A Christmas Spirit

by Cindy Miles

  She shuddered, met his gaze, then closed her eyes.

  Gabriel thought he could stare at her for several centuries looking just as she did at that moment.

  “Now,” he said sternly. “I want you to grasp the handrail and dunna let go,” he said.

  She did exactly as he asked, her eyes pinched tightly shut. A slight smile pulled at her mouth, and he had a powerful desire to stop just as they were and kiss her. Instead, he continued on.

  “Verra good, lass. Now slowly take the steps until I tell you to cease.”

  “Okay,” she said, excitement in her voice.

  Somehow, it pleased Gabriel to think mayhap he had put it there.

  When she reached about midway down, he stopped her. “Just there, Paige. Now,” he said, and once again drew close to her ear and whispered, “open your eyes.”

  With a deep breath, she did.

  “Oh,” she said in a voice so light, Gabriel barely heard it. “Wow . . .”

  Gabriel watched the glow in her blue eyes as she drank in the sight before her. Christ, how he hoped he’d done a fine job. ’Twas many a Yuletides past since he’d thoroughly enjoyed the holiday, but he remembered his fondest. And with that memory, he’d created a Yuletide for Paige.

  “I can’t stop staring at it all,” she said, her eyes sweeping the great hall. Finally, she looked up at him. “It’s like something straight out of a fairy tale, Gabriel.”

  He swallowed past the lump in his throat at his name on her tongue. “ ’Tis my gift to you,” he said. “An image, nothin’ more, but for you all the same.”

  Her gaze returned to the hall. “Can we go down?”

  “Whatever you wish,” he returned.

  Together they walked down the stairs.

  Paige could do little more than stare at the conjured scene before her. Joining the decorations Craigmire’s wife had put up were boughs and boughs of Scots pine, pine cones, and nuts weaved in long garlands and draped across every surface including the hearth and swagged over every doorway. A tall fir that looked exactly like the one she’d picked out in the wood earlier sat in the far corner of the great hall, and it, too, had small garlands of nuts and candles wrapped from tip to stump. A thick wrap of plaid, the same pattern and color as the one Gabriel wore, swaddled the base of the tree. What looked to be hand-blown glass ornaments hung here and there, as well as tiny silver bells. The glow of the candles gave the great hall an amber hue—a much different hue than the real candles. Amazing.

  “It’s the most beautiful Christmas I’ve ever seen,” she said softly, then looked at Gabriel. “How could you know?”

  Gabriel cocked his head. “Know what, lass?”

  She blinked, then smiled. “That this is a Christmas straight out of my dreams.” She glanced at the spot between her boots. “Although I have to confess, you’re a Christmas surprise that I hadn’t counted on at all.”

  Suddenly, he was so close, her body tingled with his energy. “Is it a surprise that you’re pleased about, Paige MacDonald?”

  Paige collected what little courage she possessed and looked up to meet Gabriel’s questioning gaze. “I’ve spent most of my adult life alone, never really belonging. I merely wanted to be around people this year, perhaps sort of feel like I belong in some strange way.” She shook her head. “Never, ever did I expect to feel this. Or you.” Without looking at him, Paige took the remaining steps and wandered amongst his conjured Christmas. His gift to her.

  She didn’t trust herself to look at him. What had she just confessed? He probably thought she was a lunatic. Not only had she accepted his ghostly existence, but she’d just basically admitted to being in—

  “Paige, stop,” Gabriel said, suddenly right behind her.

  She stopped, breathed, and stared at a flickering candle set within the enormous Christmas tree until her vision blurred.

  “How do you feel?” he asked quietly.

  She couldn’t bring herself to answer.

  “Look at me,” Gabriel said, his voice deep, the brogue heavy and sensual. “Please?”

  With butterflies in her stomach, Paige slowly lifted her gaze.

  The impact of what she saw in the depths of Gabriel’s eyes nearly rocked her backward.

  Taking a deep breath, Paige swallowed her fears and faced the enigmatic ghost of a Highlander warrior.

  Chapter Ten

  Gabriel felt badly for forcing Paige to tell her feelings. The girl stood there, staring straight back at him with more courage than she’d possessed a mere two days before, and he allowed it.

  Christ, how he wanted to know how she felt.

