A Christmas Spirit

by Cindy Miles

  When they’d explored nearly the entire keep, Gabriel headed to the one special place—indoors, that is—he thought Paige would love best.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  Gabriel glanced down at her and wagged his brows. “The east tower.”

  Paige’s face turned white and she slowed her steps. “I don’t think I want to go to the place you died,” she said quietly.

  Gabriel looked at her and shook his head. “Nay, lass. That happened in the west tower.” He bent his head forward. “It would bother you so much to see it?” He himself never ventured there anymore. ’Twas full of bad memories, or worse—no memories at all.

  Paige pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and nodded. She looked up at him and held his gaze for a handful of seconds, those purple-m ooned eyes boring into his. “Yes, it would bother me a lot.”

  A lump formed in Gabriel’s throat and he swallowed past it. “I canna recall anyone being bothered by it in quite some time, lass,” he said.

  They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the hidden steps leading upward. Gabriel gave a curt nod toward the single, narrow door. “In you go,” he instructed.

  Paige lifted one brow, then opened the door. It creaked and groaned on old hinges, and she peered into the blackened stair-well. “Gosh, it’s dark in there.” She turned around. “Spiders?”

  Gabriel grinned. “Mayhap. Craigmire doesna go up here much anymore. Bad knees.” He inclined his head. “Grasp the rope there as you climb, and hold on tightly.” Christ, if the girl fell he’d in no way be able to stop her.

  She did as he asked, and began the ascent. “It’s so dark in here,” she whispered.

  “I’ll move ahead of you.” Gabriel did, and remained as close as he could without Paige passing through him. “Better?” he asked, and glanced down at her.

  “Much,” she said, and Gabriel could easily see her blush.

  At the top, he inclined his head. “Open this door and I’ll meet you on the other side.” With that, he sifted through the aged wood and waited.

  Paige felt her mouth slide open as she watched the sexy ghost disappear right through the door. Three days ago, she wouldn’t have ever entertained the thought of anything like sexy medieval spirits existing.

  Now? The man consumed her every thought.

  She’d never admit it.

  “Paige MacDonald?” Gabriel called from the other side. “I’m waiting.”

  Smiling to herself, Paige drew a deep breath, opened the door and peeked inside.

  A gasp escaped her. She couldn’t help it. The room’s beauty stunned her.

  The beauty of the man perched on the sill in front of eight adjoining picture windows stunned her even more.

  A corner tower, the windows started at hip height and rose ten feet. Eight panels in all, there was an unobstructed view of the land surrounding Gorloch. Although still gray and furiously storming outside, the brightness of the sheets of snow illuminated the chamber in a strange, surreal sort of light. The sills were wide planks of polished wood—wide enough for a person’s backside to sit and stare outside. A cavernous fireplace stood at the far end of the tower room, and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books stood at the other. And before the windows was a long, plush sectional sofa made of dark, buttery-soft leather. Several pillows in various dark colors were thrown casually atop the cushions.

  And her warrior sat staring. Smiling.

  Her warrior?

  A smile pulled at her mouth, just looking at Gabriel. He looked pleased with himself, as though he’d just given her the most precious of gifts. She knew she didn’t have a poker face. Her appreciation probably stretched from one corner of her mouth to the other.

  “I take it you like the view?”

  Paige stared. His legs were spread in a totally guy fashion, big-booted feet braced against the floor as Gabriel sat on the sill. His rugged red-a nd-black plaid—he pronounced it played—draped easily over his chiseled frame, and long dark hair hung over each broad, bare shoulder. His arms were crossed over his muscled chest, and those intriguing tattoos encircling both rocky biceps caught her eye, as well as the laced leather cuffs at each wrist. The hilt of his enormous sword poked up from behind him, where he kept it sheathed in a long, laced leather scabbard.

  When her eyes finally rested on his face, her insides did a flip. Those intense green eyes, framed by the longest, blackest lashes she’d ever seen on a man, held tightly on to hers. A dusting of dark stubble grazed Gabriel’s cut jaw, and the most luscious lips she’d ever noticed on a man pulled up at both corners, making the dimples in his cheeks pit deeply.

