Thirteen Chances (18 page)

“Chris!” he hollered, and jogged toward them. His wide smile showed white, even teeth.

“Pup,” said Christian, hollering back. “You’re looking well.” He inclined his head. “This is Emma Calhoun.”

The young man turned his full attention to Emma. With a low bow, he then rose and met her gaze with absolute, sincere honesty. His already dazzling smile widened. “ ’Tis wondrous to meet you, lady. I’ve heard much about you. My name is Jason, presently of Dreadmoor. Here, let me take your bags.” He had to yell over the whirring chopper blades as they walked closer to the open helicopter door.

Emma could barely do anything, save gawk. She glanced at Christian, who merely shrugged and grinned. Before she could respond, though, the handsome young man had relieved her of both bags, shouldered them, and grasped her by the elbow, his fingers warm and strong. “Allow me to give you aid in climbing into the chopper. ’Tis a bit of a step up, I fear.”

Emma had no choice but to allow Jason, presently of Dreadmoor, to guide her up into the chopper. She’d been in many before, but she’d never tell him that.

He was so …

She glanced again at Christian.

Chivalrous.

Jason settled Emma into her seat—even strapped her in—then looked at her with a pair of mischievous, light green eyes. “ ’Tis no doubt that yon ghost behind me wishes furiously he could do this himself. But since he cannot, I am more than happy to oblige.”

Then he winked.

Christian chuckled.

Emma merely gulped. “Thank you for … obliging, then.”

Jason smiled, slammed and locked the door, then strapped himself in beside her.

Christian appeared in the seat across from her.

She briefly wondered if the pilot thought any of it weird.

As the chopper lifted off, Jason reached over, placed a set of headphones on Emma’s ears, and did the same to his own.

“How’s that?” he asked.

She nodded. “Perfect.”

He gave her another wink.

She was pretty darn sure she’d never, in all her twenty-eight years, encountered a young man Jason’s age quite so well mannered. Oozing with charm and authentic politeness, he had just about as much chivalry as any of Arthur’s knights, she supposed.

He was English, after all, if his thick accent meant anything. Perhaps that was it?

“How go things at Dreadmoor of late?” Christian asked Jason.

As the two settled into conversation about a place called Dreadmoor, Emma briefly wondered how it was that Christian could establish conversation with the deafening whir of the chopper blades. She guessed it to be one of his tricks, but she’d have to ask him later. She stared out the window and watched the scenery pass beneath her. Large patchworks of green and brown and lighter brown, indicating fields, looked like something out of a picture book. Tiny white dots—sheep, she supposed—flecked the countryside, and many times she noticed the crumbling stone remains of an ancient fortress, or a meandering wall. They passed over a lake or two, and then the chopper went higher, and Emma lost the ability to make out much else. Instead, she settled into her seat and listened to the two handsomest guys she’d ever seen in her life speak in a very similar, strange manner.

Well, Jason was handsome—charming, even.

She looked at Christian.

His gaze was directly on her.

She gulped. Handsome and charming just didn’t seem to sum him up accurately enough. While he spoke to Jason, he kept that penetrating gaze on her, and Emma absently slipped her finger over the pulse in her wrist.

It thudded furiously.

Christian smiled, and it reminded Emma of a wolf who’d cornered its prey. It was almost as though he knew the effect he had on her.

And he seemed to enjoy it.

A
lot.

Bravely, she met his gaze with hers. She refused to look away. No, charming definitely didn’t sum up Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea exactly right.

Painfully breathtaking, perhaps. Yes, it actually hurt to look at him for too long.

His smile widened.

Emma resisted the urge to bonk herself on the forehead.

He knew, all right.

“So, Lady Emma,” started Jason, breaking the trance between Emma and Christian, “have you ever attended a medieval tournament?”

Emma looked at Jason.
Lady Emma?

He lifted one auburn brow. His mouth twitched.

Christian’s laugh filled the helicopter.

“I suppose I’ve not once in my life attended a medieval tournament,” Emma said. “What is it?”

Jason and Christian exchanged glances before Jason gave her a warm smile. “Oh, you’re in for a vast surprise, lady. Just you wait.”

