Into Thin Air (10 page)

At the mammoth staircase, Davy bounded up each step with the enthusiasm of a puppy. Well, more like he
floated.
She followed close behind, not missing one detail of the castle's interior.

"Come on!" he said. "Hurry!"

More tapestries clung to the walls up the staircase, along with wall sconces—electrical replicas—and once they'd gone up one level, they turned down a long passageway that led to a set of tall double doors. Davy slipped straight through the wood, poked his head back out, and grinned.

"Come on! It's not locked!" he said, then disappeared back through the oak.

Ellie pulled the old handle and pushed open the doors. The room was pitch-black.

"Turn on the light!" Davy cried. "It's just there, right beside you!"

With a tentative hand, in case there may be a spider or something crawling along, Ellie felt for the switch, found it, and clicked it on. Soft light filled the stonewalled chamber, a yellowish radiance that made everything seem ancient.

Ellie's breath caught in her throat as she drank in a sight she was pretty sure not many had been privy to. She wasn't quite sure why it fascinated her so much, since she couldn't remember ever being enamored by medieval weapons before. But this? It was beyond amazing. As with every other room she'd been in within the walls of Castle Grimm, an enormous fireplace dominated the chamber. But along two walls were majestic suits of armor, complete with helmets, swords, and shields, all appearing to be in different styles, or from different time periods, from a very primitive one that was behind glass, to the most modern. Every medieval weapon she'd ever heard of was perched on walls, in the hands of the silent knights, and in every corner.

"Methinks ye fancy this chamber, lady, because your mouth is gaping," Davy said. "Look at this one here first. 'Tis me favorite!"

Ellie pushed the door closed behind her and entered the chilly chamber. She crossed the wood-plank floor to the suit of armor Davy danced around. It was tall with a broad breast plate and a full face shield on the helmet. She could easily conjure up the knight who must have worn it.

Powerful.

Davy feigned swordplay, poking and swiping at an invisible opponent as he pretended to be the armored warrior. "Take that, ye bloody rotten swine!" he said, his little arms flailing as he hefted and swung his invisible weapon.

Ellie studied the other suits, but the one in the far corner, behind glass, caught her eye. Leaving the marauding Davy behind, she crossed the length of the chamber for a closer look.

Peering into a double-paned leaded-glass wardrobe, Ellie felt the air leave her lungs as she stared at the contents. A long shirt of chain mail, hood and coif included, along with a pair of chain mail hose, hung within. A pair of well-worn leather boots sat on a high wooden box, the creases from the wearer's foot bending over and over plainly visible. A lethal pair of spurs sat strapped to each bootheel. Propped against the box, which looked painstakingly carved from what appeared to be a thick chunk of oak, rested a large wood-and-iron shield and a rugged-looking sword. Hanging beside the mail was a long black, sleeveless shirt made of thick cloth, apparently worn over the mail. Both the tunic and the shield carried the same design: black, with a large silver cross over the front.

" 'Tis the garb of a Crusader."

Ellie jumped at the warm, buttery-raspy voice. Turning, she stared up and into Gawan's eyes.
Gulp.

"You're not going to run away again, are you?" she asked. She gave him a quirky smile. "People might start to talk, you know." She jerked a thumb at the chain mail. "Guys like
this
wouldn't leave a girl standing in the arms of a wiry butler. I can promise you that."

A grin crossed Gawan's face, and Ellie noticed he had the cutest dents in his cheeks when he smiled.

Nice teeth, too.
Reeeally
nice lips.

Gawan gave her a slight nod. "My apologies, lady. Something, er, pressing caught me most unawares, and I had to leave at once."

Ellie lifted one of her eyebrows. "How convenient. Don't let it happen again. It's bad enough being half dead. I don't remember much, but one thing I'm sure I know is I don't like being ditched." She poked his chest. "Got it?"

His eyes grew dark as he stared into hers. "Aye. Most assuredly so."

Ellie had quite a good bit of trouble breathing at that point, what with Gawan no more than a foot away, those hypnotic, deep brown eyes staring at her, the muscle ticking in his jaw, and good Lord, he smelled good. He'd let his hair loose, those carefree, boyish curls hanging to just below his shoulders...

"Are you ready to search through your book?" he asked.

