Into Thin Air (17 page)
Gawan rubbed his eye sockets with a thumb and forefinger, then stared into the fire. Damnation, what a predicament. The lads were right, of course. Annoyingly so.
But by the saints, he had a bad feeling about it all.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and met Tristan's gaze. "We've yet to visit the cottage Ellie let from your solicitor. I daresay we should have done so before coming here."
Just then, the front hall door slammed open against the wall. Snow blew in, as did the last three Dragonhawk knights. One of them pushed the door closed, and they stood there, just inside the hall, swords clenched in fists, their chain mail covered in frost.
Sir Jon, a fierce warrior from the Black Isle, pointed his blade at Gawan and smiled a most unappealing smile. "You're snowed in, little lad, and the drawbridge has been raised." His grin grew even more wicked. "Methinks you're in sore need of a
decent
bit of training, Grimm. Or have you forgotten how you acquired those ancient markings on your flesh?"
The other two stood there, staring. Grinning. And waiting.
Mayhap, 'twas
exactly
what he needed, Gawan thought.
As if Tristan would have given him a choice.
With a hearty slap to the back, which nearly sent Gawan hurling into the flames, Tristan said, "Do not worry, friend. Hopefully, the storm will have ceased by the morn, when we can dig ourselves out of the snow and travel to the cottage. I've already spoken to my solicitor, who is faxing over the documents he has on Ellie's rental agreement this very eve. Besides, 'twould do none of us a bit of good to try it now, unless you want to sprout those feathered appendages of yours? Although I daresay 'twould be best to investigate in the full daylight."
"Unfortunately, I gave up the use of those appendages when I accepted this almost-mortal job."
True, he could still call those feathered reminders forth, stretch them out a bit, only to have to tuck them back into place. 'Twas just as well, he thought. "We'll wait 'til the morn."
"Well done, Conwyk," Tristan said. Then he turned to his men. "Gear up, lads! Whilst the maids tend the larder, we shall put aside all these womanly discussions and behave like bloody warriors!"
The hall echoed with a raucous lot of medieval war cries as those knights not geared for the elements scrambled to their chambers to change.
Tristan grinned at Gawan. "Come with me, the fiercely known Gawan of Conwyk. Looks like we're having a sleepover." His gaze moved over Gawan. "And by the devil's cloven hoof, you can't train in that sorry garb. Do you have in your car boot your blade? Your mail? Never mind. I've got plenty to spare." He faced him, full on. "We'll take a look at that photograph tonight, and go over the faxes, once you've informed your lady of the
situation."
Situation,
indeed. With a quick glance over his shoulder at the larder, where Ellie assisted Tristan's wife and steward with the lumpy stew, Gawan took the stairs two at a time behind Tristan. Mayhap after a brisk skirmish with the life-and-blood knights of Dreadmoor in the icy snow, he'd gain the courage to face something far more terrifying than that murderous lot of bloodthirsty lads.
Ellie of Aquitaine.
"Oooh,
Jameson, love. You certainly do know how to conjure up a most delightful stew, indeed."
Ellie's gaze darted to Jameson, to get his response to Lady Follywolle's glowing review of his stew making.
Jameson rolled his eyes so far back, they all but disappeared.
Andi gently kicked Ellie beneath the table, and when she looked, Tristan's wife's face was pinched with laughter.
"My, my, Millicent, I do believe you're right. Look you at how he grips the
shaft
of that stirring spoon, just so," Lady Beauchamp said, floating closer to Jameson. "My dear cousin Lucy will be sorely disappointed that she decided to stay about Grimm to keep Nicklesby company. 'Tis far more interesting here."
Jameson's face turned an alarming shade of red.
Millicent, rather Lady Follywolle, bent her head to inspect Jameson's gripping of the spoon shaft, and the beak of her coiffed swan all but dipped into the stew.
Jameson jumped, and Andi barely stifled a giggle.
Jameson, on the other hand, had obviously had enough. He placed the tool in question on a spoon rest and wiped his hands on a dish towel. "My good ladies, while your compliments are most appreciated, as always, I must ask you to adjourn to the table there with the other females and have ... I don't know ... female speech of some sort. You're most distracting, indeed."
The two spirits from Grimm giggled, and then eased their way to the table, where they made a big production of sitting down properly.
Andi glanced at Ellie and grinned.
