Into Thin Air (23 page)

"Jason's a wonderful guardsman, Gawan," Andi said. "Very dependable."

Jason gave Tristan's wife a nod. "Many thanks, my lady." He turned that blasted twinkling mischievous pair of eyes toward Gawan. "I'll be ready whenever you are, sir." Then he winked.

Gawan almost used his I'm-a-Bloody-Angel card, but knew 'twould be useless, especially considering that each of the Dreadmoor knights had heard Ellie and him inside the bloody Brooding Chamber.

With a frown, Gawan gave Jason a short nod. "Very well, pup. You shall be here and forever Ellie's personal guard." That stuck in his gorge, for some reason. "Against
me."

That
stuck in his gorge even more.

Someone snickered.

"But," Gawan said, just as Jason puffed up like the cocksure peahen he was, "let us get one thing affixed. And this goes for all of you," he said, glaring at every soul in the library. "There's been no mention of I—well, lo—er." Damn, he felt flustered all of a sudden. "Just because we're each other's Intended does not mean we've exchanged vows of lo—"

"Damnation, Conwyk," Tristan said, barking out a laugh. "I vow, 'tis a new side of you, seeing you stutter about so. Can you not even say the bloody word?"

More laughs.

Except from Tristan, who gave an airy
whumph,
once his lady sunk her wee elbow into his ribs.

"Aye, Grimm," said Kail, "we won't tell." He crossed his heart with his big, thick finger. "Promise."

Gawan watched all the occupants of Dreadmoor, including that wily steward, Jameson, have a good jest on him. When they were finished, and he did indeed allow them to finish, he scratched his ear and, God forbid, fought a grin himself. Instead, though, he cleared his throat and met their watery, mirth-filled gazes. "I vow this to each of you: I won't say the bloody word to you fools until it's been said to her first. And"—ignoring several head tosses, pointings of fingers, and why, by the saints, did Tristan have his forefinger across his lips, trying to shush him?—"just because I've kissed the maid doesn't mean I've vowed to I—er, love her. There! I've said the ... bloody ...

word ..."

Everyone's gaze, for some eerie reason or another, rested
behind
him. Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. The lady Dragonhawk, by the by, had a look about her that damn near scared him.

Everyone else frowned.

And Gawan knew, just then, that he'd shown a weakness he hadn't even realized he'd had.

Until now.

With a gusty sigh, Gawan closed his eyes and, like Tristan, pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard.

"She's right behind me, aye?"

Seventeen ayes crowded the library at once.

And then slowly, he, the biggest horse's arse in all of England, turned around. He opened his eyes.

Peeked, rather, through tiny slits, hoping that would make the impact of seeing what he knew he would see seem not so mighty.

One could hope.

There stood Ellie, only not wounded by his idiot words.

A wide smile split her charming face. "I
remember."

Chapter Nineteen

Oh, what she'd have given for a digital camera. Or a Polaroid. Either would have done. Whichever, she thought, would be faster at capturing the look on Gawan of Conwyk's gorgeous face. The look that said
Open mouth. Insert foot
or, better yet,
Look at me! I'm an idiot!

Really, she had to concentrate not to look at him and laugh.

Even now, she noticed with an extreme, possibly a sick, unhealthy satisfaction, that his expression screamed
Thank the bloody saints, she didn't hear what I bloody said.
Only, she had heard. Heard, she noted, with more clarity than even she thought possible.

He
loved
her. He might have said just the opposite, but one thing she knew—rather,
felt
she knew about herself—was that she knew
people.
And she knew men. She had a father, two brothers and a sister and yes! She remembered them! And one thing she
vastly
recalled was the way her big, gruff, father—his name was Rick—tripped over his own tongue when trying to say the
l word.

Just like Gawan had.

Now,
how
he knew he loved her, and in such a short time—and why on Earth did she feel as though she just might love him back, with or without that wacky Welsh mark at the corner of her mouth—she couldn't be sure.

Although, being an Angel, he perhaps had the skinny from someone more higher up than himself.

"Lady? What do you remember?" Gawan asked.

Ellie focused, slowly, though, as she came out of her weird internal conversation with herself, only to stare into the most beautiful, trusting eyes she'd ever seen.

Gosh, she didn't know if her real, fully alive self had this much confidence, but she certainly hoped so.

