Into Thin Air (8 page)

He cleared his throat. "One never knows, I imagine. With a brutal blow to the head, aye, you could have lost a strong memory, such as bearing a babe." He clenched his hands inside his pockets to keep them secure as a powerful desire to touch her came over him, despite his own chastising.

"Mayhap not lost forever, though." He inclined his head toward the path. "Come. Let's be off to the village before this storm blows in full force."

As they made their way back up the rocky path, thick gray clouds swirled overhead, and a light rain began to mist.

A large rock, just off the path, caught his attention. He grasped Ellie's arm.

Ellie stopped. She stared for a moment, then walked toward the rock. Gawan followed. Once there, Ellie knelt and ran her hand over the surface.

Then she brushed her fingers around the base of the rock. Her eyes widened, and then she lifted a small object from beneath.

Gawan bent over and peered into her flattened palm. 'Twas an ear bauble. He fingered the silver stem and light green stone. "Is it yours?"

Her hand flew to her earlobes, and though the holes were present, both were vacant of jewels of any sort. "I don't know." She looked at him. "But something made me search under that rock." She glanced at the bauble. Pushing her hand deep into her jeans pocket, she retrieved something. She gasped as she opened her palm. 'Twas the matching bauble.

Gawan nodded. "So 'tis yours, for a certainty." The rain started heavier now, with big, fat drops splattering the guardrail, making a tinny
clink
with each fall. "Mayhap your memory will slowly recall. Come, then."

By the time they'd reached the village, the raindrops had turned into a heavy mist. The threat of a storm still lingered, though, as if at any moment, the gray clouds could open up.

It was in the first village shop they stopped in that Gawan not only realized exactly what he was dealing with in an In-Betwinxt Ellie, but in the meddlesome lot of annoyances that resided in his keep.

Gawan gave a push to the bookstore door, which boasted a big, piney Christmas wreath lavished with pinecones, nuts, and ribbons, and a bell announced their arrival.

Mrs. MacGillery, the bookstore owner, sat behind a large, polished mahogany podium, which served as her cashier's counter. She glanced up, glasses askew, and she blushed an alarming shade of red. Then she patted the sides of her hair—also askew—into place, looked directly at Gawan, and batted her eyelashes.

"Bore da,
Mrs. MacGillery," Gawan said with a nod.

Mrs. MacGillery giggled. "Oh!
Bore da
to you, too! I do love to hear you speak the old Welsh.

Good to see you this fine misty morn, Lord Grimm! How is that wicked rogue Nicklesby? Do tell him to come by for a visit. Quite the witty one, he is, and keeps me in stitches. Oh! I've something for you." She slipped down from her matching high-perched mahogany stool and came toward him.

A wee thing, compact in stature, with brown hair shot with gray and coiffed rather high. "It only just came in yesterday. Now where did I put it?"

Mrs. MacGillery walked straight through Ellie, who stood to Gawan's left.

Ellie sucked in a breath, made a sort of choking noise that Gawan didn't fancy at all, and stared, wide-eyed, at Mrs. MacGillery.

"Wow. She can't see me," Ellie said, mostly to herself. She held her own arms out and studied them, as if trying to see if
she
could see them. Gawan smothered a smile with his hand.

"Aha!" Mrs. MacGillery said, and he and Ellie both jumped. Mrs. MacGillery pulled a heavy leather-bound volume off the shelf from one of the expansive bookcases lining the old shop. "Here it is, right under me nose! All the way from Snowdonia!" She turned, crossed the wood-planked floor, her heels clacking with each step and her long plaid swishing side to side. Again, she made to pass right through Ellie, who artfully dodged the woman this time.

A snort and a laugh erupted from the back of the store.

"Methinks she's besotted, I do," Sir Godfrey said as he materialized, perched on the step of the bookcase ladder. He waved a hand, foppish ruffles fluttering. "The way she flitters about, cheeks turning a blistering blaze and such."

"Aye," agreed Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea, who now leaned against a large stone hearth with a roaring fire. "She's definitely taken wi' you, Conwyk." He pointed. "Look you there how her eyes beat."

"Lord Grimm?" Mrs. MacGillery asked.

Gawan glanced at her, and indeed she batted her lashes furiously.

Ellie snorted.

"Er, aye," Gawan said. He accepted the book he'd ordered a few weeks before:
Early Welsh History.

"Obliged." He pulled out his wallet and paid for the tome.

