bloody poet, and I didn't even bloody know it!" Her thick, fake accent grew thicker. "I rather like saying bloody, Godfrey! 'Tis rather amusing!"
Godfrey, the old poop, gave Gawan a dodgy smirk, then clambered after Ellie. "Aye! Ye'd best have a wee pull on the whiskey bottle first, girl! I'm by far the best knuckleboner in all of England!"
Godfrey's booming laugh echoed down the passageway.
Davy, who'd been standing in the doorway, unusually quiet, dashed after Godfrey. Lady Beauchamp and Lady Follywolle stood. Staring. Soundlessly.
"Did he just say knuckleboner?" Christian said, clapping Gawan on the shoulder. "Well, my unpopular friend, at least you weren't forced to break the Code and lie to the wench." He glanced in the direction Ellie went. "Quite ferocious, that one." He grinned. "I like that in a maid, methinks. If you've no mind to woo her, mayhap I will."
"Oh, sir," Lady Follywolle said with distaste, "don't be so vile. The poor lamb is simply confused
—"
"And it appears, my good Grimm, that you're keeping something from her apurpose," Lady Beauchamp interrupted. "Tripping over your tongue and such." She tsk-tsked. " 'Tisn't very becoming of a young man in your position. I do suggest if you're going to keep secrets, discuss the keeping of the secrets in secret!" She turned to Lady Follywolle. "Come, Millicent, let's leave the boys here with those thoughts to ponder."
With that, the two lady spirits looped arms and sauntered out of the library and through the wall.
"Does her bird coif seem more crooked to you this eve?" Christian asked, cocking his head. "I vow, it looks ready to fly."
"The least of my worries, Chris, is the position of Lady Follywolle's bloody coif." Gawan mumbled a curse and strode to the door. "Come first light, we're off to visit the cottage owners. Mayhap something will jog Ellie's memory? The sooner the better." He stepped out into the passageway, and Christian followed. Gawan pulled the doors closed. "A gut instinct tells me I've not much time left to solve this mystery."
Ellie sat curled up in the comfy corner of the leather sofa, and closed the large volume perched on her lap. She'd gone through pages and pages, with nothing at all jostling her memory. Interesting stuff, but nothing familiar. Just a lot of history about the nobles of Northumbria. With a grunt, she slid the heavy text off her lap, leaned her head back, and stared at the flames as they licked the logs.
A snore made her lift her gaze, and she smiled as she watched Sir Godfrey's chest rise and fall with each deep breath, his head bent forward, and a long plume from his hat catching each gust and quivering to tickle his nose. He slapped at it a time or two, yawned, smacked his lips, then drifted back off.
He indeed was a champion knuckleboner.
If only she could go to sleep. No, if only she could wake up. Wake up from whatever kind of coma she was in so she could recover and live out the rest of her life. With live people. Although, she had to admit, Sir Godfrey, young Davy, Christian, and the ladies were all pretty fascinating. Skip the fact that they were spirits from various centuries. That in itself was beyond imaginable. They were all individually interesting people, and they'd immediately taken her under their ghostly wings.
They seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being, and for that, she'd be eternally grateful.
No matter the outcome.
Her stare returned to the fire. Gawan, on the other hand, was another story. What was it about him that intrigued her? Okay. He was more than good-looking. That was a given. The guy reeked of pent-up power and male sexuality. Beneath that wool and denim lay a hard, muscular frame that seemed built by sheer physical strength and hard work.
What sort of hard work, she had no clue, other than that he had the ability to help ghosts when called upon. And he did work out with swords. That much she knew.
So who was Gawan Conwyk?
She glanced around the great hall. How on
Godfrey, the old poop, gave Gawan a dodgy smirk, then clambered after Ellie. "Aye! Ye'd best have a wee pull on the whiskey bottle first, girl! I'm by far the best knuckleboner in all of England!"
Godfrey's booming laugh echoed down the passageway.
Davy, who'd been standing in the doorway, unusually quiet, dashed after Godfrey. Lady Beauchamp and Lady Follywolle stood. Staring. Soundlessly.
"Did he just say knuckleboner?" Christian said, clapping Gawan on the shoulder. "Well, my unpopular friend, at least you weren't forced to break the Code and lie to the wench." He glanced in the direction Ellie went. "Quite ferocious, that one." He grinned. "I like that in a maid, methinks. If you've no mind to woo her, mayhap I will."
"Oh, sir," Lady Follywolle said with distaste, "don't be so vile. The poor lamb is simply confused
—"
"And it appears, my good Grimm, that you're keeping something from her apurpose," Lady Beauchamp interrupted. "Tripping over your tongue and such." She tsk-tsked. " 'Tisn't very becoming of a young man in your position. I do suggest if you're going to keep secrets, discuss the keeping of the secrets in secret!" She turned to Lady Follywolle. "Come, Millicent, let's leave the boys here with those thoughts to ponder."
With that, the two lady spirits looped arms and sauntered out of the library and through the wall.
"Does her bird coif seem more crooked to you this eve?" Christian asked, cocking his head. "I vow, it looks ready to fly."
"The least of my worries, Chris, is the position of Lady Follywolle's bloody coif." Gawan mumbled a curse and strode to the door. "Come first light, we're off to visit the cottage owners. Mayhap something will jog Ellie's memory? The sooner the better." He stepped out into the passageway, and Christian followed. Gawan pulled the doors closed. "A gut instinct tells me I've not much time left to solve this mystery."
Ellie sat curled up in the comfy corner of the leather sofa, and closed the large volume perched on her lap. She'd gone through pages and pages, with nothing at all jostling her memory. Interesting stuff, but nothing familiar. Just a lot of history about the nobles of Northumbria. With a grunt, she slid the heavy text off her lap, leaned her head back, and stared at the flames as they licked the logs.
A snore made her lift her gaze, and she smiled as she watched Sir Godfrey's chest rise and fall with each deep breath, his head bent forward, and a long plume from his hat catching each gust and quivering to tickle his nose. He slapped at it a time or two, yawned, smacked his lips, then drifted back off.
He indeed was a champion knuckleboner.
If only she could go to sleep. No, if only she could wake up. Wake up from whatever kind of coma she was in so she could recover and live out the rest of her life. With live people. Although, she had to admit, Sir Godfrey, young Davy, Christian, and the ladies were all pretty fascinating. Skip the fact that they were spirits from various centuries. That in itself was beyond imaginable. They were all individually interesting people, and they'd immediately taken her under their ghostly wings.
They seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being, and for that, she'd be eternally grateful.
No matter the outcome.
Her stare returned to the fire. Gawan, on the other hand, was another story. What was it about him that intrigued her? Okay. He was more than good-looking. That was a given. The guy reeked of pent-up power and male sexuality. Beneath that wool and denim lay a hard, muscular frame that seemed built by sheer physical strength and hard work.
What sort of hard work, she had no clue, other than that he had the ability to help ghosts when called upon. And he did work out with swords. That much she knew.
So who was Gawan Conwyk?
She glanced around the great hall. How on
Similar Books