  Even if it meant making Paige MacDonald squirm for a moment or two.

  He certainly knew how he felt. How, in such a short time, had he come to know it? But he did. And he prayed mightily she felt the same.

  Paige MacDonald looked at her booted feet, drew a deep breath, then bravely stepped closer. She once more looked him square in the eye. No fear, Gabriel noticed now. Simple honesty.

  His heart melted a bit more.

  A slight smile tipped the corners of Paige’s mouth. “I don’t know if I’d be this bold, were you alive in the flesh,” she said. “I think you being a ghost gives me more strength and courage. I’m really shy around men I’m attracted to. Probably because I know they’re not usually attracted to me.”

  Gabriel said nothing. He wasna too happy to hear she’d been attracted to other men, but that couldna be helped, he supposed. A gaggle of idiots, those modern men, and all the better for himself, he thought. He held his breath—such as it was—and waited.

  She assessed him head to toe, and seemed to concentrate mightily on her words. Almost as if they surprised her, too. She shrugged. “I don’t know, but for the very first time in my life I feel wanted.” She tipped her head back, lifted her wee hand, and grazed the line of his jaw. “And thanks to a single, solitary look from you. I feel as though I’ve known you my whole life, Gabriel.” She laughed softly. “I feel comfortable around you; all of my senses are heightened. I feel alive.” She again shrugged. “And I also feel as though it was meant for me to book a self-driving tour of the Scottish Highlands in the dead of winter, and that it was meant for my car to die and for me to find my way here, to Gorloch.” She wrapped her arms around herself and blushed that appealing shade of red. “To find my way to you.”

  Gabriel’s heart pounded fast and hard in its ghostly cage. Every nerve ending that really didna exist hummed with pent-up emotions. He clenched his fists, since the alternative was to make a feeble and useless attempt to grab Paige up in his arms and devour her. He drew a deep breath, because he knew if he wanted any sort of physical bond with her, he’d have to go painfully slow. He didna wish to keep making a pitiful grab for her, only to fall through her.

  Slowly, he lifted his hand and traced the sweeping line of fair hair that hung beside Paige’s jaw. With the pad of his thumb he smoothed both darkened circles beneath her eyes. Then he traced her lush lips with his fingers.

  He’d never wanted to touch a woman so fiercely in all his existence, dead or alive.

  “I am a selfish man, Paige MacDonald, for it pleases me to know you’ve been alone all this time.” He placed a knuckle beneath her chin. “Look up at me.”

  She did.

  “I now understand why I died when I did, and why I’ve roamed Gorloch for all these centuries past.” He lowered his mouth to hers and brushed over them once. “I’ve been waiting for you, Paige. You were meant to be mine.”

  Paige’s insides shook with something. An overwhelming sense of joy? Fear? Uncertainty?

  Love?

  She didn’t know, and didn’t want to try to know. Not now. All she wanted to do now was to listen to Gabriel’s deep, accented voice wash over her with words she never dreamed she’d ever hear, from anyone.

  Especially from someone like Gabriel Munro.

  Her fingers itched to grab onto him, pull him to her, and never let him go.

  Even t
hough Paige couldn’t really experience the touch of his mouth on her skin, she felt it, inside. On the surface, nerve endings tingled, and she knew it was from Gabriel’s spirited energy. Yet in her imagination, she could easily picture and sense his strong lips grazing hers; his tongue brushing against her own; and his mouth moving in slow, erotic kisses over her jaw, her ear, and down her throat. Even his uneven breathing sounded real.

  It made her shiver.

  It made her groan . . .

  “Christ, Paige,” Gabriel said, in nearly a growl. “You’re drivin’ me daft, lass.” He pulled back and searched her eyes. “I’ve ne’er wanted so badly to have a woman as badly as I want you.” He shut his eyes, then looked at her. “We’ve got to figure out something else to occupy our time, lass,” he said, although the grin on his face looked strained. “I fear I shall lose control and make a daft fool o’ myself otherwise.”

  Paige shuddered at his words, and to be honest, she thought she just might self-combust and make a fool of her own self. She connected with Gabriel so deeply; it was almost as if he truly could touch her. She barely trusted her voice, so she cleared her throat and nodded. “Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she asked, “What do you suggest?”