  All in all, the man seriously did it for her.

  “Paige? The view?” he said, his voice low and deep.

  Slowly, and with more courage than she ever thought to muster up before, Paige walked closer. Her eyes didn’t leave Gabriel’s once. “Breathtaking.”

  “Aye,” he answered, a distinct twinkle in his eye. His gaze traveled slowly to her feet, then even slower back to her gaze. “I have to agree wholeheartedly wi’ you, Paige MacDonald.”

  Paige stopped before him, smiled, then looked away, the heat of embarrassment making her courage quickly disappear.

  Gabriel chuckled lightly, then cleared his throat. He pointed out the large window they sat before. “If you peer hard enough through all that blasted snow, you’ll find the pond. ’Tis frozen through and through by now. And just there”—he pointed farther to the right—“is a woodland path that Craigmire’s wife takes on her mornin’ walks.” He smiled. “Like a sprite, she is, fast movin’ and full of life for such an old gel.” He grinned down at Paige. “The kirk ruins are along the path. ’Tis quite somethin’ in the summer when the wildflowers and greenery grow lush all through it.”

  Though the landscape was covered in white, the tall Scots pines rose tall and mighty over the drifts and rock. She could vaguely see the outline of the pond. “It’s all so beautiful,” she said in a whisper, more for herself than for Gabriel. She looked at him and smiled.

  “Indeed it is,” he answered in that deep, soft brogue. His eyes searched hers. “I’ve got to know more about you, Paige MacDonald. Whilst you slept I thought of nothing else.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and then she gave another nervous smile.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, and drew closer.

  “I think I could listen to you talk all day,” she confessed.

  His grin widened. “You fancy my speech, aye?”

  Paige nodded and shifted on the sill. “I like the way your about sounds like aboot, and the way your R’s roll. It’s a beautiful accent.”

  He gave a light chuckle. “Then I shall endeavor to speak until you fall asleep this eve.” He gave a mock-stern look. “But only after you’ve answered several of my questions. Agreed?”

  Paige smiled and gave a nod. “All right.”

  Inclining his head, Gabriel rose. “To the sofa then?”

  “Aye, to the sofa.”

  Gabriel’s booming laugh echoed through the tower room.

  They settled onto the sofa, with just enough space apart that Gabriel’s thigh and hers didn’t touch. They faced the mammoth panels of windows, and Paige rested her head back against the plush leather cushion. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Without missing a beat, Gabriel began. “Why have you no man, Paige?”

  She turned her head and looked; she saw the sincere question in his ghostly green eyes. Her face and neck immediately heated up, and inside, she cringed. “It hasn’t been my choice, you know,” she said softly. “I guess I’m just not one of those types of girls.”

  “What type?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “The ones guys radar in on. Flirtatious, sexy, easily approachable. I’m not any of those things. I don’t drink, and I don’t like to hang out at the bars. I’m a little shy, so maybe that comes off as uninterested. I don’t know, it feels too fake, I guess. I tried flirting onc
e, and to my humiliation, I failed miserably. And I blush so easily, it’s a little embarrassing.” She stared at her nails. “Maybe I give off a ‘leave me alone’ air. I’m not really sure. If I do, I don’t mean to. I’m always so busy with work or with projects at the museum—”

  “Look at me, Paige.”

  Slowly, she looked up and met his gaze. “I talk a lot when I’m nervous or upset.”

  A slow smile lifted his sensual mouth, and he cocked his head, studying her so intensely, it made her squirm.

  “What?” she finally asked, wondering what he was thinking.

  “You really dunna see it, do you?” he asked. Complete and utter amazement tinged the question.

  “See what?” she said.

  He studied her for several more seconds, before locking his gaze onto hers. “Just how beautiful you truly are.”

  There went the heat flash again, crawling up her neck and spreading across her cheeks. She looked away. “You don’t have to say stuff like that, Gabriel. I’m completely fine with the way I am. Just plain ole Paige MacDonald. Now with a broken nose and a pair of black eyes.”