She smiled at Gawan. "Well," she said, as she allowed him to guide and then ease her onto a leather stool by the hearth. "I not only remember having a father, two brothers, and a sister, but this time, when I disappeared"—she looked up at him—"I heard voices. And I remember smells, as well."

Gawan crouched down in front of her, his dark brows pulled into a semi-frown, that sexy hair loose from the queue, and those broad shoulders pulling the material of that ivory shirt taut. Good
Lord,
how was she supposed to concentrate?

"What did the voices say?" he asked. He didn't touch her, though.

Behind him, all of the Dreadmoor knights looked on. Anxious. Waiting.

She closed her eyes for a second, and recalled the disjointed voices, and then stood and paced in front of the fire. "There were two voices, male and female. The words came out choppy, so they don't really make a whole lot of sense."

"They might make sense to us, girl," Gawan said, rising and crossing his arms over his chest.

Ellie nodded. "That's what I'm hoping. Anyway." She glanced down at herself, straightened her sweater, and then continued. "The male voice spoke first, and he said, 'American. Damn it, woman.

Bobby. Look. Shoulder. Dead. Jaysus.' And he said it just like that:
Jay-sus.
Heavy on the
jaaay."

Gawan scratched his chin. "Sounds like an Irishman."

"American—that must mean you, lady," Jason said. "But who's Bobby?"

"Mayhap 'tis the speaker's name?" Kail said.

"Nay," answered Sir Richard, who came to keep in pace with Ellie. "He wouldn't have said his own name like that."

Kail scratched his ear. "Hmm. Quite right."

"What about
shoulder?"
said Gawan, staring at her shoulder. "Are you injured there?"

Ellie rotated her shoulder a time or two. "It doesn't hurt. But then, nothing really hurts, although something has to be wrong if I'm slipping in and out of consciousness."

"Okay, let's hear what the female voice said," Andi said. She'd climbed off Tristan's lap and now perched on the corner of his desk.

Ellie nodded. "Okay. She said, 'More time. Looks better. Dunno be. Fool. You'll see. Jail.' "

Gawan raked a hand through his hair, rubbed his jaw, then shoved his hands into his pockets. Ellie could tell by the strained look on his face how aggravated he was getting. "What else do you remember, girl? You mentioned smells?"

Ellie breathed in slowly, as if that alone could help recall the odors. But really, she didn't need it.

She remembered with a striking brightness. "It smelled musty, like dampened stone, and supersweet, sort of ... clovery, I guess. Earthy." She snapped her fingers. "And hay. I could smell hay this time, I think."

"Indeed, it sounds as though she could be anywhere along the coast," Tristan said.

Gawan mumbled a Welsh curse. Gosh, and the power she'd felt just before he'd kissed her—rather, before she'd kissed him—seeped out of him again.

Only this time, the power was fueled not by passion, but by fury.

"Blasted snow," he said, then cursed again. "It never snows this early here." He once again scraped his knuckles over his eyes, then drew a deep breath, trying, Ellie noticed, to calm himself. It worked a
little.
" 'Twill be ceased by the morn, hopefully. Tristan, I'll be off first thing to your cottage. Then to have a word with the constable."

Tristan nodded. "Aye, and I'll go with you."

"What about the voice mail?" Andi said. "Maybe if she listens to it, another part of her memory might return."

"There's a voice mail?" Ellie asked.

A few snickers went through the knights like the wave through a stadium.

"Oy, girl, there's a voice mail. And there're these." Gawan slipped some papers from Tristan's desk and handed them to her. "Read these first and tell me if anything strikes you."

Ellie looked around, and then glanced at the papers Gawan had handed her.

At first, the papers made no sense at all. The first was a questionnaire of some sort, obviously filled out by ... a ... prankster.

Electricity zapped through her as she read both pages.

"Nunya Bizz? PoDunk? Bedford Falls? Good Lord, I can't believe that guy didn't even question me!" She waved the papers at Gawan. "That's
me.
I wrote all that when I rented the cottage. I've done it a gazillion times." She glanced at Tristan. "Sorry about that, Tris." She smiled, although it was a bit sheepish. "But your guy totally fell for it."

