adventure.

      Jules regarded his son standing there and acknowledged that Lance was indeed his own man. If he had made up his mind, there would be no dissuading him from his decision.

      Son, we have a growing shipping business here and one day it will be up to you to take over. Yet you seem to want to be at sea more than here. Your business skills are not in question, but your needs are and that worries me. He

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