Into Thin Air (18 page)

"Wow," Ellie said.

Andi sighed. "Uh-huh."

With utter amazement, respect, and—oh, yeah—lip-smacking lust, Ellie allowed her gaze to follow Gawan. Determined and confident, he moved with the grace of a man half his size, as though he'd been fighting with blades all his life. With sword held poised in the air, broad shoulders taut, his gaze never faltering from his opponent, he moved on muscular thighs in a slow dance around Tristan. The only evidence that either man was winded showed as each warm breath escaped their nostrils and mouths, creating a wisp of frosty whiteness before them. Tristan matched Gawan step for step. Both were predatory, beautiful. Warriors.

Gawan all but knocked the wind from Ellie's lungs.

"Magnificent, huh?" Andi said in a half whisper.

Ellie pulled her blanket tighter. "Definitely."

It was then that one of the knights hollered to Gawan, "Are you not feeling a bit confined in all that steel, Conwyk?"

"Aye, methinks he's gone soft, indeed," said Kail, who elbowed the guy beside him.

At that moment, Gawan held up his hand, and Tristan stopped. Jason ran up to stand beside Gawan.

Tristan took his sword, then Jason helped Gawan pull off the big chain mail shirt he wore, followed by some thick sort of jacket below it. Leaving him bare chested.

Ellie's mouth went dry, and a small gasp escaped Andi.

The men all whooped and shouted, and Gawan and Tristan continued their predatory dance.

"Won't he freeze to death?" Ellie said out loud.

"I doubt it, but he must be insane," Andi said.

Ellie glanced at the others, some circling the two opponents, some leaning on the hilts of their swords, all in medieval chain mail. Clapping, swearing, laughing, and egging the two fighters on.

Ellie's head snapped up and she settled her gaze on Gawan. His hair wild and loose around his shoulders, and while she was too far away to make out the markings across his back and chest in perfect detail, she could see them from where she stood. She recognized him, just like that, but she watched him a minute more, unable to tear her eyes away.

With each heft and swing of that mighty sword, his biceps and the muscles across his back and chest moved, and the power he emanated from where he stood nearly knocked Ellie from the balcony. He was no mere man. Not even a mere Angel.

He was that wild, ferocious, tattooed warrior from Gawan's own great hall tapestry, the one who'd fought beside Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine.

From the twelfth century.

"Close your mouth, Ellie, before your tonsils freeze off," Andi said, her voice muffled by the blanket wrapped over the bottom half of her face. Then she laughed. "Don't worry. It just takes a little getting used to."

Ellie blinked and glanced at all the men. While she was having a little trouble remembering things, she knew there weren't many men like
those men
left. Not in the twenty-first century. No way.

Twenty-first-century men were businessmen, suit wearers, clean-nails-and-smooth-palms sort of guys. Yeah, there were the labor workers, who were a bit rougher than the business guys, but ...

A gasp of realization slipped out of Ellie's mouth. "No way," she said, mostly to herself.

It was then that Gawan must have caught sight of Ellie, and for just a moment, his gaze met hers, and he let the distraction pull him out of his swordplay. That was all Tristan apparently needed.

Gawan's blade went flying over his head, wrenched away by Tristan's deft and very tricky move.

The men burst into rowdy laughter.

Which, of course, only made Gawan lean over, grab up his sword, and move toward Tristan as if he really
did
plan on lopping off his head. The two picked up where they'd left off before Gawan had noticed Andi and her watching.

With a heavy sigh that sent icy air pluming out before her, Ellie turned to Andi. "So you know I'm In-Betwinxt?"

Andi nodded. "I have to admit, I didn't think anything else could make me pause and consider." She met Ellie's gaze. "Not after everything that's gone on around here. But, wow. Yeah.
Mostly
dead is a pretty bizarre condition." She glanced back to where her husband hacked at Gawan. "Trust me. If anyone can help you, it's Gawan."

"How is it that you and everyone else here can see me, yet other mortals can't?"

Andi shrugged. "I can only guess it's because of my experiences here. Same with Jameson."

"So what happened here? Exactly?"

Andi didn't answer right away. Her eyes were fixed on the group below. Ellie watched, too, and had to admit that when she called to mind the vision of an Angel, that vision certainly didn't come in the form of a bare-chested, fighting-in-the-freezing-snow, sword-hacking warrior like Gawan Conwyk.

