A Highlander Christmas (34 page)

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, and smiled.

His eyes remained darkly passion-fi lled.

After a few more moments, Gabriel inclined his head, a devilish look in his eyes. “You’re lookin’ weary, lass. I’ll sit wi’ you on the sofa, if you wish.”

Paige stifled a yawn. “I do wish. Thank you.” She grasped her necklace and placed it back on, tucking it down into her night shirt.

Together, they moved to the sofa. “Here,” he said, “you can lie down and I’ll sit behind you.”

Paige grinned, fluffed a couple of pillows midway on the sofa, giving Gabriel enough room to sit at her head without falling through her, and laid down. After he settled in behind her, she looked up at him.

The beauty of his ghostly face, so rugged, so strongly cut, nearly made her gasp.

“I honestly cannot believe this is all happening to me.
Me
, of all people,” she said, and slowly shook her head. “A few days ago I was running from you, scared out of my mind. Now? I’m all comfy and curled up beside you.” She peered at him. “Don’t you think it’s all a bit bizarre?”

Gabriel rubbed his jaw with his hand and gave the slightest of smiles that made his dimples deepen.

She didn’t think she’d ever grow tired of looking at those sexy marks in his cheeks.

Then, he lowered his hand and traced the outline of her nose, her forehead, and then her lips.

“I suppose I’m at that point where I’m fearful to ask too many questions of it, Paige MacDonald.” His finger ran over her knuckles. “I’m too afraid I may blink and find you’ve suddenly gone.”

In the back of her mind, she’d thought of little else that day. Leaving.
She didn’t want to
. But she didn’t live in Scotland, after all. She wasn’t a citizen. Her job was in America.

Along with her lonely, boring, one-bedroom apartment life.

Besides. Gabriel didn’t own Gorloch, and while she had plenty of money saved to buy herself a place, she could only stay six months with a working visa.

Not that Gabriel Munro had asked her to stay. Sure, he’d said he didn’t want her to ever leave, but it wasn’t the same thing.

“Me thinks you are havin’ wicked thoughts runnin’ through that lovely head o’ yours, what with such a grumpy expression on your face.” He stroked the line of her jaw. “What are you thinkin’?”

Paige stared straight into Gabriel Munro’s mesmerizing green eyes. And lied.

“Nothing. I’m just taking everything in, I suppose.” She stifled a yawn. “I’m so comfortable here, I think I could fall asleep just listening to your accent.”

A deep chuckle sounded behind her. “Shall I say
aye
over and over then?”

Paige giggled. “Please. The more the merrier. And say something that has lots of
r
’s in it, too.”

Gabriel laughed, and then settled down to tell Paige tales of days gone by. Vivid stories of his youth, his wild warring days, of cattle raids and skirmishes with other clans, of his mother and father, and brothers.

Before long, Paige’s eyes began to drift closed.

Somehow, though, she still felt the pleasant tingling against her skin wherever Gabriel touched her. It calmed her, aroused her, and as she slipped into slumber, the thought of actually being physically touched by Gabriel Munro made her shiver.

Just before his deep, strangely medieval accent lulled her fast asleep.

Some time later, Paige’s eyes fluttered open. The light in the room told her that she’d slept through the night, and it was now morning. Christmas Eve day.

It had been forever since she’d felt such excitement.

Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and immediately searched for Gabriel. She found him perched on the windowsill, looking out. She ran a hand through her hair. “Good morning.”

For several seconds, Gabriel said nothing. He simply sat staring out into the morning mist. His back was rigid, his shoulders pulled back sharply. His fists were tightly clenched. In his profile, she saw his jaw was set.

And immediately, Paige felt something had changed. Something, and she’d not a clue what, had happened.

Fear made her stomach uneasy.

“Gabriel, is something wrong?” she asked hesitantly.

After several long, painful moments, he turned and looked her directly in the eye. His gaze was fixed and hard, and it made Paige’s throat tighten.

“You deceived me.”

Paige blinked, shocked. “Excuse me?”