She looked at Christian, who merely grinned. “A vast surprise, indeed,” he said.

Emma wondered if he’d always be so full of surprises. She quirked a brow at Christian. “How is it you can communicate over the chopper blades?” she asked, still wondering.

“Oh, aye,” Jason answered for him. “He just throws his voice into our heads. ’Tis an easy enough feat, right Chris?”

Christian simply grinned.

“There’s Grimm now,” said Jason, pointing.

Emma leaned over and glanced out the helicopter’s window and her breath caught.

Wow.

“Marvelous, aye?” Christian asked.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, and took in the view. An enormous, walled fortress sat right at the sea cliffs, just like Arrick. With tall, gray towers at each end, an intact parapet that encircled the whole of the castle, an enormous gatehouse—even a working drawbridge! Emma could easily envision what it might have been like back in Christian’s day. As the helicopter swooped and began its descent, Emma noticed a small lane wound from a small village and up to the castle. Again, similar to Arrick.

And yet as breathtaking as it was, it didn’t have the same impact on her as the ruins of Arrick-by-the-Sea. Nope, not by far.
Perhaps it had something to do with its owner …

“I shall hold your hand if you fear the descent,” offered Jason. He shot a glance at Christian—one that looked more than mischievous. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, Chris?”

Christian kept his eyes on Emma. His mouth twitched. “Not at all.”

Emma smiled, her cheeks warming. “Thanks, err, Jason, but I think I’ll be okay.”

Jason leaned toward her, his grin stretching across his handsome face. “I had to try, of course,” he whispered. “ ’Tis vastly amusing to try to rile Chris’ feathers, although ’tis not easily done, as you can see.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can indeed.”

Christian barked out a laugh.

As the helicopter descended onto the launch pad below, Emma couldn’t help but watch Christian and wonder—wonder what he’d be like, were he alive in the flesh. He seemed aloof and didn’t let Jason’s flirting bother him in the least. Was that because he didn’t care one way or another? Or was it because Christian didn’t feel Jason was any sort of a threat?

Or, she thought gloomily, was it because she really didn’t matter all that much to Christian?

She blinked at her own inner thoughts. Now where had
that
come from? Sure, she knew
she’d
started falling for
him,
but other than friendly flirtation, Christian hadn’t given the first indication that he thought of her in any other way except a … novelty, perhaps. And a safe one at that. She lived thousands of miles away, in another life, and would probably never return to Wales.
The safe mortal girl who would soon leave …

Suddenly, Emma glanced up. Christian’s gaze was fixed to hers, watching her closely. His ghostly blue eyes seemed to see straight through to her thoughts, and she shuddered.

How could a
ghost
have such an effect on her? It seemed ludicrous.

Emma peeked again. His eyes hadn’t left hers, and then a slow, easy smile lifted the corner of his incredibly sexy mouth.

She suddenly wished she had a Big Gulp.

Perhaps, she entertained, he actually liked her, had he the substance to do anything about it. Unless he was one of those men who flirted with all women …

Emma mentally slapped herself across the face.
Get a grip, Calhoun! You’re acting like an idiot! He’s a ghost; you’re a mortal. He lives here; you live somewhere else. Besides, it’s not as if you could actually have a relationship with him. And that’s that!

Christian inclined his head. “Ready?”

Emma allowed a smiling Jason to help her out of the chopper, which had landed inside the walled area, and again, Christian simply showed up beside her as they walked across the landing pad and across an enormous courtyard. Wooden benches perched here and there against the wall, with a large grassy area in between. More tall trees with vivid leaves of oranges, reds, and browns lined the courtyard and beyond. The wind was ice-biting cold, and the gray skies lent a bleak, dreary, gloomy look to the place. It seemed … grim.
Grimm.

“I cannot tell you how often I’ve wished for the uncanny ability to read minds instead of hearing,” Christian whispered close to her ear. “I vow I’d give anything to read yours.”

Emma flashed him a look, just as Jason grasped her elbow and pulled her along to the main entrance.

Christian merely smiled.

“Christian!”

A pretty, young woman with an infant strapped to her front in a carrier hollered and hurried toward them. By her side was a tall, handsome man, as well as a younger boy, perhaps age ten or so. They all had warm smiles on their faces.