"Aye," Tristan said, a slight scowl fixed to his face, which she was awfully glad not to have directed at her. "My solicitor was apparently so charmed by you that he allowed his better judgment to stand down."

Gawan then gently tugged on the papers in her hand, and slipped something else in their place. A picture.

Ellie stared. And stared some more.

She looked up, her eyes met Gawan's. "That's
me."

"Aye, so it is." His eyes softened as they stared at her, and everyone else in the room ceased to exist.

"Voice mail?" Andi said.

Soundly bringing
everyone
back into the room at top speed.

"See you that number, girl?" Gawan said, pointing to a telephone number on one of the forms. "I called it. 'Tis you on the voice mail."

"Gawan, the phone," Tristan said.

Turning, he took the cordless from Tristan, punched in the numbers, and then gave the phone to Ellie. "Don't speak. Just listen."

And she did.

"I"—she shook her head—"always do that thing ... with the ... making people think I'm home.

Ugh!" She handed the phone back to Gawan. "I'm starting to think my real, very much alive self is an annoying, bleeping lunatic."

The knights, as usual, were easy to amuse. They all chuckled.

Jameson—gosh, she didn't realize a guy could stand still for so long—finally moved. "If you heathens are quite finished with the lady, mayhap she'd like to retire to her own chamber for a bit of peace this eve?"

"I'll have a word with her first, Jameson." Gawan pierced Jason, of all people, with a dark scowl.

"Alone."

Jason, who Ellie thought was such a cute, sweet guy, pointedly ignored that mean look on Gawan's face and smiled at her. "My lady, I've been awarded the fine duty of being your guardsman, not only for the remainder of your stay here, at Dreadmoor, but whilst at Grimm, as well." He gave her a bow, and how many girls get
those
these days? And what a cute accent.

"Um, thanks, Jason. That'll be great." Ellie wasn't sure exactly why she needed a guardsman, but since he was offering, why not?

"So if you'd rather not have speech"—he dared a brave glance at Gawan—"alone"—he moved his considerably softened gaze back to hers—"then I shall accompany you thusly to your chamber." He gave her that charming smile he had. "Whatever your wish."

The knights roared.

"By the saints, Jason, you've been practicing, aye?" said Sir Robert. "Damn me, but it sounds quite grand."

Ellie looked first at Jason, then at Gawan, then at Jason again.

What was going on between those two?

It was Tristan, though, who enlightened her. Being that it was his castle, he probably felt the need to do the enlightening himself.

He rose from his desk, strode toward her, and then guided her into the corner, where he semi-sheltered her from the others. "Lady, forgive these witless oafs their jesting. They mean no insult, I assure you."

Ellie smiled. "None taken. Really."

Tristan nodded, his sapphire eyes glittering. "Excellent. But"—he scratched his brow—"you see, a while ago, in the Brooding Chamber, just before you vanished—"

"You guys all saw?" she asked, her face already heating up. "Me and Gawan—"

"Nay, girl, we did not. But we're a witty lot, us medievals." His grin was infectious, even though she was totally mortified. "And we know yon grumpy Angel, who of late has become quite the foul sort, indeed." His grin widened. "Usually rather easy of character, even though he did make a living hacking off heads at one point. Still, he's become—" He waved a hand in the air as he tried to think of a word.

"Stodgy," Jason offered.

"Aye, so right, Jason. Stodgy. All in all, lady"—Tristan's face grew a bit sterner—"you are in a castle filled with vow-driven medieval knights—your Intended, who pledged those vows before any of us, included. And whilst his judgment of propriety may be a bit clouded by his affections for you, ours shall remain ever so sharp." He gave her a wink. "In other words, lady, this young pup Jason here is going to make sure your honor is guarded. At all times."

Ellie smiled, although she'd have given anything to see around the big knight. No doubt Gawan's face was pulled into a cranky frown, but Tristan completely blocked her view. "Yes. Well. That's great," she said, giving Tristan a pat on the shoulder. "Swell. I've never had my own guardsman before. I don't think, anyway."

Andi laughed. "Tristan, leave her alone, you big hypocrite." She winked at Ellie. "Remind me to tell you of the night before our wedding. And no, Ellie, I can almost guarantee you've never had a guardsman like Jason before." She walked over and pulled her big husband away from Ellie. "He's the best, I swear."

Ellie looked at Jason, who simply winked.