“Your clan pin, Paige.” He inclined his head to her chest, where at some point during the night, her family heirloom had escaped her nightshirt and fallen out. “You’re from the Gorloch Clan MacDonalds, Paige. Silver sword, winged creature in the center, with an amber stone. The verra same. The verra ones who
murdered me
!” he yelled. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“I, I didn’t—” she began.

“It doesna matter,” he said quietly. He looked up. “You must leave. Now.” He pushed up from the sill and walked past her, his stare hard and full of disgust. “Pack your belongings, call a taxi, and go.”

With that, he disappeared through the wall.

Paige’s breath caught in her throat, and she moved to the window and stared out into the early morning. Tears burned her eyes, and she tried to breathe normally, but it just wouldn’t happen.

Resting her forehead gently against the cold glass, her thoughts consumed her. She’d not been responsible for his death. Never, ever would she have allowed it, had she been alive back then. She’d have done anything to save him.

She
loved
him.

Tears spilled over her lids and onto her hand. Slowly, she wiped them with her fingers, and wiped her eyes.

She hadn’t known Gabriel Munro for long, but in two things, she was positive: one, she loved him. And two, once he made his mind up, there was no changing it. She’d known how strongly he’d felt from the very beginning, about
those
MacDonalds. She’d known she was from that same clan. Her granny had told her tales. She’d
known
.

And yet she’d kept it from him, had been too scared to tell him what she knew. The truth.

Paige wiped her eyes again, for the tears now seemed to be a constant leak.

Gabriel was right. She
had
deceived him. And she’d now pay a severe price.

With a deep breath, she eased herself down from the west tower, changed, packed her few belongings, and called a taxi.

As the car pulled away, she turned in her seat to see Gorloch castle for the last time.

Just before the castle disappeared from view, she saw the figure of a mighty Highlander standing on the battlements.

It looked as though she was destined to spend yet another Christmas alone after all.

Paige silently cried until she reached Inverness.

Paige tugged the collar of her coat up, shoved her hands deep into the pockets, and trudged up the busy Inverness sidewalk. Last-m inute Christmas Eve shoppers had already started the day, scrambling around from shop to shop, looking for that just-right present for their loved ones.

Quickly, she blinked and took a deep breath. She’d told herself not to cry anymore. She promised this to herself.

She was also fast believing that she had
lied
to herself.

After the taxi had dropped her off at Allister’s bed-a nd-breakfast, where the young couple, Ally—short for Allister, a high-energy, handsome, ginger-h aired Highlander—and his sweet wife, had welcomed her and settled her in, she’d decided to take a long walk along the main shopping street in Inverness. She had nothing to purchase, but she couldn’t stand the idea of sitting alone with nothing but her thoughts.

Thoughts that continuously returned to a twelfth-century Highland warrior.

She’d been walking now for nearly three hours. First, along the banks of the River Ness. Inver, as she’d learned from Ally, meant
mouth of river
in Gaelic. Hence, Inver-N ess. The snow had stopped falling, and the scenery was breathtaking. The cold felt brisk against her cheeks, and as always, a heady, sweet scent clung to the air.

It almost seemed perfect.

But without Gabriel, nothing seemed right.

An inviting used-book store boasting coffee and tea came into view, and Paige decided to grab a cup and sit for a while, perhaps buy a book to read. She pushed the door and a small bell tinkled, reminding her of Zuzu Bailey in the movie she’d just watched with her ghost of a warrior.

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets her wings . . .

Paige wondered if it were true.

Inside the small stone-walled store, with dark wooden rafters overhead, a fire burned in a whitewashed hearth, making the intimate store warm and toasty. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries filled the air, and Paige walked to the counter where three others stood in line. As she waited, she glanced around, noticing the other patrons standing at various bookshelves, browsing the selections.

Then, she saw him. Almost as if she were watching an old projector film, she moved toward a man standing at a bookshelf, book in hand. Paige couldn’t take her eyes off him, and unable to stop herself, she moved closer. Wearing a gray woolen coat that hung to just below his knees, he had long, dark hair pulled back at the nape, with a small braid on either temple. Big, muscular, with a strong jaw and dark brows, he was an impossibly gorgeous man. His head was down, reading the pages of a book he’d just picked up.

