Spirited Away (18 page)

She pulled closer to the edge of the chair. "What did it say?"

Tristan smiled. "I vow you've a curious bone, wench." His smile turned grave as he continued. The others were silent as he continued. "It read that I had, indeed, been cursed, and 'twould be my fate to roam Dreadmoor forever, as I deserved. It advised one more thing, which we've always found curious. It said
the Dragonhawk's eye will set you free."

Andi rose from her chair and wiped her palms on her thighs. "Damn. That just doesn't make a bit of sense. Dragonhawk's eye? What the hell does that mean?"

Tristan gave her a silent stare, then burst out laughing. The other knights chuckled, as well.

"You've a sharp tongue when angered, woman," Tristan said.

She smiled. "So I've been told." She peered at his hip. "Is that the sword?"

With a glance, he nodded. "Aye. Exactly."

"Amazing." She lifted her eyes. "What about your sword? You've never looked for it?"

"Over the centuries we tried. After so much looking, we gave up, until our present-day Jameson. He got it in his youthful head that we should search anew. We, of course, being basically useless, and Jameson, well," he said with a gentle tone, "he searched aplenty with no success. And we could find no one else who would dare come to the wicked Dreadmoor Keep—not even Jameson's mates." He took one more step, bringing himself a foot away from where Andi stood. "Until you."

Andi stared up into the ghostly blue eyes of Tristan de Barre, then found it took every ounce of strength she possessed to stay upright. He looked at her in a way she had never experienced before, and although he'd said he couldn't touch, she swore she felt every inch of his six-and-a-half-foot frame as he stood over her.

His dark hair hung loose below his shoulders, and the width of his chest blocked anything behind him. His arms were long and muscular, his legs heavy and corded. Powerful thighs strained the hose he wore, and she could have sworn she'd heard his mail groan as he shifted. She looked down at his ungloved hands, fascinated by the thick, roping veins that crossed the tops and disappeared beneath the sleeves of his hauberk. Only his deep, soothing voice, laced with an edge she hadn't noticed until now, dragged her from the daydream she drowned in.

"Andrea."

She slowly looked up. The other knights had vanished, leaving her alone with Tristan. An intense pressure gradually built in her lungs as she made a hollow attempt at a normal breath. She watched his eyes, so dark now they nearly appeared gray, and she continued to watch as they dropped from her own eyes to her mouth.

"You look so real." She hadn't meant to whisper, but her voice lost all strength. She froze, unable to tear her gaze from his. Her insides tingled and her mouth went dry.

"Phone call for Dr. Monroe."

Andi jumped at least a good three inches and stifled a squeak. Jameson sounded like a train conductor. She blinked when the corner of Tristan's mouth lifted, his unwavering gaze more than unnerving her. "Who is it?"

Her voice came out as a croak. Tristan's mouth lifted a bit higher.

"Your employer, Kirk Grey."

Andi scooted sideways and backed away from Tristan, unable to look away. "I'm coming."

"Lady?"

She met his stare. "Yes?"

"I must ask you to keep this tale to yourself. Although there are rumors aplenty of our existence, it has remained lore for over seven centuries." His eyes bored into hers. "We prefer it to remain thusly."

She nodded. "I won't tell a soul." Backing away, she had a difficult time tearing her gaze from his.

"Will I see you later?"

Tristan's smile widened, forcing both dimples to grace his cheeks. "I vow I haven't the strength to say you nay."

Andi grinned and passed through the door Jameson held open for her.

Tristan glanced at his steward, who pointedly raised his gray eyebrows, then cast a lazy smile before following Andrea through the doorway.

Tristan bellowed out a laugh and shook his head. "Bothersome old man."

"So. She knows the tale." Kail, his captain, stepped forward. The others reappeared. "Now what?"

"And what of the presence she spoke of in the past? What is that all about?" Richard asked.

Tristan looked at his men. "I don't know. She hasn't mentioned it today. Mayhap the presence has disappeared?"

Kail shook his head. "Nay. Ghosts don't disappear. They're always about, for some odd reason or another. And they usually don't hide."

"Aye, so why haven't we been privy to this one?" Jason asked as he came to stand beside Tristan.