  Gabriel’s green eyes turned dark, smoky. One brow lifted, and two dimples pitted his cheeks.

  Paige felt her skin grow hot.

  Gabriel laughed. “Right, lass. Do you feel up to a midwinter’s walk through the wood? I can only go as far as the Gorloch property line, but there’s another fine path that Craigmire’s wife takes. Afterward, we’ve got to get some food in that growling belly,” he said, pointing at her stomach. “Mayhap then we could watch a movie?”

  Paige stared in disbelief. “You watch movies?”

  Gabriel shrugged and grinned. “Aye, loads of them. Especially the American movies. Die Hard is one of my favorites. Craigmire has quite a collection of fine DVDs.”

  Paige looked at him, then burst out laughing.

  A sexy smile stretched across Gabriel’s even sexier face. “What’s so funny, lass?”

  Paige shook her head and glanced at the roaring fire in the hearth. “Only I would stumble across the man of my dreams, only to find he’s a spirit of nearly nine hundred years and he watches modern American movies.”

  “Is that what I am?” he asked quietly, then lowered his head to catch her gaze. “The man o’ your dreams?”

  Paige bravely met his stare. She’d not admit anything else. “Absolutely.”

  An indescribable expression—perhaps one of amazement— crossed Gabriel’s face, and then he smiled. It was stunning. “That is by far the verra best Yuletide wish come true, indeed. Come, then. Let’s get you bundled up for our midwinter’s walk before it gets too dark.”

  Minutes later, Paige was encased in the thick wool of Craigmire’s coat, two pairs of woolen socks, Craigmire’s Wellies, a scarf, and her thick knitted hat pulled over her ears.

  “Ready?” she said, taking the last of the steps down to the great hall.

  Gabriel smiled and shook his head. “You look like a wee fairy drowning in a sea o’ wool.” He drew close. “You look a mite more fetchin’ in that woolly than Craigmire does, I’ll warrant,” he said. “Too bad Mrs. Craigmire took her wee coat. ’Twould have fit you perfectly.”

  Paige glanced at him. He laughed.

  “To the wood?” he said.

  With a chuckle, Paige opened the door and stepped out into the frozen Highland air. “Always.”

  As they followed the same path they’d taken earlier to pick out a tree, they walked in comfortable silence. Paige’s boots crunching through the powdery snow broke the wintry quiet of Gorloch. It struck her how she made the only noise, and that in another time, Gabriel’s big booted feet would have joined hers in the crunching.

  Slowly and as covertly as possible, Paige slipped a glance at the tall Highlander walking next to her. Just as easily as if he were alive and well, he moved with a heavy sort of grace that she didn’t really expect. That long plaid wrapped about his shoulder, hips, and waist and connected by a brooch, and those worn boots that reached his knees—they all seemed as much a part of him as her jeans were of her. His arms and chest were bare and muscular, and his dark hair hung loose and wild below his shoulders. A fine dusting of like-colored dark hair dusted his forearms, and ropelike veins twisted up and around his hands and wrists, all the way up to his biceps and across each shoulder to his chest.

  Gabriel Munro was absolutely the most magnificent man she’d ever laid eyes on.

  And he was all hers. . . .

  She could hardly believe it.

  “Och, how I’d trade me tricks o’ conjurin’ for one o’ mind readin’,” Gabriel said, breaking into her thoughts. “I have a feelin’ I’d fancy what I found.”

  Paige gave a nervous laugh and stepped over a snow-l aden branch. “I’m very glad you can’t. I’d be way too embarrassed.”

  “Is that so?” he said, chuckling. “ ’Tis too intriguing to let go. Tell me. What were you thinking?”

  Paige looked first at her surroundings, and how the grayness of the winter’s day had seeped into the late afternoon. Everything was gray and white, with a splash of dark green from the Scots pines and brown from a pine cone or exposed branch.

  “You’re stalling.”

  Paige gave a light laugh. “You’re absolutely right, and I’ll keep my embarrassing thoughts to myself, thank you very much.”

  “Hmm,” he said as they entered a small clearing. “A lass with a verra strong will. ’Tis a fine quality I admire.” He leaned in close and brushed his mouth close to her ear. “ ’Tis a quality that stirs me.”

  Paige knew then she turned the absolute brightest red she’d ever turned.

