Spirited Away (27 page)

Kirk? It couldn't be. He didn't wear chic, black attire. His baggy khakis and untucked cotton shirts were trademark and unmistakable. But so were his salt-and-pepper hair and goatee. She'd called out to him, but he hadn't heard over the crowd of shoppers.

Then, without realizing what she was doing, her feet, seemingly of their own will, turned to follow him.

He walked fast but graceful, with long, purposeful strides, knowing where he was going and apparently in a big hurry to get there. Kirk's normal pace was lanky and easygoing. Or was Tristan's talk of evil spirits inhabiting her mentor making her see things that really weren't there?

Why hadn't Kirk answered the mobile? Maybe he'd just gotten in?

A thought struck her. He could be meeting someone. A woman, perhaps. That had to be it. Kirk had found female company. Normal thing for a virile, healthy fiftyish year old man to do. That would explain the fancy clothes.

Andi dodged the passersby and started up the sidewalk. Seconds later, Kirk ducked into a street-side pub.

She toyed with the idea of following him in, but something held her back. Maybe the crazy ideas Tristan had put in her head caused her to hesitate? Either way, she paused. And that alone made her uncomfortable.

Posting, herself in the bus stop cubby, she took a seat on the bench and waited. Only a few minutes, she thought, and then she'd go in after him—even if he did have a date. But one way or another she was going to get some answers.

Forty-five minutes later, Andi decided to enter the pub. What other option did she have? None. Her rain-soaked jeans clung to her skin, making her itch. Her hair was soaked, and she was just plain tired of sitting at the bus stop. Plus, it grew late and she had no desire to be on the streets of Berwick-upon-Tweed after dark. It was bad enough she'd have to explain herself to the garrison once she returned, and she didn't look forward to that at all. So instead she stood, weaved through the crowd, and took a deep breath before pushing the pub's door open.

Empty, save the bartender wiping the counter.

He looked up at her, expressionless. "Can I help ye?"

Andi cleared her throat and took a few hesitant steps in. "Uh, I'm not sure." She shifted her bag to her other hand and wiped her free hand on her thigh. Her eyes scanned the room. "Did a man dressed in black come in here a couple of hours ago? With a goatee?"

The bartender stopped wiping and stared at her. "Missy, do ye know how many folk come in and out of this place?" He continued to stare when Andi didn't answer. "Nay, girly, I don't remember no bearded man."

Andi swept the room again, then shrugged. "Sorry. I must have been mistaken. Thanks anyway."

She turned and left the pub, puzzled.

An uneasiness crept over her as she hurried to her room at the inn.

Where had Kirk gone, and how, exactly, had he gotten past her? Ugh. It would drive her nuts until she spoke to him.

Moments later, Andi turned the corner and realized the magnitude of her big, fat, idiotic mistake.

Sneaking off from her ghostly guards was something she should have considered before doing it.

Right out in plain sight, right by the inn's front door, stood Sir Richard, a six-and-a-half-foot bulging mass of medieval knight, arms crossed over his mailed chest, an enormous scowl plastered to his face.

Not a happy camper.

And only in Berwick would passersby completely ignore a giant man in medieval armor.

Sir Richard glared at Andi. "You, my lady, have some explaining to do."

Andi could do nothing but smile. He'd stood outside the inn and watched out for her, except for those times he'd convinced another of the garrison to switch places with him, and then he insisted on being at Andi's door. "I just needed a little break, Richard. That's all." She took a few steps to the inn's door, then turned back to him. "Are you mad at me?"

Richard looked quite uncomfortable at the question. He shifted his weight and shrugged, his mail creaking in protest. Then he gruffly cleared his throat a time or two. "Nay, of course not. Now get you upstairs and have a hot bath, before you catch your death out here in this bloody bog." He cast a glance down at her, and she smiled. He made another extreme effort to clear his throat, and then jerked a thumb to the stairs inside the inn, indicating for her to get moving. "Get you gone now, and make sure you allow us to follow you next time, aye?"

Andi grinned and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sure. I'll see you later, Richard." Andi hurried past him and into the inn. She'd tell Richard later about seeing Kirk. Tell him now, and he and the others would harass her without mercy.