"We're spirits. It seems passing ridiculous that we couldn't see another like us."

The men grumbled an agreement to Jason's concern. He didn't blame them. So many years had passed, so many changes had occurred—yet century after century, they'd remained in their ghostly form with no end in sight, no peace to look forward to. They wanted to know more about Dreadmoor's newest guest.

But not nearly as much as he.

He stifled a snort. What a softhearted dolt he'd become.

Chapter Fourteen

"How do you feel? I've tried to call but your mobile went to voice mail," Andi said.

"I feel fine. Have you investigated the weaponry yet?"

She felt the sting from Kirk's unusually harsh tone. "Well, no. I've just completed bagging and tagging the remains. There were several still unearthed that I had to excavate. I've got them boxed and ready to transport—"

"Will you be getting to them soon, then? You've been there nearly a month now," he interrupted.

She frowned. "Kirk, what's wrong?"

The line went silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "I'm sorry, love. I'm just anxious, is all.

Quite a hoard, that one. I'm dying to get my hands on it."

Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better. "Don't forget, I'm subcontracting a job usually performed by an entire team. There are 206 bones in a human body. I've got to recover as many as possible before making an attempt to recover the hoard." It was like getting scolded by a father for something you hadn't done. What in the world was wrong with him? He'd never acted like this before.

"Of course you are, sweet. Forgive me. I guess my own team is getting under my skin." He chuckled. "Not used to getting my hands dirty, you know."

Andi smiled. "I know. It'll be okay. Really." She glanced up as Tristan walked through the kitchen door and gave her a lopsided grin. Unavoidably, her breath hitched at the sight. Would she ever get used to it?

"What's the matter?" Kirk asked on the line. "Who's there with you?"

Andi blinked at the accusing tone, so unlike the easygoing Kirk she knew. "Lord Dreadmoor, and you can drop the attitude. I really don't appreciate it."

Kirk sighed into the receiver. "I apologize. I'm just ... edgy."

"Hmmm." She glanced at Tristan, who watched her closely. "I'll get to work on the hoard first thing in the morning."

"Right. We'll plan to meet in town next week. By then, you should have recovered some of the weapons. Bring whatever you unearth for me to inspect. I swear, I cannot wait." He paused. "Will you be in the mood for a nice dinner? Or shall you remain in this cranky state?"

"I'm not cranky. How about seven, next week?" she asked.

"Perfect. But ring me if you come across anything sooner." The line went dead as Kirk hung up.

Andi blinked and clicked off the cordless. She wasn't sure if he still suffered a sickness from last week at the grid, or if he was just having a hard time with the students. Either way, Kirk was definitely not being himself. Again, she noticed a different tone, or pitch, to his voice. Maybe he was coming down with strep?

She raised her gaze, only to find Tristan scowling.

Jameson cleared his throat and walked to the kitchen door. "I'm off to make a run to the market. I shall return in an hour or two." He stood there a moment, his gaze shifting from Tristan to her. Then he left.

Andi smiled hesitantly up at Tristan. "Well, I need to get back to work." With Kirk behaving so strangely, she felt she needed to keep busy. Maybe she could finish the final touches on the topsoil bones, bag them with the rest, and have the tree removed, then get to the leather-covered satchel containing the weapons. She scooted past him. She could wrap up her excavation log of the skeletal remains tonight, too.

"Umm, lady," Tristan said gruffly, clearing his throat a time or two. "I vow you've a look about you that sits ill with me." He moved closer. "Who were you speaking to that placed such an expression on your usually determined face?"

She smiled. "My boss. Usually, he's wonderful. I think he's having it rough with the students." She reached for the door.

"That's a poor excuse." He glanced at her and cleared his throat. "Would you care for a walk on the battlements?"

Andi's heart skipped a beat. She could go for a short walk with the Dragonhawk of Dreadmoor before delving into her work. A few minutes wouldn't hurt. "Would you finish more of your story?"

"I suppose I've no choice in the matter, for if I don't you will no doubt irritate me with your incessant questioning."

She flashed him a smile. "You're probably right."

"I know I'm right. Now hurry you up. I've not the time to see to each and every woman's whim you may have."