  Gabriel confirmed it with a booming laugh that echoed through the snow-covered pine boughs.

  At the clearing, Gabriel pointed out a large rock for Paige to sit on. She did, and he leaned in close to her.

  “See you there,” he said, pointing toward a narrow stream. “Be verra quiet, so you dunna scare it off.”

  Paige stared through the gray mist and her eyes landed on a Highland stag. Magnificent, shaggy, and red, it stood with its head erect and ears forward, staring into the bramble, awaiting the least small sound. With its black cloven foot, it pawed at the ground then lowered its head to search for a buried blade of grass in the snow.

  “Beautiful,” Paige said as she breathed a sigh, intrigued by a wild buck nestled in the loveliest of winter settings.

  “Indeed,” Gabriel whispered, very close.

  Paige looked up into Gabriel’s eyes and smiled.

  Chapter Eleven

  After he’d insisted Paige make herself some supper, the wee girl had finally eaten a meal of soup from the pantry and a sandwich made of cheese and bread that she’d fried in butter on the stovetop. Gabriel had shown her Craigmire’s secret hiding place where the old man hid his chocolate-topped digestives from his wife, and Paige had eaten a handful of those, too.

  With the teapot full and plenty o’ sugar and cream, they were finally ready to settle down with a movie. Gabriel watched Paige now as she searched the bottom shelf o’ Craigmire’s massive selection on hands and knees, with her delectable little rump in the air.

  Gabriel felt as though he’d choke.

  “Oh! I’ve never watched this one before,” she said, and sat back on her heels and looked at him. “Have you?”

  Gabriel walked over and knelt down. He peered at the selection and grinned. “Och, aye.” He cocked his head. “You’ve never watched It’s a Wonderful Life before? ’Tis a tradition—so says Craigmire’s wife.”

  Paige rose, clutching the DVD case to her chest. “Yes, I know it is. But I’ve never had anyone to have a tradition with.” She smiled. “Can we watch it?”

  Her pleading blue eyes softened him more than he’d ever admit to another soul. Damn, how his kin would roar, had they been around to see how such a wee lass could turn him to porridge wi
th a simple look.

  “Paige MacDonald, I would endeavor to do anything you asked, as long as you continued to look at me with such longing in those beautiful eyes.” He smiled. “A tradition is just the first of many things I wish to start with you.”

  She stood there smiling at him for several seconds, then turned, removed the DVD from the case, and started the movie. Plopping down in the center of the sofa, she pulled her legs up to her chest and patted the spot beside her. “Come on. It’s about to start.”

  She could have verra well said “Don one of the gowns of Craigmire’s wife and dance on the battlements,” and he would have done so, gladly. Instead, he moved to the sofa, sat close to the woman who’d come to mean more to him in a few short days than anyone he’d ever known in his existence, and watched a modern film in which a lanky man named George Bailey learned a very valuable lesson: Be thankful for what you have.

  Gabriel knew just what the man felt. Indeed, he was thankful. He’d roam another handful of centuries if it meant finding Paige MacDonald. The wait had been well worth it. He’d never been happier in his life. Or “unlife.”

  By the end of the film, tears rolled down Paige’s cheeks. With the back of her hands, she wiped her eyes and looked up at Gabriel. “I loved it,” she said quietly.

  I love you was on the tip of Gabriel’s tongue. Christ almighty, it nearly burned him to keep the words inside that he wished to say so badly. But he feared he’d frighten her off with such an endearment. He had a bloody hard time believing he felt so strongly in such a small amount o’ time. But, damnation, he did. Didna he? Is it truly what he felt? Or was it merely blinding lust that drove him?

  He’d wait until he figured it out himself.

  “Another?” Paige said, grinning. “I haven’t just sat and watched movies all night in, well, I don’t think I ever have. If I did, I don’t remember it being this much fun.”

  Gabriel smiled, and so they did just that. They watched two movies in all, nearly four hours of movie madness. Paige MacDonald was definitely a lass after his own heart. Her verra first choices were some of his favorites. They watched the The Mummy followed by Raiders of the Lost Ark. Fine Yuletide films, he’d thought. He’d no been verra fond o’ how Paige’s eyes had lightened at the heroes, but he’d given a good, manly scowl, just to let her know of his displeasure.