Into Thin Air (9 page)

She gasped. "Oh! I remembered something!"

Gawan, who had a ridiculous grin on his face for some strange reason, pulled up at the castle entrance, stopped, and threw the Rover into park. He cleared his throat. "Er, what?"

Ellie turned in her seat to face him full-on. "My father! I was sitting here, wondering about all those tattoos you have. Then I thought about how I'd seen you naked that one night and how sexy I thought those tattoos were, and
that
led to a memory of me at a museum feeling up a statue of David, and
then
I thought about how my father would croak if he ever found out." She laughed.

"I've got a father! I'm remembering!"

Gawan just stared at her, that funny, almost smothered grin changing, as a slow, easy smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

"What?" Ellie said, and gave him a punch in the arm. "Isn't that great?"

One dark eyebrow rose above one sinfully dark chocolate eye. "You were thinking of me naked?"

Ellie blinked. "Well, yeah."

The grin widened. "And you find me markings sexy?"

Ellie feigned an exaggerated yawn. "Sort of."

Gawan's eyes held hers for a moment, and that darn glint of his was back. The muscles in his jaws flexed, making his features intense, and Ellie's mouth went dry as a bone. That couldn't possibly be a good thing.

With a deep breath, she laughed it off. "Sooo, how 'bout those books, huh?" She gave him another playful punch in the biceps—which, she noticed not for the first time, was quite the rock. "Chop chop! The sooner I'm no longer mostly dead, the better, right?"

Just that fast, Gawan's expression changed. Gone was the playful, flirty look; now a solemn, remorseful one took its place.

Thinking it best to tackle one bizarre thing at a time, the first, of course, being her inconceivable
state of affairs,
as Gawan had called her almost-deadness. She pasted a pleasant smile to her face and jumped out of the Rover. "Come on, Grimm. Get the lead out of your pants. Let's get down to the business of saving
me,
okay?"

She didn't wait for him as she bounded up the half dozen steps and through the castle's wide double oak doors.

Literally
through
the double oak doors.

Gawan blinked. Damnation, Ellie had vanished again. Here one second, gone the next. Bloody frustrating, that was what it was.

He sat in the car and stared at the space she'd just occupied. A feeling of emptiness washed over him, and he wondered why, in all his centuries of being a Guardian, he had not
felt
the same toward any of his other charges. Aye, he'd felt compassion, and he'd done his job well. He'd never lost a soul, not once. He'd never become overattached to any of them, though.

He felt rather attached to Ellie of Aquitaine.

It pained him to think of not remembering his time with her.

Grabbing the two leather tomes he'd acquired at Mrs. MacGillery's, he shut the door to the Rover and stopped as Ellie's words came back to him.

... that
led to a memory of me at a museum feeling up a statue of David ...

Gawan laughed out loud as he climbed the steps and opened the doors. "The girl's surely mad."

"Sir Gawan! I seen her, but then she disappeared through the bloomin' door!" Davy said, breathless, just inside the hall. "Came straight through the wood, she did, smiled at me so big I seen all her teeth. Then off she went!"

Gawan closed the doors behind him and grinned. "You sift through doors and walls regularly, boy.

And I don't think you saw
all
of her teeth."

Davy ran alongside Gawan. "Aye, I did see them all—back ones, too. Could see them in the dark, I s'pose, they're so bloomin' white." He skipped ahead and turned to walk backward, facing Gawan.

"Whitest teeth I ever did see, methinks—next to yours." He grinned. "And I slip through doors and such, aye, but I'm a spirit in truth. Lady Ellie's In-Betwinxt. That's different!"

Gawan laughed. "Aye, so it is." Striding over to the hearth, he laid the two volumes atop a short, wide mahogany table perched before a leather settee and matching chair. Both the settee and the chair had plenty of stuffing, with the hide softer than any saddle he'd ever straddled, and both were passing comfortable. He'd thumb through the book Ellie had ordered after he looked up all the cottages for let in the area. Hopefully, he'd find the one Ellie had procured.

"Did you find out anything, then, Sir Gawan?" Davy perched cross-legged atop the table, next to the books. "Her name, mayhap? Although I quite fancy the name Ellie."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Gawan studied the young spirit. Although not his charge, Gawan had indeed tried but never solved the mystery of Davy's death. The boy, of course, had no memory of it, and there'd been no clues leading to the boy's family, home, or the events which had caused his unfortunate end. All Gawan, or anyone else, knew of the incident was that young Davy Crispin's nine-year-old body had washed up lifeless at the rocky base of Castle Grimm. His little spirit had never left.