"So how are things over at Castle Grimm?" Andi asked. "How's Nicklesby?"
Lady Follywolle patted her swan. "I daresay he's rather pouty this eve, being left behind with no one about save young Davy Crispin and the lady Lucy to keep him company."
"Although," Lady Beauchamp said, "the little lad is quite good at knucklebones. I'm sure they'll all three pass the time fair." She grinned first at Ellie, then at Andi. "But 'tis far more exhilarating over here at Dreadmoor—isn't that right, Millicent?"
Lady Follywolle bobbed her head. "With a certainty, 'tis so. How, by the saints, Lady Dreadmoor, can you stand being in constant company with so many
fine
specimens milling about?"
Andi feigned a yawn, which made Ellie grin. "Oh, someone has to do it, I suppose."
Jameson cleared his throat.
"Well," Lady Follywolle said. " 'Tis quite exciting at Castle Grimm these days, what with the young mistress Ellie here showing up."
"Causing quite a stir with Himself, too," Lady Beauchamp added. "I've never seen Sir Gawan so stodgy." She slid a knowing gaze at Ellie. "In a pinch, most of the time. You must really ruffle that boy's feathers, my dear."
Ellie listened to the chatter of the two lady ghosts, but couldn't quite get a handle on what they were saying. Definitely, she knew there was an attraction between Gawan and her. That'd been proven with the kiss she so eloquently claimed she'd forgotten ever even happened.
As if.
Ellie cocked her head. "I make him
stodgy?"
What the heck did
stodgy
mean, anyway?
"Haven't you noticed? He's always in such a bluster when you're about." Lady Follywolle said, head tilted to the side. "Why, my dear girl, hasn't he told you—"
"Y-you how terribly bad he wants to help you, and that not finding adequate clues is making him stodgy," Lady Beauchamp finished.
Ellie glanced from lady ghost to lady ghost, then to Andi, who shrugged; and then she narrowed her gaze at Lady Follywolle.
She may not know who she is, but one thing Ellie
felt:
her mother didn't raise a fool.
"What hasn't Gawan told me, Lady Follywolle?" Ellie asked. She sighed. "Please, tell me. It's bad enough, not remembering. But to keep things secret from me? Why?"
Andi reached across the table and grasped Ellie's hand. "Maybe we should just wait and talk to Gawan and Tristan?"
A squeak erupted from Lady Follywolle, and then another. Then a hiccup. Out of a pocket from her gown, she withdrew a white lace hankie, pressed it to her mouth, then started to sniffle.
"Oh, dear," warned Lady Beauchamp.
"I ... I ... oh, my dear girl, I can't stand it a minute longer!" cried Lady Follywolle, ghostly tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Hush, Millicent! Do not—"
"It breaks my heart, poor little lamb," Lady Follywolle continued, with another hiccup. " 'Tisn't fair, I say. Not fair at all."
"Oh, dear, indeed," Jameson said quietly.
Ellie glanced at Andi, who now stood, pulling on Ellie's arm. "Let's go find the guys and get this all straightened out, okay? Lady Follywolle,
really,
it'll be okay. You don't have to cry—Jameson,
help
me!"
Lady Follywolle kept on. "B-but, he's an
Annn-gel,
for Heaven's sake! Why can he not change the course of events?"
Ellie blinked. This was the second time Lady Follywolle had referred to Gawan as an Angel. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
While Lady Beauchamp fretted and wrung her hands, Lady Follywolle wailed even louder. " 'Tis so unfair! The boy's waited for nearly a thousand years." She buried her face into her hankie, and then muttered something Ellie couldn't understand.
"Lady Follywolle, what is it?" Ellie asked, not completely sure she wanted to hear the answer. She moved closer.
The ghostly lady looked up and blew her nose. "He's an Angel, love. Your Guardian angel. And your beloved
Intended—"
"Come, my good ladies, and I'll escort you to the west solar," Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea said, just as he walked through the kitchen wall. He grasped Lady Follywolle by the elbow. "There you'll find a fine view of the lads at their swordplay. Come now, you're making a mess of that lovely face of yours. And look." He pointed at Lady Follywolle's head. "Your nicely coiffed bird is all askew."
He glanced at Ellie, then at Andi, gave a tight smile, and managed to coax both distressed spirits from the kitchen.
