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 with 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.
It had garnered him a tinkling laugh from Paige.
How, though, had a modern girl no’ watched those films, yet he, a twelfth-century warrior, had?
’Twas mind-boggling.
And he was passin’ glad he’d watched them with her first.
But truth be told, he’d had enough movies for one eve.
He wanted nothin’ more than to have Paige MacDonald all to himself.
So they wandered up to the west tower, to sit before the long windows and stare out into the winter’s night.
She’d stopped by her room first and had changed into what she’d referred to as jam- mies, which consisted of baggy red trousers and an even baggier black jumper that buttoned up the front.
Both pieces appeared powerfully soft. The one thing Gabriel found himself thanking the saints for was that the top button seemed to have fallen off, leaving a good amount of Paige’s throat exposed.
He’d decided right then to keep his lecherous thoughts to himself. For now, anyway . . .
Paige sat on the window seat, knees pulled to her chest, and a warm wool wrap around her shoulders.
They’d turned out the lights, and she’d lit only a few candles.
They threw the room into a lovely amber glow, much like Gabriel’s conjured candles.
She’d built a small fire in the hearth, just enough to keep her warm.
And the sweetest, sexiest man God ever created—i n any century—sat directly across from her. Staring. At her.
It made her insides jump with excitement.
Her face growing warm at the thought, she turned her head and glanced out at the midwinter’s night.
“ ’Tis a wondrously clear sky, aye?” Gabriel said.
Paige nodded and continued to stare. “It is.” A blanket of white covered the lands of Gorloch. A light dusting of snow drifted down in tiny flakes from the sky. “The moon makes everything look a little blue,” she said absently. “It truly is like a dreamy winter wonderland.”
“Aye, ’tis a grand Highland Yuletide moon indeed.”
After a moment of silence, Paige looked up. Gabriel’s gaze penetrated her, and she smiled and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Are you staring at my raccoon eyes?”
He pulled close and peered even closer. “Aye, and they’re turning all sorts of lovely shades.” His brows furrowed. “Are you sure you’re well?”
Paige gave a light laugh. “Yes, I’m positive. It only hurts when I touch it.”
“Well,” he said, standing and moving before her. “Dunna touch it.”
Paige smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Without a word, and without breaking his gaze, Gabriel moved from his seat to hers. Bracing his hands on either side of her on the sill, he bent at the waist and lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear. “I’m verra sorry, lass,” he whispered, “but I canna seem to keep my mouth off o’ you.”
Paige’s eyes drifted shut at the erotic Highland whisper. “Oh,” she said, her voice cracking, as his lips moved to her jaw, “that’s okay.”
With a soft, deep chuckle, Gabriel continued to make her shiver with kisses along her throat and her chin, and then he settled his mouth over hers. “Open,” he said.
Paige slowly parted her lips, and Gabriel’s moved erotically over hers, easing his tongue against each corner of her mouth, and then tasting her lips as if he truly could feel them. Her skin tingled and warmed, and she squirmed in the window seat as a pleasurable fire burned in her stomach.
His mouth moved back to her ear. “I want to see more o’ you,” he whispered, his voice deep, accented. Then his head pulled back, just a fraction, and his eyes met hers.
Paige’s heart raced as she lifted her fingers first to her clan pin necklace, which she slipped off and over her head.
She set it on the cushion beside her. Then, to the buttons on her night shirt, but she kept her gaze riveted on Gabriel’s.
Slowly, she released each one until the silky black top fell open.
She didn’t care that she’d blushed a furious shade of red.
All she wanted was Gabriel’s eyes and ghostly lips against her skin.
When she leaned back against the window seat cushion, the slinky material slid ever so slowly over her breasts, and she simply stared, and breathed.
Gabriel’s mouth lowered to hers, and he let one strong hand slowly drag over her jaw, down the column of her throat, and over her collarbone.
Easing to the floor on his knees, his hand shook as he traced the swell of her breast with one finger, and her skin burned with need.
He drew back and stared, his eyes dark with passion, and his mouth followed the path of his finger, slowly and erotically.
Paige gasped a slight sigh, her breath coming fast. “Gabriel,” she whispered.
His sensual lips, barely there but causing enough current to make her skin tingle, moved back up her throat and to her lips. He kissed her slowly there and long.
“Christ, woman,” he said hoarsely in her ear. “Christ, you’re so beautiful.”
Together they sat for several moments, neither saying a word, simply breathing. Paige’s hands moved to her shirt and buttoned the front. She looked at Gabriel.
“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?”