by Cindy Miles
“What was it like?” she asked, glancing over at Jason.
He tossed her a look, then a grin. “Being a ghost, you mean?” He shrugged. “Saints, I was one for so long, it just sort of became my way of existence. There are actually many things I miss dreadfully, like slipping through walls, or just … making myself be one place, then another.” He laughed. “My master, Lord Tristan—he’d get so bloody irritated at me. He’d holler, ‘Jason!’ and I’d just pop up behind him.” He chuckled. “Used to drive him nuts. I don’t think I ever grew weary of it.”
His expression turned solemn, then. “You crave the human touch, though. Not just the touch of a woman, mind you—any touch at all.” He shook his head. “Nay. I’d not trade slipping through walls for my life now for anything.”
Emma watched him closely. He couldn’t be more than twenty. So young, yet so … old and wise at the same time. Sad, and yet … overjoyed that he’d overcome fate.
“I’m awfully glad your miracle happened,” she said. “You’re too young and way too handsome to remain a ghost for eternity.” She eyed him. “I bet you have all the girls in a one-hundred-mile radius just drooling over you.”
He threw her a sideways grin. “Mayhap.” He pointed. “Look there; that’s the village. I can smell the bakery from here.”
Emma did look, and found a quaint little seaside village, with small, whitewashed buildings and stone establishments nestled at the bottom of the hill and hugging the water’s edge. They made their way toward it.
As Jason crept through the tiny streets, he pointed out several B and B’s, a post office, a fishmonger, and a bakery. Finally he pulled alongside the curb in front of the chip shop and cut the engine. He turned to face her. “As much as I jest with Sir Christian, I want you to know that I uphold the highest respect for him as a knight and a man,” he said. With his big hand, he reached over to lay it over hers. He squeezed. “Do not give up hope,” he said, his eyes wide and earnest. “I understand the difficulties of mortals and ghosts being together. I watched Sir Tristan with his wife, Andi. ’Twasn’t easy for them, but their love was—is—so strong, I believe it would have withstood all things had he not regained his mortality.”
Emma considered his words. The extent of what he was saying struck her right square in the gut. Another mortal woman had apparently fallen deeply in love with a ghost. She’d traded the warmth of a live human touch, just to be with that ghost. That was the thing that got Emma the most. How she’d once envisioned ghosts and specters was completely wrong. So very, very wrong. They didn’t exist beneath white gauzy sheets, with little holes poked out for eyes. They didn’t float around like a gray lady or a green lady. They were souls. They were themselves, as they had been in life.
Just dead.
Emma met Jason’s intent gaze, and she smiled. It was a weak smile—she felt it.
His return smile was steady, stable. Strong. “Just keep in mind his feelings, lady,” Jason said. “Whilst a spirit in truth, he is still a man. ’Tisn’t often a ghost finds a mortal who believes as fiercely as you do.” He chuckled. “More here than elsewhere, I imagine.”
Emma laughed. “That’s the same thing Christian said.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thank you. For your ghostly insight, I mean.” She glanced out over the village. “It’s very weird. Before today, rather, before I came here, I never would have thought any of this possible.” She returned her gaze to Jason’s. “And had someone come to me with these notions, I would have thought them a lunatic. I’m so glad I was … enlightened.”
“As am I.” He quirked a brow. “I imagine he’s already asked you to cheer for him at tournament, aye?”
“He did,” said Emma. She smiled. “But I will quietly cheer for you, too.”
Jason winked. “Good. Now let’s eat. I’m starved.”
After ordering two fried cod-and-chips, plus Cokes, Jason led Emma down to the wharf at the foot of the hill, where they sat on a stone bench not three feet from the water’s edge. The sun still hadn’t shown itself, but the turtleneck sweater she had on kept her warm enough. The fried batter crunched as she bit into the cod, and the chips steamed in a cluster, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside.
She’d squirted lots of brown sauce and vinegar all over both.
Emma wiped her mouth, took a pull on her Coke, and turned to Jason, who’d just crammed the last of the fish into his mouth.
