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 be
auty 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.
Chapter Three
Gabriel walked beside the girl in silence. Her steps seemed painful as she trudged toward the hall. No doubt she was scared witless. Mayhap he would be, too, were he her.
’Twas only when they reached the hall doors that Gabriel realized the lights had extinguished once again. Paige surprised him by hastening through the entrance and out of the cold. He quickly followed. Without question, she shut the door behind her. Her teeth clacked together so loudly, he thought they might crack.
“I’ll show you where to find candles, but first, reach to your right and find the handle to the cloak closet.” When she did, he nodded, although she couldna see. “Well done. Now reach inside and grab one of the wool coats hanging there. You’re drenched to the bone from all that snow.” Again, she did as he asked and wrapped Craigmire’s woolly about her. It nearly swallowed her whole. “Good,” he said, walking ahead of her. “Let’s get a light so I can have a look at your nose. The snow has probably kept it from bleeding as badly as it should have.” Not that he could do a bloody thing about it himself, but damnation. She needn’t ignore it.
“Okay,” she said, her voice quiet, unsure, slightly quavering. “I can’t see anything.”
He drew closer. “But I can, so go where I say, aye?” he commanded.
“All right.”
“Good lass. Now walk slowly, straight ahead. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
She did, and they started together across the great hall. At the far end, Gabriel directed her. “Now stop and reach your hand out until you feel the wall.”
With her free hand, she did that, too, and her slender fingers grazed the stone.
“Now turn your body left and feel your way along the wall. You’ll find the archway to the larder in just a few yards,” he said.
Paige started to move, and before long they were at the archway. “You can ease into the larder by turning right,” he said as softly as he could.
Once in the larder, she stood still, awaiting his next command. He gave it. “Move your feet slowly forward until you find the counter with your hand,” he said. She started to move, and he continued. “The second drawer down you’ll find a torch.”
In seconds, the girl had the flashlight in her hands. She turned it on and pointed the narrow beam at the floor.
“Lift it to your face.”
She did, squinting, and he noticed a small starlike gash, just at the bridge of her wee nose. “How do you feel?”
She shrugged. “It throbs, but not too bad.”
“Hmm,” he said. “The bleeding has nearly ceased but you should still tend to it. You gashed it pretty fair on that root. You’ll need more light than the puny torch you have clenched in your hand will allow. Follow me.” He walked to the pantry, and she indeed followed. “Gather candles from there,” he pointed to the pantry door.
Without a word, she did as he asked. Within moments she had a dozen or more candles, a lighter, and glass holders out and on the table. Gabriel could sense her apprehension. Her heartbeat reverberated like horses’ hooves.
“I’ll show you the best places to set the candles out,” he said. “I, err, regret that I cannot do the task myself, lass.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “Thank you, Mr. Munro.”
“Gabriel.”
She didn’t answer.
Several moments later, and Paige MacDonald had the candles lit and placed in the great hall, corridor, and a few in her bedchamber. She stood there in the center of the room looking rather uncomfortable.
He didna blame her a bit.
“Now I want you to go see to that gash. Beneath the counter you’ll find a first aid kit,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “I’ll await you here.”
Lightly touching a fingertip to her nose, she winced. “Then what?”
Gabriel gave her a slow grin. “Then we shall see about curbing your growling belly’s appetite, aye?”
She nodded.
Even in the shadows of candlelight, Gabriel could see Paige MacDonald’s cheeks flush.
She turned to go tend to her wound, then stopped. She kept her back to him. “Are you real? Or am I dreaming all of this?”
“I am just as real as you, lass,” Gabriel answered.
That seemed to be enough for Paige. She gave a single nod, then continued on. Gabriel sighed and waited.
Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror. With only a candle for light, it was difficult to tell how deep the cut was, but she’d bet her right hand she needed a couple of stitches. She’d hit that root hard, nose-fi rst. It had bled, but she bet the ghost was right that the snow had stalled the bleeding. It throbbed and stung, and was even beginning to swell a bit on either side of her nose. Finding the first aid kit, she cleaned it up, pressed several thin paper stitches over the gash, and sighed. Her nose injury seemed trivial, compared to other things.