Suddenly, something Lady Follywolle had said earlier interrupted Ellie's thoughts.
Why, he's waited
for nearly a thousand years ...

"Tristan and his men," Andi began, still watching the scene below, "are thirteenth-century knights."

Ellie glanced at Andi, then down at the guys, then back at Andi. "Okay." It wasn't okay, but what else was she supposed to say?

Andi turned to face Ellie straight-on. "They were all murdered, here at Dreadmoor, in the year 1292.

When I came here to excavate a medieval hoard and a body of bones that had been buried beneath the roots of a seven-hundred-year-old tree, I met Tristan."

Ellie nodded. And waited.

A twinkle lit Andi's hazel eyes. "And I found out really fast he and his knights were all cursed ghosts." She shook her head. "I didn't want to believe it, at first. I'm a scientist, for God's sake.

Firmly rooted in reality." She snorted. "Well, that's all changed now."

Ellie studied the guys below the balcony. Snow clung to most of them, and she especially regarded Tristan de Barre as he tried to fight off the ferocious thrusts of Gawan's sword. Gawan, the Angel, and Tristan and his men, the once-cursed ghostly knights turned mortals.

And she, Ellie of Wherever and Whoever, was almost a ghost herself.

How could all of this be
real?

"It's kind of like trying to swallow a whole piece of chewed-up bread." Andi grinned. "Not very easy."

Ellie had to agree on that as she imagined a big ball of dough in her mouth. "Disgusting simile, but I get it."

Andi laughed. "We'll have to tell you the whole story over dinner. Tristan and the guys love to tell about their adventure."

Finally, to much groaning, swearing, and poking of fun from the men below, Tristan and Gawan called a truce. Both were breathing hard, white clouds of frost puffing from their mouths and nostrils as they leaned on their swords.

Ellie stared at Gawan, and as though he could
feel
it, he turned and stared back.

The sight of him made her mouth go dry.

He looked
nothing
at all like an Angel.

Tall, broad, muscular, ferocious. Wild hair frosted with snow, and those wicked tattoos streaking his skin. A ripped abdomen moving with each labored breath.

Not
a winged, pudgy, cherubic Angel by any means.

More like a feral medieval warrior.

"My dear ladies, whatever are you still doing out there in the snow? It's been nearly an hour."

Both she and Andi turned to the closed double doors behind them at the sound of the muffled words. Jameson stood, ramrod straight, arms to his side, his crisp black suit pressed to perfection.

One eyebrow disappeared into his thick, perfectly groomed white hair as he stared through the glass.

He opened the doors, clucked, then inclined his head. "You girls come in here this instant, before you catch your deaths"—he gave Ellie a blank glance—"or in your case, before you catch your complete death." He clucked again. "Come, now. 'Tis passing frigid out here, you know, and you did say you'd only be out there a short spell."

Andi looked at Ellie, shrugged, then allowed Jameson to tug her through the doorway. Once they were inside, he closed both doors and flipped the lock.

"Geez, Jameson, you don't have to be such a worrywart," Andi said, grinning.

Jameson stiffened. "I most certainly do, young lady, as long as you're carrying my godchild in your belly. Now, the stew is ready and the hall is prepared for the evening meal." He waved a hand.

"Shed those dampened snowy garments and come along." With an arm held out, he waited.

Andi smiled, unwrapped herself from the plaid wool blanket and jacket, then draped them over his awaiting arm. "Bossy pants."

Jameson ignored Andi's comment, nodded his approval, then awaited Ellie.

She did the same, then followed Dreadmoor's satisfied steward through the castle and back to the great hall.

And just as she and Andi were coming down the stairs, Gawan and Tristan, followed by Sir Godfrey, Sir Christian, and all of Dreadmoor's knights, came bustling through the main doors, stomping boots, shaking off snow, laughing, and sheathing swords. All, that is, except Gawan, whose eyes were now glued to her.

Still, Ellie couldn't wrap her brain around it all. None of it. Including her own ridiculous situation.

So tell me, my dear. How does it feel to have been kissed by an Angel?

Ellie stifled a gasp at the memory of Lady Follywolle's words. She
had
been kissed by an Angel.

Why had he done it?