Mrs. MacGillery smiled and patted her hair once more. "My pleasure as always, Lord Grimm."

More snickers from his ghostly mates erupted, and Gawan forced a smile. Christ, how he hated to be referred to as lord. He'd begged her before not to do such, but she insisted. "Right. Uh, Mrs.

MacGillery, have you by chance happened upon a young woman recently, say, in the past fortnight or so? An American, mayhap?"

Her brows furrowed as she thought. "The past fortnight, you say? Hmmm," she said, tapping her chin. "Odd time of year for tourists, for a certainty. Although," she said, still pondering, "let me see ..."

Mrs. MacGillery snapped her fingers. "I've got it! A young American girl did stop in. She wasn't here for very long, though. Lovely girl, with striking blue-green eyes—"

"What did she want?" Gawan asked.

"Ask if she gave her name," Ellie said.

"Or where her bloody lodgings were," Sir Godfrey added.

Godfrey, Christian, and Ellie all drew closer to the bookstore owner.

"Well, a book, of course." She strode across the floor, back to the podium, where she reached down, then lifted a rather old-looking volume. "This one."

Chapter Six

Ellie peered around Gawan and stared at the large leather-bound book:
Titled Nobles of
Northumberland, Past and Present.

Why would she want to read that? Bor-ing!

Gawan gave Ellie a quick glance, then turned to Mrs. MacGillery. "Did she by chance leave a name? Or where she was lodging?"

Mrs. MacGillery waved a hand. "No, no, I never take names, love. If the books aren't picked up, I simply slip them onto my own shelves and sell them to another. Of course, I allow plenty o' time for the book to be retrieved first."

"Ask about her bloody appearance! And how bloody long she planned to stay! Come on, boy!"

Godfrey said.

Gawan shot him a frown. "Be quiet!"

"Pardon?" Mrs. MacGillery said, one eyebrow raised as she glanced in the direction of Godfrey.

Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea simply chuckled.

Gawan cleared his throat.
"Mae'n flin 'da fi,
lady. I'm sorry. I've a, er"—he coughed—"frog in my throat."

Ellie giggled. It was like watching the Three Stooges.
Hey! At least I remember Curly, Larry, and
Moe!

"So it seems. Now, let me see," Mrs. MacGillery said. "She did mention that she was here on a research mission of sorts. Genealogy, I think." She winked at Gawan. "You know how those Americans love burrowing into their medieval roots. I believe she claimed to be staying in the area for at least a month, which is why she ordered the book." She shook her head, clacked across the floor, and resumed her perch at the podium. "And as I said, she had striking eyes, and a lovely shade of auburn hair." She giggled. "Although she wore a baggy jumper and denims, she couldn't quite hide that darling figure."

Ellie looked at Gawan and wiggled her brows.
"Definitely
me."

A twinkle lit Gawan's eye, but he didn't say a word.

Mrs. MacGillery patted her hair. "Reminds me of a younger me, actually." She winked at Gawan.

"Quite the dish, I was.
Scrumptious,
even."

Godfrey snorted and said something under his breath that was very medieval and probably extremely naughty, because Christian laughed. Loudly.

Gawan coughed again, but Ellie could see he was trying his best not to laugh, too. "I've no doubt there, Mrs. MacGillery. Is there anything else you can recall?"

"Ask her for any minute details—anything I may have said to give away where I was staying," Ellie said.

"Er, anything in regards to her lodgings? A general area, mayhap? Or a name? Possibly a B&B?"

Mrs. MacGillery tilted her head down and peered at Gawan over the rim of her glasses. She grinned, a lazy, all-knowing kind of womanly smile. "She did mention something about freezing her butt off in the drafty old cottage she'd let. Claimed the brisk sea wind all but took off a layer of skin." She laughed and shook her head. "Quite witty, that one. She didn't say where such a blustery cottage was, I'm afraid. But if I recall anything else, I'll be sure to ring you." Her smile widened. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were smitten."

Godfrey and Christian snickered.

Gawan strode to the podium, lifted Mrs. MacGillery's hand, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

"Thank you, my good lady, for the information and pleasantries. I am more than obliged."

"Blimey! Would ye take a look at her face! 'Tis the reddest I've seen it yet!" Godfrey said.

"You make my own heart flutter, Grimm," said Christian.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "I think I'm going to hurl."

The guys laughed.