From her angle, the man looked so much like Gabriel, he could have easily been his twin.

“Gabriel?” She thought she’d said it silently, but apparently not. And she didn’t realize how close she’d gotten until he looked up at her, and she got a good look at his face, full-on.

Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth.

“Lass?” the man said, setting the book down and grabbing her arm gently. “Are you ill? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Mortified, Paige’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. You look just like someone I knew.” She pulled out of his grasp and turned, heading out of the store.

Moments later, as she headed down the street, her arm was once again grasped. Paige turned, looked up, and stared at Gabriel’s look-alike. His dark brows were drawn over the most brilliant, intense pair of silvery eyes she’d ever seen. Different in color than Gabriel’s, yet eerily the same.

“What name did you call me?” he said quietly. His unique eyes searched hers, and he didn’t loosen his grip on her elbow.

Paige stared up at him, confused. “Gabriel. Look, I’m sorry. I was mistaken.”

The man released her arm, but didn’t walk away. “Nay, lass,” he said, his voice deep, accent heavy, just like Gabriel’s. “My name is Ethan Munro. How do you know this other lad, Gabriel?”

Paige blinked. Could it be possible that Ethan was a descendant of Gabriel? They had to be—they looked like twin brothers. Although Gabriel looked older. Not in years, but in centuries . . .

“We look just alike, aye?” he said.

He was
grinning
.

Paige stared up at the man’s intense gray eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The man’s smile stretched across his painfully handsome face. “Try me.” He inclined his head toward the path by the river.

With a sigh, Paige agreed and walked with Ethan Munro down the path by the River Ness. She barely had to say anything at all. Just agree. She left out the part about how she’d somehow fallen in love with a spirit, and in only a few days. But she told him everything else, right down to her broken nose.

He seemed to know an awful lot about her ghost.

And then he told her the most fascinating tale she’d ever heard, save the very one she’d just experienced. And had she not experienced it with Gabriel, she’d never have believed a word that Ethan had said.

Apparently, he and his kinsmen had been
enchanted
for more than seven hundred years before Ethan’s wife, American mystery novelist Amelia Landry, had leased their haunted tower house for the summer. She’d helped them solve an old mystery—the very one that had enchanted them in the first place. They had been made to live as a spirit, with no substance, for most of the day, and then gain substance at twilight.
Weird
.

The man she was staring at, probably gaping at, was nearly as old as Gabriel, he said. “So, you’re not only Gabriel’s descendant, but you’re from the fourteenth century?” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m not saying that out loud again.”

Ethan stared down at her, then chuckled. “Aye, you’re right. And damn me, but I simply canna believe it. The stories are true, and my own kin has been livin’ a ride’s day away for centuries.”

“What stories?” Paige asked.

“Our clan had always heard of Gabriel Munro’s unfortunate demise, and that he’d gone to his grave thinkin’ the MacDonalds had been the ones to put him there. But we were bound to our land, as is he. Gabriel, being murdered at Gorloch, remained at Gorloch. And we were bound to our Munro lands.” He shook his dark head. “ ’Twasna so, lass. The stories, I mean.”

That stopped Paige in her tracks. “What?”

Ethan Munro stopped as well, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Aye, ’twas an unfortunate thing, his death. It was rumored his verra best mate told him the lies, knowin’ Gabriel would go after the MacDonalds on his own. Even filched a MacDonald clan pin to leave behind. Back then, it didna take much to start up a clan war.” He smiled down at her. “Or a war o’ your own.”

“What were the lies over?” she asked.

Ethan sighed. “The usual. A lass.”

“Oh.”

Ethan inclined his head, much in the same way Gabriel did, and looked at her. “So why are you here, on the Yule’s Eve, all alone? What made you leave Gorloch?”

Paige looked up, then lifted her heirloom from beneath her sweater. “Gabriel saw this while I was asleep.” She blushed. “He didn’t even give me time to explain.”

“Explain what, lass?” he said, studying the pin.

“That, well, I didn’t have anything to do with his death, even if I was from
that
clan o’ MacDonalds.” She said that last bit as Gabriel would have said it, and Ethan laughed.