"Sir Gawan!" Davy said, with the force of a nine-year-old's impatience.

"Nay, boy, I did not find out her true name. You may continue to call her Ellie, then."

Davy's face screwed up. "Blimey. We've just got to find out more." He glanced at the volumes on the table. "What are those?"

Before Gawan could answer, Nicklesby pushed through the larder door and hurried across the great hall to stand before him.

"Well, sir," Nicklesby said, "anything at all?" He glanced around. "Where's the young lady?"

"She sifted through the bloomin' door, Nicklesby! I seen her!" Davy shuddered. "Grinnin' one second, she was. Then wide-eyed and scary the next, just as she vanished." He scratched his brow.

"Didn't fancy that a bit, I s'pose."

"I'm sure you didn't, lad," Nicklesby said.

Gawan ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. "Aye, and I can assure you that Ellie didn't fancy it, as well." He clapped a hand on Nicklesby's bony shoulder.

"Mrs. MacGillery had dealings with her, though. Ellie stopped in and ordered a book and told Mrs.

MacGillery she was lodging in the area—letting a cottage with a fierce sea wind."

Nicklesby nodded. "Passing interesting. Did it spark the lady's memory at all?"

Gawan recalled Ellie's museum memory and struggled to keep a grin off his face. "Nay, nothing useful. Although she did find an ear bauble on the beach, beneath a rock she recalls her head hitting.

She had a match to the bauble in her trousers."

"Her memory is sure to come back, then!" Davy cried. "I'm off to tell the others!"

With that, he jumped up from the table and disappeared through the wall.

Gawan rubbed his eyes and his chin, which he found beard-stubbled. Then he shoved his hands into his pockets and faced his gangly steward. "You were once a Guardian, Nicklesby. I vow, I've tried not to grow close to her." He sighed. "I cannot help myself. I can't keep my bloody mind off her."

He looked at Nicklesby. "Do you understand? I hate knowing she'll forget me, and I'll forget her."

With hands clasped behind his back, Nicklesby nodded. "Aye, lad. I do. Far better than you know, although I can honestly say I never had the unique experience of having an In-Betwinxt as a charge." He grinned. "Nor one quite as fetching." He patted Gawan on the shoulder. "Yet you know as well as I the fickleness of the Higher-Ups. For a certainty, though, They do have a purpose for all They do." He gave Gawan a smile. "Have you ever fancied that thought, my boy?" He grasped Gawan's elbow and steered him toward the library. "Take me, for instance. I'd have never given a second thought to being pulled from my Guardianship to serve in a higher court. But 'tis what happened, and yet, now I'm here." He cocked his head. " 'Tis a glorious gift indeed, to be bestowed a pair of wings such as yours. You've done great things with those feathered appendages, Sir Gawan, even if you do keep them hidden. Do not ever forget that."

Gawan grunted. "Wings are highly overrated, methinks—
hrumph!"

Ellie, arms and legs flailing, seemingly dropped out of nowhere and slammed into Gawan.

Nicklesby stumbled out of the way, just in the nick of time.

Gawan, though, took the hit full force and tumbled to the floor with Ellie atop him. They both landed with a grunt, nose-to-nose. Their mouths, Gawan noticed as he stared at Ellie's tempting one, were a mere whisper apart.

"Oops," Ellie said, a sheepish smile on her face. "Sorry."

And for the first time since being picked up from the lane that wintry night, Ellie smiled a full-blown smile.

Gawan blinked. The weight of her body pressed against him, and the warmth of her breath fanned his neck. Damn, but he could feel her heart beat against his chest. So
real.

How the bloody hell can she be
mostly
dead?

The tightening of his groin at the intimate contact assured him that while Ellie of Wherever was mostly dead, there was, indeed, a certain part of her that most definitely remained very much
alive.

Get up, Conwyk, you letch ...

"Dear girl, take my hand," Nicklesby said, poking out his bony hand.

Ellie kept her eyes trained on Gawan's and, if possible, gave an even wider smile, annoyingly endearing, and it was then he thought he saw something. Cocking his head to the side, he stared, then blinked. 'Twas the most minute of details, and one he'd obviously missed before: an unmistakable, barely there imprint at one corner of her mouth.

He nearly choked. By the devil's pointed hooves, this was
not
happening. He had to be wrong.

