Into Thin Air (33 page)
"Since yesterday?"
Four pairs of eyes waited, hoped for some morsel of news, and Gawan had none. "Nay, nothing new." He extended a hand to each of Ellie's brothers, who each in turn did accept and shake with strength.
One, the older lad, Kyle, was the spitting image of his father. Kelly, Gawan noticed, had small variances in features, but no doubt shared the same sire as the others. The lass, though. Bailey, who did indeed extend her hand, as well, had surprisingly fair-colored hair, cut to the shoulders, with a slender nose and high cheekbones. Like the others, Ellie's blue-green eyes stared back wide, expecting.
"Do you know my sister well?" she asked, her voice strong yet feminine.
All four waited for an answer. Briefly, Gawan looked Ellie's way. She had come closer and, damnation, had tears in her eyes.
"Aye"—he could answer in no other way—"I feel I truly do."
Nicklesby—and Gawan would remind himself later to give the scrawny man a fierce hug—hurried the Morgans up the steps to the upper chambers. "Come along, let's get you settled, then," he said.
"Here, young lady, shall I take your bag?"
With a smile that reminded him of Ellie's, she shook her head. "Thanks, but I've got it."
Nicklesby, ever so tactful, gave a short nod and rushed ahead of Rick Morgan. "This way, then, as I'm sure you're anxious to have a bite to eat and discuss matters."
Gawan stood and watched them disappear, their heads turning this way and that as they looked at the furnishings of Castle Grimm. He turned to Ellie, who'd crossed the floor to meet him.
"They don't see me," she said, disappointment lacing her face.
"Nay, but we didn't expect them to, love." Gawan dragged a hank of hair from her eyes. "And 'tis a wondrous gift, indeed, that I've been given the ability to do so, for you are quite a sight to behold."
Ellie smiled up at him, although the smile was faint, indeed. "Aww, shucks. You medieval warlords say the darnedest things."
His Ellie. Ever so brave, even whilst facing something no maid should ever face. "Aye, indeed we do, and we say them sincerely, in truth."
She glanced in the direction of the steps, and her face softened. "I haven't seen my dad look so weary since the night my mom was killed." She shook her head. "I hate that he's going through this again."
Gawan nodded, for he could well imagine the agonizing sorrow not only to lose your beloved mate, but to think your child had been taken, as well. The thought was unbearable.
He'd try mightily to put them all at ease.
Within minutes, the Morgans returned to the great hall, and Nicklesby seated them near the hearth on the sofa. Gawan took a chair beside Ellie's. Leaning forward, he placed his forearms on his knees and began.
He looked straight at Rick Morgan. "What I have to say is not going to be an easy bone to swallow.
But I vow, 'tis the truth. So bear with me."
All four Morgans stared at him, faces taut, and Gawan knew, indeed, 'twould be a vastly larger bone than he'd suspected.
And then he told them Ellie's story from the moment Gawan came across Ellie in the freezing rain until, just a few minutes before they reentered the great hall. They continued to stare, eyes fixed on Gawan.
Rick Morgan stood up, and, like his daughter, began to pace.
"You're full of sh—" Kyle said.
"Be quiet, Kyle," Rick told his elder lad. "Just be quiet."
"This is stupid, Dad!" the other brother, Kelly, said.
Kyle, whose face flushed with anger, sat back and hushed, and after the look Rick Morgan shot his second son, he, too, was quiet.
Then Rick Morgan stopped in front of the hearth and stared into the fire. "You're telling me my baby girl's sitting"—he glanced at the place Ellie was indeed sitting—"right there?"
Gawan glanced at Ellie, who looked even paler still, and then rubbed his face. "I know it sounds daft, but 'tis true." He moved to Rick Morgan. "And I can prove it."
Ellie saw it coming, and she suspected Gawan did, too, long before it even happened.
And, she thought as she peeked through her half-cracked eyelids, that Gawan was indeedy-o one strong warrior to withstand it like he did.
Her dad—big, muscular, and not looking his forty-eight years at all—glanced down at the floor, shook his head, then pulled back one muscular arm and racked Gawan across the chin.
The others shrieked.
"Daddy!" Bailey said, flying off the sofa.
"Jesus, Dad!" Kyle said as he jumped in between the two, pushing his father back. "Lay off, now,"
he said.