“Do you think a miracle could ever happen to Christian?” she asked.
Jason regarded her while he chewed. He finished and wiped his mouth. “I truly believe anything is possible,” he admitted. “With us, ’twas a matter of breaking a curse, righting a terrible wrong. But with Chris”—he glanced away—“ ’tis a bit more … complex.”
Emma blinked. “More complex than a curse?”
With a smile, Jason nodded. “Aye. And I fear you’ll have to pry the rest out of Sir Christian yourself.” He winked. “Even I know what boundaries not to cross with him.”
Emma understood that. The next time she and Christian were alone, she’d ask him about … things.
“So this tournament,” she began. “Ghosts and mortals are able to compete with one another?”
Jason popped a handful of chips into his mouth, chewed, and shook his head. “Gawan and Chris are somehow able to accomplish it, but we think ’tis due to their attachment prior to Gawan’s retirement. None of us understand how they do it, but ’tis miraculous to watch. They don’t compete in tournament, though.
“The ghosts separate into teams and compete with one another”—he winked at her—“and there will be scores of ghosts from all over England, Scotland, and Wales—possibly even Ireland—showing up on the morrow. Events are judged and points awarded. There are ultimately two victors—one from the mortal team, one from the ghostly team.” He smiled. “Is that why you’re here? For the tournament?”
“No, although I’m awfully glad that I am now. It sounds fascinating.” Emma continued to explain to Jason her weird feelings, and what drove her to Arrick in the first place.
He listened attentively, then smiled. “Sounds to me that you weren’t searching for Arrick, but for the lord of Arrick instead.”
Emma wadded up her empty, white fish-and-chips paper and grinned. “You may be right, Jason.” Perhaps that was what drew her to Arrick. She didn’t know it at the time, though.
After that, they walked around the small village a bit. Emma purchased a few postcards from the general store, then stopped by the post office and sent one to Zoë and another to her parents, and then she and Jason climbed back into the Rover and headed to Grimm.
One thing was for certain: the view approaching Castle Grimm on land was vastly different than approaching by air. The castle loomed ahead on the cliffs, massive and dominating the coastline. She could easily imagine what it must have been like, centuries before, riding up to Grimm on horseback and seeing such an intimidating and foreboding structure.
Suddenly, Emma’s skin grew cold, and her vision blurred. She continued to stare straight ahead, and the more she looked, the more the vision changed. The scenery shifted, trees disappeared and reappeared in a different location, and people surrounded her. She was on horseback, and when Emma looked down, she saw her own tiny legs and feet sticking out on either side of the horse. She was riding behind someone …
“Emma? Is there aught amiss?” Jason’s voice interrupted her, seemingly from far away.
Emma blinked. The vision completely disappeared.
“Emma?”
She glanced at Jason, whose face was drawn with concern. “Yes?”
He’d stopped the Rover just outside the gatehouse. “You were staring off into space. Is something troubling you?”
“I, um,” she started. “Very strange, actually. I … thought I was riding on the back of a horse, but I wasn’t me,” she said. “I was a little girl.” She shook her head. “Weird, huh?”
Jason’s light green eyes studied her. Satisfied that
she was okay, he nodded. “Weird, indeed, lady.” He pulled through the gatehouse, then slowly clamored over the drawbridge. The wooden planks clack-clacked as they passed over, and then Jason parked in the small gravel lot, close to the main entrance.
When Emma stepped out, she immediately heard a strange and unique noise. It sounded like … metal against metal. It rang out over the courtyard.
Before she could ask Jason what it was, he grinned and grasped her by the arm. “You’re in for a treat, lady,” he said, pulling her along. “Come on. You won’t ever see this anywhere else, save Grimm, I’d warrant.”
Jason led—no, dragged—Emma through the courtyard, then out a small iron gate that led to a large, grassed-in area.
It was more like an arena, she thought.
In the distance, Emma could make out a small gathering of people, who all seemed to be watching something of interest a bit farther away. The closer she and Jason drew to the small crowd, the more Emma could make out who was watching, and what was being watched.
