Thirteen Chances (20 page)

Emma followed the lady of Grimm and baby Ensley through the castle. It had the right combination of medieval versus modern, and she suddenly discovered she was very much drawn to the Dark Ages. They’d just left the armory when Emma hedged in a question.

She hadn’t been too sure whether to ask it.

“How, um, long have you known Christian?” she asked nonchalantly.

Ellie sighed. “Nearly as long as I’ve known Gawan.” She looked at her, a grin splitting her face in two. “Why do you ask?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. Just … curious about him, I guess.”

Ellie smiled as they walked. “Well, I’ll tell you this much. I rank him right up there with my husband. He might be a bit gruff at times, and more than annoying, but he’s one of the most honest, caring, and straightforward men I know—dead or alive.” She winked. “And he’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

Emma laughed. “He definitely is that.” She looked at her host. “I feel like I belong to some strange sort of sorority where we see and interact with ghosts. How did you take it at first, meeting Christian?”

Ellie stopped midstep. Her pretty brow was creased. “Has he not told you?”

Emma stared. “Told me what?”

Ellie’s wide, blue-green eyes narrowed to slits. “Ooh—I’m going to let him have it! Good Lord!”

“I shall relieve you of your guest before you, err, let me have it,” said Christian out of nowhere. Suddenly, he appeared across the corridor, leaning casually against the wall. “Your temper has shortened considerably since having babes, Ellie,” he said. The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Bite me, Arrick,” said Ellie, then turned and gave Emma an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. Living with ninety-eight percent men makes me a little quick to react at times. But make sure you ask Mr. Smarty Pants here all about how Gawan and I got together, okay?”

Then Ellie stepped forward and gave Emma a quick hug. She pulled back and smiled. “It’s so nice to have a
female
here for a change.” She jostled baby Ensley. “Isn’t it, sweetie?” She shot Christian a mean look. “Don’t you let her come to dinner tonight without
knowing things,
Christian de Gaultiers. At least a heads-up. And I mean it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Make him tell you, then help yourself to whatever Nicklesby has in the kitchen,” she said to Emma, then disappeared down the corridor.

Emma stared after her. Make him tell her
what?
When she turned to face Christian, she found his gaze already on her. The sexy curve of his mouth lifted into an even sexier grin. Emma wondered at how fast her heart beat when he was around.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, finally. “And DeGaultiers? That’s your full name?” She thought it absolutely beautiful.

He gave a slight shake of his head and pushed off the wall. “Aye, ’tis so. Come on, Lady Emma. I’ll show you a place I’m certain Ellie forgot about.”

Emma narrowed her gaze but nodded. “Okay.”

As they walked, Christian glanced down. “Drop-dead gorgeous, eh?”

His chuckle grew louder the redder her face became.

“Hold tightly to the rope, lass,” instructed Christian. “If you fall, I vow I won’t be able to stop you.”

Emma grabbed the rope, hanging from the very high ceiling of the tight, circular staircase hidden within the wall. She grinned at Christian. “The perils of hanging out with a ghost, huh?”

He grinned back.

Her knees nearly buckled.

“Something like that,” he said. “Now climb very slowly.”

“Are you taking me somewhere so secluded that when you tell me whatever it is Ellie wanted you to tell me, my screams will not be heard?”

Christian chuckled—so close, she could almost feel it on her neck. She shivered.

“Just climb, woman. There will be time for talk once we’re on solid footing.”

The drafty stairwell felt cool and damp, and smelled a little musty, but the rope was sturdy and Emma kept a tight grasp on it as she climbed. She thought about the man climbing behind her. There, yet not really there.

She also thought about how much she’d missed him over the past couple of hours. More than what she’d care to admit. Strange, really.

“You’re nearing the top now, Emma, so take care in opening the door. The wind might very likely yank it from your hand—and you with it, if you’ve not a tight grip.”

“Comforting.”

“I know your penchant for heights and dangling.”

Emma laughed softly. “I’ll be careful.”

Christian grunted.

At the door, Emma grasped the handle tightly, slid the bolt, and pushed the door open. The wind wasn’t quite so fierce, and she stepped out onto the walk and closed the door behind her. Christian appeared by her side. Then Emma turned to take in the view.