Kelly just stood, looking as if he wouldn't mind getting in a good swat.
Gawan hadn't moved an inch. Not one good solid inch. He cast a quick glance at Ellie, lifted one eyebrow, and rubbed the jaw that Rick Morgan had nearly dislocated.
"Nice job," Ellie said to Gawan. "You've just moved several places up my Holy-Crap-You're-Awesome meter."
Gawan shrugged, then looked at her father. "Mr. Morgan, I—"
Rick Morgan tried to push past Kyle. If Kyle hadn't been careful, he would have gotten a knock, too.
"Daddy, stop it!" Bailey said, almost in tears now.
"Bail, you old Bailer, you," Ellie said softly. She'd give anything to go hug her little sister. "If they only knew Daddy was trying to flatten an Angel."
"My good sir! Me likes a good wrestle in the rushes, just as much as the next lad, but you needs open yer ears, man," said a
very
familiar voice. "The boy's tellin' ye the truth!"
Sir Godfrey stepped through the wall, just on the other side of the hearth. He stood in all his glory, too—all that ruffled lace and velvet. And that big fat ostrich plume boinging around every time he moved his head. "I tell ye, shut yer trap and listen to the lad!"
Bailey—you had to love her—drew in an impossibly long breath that seemed to go on and on.
"Oh, boy. Bailey's gonna blow," Ellie said just as Bailey blew.
The scream, in Ellie's opinion, rivaled any of those B-rated horror scream-fest babes. Bailey had practiced it—had it down to a science. Ellie should know. She'd heard that scream more times than she could count. And the great hall literally shook with it.
Just before the Castle Grimm Fiasco ensued.
For a second, Ellie wished harder than anything that a cinematographer could have captured the whole thing on tape. It was fantastic, and had she been feeling a bit better, she would have enjoyed it immensely.
Jason ran from the library, where he was supposed to be keeping the Grimm spirits busy. Fat chance of that, she could have told him, as they all ran through the wall ahead of the Dreadmoor knight.
Nicklesby ran from, of course, the larder, with a wooden spoon in one hand, and his red-and-black-checked apron swirling around his lanky self like a dressing gown as he frantically waved an oven-
mitted hand.
Bailey screamed for a good two minutes, easily, and the only person paying her any attention was Jason, who tried to get her to calm down.
And Ellie's dad ... well, it was the first time she could remember someone—or something—actually having the capability of shutting him up. His face had gone white, his eyes were wide like a pair of blue-green fried eggs, and his mouth was open.
Kyle and Kelly just kept turning in circles, staring from one ghost to the other. Cursing.
Finally, the Morgans, minus Ellie, all stood in a circle, nearly back-to-back, and the Grimm inhabitants stood facing them.
Then, finally, everything was silent.
"Did ye tell 'im ye were an Angel, boy?" Godfrey asked.
Still, everything remained silent.
"Er, don't forget to tell him yer an Earthbound Angel."
"Godfrey!" Gawan finally said. Rather, growled.
"Why not show 'em yer"—Godfrey flapped his lace-and-velvet-covered arms like a chicken
—"proof?"
Ellie, at that point, could help it no longer. She laughed. It came out as a hiccup, really, which due to the insanity of the whole thing, made her just burst out into laughter. Everyone's eyes, except those of the other Morgans, of course, turned to her.
"Poor lamb," said Lady Follywolle, her swan close to takeoff. "She's going to laugh herself sick."
Staring at that ridiculous swan bobbing its long neck up and down released the rest of Ellie's insanity. She howled with laughter. So much so, she backed up and sat down in the chair. "Oh my
God!
Could this be any crazier?" She glanced at Gawan, who, to his credit, was ferociously fighting a grin.
"This can't be real," Rick Morgan finally said, finding his own seat on the sofa. He rubbed both hands over his face. "This is insane."
"What are those things?" Bailey finally said.
"My dear girl, we're not things at all," said Lady Beauchamp. "Truly, your lovely sister there thinks the world of us." She glanced at Ellie. "Don't you, sweetling?"
Ellie nodded. "Absolutely. By far the nicest bleeping folks I've ever encountered."
Lady Beauchamp turned back to Ellie's sister. "See there, love? She just said we were by far the nicest bleeping folks she'd ever encountered."
Bailey blinked, hiccupped, then sniffed. "Daddy?"