"Quite all right, young sir." Mrs. MacGillery fanned herself. "No charge for the volume, as long as you send Nicklesby round with it on return." She batted her eyes.

Gawan gave a nod. "I'll see that he does."

With that, they all piled out of the bookstore.

Once outside, Ellie gave Gawan a grin. "I think she has the hots for you
and
Nicklesby."

Gawan blew out a breath. "I daresay you're right. Quite tenacious, that one."

"More than you can handle, I'll warrant," Christian said.

Gawan grinned. "No doubt."

"We're off to Grimm, then," said Godfrey. "All this detective work has me tuckered."

Gawan frowned. "You've done little more than heckle me, you old fool. How can you be tuckered?"

Sir Godfrey ignored the comment. "I've a mind to sit down to a game of chess with a worthy opponent, quite right. Come, Arrick-by-the-Sea! I'll even give you splendid odds."

Christian shrugged and disappeared with Godfrey.

Just then, the spitting rain grew heavy. Gawan pulled the books close to his chest to keep them dry and inclined his head. "Let's put these in the Rover, then visit the other establishments. If Mrs.

MacGillery had words with you, mayhap others will have, as well."

Ellie and he went in and out of at least four other stores, yet no one could give any more information than what Mrs. MacGillery had given. Soaked, Ellie and Gawan hurried to the Rover.

"It looks like we're finished here, for now, anyway." Thunder cracked overhead. "We can get back to Grimm, dry off, then go through the book to see if anything jars your memory."

Ellie nodded and ducked her head as the rain picked up. "Sounds good to me."

Minutes later they were headed back up the rocky path leading to Castle Grimm. Ellie stared out the window at the blustery wintry scene. The crags and cliffs of Northern England were stunning, the North Sea a turbulent churning of gray frothy power as it bashed the cliffside. Even through the closed glass, the briny scent of the sea permeated the Rover and her senses. It smelled familiar, somehow. Brave seagulls swept over the water and then disappeared beneath the rocky overhangs.

The grass along the cliffs had yellowed and swayed with each gust of icy wind. An old stone wall crept across the meadow, then suddenly vanished. Ellie guessed the original builders of Castle Grimm had carefully laid each stone, hundreds of years before. Once she was home, she'd have to research the area.

Research?
Home?
Good Lord, would things ever be normal again?

"Is there aught amiss?" Gawan said.

Ellie shrugged. "Other than being mostly dead? Nah. Everything's fabuloso." She cocked her head.

"I don't get you, Gawan Conwyk. You talk like you're from another century, yet you're as real as Mrs. MacGillery. Certainly, if you were anything
weird,
she'd know it. Right? I mean, she doesn't know you're a
gwarche,
er, a Guardian, or whatever you are, does she?" She shook her head. "You take all this crazy stuff in like it's second nature to you. Aren't you the least bit freaked out by any of it? By me?"

The corner of his very sexy mouth tipped upward into a boyish grin. "Aye, well, your state of affairs is passing odd, girl. Of that, there's no doubt." He shrugged and turned off the lane and through the double gates of Castle Grimm. "But I've been doing what I do for far too long to be
freaked out,
as you say." He glanced at her.

" 'Tis a certainty, though, that you are by far the most fascinating charge I've ever had. And no, Mrs.

MacGillery hasn't a clue what I do for a living."

In that slight glance, the chocolaty smoothness of his eyes gave off a glint. Of
what,
exactly, Ellie didn't know.

It gave her a shiver clear to the tips of her toes.

With a rather sly, inconspicuous look, Ellie studied the strong hands gripping the steering wheel of the Rover. Thick, long fingers, blunt nails, big knuckles. Beneath the cuff of his sweater, at his wrist, was yet another tattooed marking. Good Lord, he was riddled with them. Very sexy, she thought, and the markings looked nothing like any tattoos she'd ever seen. The markings were pitch-black, not faded like some ink. And the designs themselves were strange, almost like ancient symbols.

She knew that beneath his wool sweater, those tattoos tracked across his chiseled chest, broad shoulders, and even broader back. Sheesh! She'd seen him in the buff, nude, nekkid as a jaybird, all-out
commando,
for God's sake, and what a blessed sight to behold. And oh, baby, had she gawked.

Just like that time in the museum—how old had she been, twelve?—when she'd gotten caught gaping in adolescent awe at the David statue. She'd even copped a feel of the solid marble
appendage
that had captivated her and her friends. Good Lord! Her father would've croaked if he'd ever found out.