Her jaw slid open, and she stopped, efficiently yanking Jason to a halt, too. He grinned at her, then gave her a gentle tug.
“Come on, girl,” he said, chuckling. “You’ve got to get closer than that.”
Emma walked, grateful that Jason led the way, making sure she didn’t trip and fall on her face.
Emma’s eyes widened as they locked on to the pair of shirtless men circling one another, several feet from where she stood: Gawan and Christian, hair loose and wild, fierce scowls upon their faces, and each holding a very sharp and lethal-looking sword.
Well, Christian held two.
Gawan, though, held one that had to be nearly as tall as Emma.
They looked like they were trying to kill each other.
“Oh, my dear, look! We’ve a seat for you!”
Emma slowly peeled her gaze from the sword fight to the voice she’d just heard. Her eyes enlarged again as she took in the small crowd of sword-fight watchers.
Ellie sat with all three children, plus Davy. Next to Davy, Justin Catesby. On the other side of Ellie, Godfrey. And in front of them, perched in two folding chairs, sat two ladies Emma hadn’t met yet. One she was drawn to immediately. Her hair had been fixed in the shape of a swan. The other, well, she looked sopping wet. Both wore period clothing, although Emma had no clue as to which period.
The lady with the bird on her head waved and patted the seat next to her.
“Come along, dear, and have a seat,” she said, smiling.
The sopping-wet lady waved.
“Emma, come on!” hollered Ellie. Her boys were bouncing in their seats.
Justin Catesby simply stared. And grinned.
Jason pulled on her arm. “Come on or you’ll miss it.”
Emma allowed him to pull her to her seat, next to the swan lady. Ellie quickly introduced them to Emma.
“These are Ladies Follywolle and Beauchamp,” Ellie said. “They couldn’t wait to meet you.”
Emma greeted them with a smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Then a string of harsh words in a language Emma didn’t understand flew from the fighters, and her attention was immediately drawn to them. She’d not seen Christian, or Gawan, for that matter, with their shirts off, and the sight of it now nearly made her break out in a sweat. Both men had multiple black tattoos, but they were different. Gawan’s were small, all down his back, across his chest, and down his arms to his wrists.
Christian’s, though, were larger, more intricate, and he had one on the right side of his chest, a large one on his back, and a wide band encircling each bicep. She couldn’t tell from where she sat what the designs were, but she’d be certain to find that out as soon as possible.
She sincerely hoped that would be sooner rather than later.
Chapter 23
Christian and Gawan circled one another, legs clad in leather boots and pants that had straps crossing up their thighs. They crouched, swords raised menacingly, the muscles in their backs, stomachs, shoulders, and arms pulled taut. Their biceps bulged from the weight of their weapons, and Emma noticed veins on both of Christian’s arms that traveled upward and fanned out over his chest. He looked so real.
And those had to be foul words coming from their mouths. Neither of their faces looked friendly at all.
“How is this possible?” she asked, mostly to herself.
Jason leaned closely. “They used to train all the time when Gawan was still earthbound. Trained for centuries. It’s really just a play of illusion, sound included. For whatever reason, they maintained the ability, even after Gawan’s retirement.”
The strike of steel against steel filled the bailey as Gawan and Christian came at each other, Christian swinging dual swords, Gawan swinging his one giant one. Sweat plastered their hair to their skulls, and they both looked ferocious enough to hack the other’s head off in the blink of an eye.
Emma shuddered at the thought.
The pair suddenly called a halt, and both men stabbed the ground with their swords and leaned their weight against the hilts, breathing heavily.
As she stared, her vision blurred, colors became more vivid, and it made her head feel light. That familiar feeling in her stomach twinged, and she gasped.
“Emma, are you unwell?” asked Jason.
Emma blinked, and her vision cleared. What was that? She smiled. “No, I’m perfectly fine.” Again, her eyes lighted on the warriors. They leaned over their swords, breathing hard. She was positive Christian’s was for show. Could he get winded? She didn’t see how.
There was so much of his world she didn’t understand.
But she found herself wanting to more and more.
