Cindy Miles - Ghost 02 by T J

Author:T J [J, T]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T23:39:49.198000+00:00

Dolt. Can you keep your lecherous mind to task for a single second? "In truth, they're sort of a number system. Each symbol stands for a certain number, a specific battle. A cluster of enemies, if you will."

Without warning, Ellie stepped toward him and reached for his hand. She lifted it, and he allowed it, and then she pushed his cuff up and brought it closer to her eyes. She studied it for several seconds, and then, damnation, she traced it with the very soft pad of her index finger. His entire bloody arm tingled.

"So this symbol here," she said, still tracing the mark. "How many does it represent?"

Without hesitation, Gawan said, "Twenty-five." And well he should easily remember. The last had been naught but an innocent boy.

Ellie lowered his hand, but she did not let go of it. "Let me get this straight." She looked at him.

"Each symbol represents a specific battle and a cluster of men you've killed."

"Aye."

"All in battle?"

Gawan nodded, his eyes unable to look directly at hers, so he stared out the window instead.

She stepped closer, and blast her, she threaded her slim fingers through his own. "So tell me, Mr.

Stinky Warlord. If you were so horrible, as I can tell you seem to think you were"—she moved in front of him, her back to the glass window, forcing him to look at her—"then how did you become an Angel?" The smile she offered was soft and, dared he hope, understanding. "They don't let just any old smelly, bloodthirsty swordswinger become an Angel, last I heard."

She smiled. By the saints, she understood.

His heart melted.

At that moment, she gently dropped her hand from his and moved away, just a bit, and continued staring toward the sea. 'Twas a good thing, to his mind, because a minute more and he would have had her pressed against that blasted window, his lips moving over hers, tasting ...

"Ooo-kay. So. How exactly did you become an Angel?"

Shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her, he continued. " 'Twas in a battle. I found an injured boy. A warrior, in truth—he certainly had a lethal blade in his hand—but a boy, just the same. No more than twelve, I suspect, and he had a nasty slash"—he pointed to the left side of his chest—"just here. As I dragged him to safety, another warrior attacked."

She turned from the window to face him, her face tense. "That's when you were killed?"

"Aye. 'Twas the lad's father, no less, thinking I'd killed his boy." He shrugged. "I'd have done the same."

"But the boy, even though he was young, was still on the opposing team, or the guys you were fighting. Right?"

" 'Twas a Moor, indeed. During the Crusades. Still"—he shook his head—"if only I knew then what I know now."

Silence stretched for what seemed like minutes. Far too long for Gawan's liking. Then Ellie spoke softly.

"It's you in that tapestry in your great hall, isn't it?" Her eyes searched his. "The only warrior without battle gear on, riding beside Queen Eleanor.

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