"What, baby?" said her dad, sounding muffled through the hands still covering his face.
"Only me and Nor say
bleeping
in place of a curse word. We made it up when we were little." She glanced at Ellie—rather, where she was sitting. "Ask her who her first boyfriend was. And
not
Gooey Dewey."
Ellie laughed. "Little Joe. One fine Cartright."
Gawan glared at her, and she grinned. "Take it easy there, warlord."
Lady Beauchamp smiled at Bailey. "Little Joe. And she says he was one fine Cart—"
"—right," Bailey finished the word. She smiled and looked around. "She's here."
Whilst Gawan was powerfully glad to get the Castle Grimm Fiasco, which was what Ellie called it, behind him, his fear for Ellie's life grew by the second. She hadn't paled further, and he could still touch her, but by the saints, she didn't have long. He could sense it.
Yet she held her chin high and made the most of it.
Aye. A true descendant of Queen Eleanor if ever he'd seen one. And bloody priests, she was
his.
Even if for only a bit longer. He'd found more happiness with her in such a short time than he had in nearly a thousand years.
After things settled down in the great hall, Ellie's family, who were still dubious of her In-Betwinxt existence but slowly warming to the idea with each question they asked her, had finally been overtaken by jet lag and gone to bed.
Jason, Gawan had noticed, had taken quite a shine to Ellie's little sister. But he'd been a good lad, offering her a walk around the castle to settle her nerves, after, of course, asking permission from her sire. Who had blinked, then agreed.
Before Rick Morgan had retired to his chamber, he'd stopped at the foot of the stairway and turned to Gawan. "I'm sorry for giving you that lick," he said. "I-it's a hard thing to come to grips with, you know?" He shook his head, then looked Gawan square in the eye. "You know when I realized you weren't pulling my leg? When that one sopping-wet ghost lady said my baby was laughing." He gave a wan smile. "That girl, she's tough. Crazy, hardheaded, but tough." He leveled at Gawan the most pleading stare he'd ever witnessed. "Find her."
Gawan nodded, and Rick Morgan walked away.
"Wow," Ellie said, coming to stand beside him. "You just passed Rick Morgan's Are-You-Worthy-Enough Class with flying colors."
"How's that?" Gawan asked, drawing her close now that they were alone.
"Because," Ellie said, threading her fingers through his, "he didn't hit you again."
Gawan stared at her. "He loves you fiercely." Ever so gently, he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. "I know the feeling." When he pulled back, he smiled. "If you wish to sit and go through your great-grandfather's ledger again, we can."
Ellie tapped a finger to her chin. "Hmm. Go through old ledger, or spend time with a gorgeous warlord with cute accent?" She shook her head. "I just can't decide—oh, wait." She looked at him.
"There's been something I've completely missed the
whole
time I've been busy falling in love with you." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I want to see something, and I want to see it
now."
She stuck out her index finger and poked him in the chest. "And get your head out of the gutter, you naughty boy.
Trust me"—her grin was wicked—"if I could do
that,
you'd be in big trouble. But
you
know what I want to see. And I
so
mean it, Gawan of Conwyk, Angel Extraordinaire."
Oy. He knew just what she meant, the wily girl. "You are a shrewd wench, Eleanor Jane Morgan."
"And you like that," she said, nodding.
"Nay. I
adore
that." He felt a pang of emptiness take over him, and the sense of losing her washed over him like a big salty wave from the North Sea. He grabbed the cloak from the hall closet and wrapped her tightly. "If you're going to make a spectacle out of me, I should need a bit of stretching room." He gave her a peck on the nose. "Then I'll sequester you in my chambers for the rest of the eve and force you to tell me every childhood story you can recall." And he'd pray it could last all night.
Ellie knew she was fading.
Knew
it. She didn't yet have that feeling of desperation, like the one a person probably had when drowning. But she knew she didn't have long. And she was going to make sure Gawan did
not
know it. Or at least didn't dwell on it.
He'd given her a gift, one she might not remember later, but by golly, she remembered it now. She had her whole family here, and if something went wrong and she couldn't be found, or if she didn't make it, she'd have had the opportunity to see them one last time because of Gawan. And while they'd not made physical love, he'd not been stingy showing her how much he loved her. It all seemed so surreal, falling for each other that fast. Yet, for her, it felt
right.
Righter than right, even.
It felt
perfect.