Andi shook her head, grinning. "I'm ready now. Let's go."

Tristan fell into step with her as they walked side by side, heading for the battlements. "I would offer you my arm, lady, but with regrets, I cannot."

"It's okay." She shoved her hands in her pockets. "But it is very chivalristic of you, though. No one has ever offered before."

"Aye, well," he mumbled. "Bloody fools."

She grinned, but kept silent.

As they crossed the great hall, Andi watched streams of late-afternoon light pour in through the tall windows. She slid a glance at Tristan and her breath caught. The beam of sun went straight through him. Outside in the light of day, he looked just as normal as the next person. Fascinating. When she looked up at him, he was staring at her.

" 'Tis an odd thing, aye?" he said.

"What?"

"You and I. Walking along as though normal."

Andi looked back down at the stone floor, trying to hide her blush. "It feels quite normal to me."

Tristan blinked. A lump formed in his throat, and this time it nearly choked him. As they reached the steps, he allowed her up first, stepping closely behind as they climbed to the upper floor. He could not stop himself from glancing at Andrea's long, lithe legs, clad in some form of hose cut off above the knees. Had he blood coursing through his body 'twould be nigh onto boiling at the sight. God help him, he wanted to touch her.

At last, they reached the top and made their way down the long passageway. Tristan watched her as they walked, her hand softly raking the walls as they went. 'Twas a habit he'd noticed before.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"That thing you do." He pointed. "You touch the walls as you walk. I've noticed you do it often."

Andi smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. I guess maybe because I love how it feels under my fingers. I love thinking how long ago these walls were erected, and of the people who lived here, in a different century." She looked up at him. "It fascinates me."

" 'Twas quite a rough time to live in, lady." He held her gaze. "Warring and death, fighting and defending. Making sure the ones you cared about remained safe, had plenty to eat. Stayed warm.

And remained alive."

They reached the small circular steps leading to the battlements. Andrea moved to climb ahead of Tristan. When she reached the platform, she turned and faced him. "Were you married? Before?"

Tristan stared down into her soft, hazel eyes. He noticed how they were light, with bits of green dashed about. "Nay, girl. I was not wed, nor had I sired any children."

She looked at him a moment before pushing the door open and stepping outside. The wind nearly knocked her back. Tristan passed her and moved ahead.

"Now, stay you behind me, Andrea of Virginia, for I'll not have you becoming faint. Follow whilst I walk us to a spot that's not so treacherous."

Andi smiled. "Okay." If Tristan only knew the heights she'd been suspended in a harness, hovering for hours over a precarious excavation pit ... But she wasn't about to let his chivalry go to waste.

Nope, not her.

They walked a bit farther along the parapet before Tristan stopped. He turned and scowled. "Now, hold you those stones, lady, and do not let go. 'Tis a long fall to the bottom and I'll not have you making the trip."

Andi laughed, only to earn a fiercer scowl.

"Do you find my concern for you humorous, wench?" His brows furrowed. "A weaker man would be sorely bruised by your mirth."

"You have the most adorable accent." She covered her mouth with her fingertips.
Oops. Where did
that come from?

Tristan moved closer and stood with forearms stretched out before him, bracing his weightless weight on the stones of the walkway. "I vow you say the most damnable things at times, Andrea."

He gave her a crooked smile. "You find my speech passing pleasant, then, aye?"

Andi shrugged and sighed. "Passing."

He laughed. "Cheeky wench."

Silence stretched between them for a few moments. "Tell me about Erik."

He sighed, his chest heaving with realistic effort. "Erik de Sabre. He'd been a friend of my sire's for years. When it was time for me to leave for knight training, he immediately offered to foster me."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Tristan." Andi didn't want to cause him any more grief.

He looked at her and shook his head. "Nay, 'tis best if you know. Mayhap it will help you in your excavations."

He looked out over the battlements and continued his story. "He fostered me and my men. Taught us astounding skills on horse and by blade." He turned, facing her. "My sire never suspected. Neither did we, until that fateful night in the dungeon."

She tilted her head. "You didn't notice a change in his behavior after his son was killed? Nothing at all?"