Andi rushed past the check-in desk, nodded to the clerk, then headed for the stairs. The plush carpeting muted her brisk footsteps; but even that didn't help. There were four more knights posted outside her room, arms crossed over their chests, some leaning against the wall, others sitting on the floor. She peeked around the corner at them.

"Lady!"

Jason was probably all of seventeen years old, but he proved to be the biggest mother hen of them all. The others all jumped at his cry, then rushed toward Andi like a pack of football players.

"Where have you been, lass? We have been worried sick o'er ye!"

"I'm sorry, guys." She fumbled for the room key in her pocket, then opened the door. "I just needed to get out for a while. Besides." She flashed them a reassuring smile. "I'm all right." She looked up at Jason, whose unsure look of worry nearly broke her heart. "I promise. Really."

The giants grumbled but nodded their acceptance. Jason stepped into the room behind her, as was his usual routine. The hiss of his sword being drawn sounded so real to Andi's ears, she had to remind herself he forced the illusion. Once satisfied no one lurked in Andi's room, Jason sheathed his sword and came to stand before her. "I missed you today, lady." He avoided her eyes. "And those oafs out there are passing irritated. Please do not run off like that again, aye?"

Andi felt like a heel. "I promise, Jason. I won't leave again without taking a few of you with me."

Jason nodded and turned to leave, then stopped at the door and looked back at Andi. "His Lordship would be powerfully upset if we allowed anything to happen to you, Lady Andi." With that admission he turned and walked out the door.

Andi followed and softly closed the door behind him. Her heart lurched at the mere mention of Tristan. How she missed him! Walking over to the bed she threw herself down on it, stared up at the ceiling. She wanted to leave and go back to Dreadmoor. To Tristan. To unravel the mystery surrounding the estate. To see just what had happened to Kirk. And more than anything, she wanted to return with the proof that he had no part in any of it. But how would she accomplish that?

Reaching for her mobile, she punched in the speed-dial number to his phone. It went straight to voice mail.

"Kirk, it's me. Where are you?" She heaved a great sigh. "Please, call me as soon as you get this.

Bye." Flipping the mobile cover, she tossed it on the mattress and continued staring at the ceiling.

She supposed she understood why Tristan had not told her about their suspicions of Kirk. Maybe she'd do the same thing, in his place. But his words to his men had hurt. Or was it because it was words not meant for her ears to hear? So frustrating.

In the next instant, the room phone rang, a shrill blast that filled the small room. Andi nearly fell off the bed. It was probably just Jameson, checking in on her, like he did every day. She rolled over to the nightstand and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Andrea, please come back."

Andi's heart swelled and her breath caught in her throat. "Tristan?"

"Who else would it bloody be?" He cleared his throat. "I vow if another ghost is seeking your attentions I shall soundly thrash him for it."

Andi smiled. "No, silly." She adjusted the receiver. "How is it you are talking to me?"

" 'Tis complicated to explain, to say the very least, and I've not the stomach or the patience to explain it to you at present. I throw my voice to you, is the best way to describe it." A heavy sigh pushed through the line. "I'm sorry, Andrea. I never meant to hurt you. I vow it."

Andi closed her eyes and imagined his face. "I know. And I am sorry for reacting so badly to it."

"I miss you fiercely, wench."

She laughed so loud Jason shouted at her from the other side of the door. "Is there aught amiss, lady?"

"It's okay, Jason. I'm just talking to Tristan on the phone."

"Does that mean we're going home soon?" Jason shouted back.

"Tell him aye, love." The sensual voice washed over her. " 'Tis been a miserable two days, at best."

Andi's heart skipped a beat. "What did you call me?" She knew the tag "love" in England could apply to anyone or anything—even one's pet goat. But Tristan did not use it. Ever. Fright choked the hope from her.

"Wench?"

"No," Andi said slowly. "The other one."

Tristan chuckled. "Ah." A knowing tone caught in his voice. "Love?"

"That's the one."

Tristan didn't even hesitate. "I love you, Andrea Kinley Monroe. Very much so."

A lump lodged in Andi's throat. "Really?"

"Of course really, wench. 'Tis a thing I would not jest with you about."

