A Highlander Christmas (26 page)

At least, that was what it felt like.

A wee thing, the top of her head came no higher than his chest, and her skin was the smoothest he’d ever seen. A small nose that fit her face, full lips, and he imagined her hair to be the color of straw. Only a small portion poked out from beneath her funny hat. He guessed the rest must be stuffed under it.

’Twas her eyes that caught him off guard, though. No’ just the shocking color of blue, or how the width narrowed and turned up at the outer corners and gave them the most unusual of shapes. ’Twas one reason he knew her no’ to be from
those
MacDonalds. The other reason? He’d killed them all before his own demise. ’Twas obvious she descended from another clan.

All of those things struck him, in truth. But ’twas the sadness Gabriel saw in the blue depths that struck him the most.

It made him mightily uncomfortable.

Just then, a growling noise interrupted his thoughts.

The girl blushed furiously, and pressed a hand against her belly. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten in quite a while.”

Och, damn.
“Right. Err, you settle yourself in and come downstairs to the larder. I’ll show you where everythin’ is. Aye?”

“Okay, thanks.” She turned, stuck her key in the lock, and opened the door. Stepping inside, she glanced at him and gave the slightest of smiles. “I didn’t catch your name.”

He met her gaze and held it. “Munro. Gabriel Munro.”

The hesitant smile on Paige’s face didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you again, Gabriel Munro.”

And with that she shut and locked the door.

Gabriel stood and stared. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shoved his fingers through his hair, scrubbed the back of his neck, and sighed.

What in bloody hell was he to do with a beautiful, melancholy lass? If she only knew
what
he was, she’d never have asked to stay. At least she wasna one of
those
MacDonalds. Snow or no, he wouldna have even let her through the door.

As he disappeared down the corridor, he frowned and prayed mightily that the storm would pass and Paige would leave come the morn.

Paige leaned against the door, rested her head back and closed her eyes. How she loathed her silly reaction around men. Especially gorgeous men.

Men like Gabriel Munro.

Impossibly tall and broad, muscular, with long dark hair pulled back at the nape, the Gorloch bed-a nd-breakfast owner certainly wasn’t anything she’d expected. The others had been older, warm, and friendly. Gabriel Munro, with his piercing green eyes, worn jeans, cream-colored fisherman’s sweater, and brown hiking boots sort of intimidated her.

He was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on.

And quite possibly the most aloof, as well. He certainly kept his distance from her, too. Wouldn’t even get the darn key for the room.
Whatever
. . .

With a sigh, Paige pushed off the door, took off her hat, gloves, and coat, and inspected her surroundings. Darkly decorated in Victorian-era reds and golds, the room contained a large, four-poster made of mahogany, with deep green drapery and plush pillows. A matching claw-f oot chair sat in one corner, and a tallboy stood in the other. A fireplace sat cold and empty against the far wall. All in all, pretty gorgeous, and any other time she’d be thrilled with a place such as Gorloch. Right now, she was hungry, tired, and irritated that her car had croaked.

Across the room was an inviting alcove, and Paige hurried toward it. Kneeling on the window seat cushions, she pulled back the heavy tapestry drapes and watched the swirling snow outside. Wind groaned through the cracks and crevices of the old stone, making a low-pitched moaning sound, and Paige shivered.

It reminded her of a horror movie. And she was the brainless female victim who’d run straight into the chain-saw-wielding lunatic. Screaming.

Fantastic
.

Just then, her stomach growled again, louder this time, demanding food. It’d been hours since she’d had anything to eat, and she was starved. Lunatics and grumpy proprietors be damned, she had to have sustenance. Hastily, she put her bag in the corner, freshened up, and left the room.

A cold, ancient air clung to the stone walls and passageway, sinking deep into Paige’s skin. Low lamp lights emanated from tarnished wall sconces jammed into the rock, illuminating the way to the main staircase. More than once she glanced over her shoulder, a feeling of someone watching her making the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She rubbed her arms vigorously and hurried her pace.

Just as Paige stepped into the great hall, every light in the room extinguished, leaving her in pitch-black. She froze, and her heart thumped heavy beneath her rib cage as the darkness swallowed her up. She waited several moments, hoping that her host would just show up, know exactly where she was, and that she was stranded in the dark. Finally, she grew impatient, cleared her throat, and drew a deep breath. “Hello?” she said, and her voice cracked. “Err, Mr. Munro?”

Gabriel stood mere yards from the girl. He could sense her urgency, yet he found himself unable to answer her calls. ’Twas as if his bloody tongue was tied. While she couldn’t see in the darkness, he could, and verra clear. While the blackness covered him, he boldly studied the quiet lass from America.

A wee thing, she came no higher than his chest. Hair the color of straw was shorn at a sharp angle and swung at her jaw. No wonder he’d no’ seen it earlier, when she’d worn her hat. Wide blue eyes stood in stark comparison to her fair skin and pixielike features. White, straight teeth worried her full bottom lip, and those large eyes shifted left, then right, trying to see in the dark. She wrapped her slender arms about herself, slowly spun in a circle, and heaved a sigh.

Then, she stopped, faced him, and sucked in a startled breath. Her eyes, which appeared to be locked with his, widened to a frightening width, and she swore.

Only then did Gabriel realize the bloody lights had come back on.

She probably thought he was a lunatic.