  A deep, soft chuckle sounded from Gabriel, and Paige glanced at him. “What’s so funny?”

  Gabriel scrubbed his jaw, scratched the back of his neck, and looked at her. “Do you know what I’ve wanted to do for the past fifteen hours or so?”

  Butterflies began anew in Paige’s stomach, and she swallowed. “Strangle me for putting you in a bad predicament?”

  “Nay,” he said quietly, and leaned closer. “I’ve wanted badly to kiss you, Paige MacDonald. Just to see if those lips tasted as good as they looked.”

  God, she’d wanted the very same thing.

  Slowly, the corners of Gabriel’s mouth lifted.

  Paige swallowed again. Hard. “Did I just say that out loud?” How on earth could a ghost kiss a live being? How could she say something out loud and not mean to?

  Gabriel leaned closer still. “I’m going to kiss you now, the only way I can,” he said, and lowered his head. “Hold verra still.”

  With her heart thumping, she did.

  Chapter Seven

  Paige froze, her heart hammering with anticipation, unsure what to expect. Gabriel’s green eyes darkened as he drew painfully close, and his gaze never strayed. They stayed locked onto hers. Intense. Sincere. Determined.

  Unbelievable. And unbelievably sexy.

  Then he lowered his head and settled his mouth over hers. A strange, pleasurable sensation tingled the sensitive skin, turning her lips warm, and making her heart race.

  Lifting his hand, Gabriel traced the outline of her jaw with his knuckles, and more sensations erupted. She’d never felt so alive, so wanted.

  All from a ghostly kiss, without any real contact.

  “Part your lips,” he commanded gently, in almost a whisper.

  Paige did, and Gabriel turned his attention to first her top lip, where he kissed briefly, then to her lower lip. With a sensual taste of his tongue, he lingered there, the tingling sensation overwhelming her senses. His fingers traced her throat, and Paige’s heart pounded out of control. Her hands grasped the throw pillow and clenched it tightly in her fists. And just when she thought her ragged breathing would cause her to pass out, Gabriel slowly pulled back.

  Paige noticed his breathing came hard and fast, too. She’d never wanted to touch something—someone—as badly as she wanted to touch Gabriel. It almost hurt not to. She knew what would happen if she did.

  Together, they stared, face-to-f ace, and simply breathed. Well, it looked like Gabriel breathed, anyway . . .

  “Christ, woman,” he finally said, his voice deep, his brogue heavy, and his eyes searching her face as if he’d found something long lost. “Christ.” He lifted a finger and traced each of her blacked eyes.

  Paige felt the heat rise from her neck.

  Gabriel glanced away, rose from his seat, and walked to the windows.

  Paige stared after him. Fear grabbed her insides, and she glanced around the chamber, unsure what she’d done wrong. She was scared to ask. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. She stared at her hands, still gripping the pillow as if her life depended on it. Finally, she stood. “I, um, do you want me to leave?” She barely even heard the words herself and she’d been the one to say them.

  Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, shook his head, then turned to face her. In two strides he stood before her, towered over her, and somehow crowded the cavernous chamber with his enigmatic ghostly presence. A somber expression filled his eyes, and with one knuckle, he traced Paige’s jaw. It left her skin tingling. “Just the opposite, lass,” he said, nearly in a whisper. “I never want you to leave.” He smiled, and Paige could tell it was forced. “But I willna waste what paltry amount of time I have with you cryin’ over time we dunna have. What else shall we endeavor to do this day? The dungeon, mayhap?” He tapped the tip of her nose. “Now there’s an adventure you’ll no’ want to miss—”

  “Can you do that again?” Paige asked, barely above a whisper. She looked up at him, certain her face was as red as a beet. She swallowed all humility. “Please?”

  Gabriel blinked. He stared at her, studied every inch of her face with the most intense expression. Then, he smiled. “Move to the windows and sit down.”

  “Why?” she asked, barely breathing.

  His intense stare nearly made her legs lock. “I fear your legs willna be able to steady you well enough.”

  Paige gulped and backed toward the window. “Oh.”

  Gabriel followed. Smiling.