While Gawan stood,
staring,
Tristan pushed past him and made his way directly to his wife. He gathered her up, chain mail creaking, and planted a big smacking kiss right on her mouth. The knights all whooped and whistled.

Andi gave Tristan a halfhearted push away. "Ugh, Dreadmoor, you're all sweaty and your mail is freezing. Go take a shower. Then you can kiss me some more."

With a gloved hand, he lifted Andi's chin and lowered his head. "I will hold you to that, wife." And with that, he turned and bounded up the stairs.

Andi, on the other hand, looked as though she might fall over in a faint. She smiled. "Cute, huh?"

Ellie nodded. Yeah, Tristan was certainly cute. But even cuter was their uncanny relationship. The depth of the love he had for Andi, and she for him, all but lit up the great hall.

She wondered briefly how it would feel, being loved that much. Much like the ghostly situation at Dreadmoor and Grimm, she could barely grasp it.

"We need to have speech," Gawan said, suddenly standing right in front of her. "Soon. This eve."

Ellie looked at him. He was wrapped now in a thick blanket, his mail throw over one arm while his sword hung from a leather covering at his thigh. She noticed just how intense his eyes were; they were fastened to hers as though looking straight through to her insides. She barely managed a nod.

"Okay."

With a knuckle, he grazed her jaw. "We've much to discuss, Ellie of Aquitaine."

Breathing,
Ellie thought,
used to come fairly natural.
And she hardly ever thought about doing it. It just
happened.
Now, standing in front of this warrior Angel, she found that breathing was just about the most difficult thing she'd ever done. Other than meeting the powerful stare of his dark brown eyes and not tipping over, of course.

Sheesh. She wondered how her real, completely
alive
self would feel about all this mushy stuff. She wondered even more if she'd ever find out.

It seemed then that Gawan's body took up all the space around her, crowding in on her, and she could do nothing but watch, really, and stare back at him. She knew what it felt like to be wrapped in those strong arms, yet somehow, even though she'd sworn to forget it ever happened, she found herself yearning to experience it all over again.

Yearning?
Good
Lord.
Somehow, she felt her real, completely alive self would have popped herself in the head for thinking such.

But, God, she couldn't help it. She felt an attraction to Gawan Conwyk that she couldn't explain, probably wouldn't
want
to explain, either.

He moved closer.

"Phew!
Jameson! Did you stoke the fire? It is blazing hot in here!" Andi said, grinning. She took Ellie by the elbow and tugged. "Come on, before you two set my castle on fire." She smiled at Ellie.

"You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want, although the jeans might be a little high waterish on you. Probably a better fit, though, than"—she glanced at her pants—"are those Nicklesby's?"

Andi giggled, then gave a frowning Gawan a glance as she pulled Ellie back up the stairs. "Don't worry, Conwyk. I'll bring her back in one piece. We'll meet you guys at supper, okay?"

Gawan didn't answer. He just kept right on staring.

"Grimm, I vow you'll tip the lass over if you dunna quicken yourself up to the showers," Gareth said, walking by and waving a gloved hand in front of his nose.

Richard clapped Gawan on the shoulder. " 'Tis a good bit of advice there, man. I'd do it, were I you."

A slight smile broke the corner of Gawan's mouth at the knight's joking. "Aye. Mayhap you're right."

As Andi pulled her up the steps, Ellie glanced around. Gawan stood at the bottom, watching them climb. He met her gaze briefly, gave her a short nod, then fell into step with the other knights and joined in as they made fun of how much the other one smelled.

Truly, truly amazing,
Ellie thought. She turned and hurried up the steps with Andi.

The thought of having an intense private discussion with Gawan made her stomach turn to knots. If the things Andi had told her stunned and amazed her, she could only imagine what she'd do with the information Gawan had to offer her.

Quickly, her mind flashed to the many times she'd simply disappeared into thin air, and for the first time since finding herself in Gawan's company, she prayed heartily she wouldn't just up and do something silly. Like
vanish.

"Come, ladies," Jason said, appearing at their side. "Let me accompany you ahead of these brutes, safely to your chambers. I'll walk behind you in case their stench topples you over."

Despite the weirdness of the entire situation, Ellie grinned at the young knight. The knight who had once been murdered, cursed, and then ghostly for nearly seven hundred years, all before becoming mortal once again.