Spirited Away (24 page)

"Yes, you are, too. Did you see him, Tristan?" She glanced his way.

Big mistake.

His acute stare shocked her to the bone.

Andi gulped and cleared her throat. "Tristan?"

He blinked, then grinned. "Aye, you smiled, Jameson. I saw it myself."

Miss Kate, who sat at the kitchen table, grinned. "I saw it too, Edgar. Lovely, I might add."

"Humph. I daresay all three of you have spent too much time in the wine cellars of late. Now, what will you have for dinner, Lady Andi? 'Tis getting on in the day and I am about to begin preparations."

"Got any microwave burritos?"

"Heavens, I should hope not."

Tristan cleared his throat in an authoritative manner. "Andrea, you must eat properly. I daresay the things you concoct cannot possibly be healthy for you. And by the saints, you are passing thin." He waved to Jameson, but kept his eyes on Andi. "Prepare her something powerfully healthy, Jameson.

She shall need her strength over the next week, I'll warrant."

Andi gulped at that statement. The fact Tristan couldn't seem to take his eyes off her was something to be considered. Raw hunger blazed in his ethereal gaze, burning her insides. Heat rose from somewhere deep within her, straight to the skin covering her face and neck.

She shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you staring at?" No one had ever given her the time of day, yet Tristan stared at her with such ... overwhelming desire. She swore she could feel his thoughts. It unnerved her.

She liked it.

Tristan cast a lazy smile. "Forgive my poor manners, lady. 'Tisn't often such loveliness favors the halls of Dreadmoor, such as you and Miss Kate. I vow to make all best efforts, due to my chivalristic training, mind you, to keep my poor eyes in their sockets whilst lecherously gandering at you. And I shall leave the gandering of Miss Kate to
Edgar
over there."

Andi stared at Tristan for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Dreadmoor, you're such a ham."

"Guilty as charged. Now let us be off. I vow you will enjoy an hour or two in the lists watching me joust. Aye?"

Andi crossed the floor to stand beside Jameson. "Anything you fix will be great." She leaned closer to his ear and whispered, "I think everything's going to be okay." With a quick peck to his weathered cheek, she turned to Tristan. "To the lists, then."

Tristan grinned at Jameson, who simply raised his gray eyebrows. "We'll be in the lists." He bowed.

"Miss Kate, do try to keep my man in check."

She laughed and smoothed the front of her flowery tunic. "I'll do my best, sir."

Jameson watched the odd pair leave, and allowed an enormous grin to break his face.

"I see that, old man."

Jameson, unmoved by Tristan's stealth, didn't falter a bit. "I'm sure you do, my lord."

"Edgar, you are truly handsome when you smile."

Jameson blushed and gave Miss Kate a nod. "I'm sure I am, lady. Tea?"

Andi stood on the jousting field, surrounded by at least twenty-five to thirty heavily armed and mailed knights, watching as two equally armed and mailed jousters thundered toward one another.

One of the jousters had been at the extreme sport for several hours now, and no one had yet unhorsed him. The training field of knights, from only God knew where, anxiously awaited a turn at the lances with the lord of the keep.

Tristan de Barre was, without a doubt, the best.

As Tristan and the other jouster, whom Kail named Stephen, shattered their lances against one another, Andi kept her eye trained on the one knight who captured her attention. Tristan, in one smooth motion, swung his leg over the ghostly horse's neck and landed in the dirt. He drew his sword and advanced onto his opponent. Stephen fought well, Andi had to give that much to him; but Tristan's size alone overwhelmed any challenger.

Tristan's and Stephen's swords clashed, and in a movement so quick Andi nearly missed it, Tristan efficiently knocked his opponent's sword to the ground. Stephen bent over at the waist, trying to catch his breath. Tristan removed his helm and, as he swaggered off, swatted a gasping Stephen on the backside with the flat of his blade.

" 'Twas a good showing, lad," Tristan said. A roguish grin spread across his face. "Mayhap on the morrow I'll let you win."

Stephen grumbled, "Nay, you won't, my lord."

Tristan's deep, rumbling laughter echoed across the lists. "Aye, you're probably right." He stared at Andi as he made his way through the knights, glaring a time or two at anyone who happened into his path.

He looked determined.