"I love you, too."

"Very much so?"

Andi could feel his grin through the phone. "Very much so." She felt like standing up and jumping up and down on the bed, she was so elated. He loved her!

"Andrea?" Tristan's deep voice called her back.

"Yes?"

"I don't hear you throwing your garments into your bag and readying yourself for departure. An 'I love you very much so' would include you hurrying home to me. Jameson is nigh onto making me daft. I need you here to control him and his henpecking ways. Even Kate cannot control him."

Andi laughed. "Is he right beside you?"

"Of course he is, and with a most ridiculous smirk on his face. He's holding the bloody phone for me. I vow I cannot say the intimate things I wish to, what with the busybody right beside me."

The breath escaped her lungs in a single sigh. "I love you, Mr. Dragonhawk."

Tristan laughed, then cleared his throat. "Say it again. This time, use my Christian name."

Andi closed her eyes and smiled as his deep voice warmed her. "I love you, Tristan."

"God, woman. Hurry you up and pack, so you might get here a bit faster. I vow I cannot stand another moment without you."

She hadn't been able to contact or find Kirk. And to be honest, she was tired of waiting around.

When he got on a whim, especially one that included flying off to investigate a newfound artifact such as a medieval sword, he could be gone for days. Weeks, maybe. He'd call her. And then they'd arrange to meet. Maybe then she could see if he truly was possessed.

That sounded stupid.

"Lady?"

"I'll be home in three hours."

"I love you."

Andi smiled. "I love you, too."

Numerous grunts, hoots, hollers, and whistles, and battle cries, in more languages than Andi could name, hurtled through her door as her ghostly guardsmen eavesdropped on the words of endearment. She felt her cheeks heat with blush.

Tristan grunted. "I vow those are the nosiest old women Dreadmoor's ever housed. I cannot believe that sorry lot is guarding my woman. Hurry you home, wench."

"I will. Meet me at the gatehouse?"

"Aye, I will."

"Good. Bye, Tristan."

"Good eve to you, love. Hang up the bloody phone, Jameson, and make ready for my lady's return."

Andi smiled as she heard the phone click.

He loved her.

Tristan de Barre, mighty warrior and knight, loved her and only her. With lightning speed, she threw her things together as fast as she could grab them.

She had a knight to get home to.

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Miss, ye 'ave a message at the desk."

Andi frowned. The innkeeper must have taken the day off. She didn't recognize this new voice.

"From who?"

"I ain't at liberty to say. Ye'll 'ave to come get it and find out for yerself." The phone clicked as the messenger hung up.

Boy, how rude. Andi tossed her duffel bag, along with the couple of packages she had, back onto the bed and started for the front desk. It was already getting dark outside, and if the cab didn't hurry up it would be midnight before she got home.

Home.
He called it home.

But was that what Dreadmoor was to her?

It sounded almost too good to be able to say those words.

Jason met Andi as she stepped out of the room. "Are ye not packed, lady?"

"Yeah, almost. But I've got a telegram at the front desk to pick up. It won't take but a minute, okay?"

"I shall follow you."

"No, that's okay. I'll be right back." Without waiting for him to argue, she turned and jogged down the corridor, then took the stairs two at a time. With a quick glance, she noticed the empty lobby.

She walked up to the desk and looked around. "Hello?" No one answered. "That's strange." Turning, she started for the stairs.

She froze. The hair on the back of her neck rose.

She quickened her pace, but as she reached the foot of the stairs someone jerked her arm behind her, pulling her to a halt. A beefy, callused hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her surprise.

A strange voice whispered in her ear. "Goin' somewhere, missy?"

Andi recognized it as the desk clerk, the one who had just phoned her room about the telegram. The one who obviously wasn't the desk clerk at all.

Dumb, dumb, dumb, Monroe.

Wrenching around, she tried to pull free of her assailant but he twisted her arm up behind her, making her wince.

"No, ye don't, girly. Ye're comin' with us. Ye've got something someone wants very bad."

"Oh no, I'm not!" Andi mouthed the words against the man's hand as she slammed her heel down on his foot as hard as she could. He turned her loose with a shove.

"Bitch!" His face turned red. "Williams, grab 'er!"