“Saints, Chris,” said the man, who was just a fraction shorter than Christian and just a fraction less gorgeous. He wore his brown hair pulled into a ponytail. He grinned. “You’re rather fetchin’ in that garb.” He looked down, chocolate eyes warm and kind. “And this lovely creature must be Emma.” He grasped her hand in a gentle shake. “Welcome to Castle Grimm. We are ever so glad to meet you. I’m Gawan.”

“Yes, we are,” said the woman, smiling. “Christian has told us so much about you.”

Emma slipped Christian a glance. He merely shrugged.

Gawan placed an arm around the woman’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “This is Ellie, my wife, and our wee girl, Ensley.” He ruffled the young boy’s hair, standing beside him. “And this strappin’ lad is Davy.”

Davy grinned and gave a low bow. “Nice to meet you, miss!”

Emma smiled at all of them, then turned to Gawan. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He smiled down at her. “We’ll see if you feel the same way by the time you leave here, aye? ’Tis a bloody madhouse, most of the time.” He winked. “Wait until the rest of the lads get here.”

“Gawan Conwyk, don’t scare her,” said Ellie. She gave Emma a warm grin. “Why don’t you come with me, Emma? I’ll show you to your room and you can put your stuff down. And then we can see what Nicklesby has cooking in the kitchen. I’m starved. Jason?”

“Coming, Lady Ellie,” he said, still shouldering Emma’s bags. He threw a grin over his shoulder. “See you later, Chris.”

Emma, for the third time in just a few hours, allowed a charming Jason to lead her away from Christian. She turned and glanced over her shoulder.

Christian and Gawan both watched as she left. One a spirit, the other quite alive. Yet there was something definitely different about Gawan Conwyk.

Just as she turned, Christian’s mouth tipped up into a heart-stopping smile.

She could hardly wait to see what the next handful of days would hold.

“She’s stunning.”

Christian watched Emma disappear into the great hall. “Indeed she is.”

“She appears as she did when you first met.”

Christian sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. How very perceptive his friend was. He looked at Gawan. “Aye. Yet she has changed.”

Gawan inclined his head, and he and Christian began walking. “I know how difficult it is for you each time you find her, Chris. I wish there were something I could do to help.”

Christian nodded and watched the path they took round the side of the entrance, to a smaller entrance that led up the height of the keep wall. He followed Gawan inside.

“So what’s different this time?” Gawan asked, taking the steps leading to the top effortlessly as they’d done so many times when they were lads.

“For one, her parents aren’t dead,” Christian said. “All twelve times past, she’s been completely alone. Unattached.”

“Hmm.That is odd.”

“And whilst she seems to have had a few flashes of old memory, they’re not nearly what they usually are by this time. And she’s not had the first dream,” Christian continued.

“What about you?” asked Gawan.

Christian shook his head as they continued. “I remember everything, Gawan. And Christ, it hurts.” He shrugged. “I supposed once I decided to stop hiding my feelings for her, the sadness sort of … went away.”

“All o’ it?”

Christian shook his head. “Nay, not all, I suppose. But this time, with this modern Emma?” He chuckled. “ ’Tis as though all the wonderful qualities I’ve fallen in love with for centuries are bound up in this new woman. She’s bolder. Confident. Funny.”

Gawan laughed. “Modern women are all that, I reckon.”

They reached the top and Gawan pushed open a small door. He ducked through it and stepped out onto the parapet. Christian followed.

“So,” Gawan said, “her parents are still alive and active in her life, and she’s not remembering you like she usually does. And this is the first time she’s looked as she did when you first encountered her. Uncanny.”

Christian rubbed a hand over his jaw and looked his friend in the eye. “Aye. She looks exactly as she did in the twelfth century. Mostly, anyway. Her hair is modern, of course. But her features are identical.”

Gawan nodded. “That’s never happened before.”

“Not once.”

They both leaned against the parapet wall and stared out over the North Sea. “What are you doing about it?” Gawan said without looking at him.

Several seconds passed before Christian answered. Somehow, it didn’t sound as sturdy a play saying it to Gawan. He said it anyway. “I’m doing my best to keep her from remembering this time.”