He peered even closer. Nay, he was
right.

Lo, how he loathed being so right.

'Twas a soul mate's unstolen kiss ...

Gawan jumped up, at the same time dragging Ellie up and then shoving her into Nicklesby's arms.

Both stumbled, then looked at him as though he'd lost his bloody mind.

And in fact, in truth, he thought he just truly had.

Bleeding priest's and saint's curled toes combined. Ellie, the almost-ghost whose only memory was of herself shamelessly groping the male pride of a naked David statue, was his blasted soul mate.

His
Intended.

Chapter Seven

Ellie stood there, Nicklesby's skinny arms steadying her, while Gawan's face turned pale. He shoved a hand through his hair, scrubbed his five-o'clock-shadowed chin, rubbed his eye sockets with the pads of his fingers, and then muttered something under his breath.

Gawan inclined his head. "Mind her, Nicklesby."

Then he pushed his hands into his pockets and stalked off. Mumbling. In Welsh.

Nicklesby took a step toward Gawan. "But, sir?" After a moment, he shook his head.

"What's wrong with him?" Ellie asked. "He looked like he was going to throw up or something."

Which was sad, because she could have sworn they'd shared an intimate moment on the floor. Not that she'd meant for it to happen, of course. She couldn't help where she'd fallen. But fallen on him she had. Then that funny look had taken over his sexy features, and the intimacy was gone.

"Hmm," Nicklesby said. "I've not a clue." He grasped her elbow. "I daresay 'tisn't a bothersome stomach, though." He clucked his tongue. "No need to fret, young lady. 'Twill all be well. Most likely a matter of forgotten business came over him. Come." He gave her elbow a tug. "Would you care to see the castle? Mayhap you were here on a tour of sorts before you were interrupted with your work? You Americans love to tour old castles."

"I'll take 'er, Nicklesby!"

Young Davy emerged through the wall at a full run and skidded to a halt before Ellie. "Do you wanna come wi' me, then? You'll fancy the views!"

Wow. Would she ever get used to all this ghosty stuff? It was one thing to sit on the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World and see the cute little Victorian spirits sitting in the car with you as you passed the mirror. Quite another thing altogether for it to really
happen.

It made her head swim. But at least she remembered Disney World.

Davy seemed harmless enough, though. Cute kid, actually. He looked like a typical scruffy little Victorian London paperboy.

"Well? Ya wanna come?" Davy asked again, his skinny little knickered legs hopping around with excitement.

What she really wanted to do was sit down and pore over that book they'd borrowed from Mrs.

MacGillery. She hoped something in it would spark another memory. A
useful
memory. But a short walk around such an amazing castle surely couldn't hurt. Besides, her head ached from constantly worrying about what was happening to her. A little sightseeing might do her some good. Give her a tiny bit of normalcy, maybe. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she had the feeling she'd always
wanted
to visit a medieval castle.

The interest in the castle spirits, not to mention the handsome lord of the keep, was a totally new development.

Ellie glanced at Nicklesby, who gave her a warm smile. "Go ahead, young lady. I vow Davy Crispin here does indeed have access to the best views from the keep." He gave Davy a stern look. "Mind the west tower, lad. 'Tis a treacherously brisk wind coming off the sea. While it can't blow you away, it is surely something to be considered for Ellie."

"Aye, Nicklesby!" Davy said, hopping up and down. "Come on, then!"

Ellie grinned at Nicklesby and started after Davy. "Be back in a little while."

As she and Davy wandered off, Nicklesby shouted from behind, "Be mindful of the artillery chamber, lad!"

"Aye!" Davy called back. Then to Ellie: "Hurry! We'll explore the artillery first!"

For the first time since arriving at Castle Grimm, Ellie took a close look. She'd been so consumed by her bizarre predicament, she'd ignored the rugged beauty of the medieval keep. Black timbered beams stretched from one corner of the great hall's high ceiling to the other, the walls covered with tapestries—including the one of the great Eleanor of Aquitaine, from whom she'd swiped her temporary name. The monstrous hearth took up the length of one whole wall, big enough for a few men Gawan's size to stand in it, and before it sat the most comfy-looking leather sofa and overstuffed chair she'd ever seen. Maybe she'd drag the book from Mrs. MacGillery's onto her lap and perch in front of the fire once she finished with Davy's tour. Perhaps she'd even con Nicklesby into making her a cup of tea.