Chapter Five
Paige lay awake for the longest time, staring at the canopy above her. She had blown out the candles except one on her bedside table and kept the flashlight nearby in case she woke up with her nose hurting. That wouldn’t happen if she couldn’t fall asleep in the first place . . .
Images of Gabriel flashed behind her lids, even when she did close them and try to drift off.
She still couldn’t believe it had all happened; was happening.
Her brain simply couldn’t accept it, and yet somehow she did.
Naturally. As if she were meant to come to Scotland, to rent a car that would break down within walking distance of Gorloch B&B, and become trapped by a fierce, out-of-the-norm snowstorm.
All so she could encounter the ghost of a warrior from centuries ago.
Who was she fooling? Not only had she encountered him, but she’d become acutely attracted to him in a very short period of time.
And it wasn’t just his shocking good looks, either.
It was everything. That never happened to her.
Ever. With a live man, or a not-so-a live one.
She just wasn’t the kind of girl who attracted guys.
She wasn’t unattractive—at least she didn’t think so.
She just wasn’t flashy, didn’t stand out in a crowd.
Blended right on in actually. She wore khakis and Smithsonian collared shirts to work, and during after-h our research projects at the museum, she wore jeans.
Just not a guy magnet, so to speak. She lacked that certain something that other girls had.
But she’d just made a pact with a ghost that they’d spend Christmas together, so that was something. And he’d called her beautiful . . .
How very real Gabriel looked. Even in the shadows of a candlelit castle, he looked more alive than spirit.
So tangible, in fact, she had to resist reaching a hand out to touch him.
A faint, vague line of aura shone around him at times, and only that reminded her he was actually a spirit.
Dead but not-so-gone for centuries and centuries upon end, he looked as though he strolled straight in from the movie set of Highlander or Braveheart—only better.
More authentic, perhaps. Or maybe it was because she knew Gabriel was for real and not an actor portraying a medieval hero.
No offense to Mel Gibson or Adrian Paul, of course.
But Gabriel? Good grief, he made her stomach do flip-flops anytime he came near.
She’d never seen hair so long on a live man before, and it hung loose, wild and beautiful, all at once.
The color of black ink, like his brows and lashes, it was a stark contrast to his fair skin and green eyes.
One could take all of that in if they got past his enormous size.
She figured, going by her height of five feet four inches, that Gabriel had to be at least a foot taller, maybe more.
Narrow hips supported by heavily muscled thighs, and thick veins crossed the tops of his hands, snaked up his bulky arms and over his chest. It amazed her how alive he looked, right down to the light dusting of dark shadow on his jaw, and the minute detailing of his intricate tattoos.
In her wildest dreams could she have invoked a sexier Christmas companion? She highly doubted it.
Pulling the thick down-filled coverlet up to her chin, Paige closed her eyes and allowed the darkness to swallow her, and the howling wind screaming through the cracks in the stone finally lulled her to sleep.
By the devil’s bloody horns, why wouldna the girl wake up? She must have been wearier than he’d thought. It had been nearly ten hours since he’d left her bedchamber.
Gabriel continued to pace the passageway in front of her door.
“Gabriel? Are you still out there?”
His heart jumped in its cage. Damnation, he felt like an inexperienced lad round the lass. He cleared his throat. “Aye. Are you ill?”
The door cracked open, and Paige’s head appeared. She grinned. “No, I feel fine. I’ll be out in just a bit.”
Gabriel stared, and sucked in a breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked hesitantly.
“You’ve a fine pair of blackened eyes, lass,” he said, and gave her a stern look. “Think you broke your nose?”
Paige shrugged. “I thought I might have. I’ll be right back.”
He gave a short nod. “Verra well. I shall await you here.”
With her cheeks flushing, she closed the door.
How adorable he thought her to be, with her skin turning hot at the least little thing. ’Twas something he found vastly endearing about Paige MacDonald.
Among other things.
Gabriel shook his head in amazement as he continued to stare at the ancient oak door.
Christ, the girl had broken her nose. Those two black eyes and slight swelling gave it away.
Yet she handled it without being squeamish.
Never before, in his real life or his ghost “unlife” had a woman so thoroughly captured his attention.
His mind hadna left Paige alone the entire night as he recalled every word, every movement the girl had said and made.
He’d been around mortals in the past, although he hadn’t interacted all too much with them.
Yet Paige MacDonald intrigued him, forced his lecherous mind to wander areas it hadn’t wandered in centuries.
The lass was beyond fetchin’, black eyes, bandaged nose and all.
He couldna understand for a second why she remained without a husband. Had he been a live man, or had she lived in his century, he wouldna have wasted a second grabbing her up and staking her for his own.
Foolish modern men.
Several more moments passed before the door opened. Paige stood before him, changed and refreshed looking.
“How did you bathe without power?” he asked.
She tucked her hair behind one ear. “There’s reserved water left in the tank. I used just the bare minimum.”
Dignity be damned, he allowed his gaze to wander, and thank the saints, she allowed it, although she turned a furious red.
Straw-colored hair swept sharply at her jaw, a bit longer in the front, and framed her pixielike face.
Two purple half-m oons sat beneath each eye, and the little white bandages stretched across the bridge of her nose.
The formfitting blue jumper set off those wide blue eyes, and a pair of worn jeans hugged luscious hips.
The sight made his mouth water.
A pair of scruffy brown leather boots completed her garb. He grinned at her.
“Most fetchin’ company I’ve had in centuries,” Gabriel said, and inclined toward the passageway. “Ready?”
She lifted a straw-colored brow. “For what?”
Just then, her stomach growled. Gabriel grinned.
“Apparently,” he said, “another trip to the larder.”
Pressing a hand to her belly, Paige chuckled. “Sorry. Bottomless pit.”
“Then let us go fill it, aye?”
Together they walked the passageway to the stairs and across the great hall.
“It’s still storming out,” Paige said quietly. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Gabriel glanced down at the lass. “As am I,” he answered, although he felt helpless as a babe and hadn’t done much o’ anything at all.
For the next half hour, he watched Paige consume quite a healthy amount of food for such a wee girl.
’Twas impressive, to be sure. Once she finished her meal of another sandwich, an apple, and several digestives from one of Craigmire’s canisters, she cleaned up and grinned.
“Better. Now what?” With straight white teeth, she worried her lip.
The movement fascinated Gabriel. He couldna take his bloody eyes from the girl’s mouth.
Somehow, he reined in his wandering thoughts. “Now that it’s a bit lighter, would you care for a castle tour?” He gave her a grin. “You may not encounter the like given by the verra one present when the castle was constructed.”
A spark jumped in the blue depths of Paige’s eyes. “I would love that.”
They stood close, and Gabriel resisted the urge to give her his proffered arm or stroke her soft-l ooking cheek with his knuckle.
Or, God help him, kiss her senseless.
Instead, he clenched his fist and smiled. “Then follow me.”