Page 4 of An Enchanted Knight

The sound of the deep voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and she sprang up, squinting into the darkness.

“W-where are you?” she stammered, looking around the room, her eyes wide. Moonlight gave only a bit of light.

Thinking it was best to face the apparition on her feet, Gwen slid to the edge of the mattress. In her haste to climb out of the bed she got tangled up in the sheets, the damn things wrapped tighter around her legs when she tried to pull them off.

Finally, all she managed to do was get one leg free.

“Show yourself,” she hissed toward the corner where a shadow moved.

A ghost speaking to her was not an unusual occurrence. It happened to her all the time. And yet the tingle of apprehension at her nape was unwelcome.

The shadow moved closer, and Gwen followed its movements, subconsciously rubbing her arms. When he finally moved into the light of a moonbeam that filtered from in between the curtains, her lips parted, and she lost the ability to speak.

This time Tristan McRainey dressed differently. He wore a white shirt, open to his waist, showcasing his ripped chest and a serious six-pack. This was definitely a good-looking man... ghost.

Chestnut-brown hair, pulled back with a strap, accentuated the hard lines of his face. Again, his penetrating gaze rested on her.

She continued to study him. His lips were full, sensuous. The width of his shoulders and lean waist, not to mention his stature of at least six-foot-three, made him an enticing sight. That and the muscular legs, so defined by his tight-fitting leather breeches and the calf-high leather boots, didn’t hurt the look.

Her attention shifted to his hand. He held a broadsword this time and seemed agitated as if holding back his temper.

“Why do you think I can free you?” Gwen whispered, looking straight into his eyes, checking for the ghostly telltale sign of transparency. He was as solid as she was.

Crap, what was he?

“Because I am Tristan McRainey and ye are an enchantress,” he replied, shocking her. “I’ve been waiting for ye to come. And finally, ye came and ye summoned me.”

The ghost cocked his head to the side, his gaze roaming over her. She followed his line of vision to find his eyes locked on her chest, exactly where her top gaped open, exposing a large portion of her breasts. She grabbed the blankets up to cover herself.

“I am no enchantress,” Gwen said, frowning at him. “And I didn’t summon you.” Why was she arguing with a ghost? What she had to do was to begin to introduce to him the idea that he was trapped between planes. Entice him to move to the other side.

He lifted an eyebrow as if amused, and this time his gaze slid at a leisurely pace down her exposed leg. She huffed before sliding her leg under the blankets and glaring at the oversexed ghost.

“What kind of a ghost are you anyway? Stop looking at me that way.”

He continued to study the space where her leg slid under the blanket. “Pity. Ye should not hide such beauty.” He spoke slowly, as if ensuring she understood every word. “I am not a ghost. I am Lord Tristan McRainey, the laird of this land. Hundreds of years ago, when on our way to meet with an assembly of knights, four men and I were enchanted by a powerful wizard. I’m to be released by you.”

“Assembly... as in some sort of round table?” Gwen stammered, her eyes wide. She scrambled to remember the story of King Arthur’s knights. It was fictional, but there wasn’t any other grouping of knights she could think of.

“An assembly called by King James,” Tristan clarified.

“Right.” Gwen replied slowly. She’d play along and hopefully gain his trust so that he’d be more amenable to her suggestions later. “Who enchanted you?”

“Meliot. A wizard with great power. He is a dark relation of Merlin’s,” Tristan’s ghost replied, taking a step closer.

This time she wanted to laugh. Merlin was definitely not real.

“Why aren’t you disappearing this time?” She asked him, changing the subject and prompting him to stop his advance. She almost wished she’d not spoken. If anything, Gwen wanted to touch him to find out if indeed he was something quite different than a ghost.

“I have been able to will myself inside the keep more often and for longer periods since ye arrived,” he answered, taking another step toward her. “Ye are a vera powerful enchantress.”

“No, I’m not,” Gwen squeaked. “You are mistaken.”

He’d finally reached her bed, and she stared at the broadsword he still held. “Wh-what are you going to do with that sword?”

He faltered, his gaze snapping down to the weapon. A frown formed on his brow, as if he’d forgotten he held it. He grimaced and almost looked embarrassed at scaring her.

“I meant no harm, I was practicing. Prior to feeling the pull to come to ye,” Tristan explained, sliding the sword into a strap of some type at his hip. When he looked at her again, his intense demeanor returned. “Ye must free me at once.”