Stopping just a few feet away, he looked up at his captain and glared. "Kail, I'll see to my lady from here. Be you about your business."

Kail winked at Andi and, with utmost respect, laughed out loud. "As you wish, Lord Dreadmoor. I promised young Heath a lesson in polishing armor." He walked off, shaking his head and bellowing at Heath, who was across the field, running in and out of the other knights.

Tristan scowled, then ignored him. "Have you been properly entertained this fine eve, Dr. Monroe?"

He tucked his helm under one arm and shifted his weight. "I vow you'll not find a more satisfying bit of medieval sport to watch elsewhere."

Andi laughed. "I'm sure you're right on that one." She looked up and shaded her eyes with her hand against the bright late-afternoon sun. It glinted off the body of a jet as it passed over, just before it ducked behind a cloud.
Wow. Centuries colliding.
She let out a long sigh. "This is so great."

"Aye, it is."

She glanced back at Tristan. The feral stare made her shudder. His gaze lowered to her mouth and lingered there, and Andi had the sudden urge to grab him by the back of his thick neck and pull him to her, so that he could kiss her until she fainted dead away.

Instead, she cleared her throat. "I mean this"—she swept the lists with her hand—"and that."

Pointing to the plane in the sky, Andi watched Tristan carefully, waiting for him to look. It was several seconds before he did.

He followed Andi's gaze to the plane, just before it disappeared behind another cloud. " 'Tis an aircraft, Andrea." He looked back down at her. "Even I ceased to be amazed some years ago."

Andi giggled. "No, silly. I mean, well, this!" She once again swept Dreadmoor's grounds with a wide arc. "Here I am, standing on the training field of a medieval keep, surrounded by medieval knights while they clash swords, curse, scratch, spit, and wait for their turn on the jousting field."

She walked a small distance away and was so entranced by her dreamy thoughts that she walked right through a knight, sitting casually on the ground, sharpening his blade. She looked down and smiled. "Sorry, Robert."

" 'Tis naught, lady."

Tristan stood and watched Andrea's enthusiastic amazement. A smile tugged at his mouth—an act that seemed to occur more and more frequent these days. The saucy wench had learned the names of his entire garrison—as well as a few extras who'd strayed in for sport. She drank in the sights and smells of his home. 'Twas vastly amazing. Saints,
she
was amazing.

Stopping short of the jousting field, she swung around. "And all the while a jet flies overhead, oblivious of all going on down here. Oblivious there are brave knights who fought bloody battles and saved and lost lives—centuries ago—making our world possible today. Oblivious that down here lives the most chivalristic and brave knight of all." She ran back over to Tristan, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, the grin on his face unavoidable. She stopped in front of him.

"I feel privileged." She panted as she grinned and bravely took a step closer to Tristan. "Thank you."

Thank you.
Mayhap those simple words passed unnoticed by most, especially in the twenty-first century. But as he stared into the hazel depths of Andrea Monroe's eyes, he knew those words came from her heart. Damnation, he was becoming such a pitiful sap. " 'Tis naught, wench. But damn me if I wouldn't swing from the bloody battlements by my toes, just to get such a smile cast my way.

You are most welcome, indeed. But 'tis I who should be thanking you."

"Me? Why?"

"For making me feel again." He openly drank in every inch of her, from the top of her head to the sneakers she wore, lingering a bit longer on her mouth. "By the devil's horns, I want to kiss you. To feel your soft, full lips under mine, to taste you, smell you." He drew close, his mouth inches from hers. " 'Tis enough to make me bloody witless." He traced her jaw with a thumb, lingering on the air above her lips. "You, Dr. Monroe, are passing beautiful."

She gulped, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

"And your blush is charming. I would kiss you soundly, right here in the lists, had I the substance to do so."

Andi could do nothing but stand and stare, caught in Tristan's spell. His deep, raspy voice washed over her in a way that caused her skin to heat, her lips to tremble, as though he were really touching her. They stood facing one another, right in the middle of the training field. Knightly ghosts surrounded them, some at swordplay, some in groups discussing whatever it was medieval knights discussed in the twenty-first century. Andi barely noticed any of them; only the one facing her now.

No more than a foot of space separated them, and even that seemed like too much distance. She leaned her head back to look Tristan full in the face. Her knees wobbled.