The moment, once again, was gone. Definitely gone. Gawan now sounded all business.

"Where did Davy go?" Ellie asked. She glanced around the chamber. "He was just here."

"Aye, well, Sir Godfrey was looking for the lad, so I sent him on his way." Gawan turned to walk off. "The book,then?"

"Um, yeah, but just a minute." Ellie took another look at the chain mail. "You said this was from the Crusades?"

Gawan stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Aye, 'tis so."

"Wow. That would make it—what? Thirteenth century?"

"Twelfth." Gawan inclined his head to the door. "Shall we?"

Ellie ignored him and moved to the next display of armor. "This is some collection, Conwyk. Have you ever thought of getting an alarm system installed? This stuff must be worth a fortune. I know a guy ... who ... could ..."

Gawan stopped, turned, and cocked his head. "Go on."

Frowning, Ellie thought.
Hard.
She rubbed her temples and paced. "I know a guy, and I think he installs security systems. Very thorough and up-to-date, latest technology."

Keeping in step, Gawan paced with her. "His name, Ellie? Do you recall it?"

The amount of thought Ellie poured into her brain actually made it start to throb. "I know him pretty good. I've used him on several jobs, I think. Not legally, of course, but—"

"You've used him on several jobs
illegally?"
Gawan rubbed his chin. "What mean you?"

Ellie stopped and looked at him. "I don't know. Gosh, maybe I'm a professional thief or something?"

She closed her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm envisioning myself dressed in head-to-toe black spandex, easing over alarm beams and slipping around corners on tiptoe." She opened her eyes, only to find Gawan smiling. "I look pretty good doing it, but nope. It just doesn't feel right." Then an image came to her. "Wait. I can sort of see a face, blond hair, a goatee, sort of cute, but no name." She blew out a gusty sigh. "Sorry."

He took her by the arm and tugged. "Come, whilst your memory is intact. Mayhap the book will stir things up a bit more, aye? You can venture up here later and gander all you want at my, er, the armor."

The heat his hand caused on her skin nearly made her jump. Tension rippled from her arm to her belly, and she fought to control the urge just to fall against him, back of hand to forehead, and plead in the most Southern drawl,
Take me, sir. I'm yours!
She glanced up at him. His face was now stern, purposeful, the playfulness of earlier gone without a trace.

Apparently, she was the only one having
those
kinds of feelings. It was obvious she'd been reading those heated looks all wrong. Besides, what did it matter? She was half dead. Almost a ghost.

An idea that, like it or not, she was getting more and more used to with every second that passed by.

Ellie gave a short nod. "Aye," she mimicked, and fell into step with Gawan as they left the artillery behind.

One and a half hours later, Gawan excused himself from their cozy little makeshift office before the great hall hearth and left Ellie, along with her newly acquired entourage to their doings. They'd managed to scour through several pages before that blasted Godfrey and the ladies, along with young Davy, joined in. After that, Gawan had barely had room to pinch off a corner of the table to view the book. Besides, how could he bloody well concentrate
knowing
what Ellie truly was?

He damn well couldn't.

All he found himself doing was staring at that cursed little mark at the corner of her mouth. The mark that, only beknownst to him, branded Ellie as
his.

Bleeding priests, he was an idiot.

Bloomin' daft, he was, to gaze upon someone knowing she was his truly Intended. Not betrothed, as in the old day, by one's sire, but
Intended.
A mate of souls. 'Twas difficult to grasp, because he'd only known her but for a few sparse days. He actually knew passing little about her, save her quirky yet charming disposition, her incredible wit, and her ease with the spirits. On top of that, she was curvy and fetching enough to make a dead man drool. Quite courageous, as well. And all the while he knew that no matter what sort of mark she bore, they could never be, and all because she was his charge. They'd forget each other even existed once Ellie's life was spared.

'Twould do no good to ponder the matter. No bloody good at all. He'd do his best to save her life.

That was the only thing that mattered. He wouldn't even consider the consequences if he failed.

Christ, why did she have to be his Intended? Just knowing it made his heart ache. Mayhap he wouldn't have tried as hard to save her, had he not known. He considered that. Nay, he would have and would still do everything in his power to find her live self, and save her.

Even though it meant living without her.