It nearly robbed her breath.

The North Sea stretched as far as she could see, and tiny whitecaps flecked the surface as the wind tossed at the water. “It’s beautiful,” Emma said softly.

“Aye, very,” said Christian.

Emma glanced at him. As usual, his direct gaze had settled right on her. Again, she felt her face grow warm.

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked, hurrying to cover up her blush. She noticed how well-suited his modern-day clothes were on him, and how it struck such contrast with the hair she knew had been shorn with a knife before a battle that had taken place more than eight hundred years in the past.

All very baffling, she thought. More baffling, though, was that she’d fallen for him. She briefly wondered what he’d think of that.

“The tournament will begin day after next,” he said.

“Right.”

He turned and faced her full-on. “Most of those you’ll meet will have at one time been in almost the same predicament as I.” He stared at her. “And are nearly the same age.”

Emma blinked, then returned his stare as she tried to soak in what he’d just said. She looked out to the sea, then back to Christian. “What do you mean, exactly?” She had a suspicion, but she’d rather hear it from him.

His eyes studied her. “Gawan and I grew up together. Jason is one of fifteen knights who were murdered and cursed in the thirteenth century. You’ll meet the Munros, who were enchanted for nearly seven centuries.”

Emma felt her eyes widen. “They were all …
dead.”
She shook her head and looked at him. “But now they’re not?”

Christian shook his head. “Nay, not quite. Gawan was killed on the battlefield but before his time,” he began. “He served as an earthbound angel for centuries. He was close to retirement, mortality being his reward, when he met Ellie.” He smiled. “ ’Tis a long story, lass, and one you shall hear, I vow it. But later. Tonight. And when Dreadmoor and the rest of his knights arrive on the morrow, you’ll hear their tale, as well.” He smiled. “And how they love to tell it.”

“But what about Jason?” she asked. “You’re telling me Jason was once a ghost?”

Christian nodded slowly.

“And now he’s not?” She rubbed her forehead. “I think that’s harder to swallow than just accepting you’re not standing there, alive.”

“Looking drop-dead gorgeous?”

Emma frowned at him. “That was not meant for you to hear,” she said.

He moved closer. “But I did hear it.”

She studied him carefully. His expression didn’t carry one ounce of humor. “If they can all overcome
death,
then why can’t you?”

“My situation is different.”

The wind picked up and whipped furiously at Emma’s hair. She pushed it out of her eyes and behind her ears. “How is it so different? They were dead; you’re dead.”

The slightest of smiles tipped the corner of his mouth. “You act as though you care, Emma Calhoun.”

She frowned. She wasn’t about to lie. “Of … course I care,” she said softly. “Why wouldn’t I?”

For the first time since she had met him, Christian looked taken aback. He blinked. “In truth?”

She scowled at him and turned to leave. “Yeah, in truth.”

She opened the door, but Christian was there, so close she nearly passed through him.

“Emma, wait.”

She stopped and glared at him. And waited. She wasn’t too happy about baring her feelings, only to be laughed at.

“Why are you angry?” he asked. He stood close, his height looming over her, but his head bent close.

“Because,” she said, then sighed. “Flirting is one thing when it’s reciprocated. When one changes from flirting to caring, but the other is still hung up on just flirting …” She shook her head. “Never mind. That doesn’t even make sense to me and I’m the one who said it.” She tried to move, and could have passed through Christian easily, but she didn’t. He blocked her the best way he knew how, she supposed—by simply standing there. She closed her eyes, mortified she’d confessed anything at all to the handsome ghost. “Now I’m embarrassed.”

For several seconds, the only sounds that reached Emma’s ears were the sounds of the North Sea and the wind colliding. She stood there, allowing the chill October air to wash the heat from her skin, and she inhaled several times, long, cleansing breaths.

“Open your eyes, Emma.”

His voice washed over her, deeper this time, more serious. It made her heart slam against her ribs. Her teeth began to chatter. “No.”

“Please?”

At first, Emma enjoyed her rebellion and kept her eyes shut. She was embarrassed; dang it, she just all but admitted she liked the guy. The least he could do was let her wallow in mortification in peace.