Her host for the night had already died.
How could that be? Even if she’d ever toyed with the idea of ghosts existing, she certainly hadn’t thought they’d be heart stoppingly gorgeous or would wear medieval warrior clothes, carry a sword, and know where the first aid kit was.
It made her head hurt even more.
He waited for her at the door . . .
Again, her stomach growled, so she took a final look in the mirror, tucked her hair behind her ears, wondered if she’d get a pair of black eyes, changed into some dry clothes, and set off. As soon as she stepped into view, Gabriel’s eyes were on her.
How could a ghost look so real?
In his kilt and sword, he was even more striking than before. Long, dark hair hung unruly past his shoulders and a thin braid draped from each temple. Strong, cut jaw, straight nose, and those ghostly green eyes rimmed with coal black lashes made his features seem all too real. Built? God Almighty, he was built, with strong, bulging biceps that had a band of intricate symbols tattooed around each one. His chest wide and muscular, he was bare except the red-a nd-black plaid he had draped over his broad shoulders and body. She wondered if there was one button, snap, or pin that could be released. Would the whole thing drop to the floor? Powerful legs crossed at the ankles, and brown, worn boots covered his feet.
That long, sharp sword sat nestled in its scabbard over his back.
“Uh - h e m.”
Snatched from her perusing zone, Paige blinked and focused on Gabriel, whose grin looked more like that of a wolf than a man. Ghost. Man ghost.
She felt her face grow hot.
“Come, lass,” he said with a knowing grin.
She then noticed he had deep dimples in each cheek. He studied her bandaging closely, but said nothing about it.
“Follow me.”
&
nbsp; Still blushing, Paige followed Gabriel Munro to the kitchen.
“You’re no’ scared anymore?” he asked as they crossed the great hall.
She gave a light laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far.” She glanced at him in the dim candlelight. “It’s all very weird.”
His chuckle echoed in the cavernous room. “Aye, I imagine ’tis so.”
As they made their way to the kitchen, Paige noticed the scant Christmas decorations here and there, and the scent of pine filled the hall. How’d he manage that? “The pine boughs and decorations are nice,” she said.
“Craigmire’s doin’s,” he grumbled. “A waste of time, methinks. Here,” he said, inclining his head toward the kitchen archway. “Help yourself to whatever you can find.”
“Thanks.” She felt slightly embarrassed, digging in a stranger’s fridge and pantry. But she quickly found lunch meat and bread, so she made a sandwich, found a soda in the door of the refrigerator, and sat down to eat at the long, thick wooden table at the back of the kitchen.
Gabriel sat across from her.
He made her more than a bit nervous.
“Shall I leave you?” he asked.
Paige looked up from her sandwich and met his gaze. The last thing she possessed was a poker face; he could probably see the hesitancy all over her expression. Who wouldn’t be hesitant? She was shacked up for the night with a dead guy. She shook her head and felt another wave of blush creep up her neck. “No. Please stay.”
He nodded and continued to watch her eat.
After a moment of silence, Paige cleared her throat. “How long do you think the lights will be out?”
Gabriel shrugged, the muscles in his neck flinching. “We’ve no’ had a storm like this in quite some time. I’d warrant a while. February is the usual heavy-snow month. Even if your car was running, there’s no way you’d get through the deep drifts and ice. I fear you’re stuck at Gorloch for a while.”
Stuck? Well it wasn’t like she had anyone waiting for her, despite what she’d said earlier. Sure, she had reservations in Inverness, but no one was awaiting her arrival. Paige swallowed a sip of soda, wiped her mouth, and studied him. She opened her mouth to ask him something, then shut it. She wanted to know more about him, but she didn’t know what to ask.
A Highlander Christmas Page 19