Actually, as her eyes locked with Christian’s, and he yanked the one sword out of the ground and started walking toward her, she discovered she wanted to know everything about him …
Christian couldn’t take his bloody eyes off Emma. She sat, eyes wide as they stared back at him, her mouth slightly open. Her reddish brown hair hung straight to her shoulders, parted slightly off to one side and tucked neatly behind each ear. Her hair stood out in stark contrast to the black, form-fitting jumper she wore, and her faded, holed-at-the-knees jeans hung low on her hips, snug in just the right places. Her skin, pale and flawless as alabaster, set off her wide blue eyes.
She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.
Once again he found this time, this thirteenth chance, vastly different from their previous lives together. ’Twas the same loving soul—he recognized that much—but many of the characteristics that carried from one life to the next were absent, replaced by this modern Emma’s own uniqueness, which Christian found intriguing. The Emma he’d met long ago had been painfully shy. This modern version could blush furiously, yet still be bold enough to say exactly what was on her mind. He rather fancied it. And he dared to hope things might end up favorably this time round …
As he drew closer, a smile lifted each corner of Emma’s lush mouth, making his lifeless self shudder on the inside like a lad of ten and three meeting his first girl.
Bloody hell, he was suddenly nervous.
Finally, Christian reached her. She’d stood and was staring, a look of wonder etched in her lovely face.
Slowly, she shook her head. “You … are amazing.” Her breathy voice washed over him, and he couldn’t help but smile with pride.
“ ’Twas nothing, lass. Just a bit of knightly swordplay.” He gave her a slight nod. “But I am enormously glad you enjoyed it.”
A giggle erupted beside her. Christian shot Lady Follywolle a mock glare, but it hushed her up, so that made him happy.
Lady Follywolle stuck her tongue out.
“Chris, you old smooth talker,” said Ellie, suddenly beside them. Ensley lay asleep in the little pouch swing against Ellie’s chest. “You know, watching that entire sword fighting stuff—especially for the first time—can make a girl swoon.”
Ellie winked at Emma, who tried t
o smother a grin.
Ellie and Gawan’s twins ran up then, jumping all around, smiles stretched across their little faces. “Unc Cwiss! Unc Cwiss!” they yelled. “Me! Me!”
He found he never grew weary of hearing it.
“Boys, get back,” said Ellie sweetly. They hugged her, one on each leg, and continued to grin at him.
He’d always wanted a score of babes. Good thing Gawan and Ellie were of the same mind-set. At least he got to be Uncle Chris.
Gawan joined them, along with Davy, Gawan’s arm draped over the lad’s shoulder. The others stood, Justin, Godfrey, and the ladies, and that ever-present, smug Jason, lately forever at Emma’s side.
Not that he could blame the pup.
“Well,” Ellie said, patting little Ensley’s bottom through the carrier, “I’m headed in to start baths and feedings.” She looked at Emma. “Will Chris’ company be okay while I get the kids all ready for bed?”
Emma’s cheeks turned red.
“Would you like me to help?” Emma asked.
Ellie’s gaze flashed to Christian, and for an instant he thought she’d take Emma up on her offer. Gawan’s wife lifted one mischievous brow, then shook her head.
“From the look on Christian’s face, Emma, you’d best appease him and hang out until supper.” She grinned. “Besides, I have a junior warlord who is very good at handling the twins in their bath.”
Lady Follywolle giggled. “Come, come, ladies, gentlemen. Let’s convene in my solar for a game of Knucklebones whilst the young ones have their time.” She batted her lashes at Christian. “Behave, Lord Arrick.”
Justin Catesby grinned; then he, along with the ladies, disappeared.
Godfrey looked at young Davy. “You comin’, boy?”
“Oh, aye!” hollered Davy, who in turn looked at Jason. “And you, sir?” he asked.
Jason shot a glance at Emma, who gave him a tender smile. Jason shrugged, and both lads took off running toward the side entrance of the hall.
Gawan gave him a look, grinned, then stared at Emma. “Lass, are you sure this whoreson’s company is worthy?”