  When the backs of her knees touched the window seat, Paige slowly lowered her bottom until she felt the cool, solid wood beneath her. Her hands gripped the lip of the seat on either side of her thighs, and she watched Gabriel closely.

  “Lean back,” he said, his voice deep, heavily brogued, and commanding.

  She did, and the icy glass seeped through her sweater.

  Slowly, and without breaking his gaze, Gabriel placed a hand on each side of her head and braced himself. He drew close, the depths of his green eyes turning dark.

  Paige’s heart nearly stopped.

  Then, his mouth moved over hers, and the tingling sensation started anew. Wherever Gabriel’s lips touched, her skin numbly burned, and it made her insides flame. She gripped the wooden seat so tightly, her fingers ached, and without a command, she parted her lips.

  A low growl emanated from somewhere deep within Gabriel, and Paige felt his urgency in the air around them. It all but snapped with electricity, and it heightened her already sensitive senses. His kiss became more intense, and he crossed over her solid plane as his fervor grew. Finally, he pulled back, staring hard at her. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, his lips close to her ear.

  “I’m sorry, lass,” he said, barely above a whisper. His chest rose and fell as if he actually could breathe. “I didna mean to lose control.”

  Paige’s own breath came fast, as well, and her heart thumped hard beneath her ribs. Slowly, she lifted a hand to rest against the line of his jaw. Low in her stomach, her insides burned with need. “Pretend you can actually feel my hand on your face, Gabriel,” she said softly. “And pretend I’m forcing you to look at me.”

  He did, and looked at her.

  “Again,” she whispered.

  Gabriel’s heart softened at her timid command. At the same time, his need for the virtual stranger with the blackened eyes and bandaged nose nearly consumed him. As he studied her, he knew then it wasn’t her physical beauty that disturbed him so much, that made him want her more than any woman he’d ever known, or that had made him crave a woman’s intimate touch with all his ghostly might.

  ’Twas her soul. He could see it as clearly as he could the purple moons beneath her wide blue eyes.

  With a deep breath, he lowered his mouth to hers. Reining in the primitive passion he felt for her, he kissed her slowly, thoroughly, and he could tell by the way her head fell back, her lips parted,
and the sigh on her breath, that she felt the verra same way.

  At least, he hoped.

  When he tried to pull away, she followed, not allowing it, and with a deep chuckle at her enthusiasm, he continued right on kissing her the best way he knew how.

  She seemed to fancy it. A lot.

  Finally, Paige lifted her hand to his jaw and pulled back. She stared, eyes glassy with need. “That’s got to top all kisses in the history of kisses,” she said softly.

  Gabriel chuckled. “Is that so? And when have you last been kissed by a ghosty, lass?”

  Paige shook her head. “No, I mean in the history of all kisses. If you can do that as a spirit, I can’t imagine what you’d do,” she searched for words, “in another, well—”

  “If I were a live man?” he finished.

  Slowly, she nodded and looked down in her lap. Her hands, now together, grasped one another tightly.

  Gabriel cocked his head. “Look at me.”

  Paige raised her head and did.

  “I cannot change what I am, lass,” he said. “I dunna know exactly what I feel, so let’s just say I am verra grateful that yon car out there stranded you here. I’ve no’ felt this way in centuries.” Ever, truth be told, but he kept that to himself. He gave a smile. “Besides, ’tis good that I’m in such a paltry form, lest you be bested of every stitch of clothing and thrown atop yon sofa for me takin’, propriety be damned. Aye?”

  The shade of red Paige MacDonald turned made the purple moons beneath her eyes seem pitch black. She returned the smile. “You are a very big flirt, Gabriel Munro.”

  He grinned. She had no idea just how serious he truly was. He decided best now no’ to let her know. “Guilty as charged, Ms. MacDonald. So right. Are you ready for a trip to the dungeon after all?”

  Paige nodded, and Gabriel stepped back. She stood and shoved her hands into her pockets.

  He thought she looked rather sexy standing there, passion set deep in her purple-r immed eyes and bandaged nose, her white teeth worrying her luscious lips.