Page 8 of The Milliner and the Griffin Rider

Captain Harrison led the way to the mews by a circuitous route that kept them far from the distant sounds of the party. Chloe suppressed a sigh, determined to look enraptured by everything he showed her.

And as they approached the double doors of the vast mews, real excitement stirred inside her. She really had read the entire book on griffins in the past two days—turning to it whenever she needed something to distract her mind, which had been all too often—and she really had been fascinated by it.

As the captain pulled open one of the doors, she turned to make a remark to Fletcher, only to find no one behind them. She frowned around the surrounding area. But though she could have sworn he had been only steps behind her, he had disappeared completely from view.

The captain turned to usher her inside, and the quick flick of his eyes, along with his resigned sigh, told her he had also noticed Fletcher’s absence. He didn’t comment on it, however, so Chloe didn’t either.

Instead, she stepped inside the building. She expected her eyes to need a moment to adjust to more muted lighting, but high windows allowed the spring sunshine to flood in, illuminating an enormous corridor that ran down the middle of the barn-like structure. Although it felt wrong to compare the mews to a barn, even in her head.

For one, it was much cleaner and far more richly appointed, the wood oiled and polished until it shone. It smelled a great deal better, too. It did have a smell quite distinct from a human home, but it didn’t assault her senses in the way a large grouping of animals usually did. But then griffins—like Wynkara’s other creatures of intelligence—weren’t just animals. Their intelligence varied, but some were more intelligent than humans.

The rustle of feathers told her some at least of the griffin squad were inside the mews, although she expected at least a couple of griffins were showing off among the party guests. The Duke would want them at his picnic for his own prestige, but from what Chloe had read, griffins themselves weren’t immune to praise and adoration, despite their regal bearing.

Chloe had vaguely expected to see stalls along each side of the central corridor, like in a stable, but most of the building was open. Large nests ran along each wall instead, with no barrier between them. Strong branches supported the sturdy bases of the nests, but layers of fresh bracken softened the top. Chloe could easily imagine climbing into one herself.

The first few near the door sat empty, but further down she caught the flash of eyes and beaks and the rich colors of feathers and fur.

“It’s so lovely in here!” she exclaimed, forgetting her resolution to act interested before her genuine enthusiasm. “The Duke has provided for the squad most handsomely.”

She didn’t add that the Duke’s generous and just management of his domain was the only appealing characteristic she had yet discovered in him. And she suspected there might be a steward responsible for the actual management. Although, if so, the Duke got credit for choosing such an excellent steward and allowing him free rein.

“I’m glad you approve,” the captain said with a hint of irony that made her eyes flash to his, her cheeks warming.

She drew in a deep breath, unable to help murmuring, “It smells so warm and appealing.”

His brows rose. “Do you think so? Not everyone likes the smell of griffins.”

She turned genuinely astonished eyes on him. “Really? But what could they find offensive about this?” She wrinkled her nose. “Have they ever smelled a barn?”

He laughed, looking as if he did so in spite of himself. “That’s what I think. But there’s no accounting for taste.”

A griffin emerged from one of the nests and padded down the aisle toward them.

“There certainly isn’t—not if anyone could find fault with these beauties,” Chloe breathed, the captain forgotten as she stared at the griffin.

In essentials, the creature was just as she had always understood griffins to be—the body and back legs of a lion with the head, neck, and front legs of an eagle. But the two halves blended far more harmoniously than she could have imagined, the creature’s proportions balanced and powerful. And its size took her breath away.

Griffins varied in coloring within a certain range, and the one in front of her had feathers of a rich chestnut, the brown mixed with flashes of dark gold that matched the gold of his fur. His curved beak was far larger than any eagle’s, and the eye he bent on her shone with intelligence.

“Are they all so big?” she squeaked, and Captain Harrison laughed.

“No, Ranger is the largest in the squad.” His voice held pride, and he put his hand on the creature’s shoulder, which stood higher than his own.

“He’s yours?” Chloe asked, looking between them.

The captain chuckled. “Or I’m his. It depends who you ask.”

Naturally you are mine. The voice in her mind spoke in rich, deep tones utterly unlike Amaranth’s soft whispers.

Chloe fell back a step, her eyes widening. The griffin had spoken to her! Her eyes flashed between the creature and the man beside him, who was frowning at her.

She swallowed and tried to pull herself together, curtsying in her best court manner to the griffin. “I’m Miss Chloe, noble sir. It is a great pleasure to meet you.”

“She didn’t think it was a pleasure to meet me,” the captain grumbled to his companion in an undertone that he clearly thought was too quiet to be heard.

A sound echoed through Chloe’s head that made her look at Ranger with wonder once again. Had that been a griffin laugh?

“The lady is interested in griffins,” the captain said more loudly, his tone indicating boredom. “Would any of the others consent to meet her?”