Before they disappeared through the wall, Lady Follywolle glanced over her shoulder at Ellie. "I'm ever so sorry, my dear girl. Truly, ever so sorry, indeed."
And with that, they vanished.
It felt as though someone had knocked her over the head with a brick. Dazed, yet
ouch!
Turning, Ellie glanced at Jameson, who cleared his throat and flicked a bit of something from his coat sleeve.
When she looked at Andi, the lady of Dreadmoor simply smiled and shrugged. "Weird, huh? A year ago, and no one would have ever made me believe ghosts even existed."
"I really appreciate everything. I do," Ellie said, pasting a smile to a face that didn't feel much like smiling. "And I by no means want to sound ungrateful. But what in the
heck
is she talking about?"
Andi chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered.
Ellie fought not to chew her own lip
off.
Angel? Beloved Intended? God, was it possible to become even more confused? Apparently so. "Okay. When Lady Follywolle says
Angel,
does she mean
haaa-lle-lujah!
type Angel, or, just that he's a swell kind of guy? And Intended? Intended for
what?
What does Intended mean?" With both hands, she massaged her temples. "Oy," she mimicked Gawan, "my head hurts."
Suddenly, Ellie felt Andi's hands on her shoulders as the other woman guided her back down to the chair. When she opened her eyes, Andi had crouched beside her, hand on knee.
"Ellie, I'm afraid most of what I know came to me just hours ago over the cell phone with Tristan.
He sort of gave me a heads-up, so to speak. You know, of everything that's going on with you."
Ellie nodded. "Go on."
With a hefty sigh, Andi continued. "Well, part of what I know, I've known since meeting Tristan and the guys. The other part, I just found out a while ago." She drew in a deep breath and patted Ellie's hand. "Gawan's not a serial killer, or anything like that. Honest. He's a really nice guy." She ducked her head and gave Ellie a smile. "The guys are on the lists training. Trust me, that's not something you want to miss. So let's go watch them for a bit, and then I can tell you a little more of what's happened here recently that may help you deal with your situation a little better. Okay?"
It'd have to be one whopper of a story to top hers.
Ellie was sure it wasn't going to be
totally
okay, but she'd have to trust the people who'd taken her under their wings and did their best to see her through whatever it was she needed seeing through.
After Jameson gathered a pair of thick wool coats and gave them each a plaid wool wrap, Ellie and Andi bundled up and started across the hall to the west tower chamber, a place Andi claimed to have the very best balcony view of the lists. Whatever lists were.
Just as they reached the wide winding staircase, Ellie placed a hand on Andi's elbow and pulled her to a stop.
"Just tell me one thing, because it's eating a hole straight through my head. Gawan, is he really an Angel?"
Andi's expression softened, and she smiled. "Yeah, he really is."
Ellie tried to wrap her brain around it but found it even more difficult than accepting the fact that she'd been having conversations with centuries-old ghosts. "What about my being his Intended?
What does that mean?"
Andi smiled. "That you'll have to squeeze out of Gawan."
Once Andi and Ellie reached the west tower, which happened to be an enormous and comfortable turreted bedroom, they stepped through a set of heavy double-hung doors that led to a balcony. A blast of icy wind and snow hit them both, but once the doors were closed behind them, the wind wasn't completely intolerable. Snow fell in a constant sheet, though, and after watching Andi drape the plaid wool blanket around her head, leaving just her eyes showing, Ellie did the same. She glanced down.
Good
Lord,
they were high up.
Then the shouts reached her ears.
"Lop off his head!" That, Ellie noticed, was Sir Godfrey.
"Damn me, but you fight like a drunken wench!"
Andi huddled close to Ellie, then poked a finger through the crack in her blanket and pointed down and to the left a fraction, to a scene Ellie hoped would never, for the rest of her days whether as a living mortal or a wispy ghost, leave her memory. Her breath left her in a puff of white mist, and she wasn't quite convinced it was due to the icy wind.
The guys she'd encountered in Tristan's hall—wow, she counted a few more now—stood in a half-moon around two others, dressed in chain mail and circling each other with sure-footed steps.
Gawan and Tristan.
And they were hacking at each other with very big swords.
"Come on, Dreadmoor! Can't ye get any closer to the bumblin' oaf?"
" 'Tis like watching me grandmum, I'd warrant!"
All the men burst into laughter.