Recalling centuries of memories, Gawan brought to mind his parents. They'd loved each other fiercely. He'd dreamed of having the same. The only thing that settled his mind was knowing that, even though he'd not have his Intended to love, she'd be safe.

Only
if he found her. So he thought his time might be better spent inspecting the cottage rentals in the area online. He'd gather the addresses, then contact each owner and give a description of Ellie.

Mayhap, luck would be with them and a clue would emerge.

Gawan climbed the stairs to the second level, strode down the passageway, then ducked into the library and closed the door behind him. Easing over to his desk, he felt for the lamp, clicked it on, then powered up the PC.

It didn't take long to find every cottage rental listing in the area. After jotting down contact numbers and addresses for each one, he set down the pen, leaned back, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

" 'Tis quite a list of lodgings there, man."

Gawan didn't bother to look up. He knew his mate's voice well. "Aye."

"I heard you fell and tumbled all over the lass earlier, then fled like a whipped hound."

Gawan logged off and powered down the PC. "So?"

Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea chuckled. "Do not get me wrong, my friend. I'd have thoroughly enjoyed the tumble." He propped a mailed hip against the desk. "But why did you flee?"

"I did not flee."

Christian leaned forward. "Aye. You did. Everyone saw. Godfrey said your face turned a rather frightening shade of unbaked dough."

Gawan rose from his chair and paced to the hearth.

"I'm being spied upon now—is that it? Mayhap my stomach ached?"

"What made you flee?"

Gawan blew out a hearty sigh. If he could trust anyone, 'twould be this man—or ghost, rather. "I discovered something rather unsettling about the girl, and it vexed me all of a sudden. Caught me off guard, is all."

Christian followed him to the hearth and leaned a forearm on the wide stone mantel. "So what is it?

Good God, man, you're killing me."

With a quick glance at his friend, Gawan turned his stare back to the flames. "You sound more like Lady Follywolle every day. Passing nosy."

Christian scowled. "I'm a spirit, Conwyk. I've nothing better to do than hear of your pathetic tales of woe. So hence forth with the woe-ing, man, before I lose my patience."

Shoving his fingers through his hair, Gawan peered at his mate, rubbed his chin, then sighed.

"Ellie's not just some wayward lass In-Betwinxt. She's different. She is, er, meant to be mine."

A slow smile spread across the knight's face. "Is that so?"

"She's my bloody soul mate, Chris. My Intended. I'm a nearly retired Angel—twenty-two days away, mind you, or should I refresh your pitiful memory as to what that exactly
means?"

The grin on Christian's face stayed firmly affixed, his memory apparently still pitiful. "She has that little curvy thing at the corner of her mouth, then, aye?" He tapped his own mouth's corner and shook his head. "And only you can see it? Aye, I recall such a conversation in the barn once, when we were squires. Remember? No more than twelve summers, we were." He gave a soft laugh. "I believe you tried to convince me I was seeing that same mouth marking on the luscious lips of Genevieve. My bloody
horse."
He raised one eyebrow. "Although she was a fine bit of horseflesh, in truth." He chuckled. "I vow, you Welsh are vastly amusing. Superstitious beyond conception, but amusing."

The memory nearly made Gawan smile. " 'Tis no amusement this time, my friend, and it's not superstition. I saw it, plain as the nose on my face. 'Tis there."

Turning, Christian rested his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. "So why the long face? 'Tis something to be joyful about, aye? Now all you have to do is learn to love her."

Gawan moved across the room, crossed his arms over his chest and sat on the edge of his desk. "In a normal situation, aye. 'Twould make a soul nigh onto elation, the finding of that mark." He scratched the side of his head. "This is anything but a normal situation. The lass is mostly dead, and I'm a thousand-year-old Angel, twenty-two days from retirement."

Christian shrugged. "So? You save her life, retire, and live happily thereafter."

Gawan frowned. "Nay. Unfortunately, not." He drew in a deep breath when Christian gave him a lost look. "If I'm able to find her body and save her life, Ellie will only have a vague nagging in her memory of something she can't quite place a finger to. That nagging will be us. She won't remember anything concrete, Chris. Nothing." He rubbed his eyes. "Not you, not Nicklesby, nor Davy or the others.
Especially
not me. Being the Guardian who saved her, I'd be the first one stricken from her memory." He rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. "Nor will I have even a vague memory of her.