“Now.”

With a resigned sigh, because he’d just continue to bug her, she did.

Christian was no more than a few inches from her face. His eyes searched hers; then his gaze dropped to her lips where it lingered as he spoke. “I like it very much that you care about my fate, Emma Calhoun. And for the record,” he continued, now lifting his gaze back to her eyes, “I never flirt. I mean every single thing I say.”

“Oh,” she said, unable to say anything else.

Somehow, he drew closer, crowding her into the tiny space the single door provided. He ducked his head lower. “And if I had substance, I’d be kissing you right now.”

Her eyes widened and a lump formed in her throat.

“And when I finished,” he said, his mouth drawing close to her ear, “you’d have to concentrate to draw your next breath.”

Emma couldn’t find one thing to say. Electricity pulsed through her, and she found it difficult to breathe even now, without him actually kissing her. Just the words alone, and his closeness, made her knees wobble.

“Look at me,” he asked.

She lifted her gaze.

“Will you be my lady at tournament?” he asked, then smiled. “It may not sound like much to you, but to me it would mean … a lot.”

Emma cleared her throat so her voice wouldn’t sound like a croaking frog. “What does that mean?”

Christian grinned that heart-stopping grin. “It means I claim you, and you cheer only for me.” He shrugged. “Quite a big deal in medieval times.”

Emma swallowed her fear and embarrassment and gave Christian a nervous grin. “That sounds sort of like you’re asking me to go steady.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

She smiled, not nearly so nervously now. “Then I accept.”

The return smile on Christian’s face nearly knocked the wind from her lungs. “Then let me escort you to the kitchen so you can eat. You’ll need to keep your strength up, you know.” He inclined his head to the door.

Emma smiled. If Jason didn’t show up soon, she’d have to scrounge in the Grimm pantry for a snack. She stepped into the cool, damp stairwell and started the descent, rope firmly in hand.

She felt as if she could swing on it, she was so thrilled. She hurried down the narrow steps, and before long, they reached the bottom. She looked at him and laughed. “And to think I once had to dangle to get your attention.”

Christian looked down at her, eyes serious. “You had my attention from the moment you set foot on Arrick land.”

Suddenly, the small space at the foot of the spiral steps shrunk even smaller, and while Christian might not have substance, he still dominated every spare inch. Emma smiled up at him. “Finding Arrick-by-the-Sea was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said, her words coming out breathy and light. “I never expected to meet anyone—especially someone like you.”

For a moment, they simply stared. The smile he gave her sank clear to her bones.

“ ’Tisn’t every day the lives of ghosts and mortals become entwined,” he said, then grinned. “Here more than other places, I’d warrant.”

Emma studied him. “It’s just so astounding. How did the others go from being dead—a ghost—to finding life again? How do body organs go from not working, to working again? And why,” she said, peering up at him, “has it not worked for you?”

Christian drew close. “I’ve explained somewhat of Gawan’s experience. The Dreadmoor lot were cursed. With the help of a determined woman, that curse was undone. The same for the Munros.”

Emma shook her head. “It seems so far-fetched.”

“Are you sure this is something you can handle, Emma Calhoun? Is it something that you
want
to handle?”

Emma met his gaze and considered. Actually, she’d already been considering it. A lot. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she began falling—
really
falling for Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea—but it had indeed happened.

Probably more so for her than for Christian. She’d simply never had any success with men—live ones, at least. She just wasn’t
that
type of girl. The type that drew men’s attentions, that caused their heads to turn. That simply wasn’t her. She wasn’t ugly—at least, she didn’t
think
she was. But she was average, and that had always been A-OK with her. Average height, average weight, average eye color, average hair, etc.

Strange that, in the end, she’d end up with a far-from-average guy.

Not that she was
with
Christian. Not …
really.
They’d only just met. Sort of.

Gazing at the ghostly form of the twelfth-century warrior before her, Emma could hardly believe that someone like Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea would even be interested in her. One day, when her courage reached a higher level, she just might ask him. For curiosity’s sake, of course. She couldn’t help but wonder what sort of miracle it would take to free him from death …