His features weren't gentle; they were far from it. He'd been a seasoned warrior during his life, and it showed. Small nicks and scars, evidence of the brutality of his time, graced his skin. He had a strong jaw, shadowed with a day's growth of beard she doubted ever left, even if shaven. Full lips, straight white teeth, and the cutest hint of a cleft in his chin. His hair, black as night, rested in disarray well below his shoulders. God, even his Adam's apple was sexy.
Breathtaking
hardly described him.

But when he smiled—good Lord, that dimpled smile could melt her on the spot! His hardened features took on a boyishness when he grinned. No doubt he made sure not to smile during battle.

Or maybe it didn't come across the same way to another man ...

"Lady?"

She blinked a time or two, then focused on the cause of her daydreams. "Yes?"

Tristan smiled lazily. "I can only hope those are thoughts of me causing such a tender look upon your face."

Andi's blush deepened. "You are conceited, Tristan de Barre."

"Aye." He leaned a bit closer to her. "I've been rumored as such."

"My point is," she began, then lost all conscious thought as Tristan smiled at her—again. "I'm hungry. Starved, even."

"So am I."

Andi tried to ignore that comment, but she felt her face flame. Tristan's satisfactory grin proved she could no more ignore anything he did than stop breathing. "Well, then, I'm going to go scrounge around in the kitchen to—"

"Your blush is passing lovely, Andrea."

Another impossible comment to ignore, to her way of thinking. "Well, you may take my blushes as a compliment, Lord Dreadmoor, for I can promise you no one else has ever coaxed them out of me before."

"You jest."

"Nope. You're the first."

He inclined his head as he studied her face, daring to lean closer; so close, in fact, she feared he might pass right through her. "Well, then." His voice deepened. "That is a compliment, in truth. And I dare another soul to try and wrench such a feat from me."

Andi sincerely doubted anyone ever would.

"Kate," Andi asked as she joined the older woman in front of the hearth in the great hall. "Can I ask you something?"

Kate smiled and patted her hand. "Of course you can, love. What's troubling you?"

Andi glanced to the corner, where Heath and Jameson sat across from one another, chess set between them, with Tristan and his knights in various stools surrounding the game.

"Ah, 'tis a heavy thing on your mind, eh?" Kate asked. "Go ahead, girl. After taking all this in, there's nothing you could say to shock me."

Andi smiled at the Scottish woman with the light and charming brogue. "It's strange, Kate."

Kate giggled before Andi could say anything else. "Aye, girl, 'tis strange all right. Look at that lot of ghostly hooligans playing board games with Edgar and Heath." She shook her head. "Who would ever have dreamed something as such existed?"

Andi nodded. "I know. I'm ... stunned. Even more so that I'm falling for Tristan." She met Kate's puzzled gaze. "I can't seem to help it. I haven't known him long, but what I know, I like. Maybe even ... more than like."

A warm smile split Kate's face. "Oy, girl, 'tis Lord Dreadmoor who you fancy, eh?" She nodded. "I can't say that I blame you. He's quite a dish."

Andi laughed. "Yeah, he's that all right." She turned her stare toward Tristan, who cursed as Jameson made a bad move on the game. "He's so much more than that, though. He's ... not like other men."

"Nay, you can't say too many modern-day chaps can measure up to that one," Kate said. "Or the whole lot of Dragonhawk's knights, for that matter. So what worries you?"

Andi pushed the hair from her eyes. "You mean other than the fact he's dead?"

With a snort, Kate patted Andi's arm. "Pah! Only a minor setback, I'd say."

With a lowered voice, Andi blushed. "I can't stop thinking about him. He drives me crazy."

A knowing gleam lit Kate's wise eyes. "I'll bet he does, lass."

Laughing, Andi shook her head. "It is just ... gosh, I can't even describe it. Natural? To be with him, that is. It doesn't seem all that strange to me. Me! The logical scientist."

Kate took both of Andi's hands in her own. "Let your heart lead you, love, and don't let all that fancy education and book smarts change your course. If you've the strength to love him without all the usual ... amenities, such as touching and sex, and bearing his children, then don't you hold back." She glanced at Tristan. "A woman who can call that man hers has a true champion by her side. Ghost or not."

Andi looked up to find Tristan's gaze fixed on her. It sent a wave of warmth through her.