Slowly, she began to back away from him. “Um, I was calling for you,” she said, a slight quiver in her voice. Her eyes traveled the length of him, and then she glanced behind her, taking a few more hesitant steps.

“Aye, I heard,” he stammered. Damnation, he hadn’t meant for her to catch him looking at her so closely. He cocked his head as she continued to walk backward, seemingly toward the front entranceway.

“Why are you dressed like that?” she asked, her voice now barely above a whisper.

Gabriel frowned and glanced down at himself. The conjured image of his modern garb was gone, leaving him in his usual form of clothes: his plaid, boots, and sword.

He swore.

She turned and ran for the door.

And then everything that followed happened so bloody fast, he’d not been able to stop it.

Paige MacDonald reached the door. “I’ve, uh, changed my mind,” she said without turning round. “No problem, seriously. I’ll come for my stuff tomorrow. They’re expecting me in Inverness, so I’ll just go there. Um, thanks for the room.” Her hand turned the door handle.

“Wait,” Gabriel said. “Ms. MacDonald—”

“Bye!” And with that, she opened the door and launched herself out into the storm.

Gabriel swore under his breath and took off after her. A nighttime blizzard and she didna even have on her bloody coat! The snow had turned into a solid wall of blinding white. She’d get lost in no time. Damnation, he was going to strangle Craigmire when his skinny arse returned! Leaving him here alone was naught but trouble!

He didna get far before he saw Paige ahead of him, head down against the flurry, hurrying down the snow-covered lane. The wind blew the white flakes furiously, and Gabriel jogged right through it. Taking longer strides, he caught up with her. “Ms. MacDonald—”

The girl hollered and took off. Gabriel raced ahead of her, stopped, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Cease!” he shouted in his most commanding voice.

Just then, she tripped and pitched forward.

In the dark, Paige MacDonald’s eyes widened as she fell straight
through
him.

A muffled thud sounded when she hit the ground, and Gabriel turned. The girl lay still as death in the snow, her black jumper covered in icy flakes. Kneeling beside her, Gabriel leaned close and inspected her. A small bit of red tinged the snow. The crazy girl had hit her head running from him.

With a string of foul words, he leaned over next to her ear and hollered. “Get up, lass!
Now!
”

A deep, muffled voice sounded far away in Paige’s pounding head. Someone was yelling at her to get up. Where was she that she had to get up?

Then she noticed just how freezing cold her face was. Actually, the rest of her felt just as cold. Slowly, she cracked open an eye. Blinking several times, she peered through the darkness. The wind blew a flurry of white in her face. Slowly, she pushed up and sat back on her heels.

The breathtaking face of Gabriel Munro frowned irately at her. His head pulled closer. “Get up and get inside. Now.”

Then it all rushed back, so fast it made her head spin. The lights had been out. They suddenly came back on. Gabriel was standing barely a foot from her, staring at her.

And he was wearing nothing but a plaid wrap, boots, and a big sword.

She’d run, she’d tripped, and she’d
fallen right through him
.

With her forehead throbbing, Paige pushed off her heels and rose. She was going to get out of this
effing
crazy place, and fast. Just her luck that she had stumbled upon Hill House, or worse: the Bates Motel
.
Her brain wouldn’t exactly wrap around what had happened, even though her heart sort of knew anyway.

Gabriel Munro wasn’t normal. Gorgeous, yes. But normal? No, not normal at all. He wasn’t
all there
. . .

“Paige!” Gabriel shouted again. He stepped forward and ducked his head to look her in the eyes. “You’re goin’ to get your arse back inside. You’ve nowhere to go, there’s no one round for miles, and your lips are blue. You’re bleeding! Now go!”

Paige stared at him, tried to comprehend what he was saying and what she was seeing. None of it made sense. She’d fallen
through
him, as if his body was no more than a shadow, yet he hollered at her with a fierceness that scared her. He was dressed like a
warrior
. Her insides shook just as hard as the rest of her body. Her mouth moved to speak, but nothing came out. She wasn’t sure if her brain had even decided on the words.

Then, Gabriel drew closer, his face inches from her own. “Come into the hall with me, Paige MacDonald,” he said, his voice deep, low, and steady. “I vow I willna hurt you.”

Paige’s teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, and she stared at the beauty of his features. Without much thought at all, she lifted her hand to his cheek and watched it pass straight through.

His intense green eyes never left hers.

Then, her sensible, matter-of-f act mind registered something unbelievable, unfathomable. Completely extraordinary.

Ghost
.

“Please, lass. And press the bridge of your nose. ’Tis bleeding.”

Her skin now ached from the cold, and the wind gusting about her made a new fit of shivers accost her body. The bridge of her nose stung like crazy. She lifted her fingers and touched the spot, and it throbbed. Drops of blood fell and landed on her jeans. She was stuck in the middle of the isolated Highlands in the fury of a blizzard, with no car, no friends, a bleeding nose, and nowhere to go.

Except inside the castle with the pleading ghost of a Scottish warrior.

Gabriel inclined his head without saying a word, and Paige decided right then she had nothing to do but give him the one thing she was most stingy with.

Her trust.

Mustering her strength, Paige gave a single nod, pressed the pad of two fingers to the bridge of her nose, and turned back up the lane, the brunt of the wind now in her face, and headed toward the castle.

At least it would be a Christmas to remember.