Chapter Thirteen
Paige’s heart beat faster and faster with each passing second. From the moment she’d met Ethan and his kin, and on the drive back to Gorloch, she’d wanted to weep. She held it in, though.
She was scared.
Scared that, no matter how very differently the tale went, Gabriel would still begrudge her for not telling him she was of those MacDonalds from the very beginning.
Ethan had insisted that he knew the heart of his kin better than any, and that Gabriel would indeed appreciate them bringing her back to Gorloch.
She knocked.
And immediately, the handsome, green-eyed warrior came through the wood and stood by her side. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as though he struggled to breathe.
She knew the feeling.
“Paige,” he said, searching her face. “Christ, Paige, I’m verra sorry. I dunna know what to say.”
Paige stared up into his pleading face.
She loved the way his sorry sounded like soddy in that deep, ancient Highland accent.
“I should have told you from the start that I suspected my clan was the clan.” She looked down at the spot between her boots, and Gabriel’s ghostly ones that looked nearly as substantial as her own. “I didn’t want you to send me away.”
Several moments of silence stretched between them, and with each breath Paige could see the frost puff out before her lips. The wind had stopped, as had the sprinkle of snow. Everything was white and bright, the air clean and fresh.
“Look at me, Paige MacDonald.”
With tears burning in her eyes, she slowly raised her head and met Gabriel’s gaze.
“I regret more than anythin’, askin’ you to leave.
Even if your clan had been responsible for my demise, ’twasna you, and I’m verra sorry.
” He ducked his head closer and whispered, “I wish nothin’ more than for you to stay.
’Tis the Yuletide Eve, dunna forget.” His eyes sought hers.
“I’m beggin’ you to stay here with me. Please? ”
Paige’s heart thumped heavily with joy. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
He stepped closer and braced himself with one arm on the stone wall behind her head. His eyes scanned her face. “I want to kiss you powerfully bad, lass. Can I?”
Paige didn’t trust her voice. She nodded.
A slow smile lifted the corners of Gabriel’s mouth, and the dimples returned in both cheeks as he lowered his head.
Paige sighed as his lips brushed over hers, then again, and then lingered while he explored her mouth the only way he could.
Everywhere he touched her left a delicious searing in its path.
She never wanted him to stop.
But after a few moments, he did. Slowly, he moved his lips close to her ear. “I am verra glad you’re here,” he whispered. “The emptiness is once more gone.” He pulled back and looked at her. “Come. Let us begin enjoying our Yule, aye?”
Paige smiled and nodded. She wanted so badly to throw her arms around his neck, press her mouth to his, and feel the pressure of his strength as he squeezed her into a warm, enveloping hug. Instead, she lifted a hand and grazed the line of his jaw and smiled.
She couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
And somehow, Gabriel seemed to sense that.
His smile widened, as if he knew she was happier now than she’d ever been, and that he was responsible for it.
Together they walked through Gorloch’s front entrance and up to the room she’d leased.
Setting her things on the floor in a corner, Paige turned and glanced at Gabriel.
“Can you ice-skate?” he asked.
She smiled. “I haven’t since I was a kid.”
Gabriel inclined his dark head. “Then come. Your wee feet look as though they’d fit right into a pair belonging to Craigmire’s wife. They’re in the mudroom, behind the larder.”
Paige grinned. “And how will I skate through days of snowfall?”
“Och, a smart lassy you are. The family from the next estate just had it scraped for their wee ones to use on the Yuletide, so we’d best use it now whilst we’re still alone.”
“Clever,” she said. “And what will you wear?”
As they hurried down the passageway, Gabriel chuckled. “I dunna need blades, Paige MacDonald. I can float.” He wiggled his brows. “Ghost, remember?”
How could she ever forget?
The funny thing was, she couldn’t care less.
“Okay. No laughing,” Paige said, a mock frown stretching over her pixielike features. “I mean it.”
Gabriel stared down at the lass who’d come to mean more than life itself, and in such a short amount o’ time.
’Twas miraculous at best.
He couldna take his eyes off her . . .
Wearing Craigmire’s bulky wool coat, Paige had Mrs. Craigmire’s ice skates laced up, a pair o’ those fetchin’ jeans that hugged her in the most intimate of ways, and that crazy multicolored hat pulled down over her wee ears. Above two black-a nd-purple moons, blue eyes shown brightly back at him.
He thought she’d never looked so endearing.
“Well?” she repeated, and pushed off the bench she’d sat upon to lace up the skates. “Deal?”
Gabriel grinned and stroked his jaw. “Nay, lass. I canna make such an agreement.” He shrugged. “I suspect ’twill be too much to laugh at. I willna be able to help myself.”
Paige scowled, and Gabriel chuckled. Then she eased from the bench and stepped onto the small, freshly scraped frozen pond, just behind the castle’s west wall. Large drifts of snow sat pushed up on the edges.
With arms out like a bird, she glanced at him. “I hope I don’t break anything else.”
Gabriel moved out onto the ice with her, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “Take it slow, lass. Mayhap with your wings spread as such, you willna fall.”
Together they moved in a slow circle round the pond, and after two passes, Paige stood upright and elegant, gliding just as smoothly as a ghosty herself.
A slight billow of white puffed out before her lips with each breath, and when she smiled at Gabriel, he thought the beauty of it would melt the whole bloody pond.
He couldna take his eyes from her for nearly an hour.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
Gabriel swung in front of her, moving his big booted feet over the ice as though skating. He faced her, and grinned. “Because you are beautiful, what wi’ that wee red nose.” No’ to mention he’d seen more o’ her and hadn’t been able to get that eve out o’ his head.
“Hmm,” she answered, and the she smiled. “Oh, look. It’s starting to snow again.”
Gabriel glanced at the sky. “Aye, so it is.” He pulled closer, and looked down. “It will be dark soon. Have you skated enough?”
With a graceful twirl, she stopped, the blade of her skates scraping the ice. “Sure.” She smiled even wider. “It’s Christmas Eve, you know.”
Gabriel watched excitement dance in her blue eyes. “Aye, indeed I do.”
He had a surprise for her. Actually, ’twas a bit o’ a surprise for himself, as well. And he couldna wait to bestow it upon her. “Come, then, you wee little bottomless pit. I hear your poor belly growling again.”
Paige skated to the edge of the pond, stepped off, and moved to the bench. With one knee raised, she unlaced her skates.
“ ’Tis wi’ regret that I cannot prepare a Yule Eve supper for you, Paige MacDonald,” he said. “I should have had Ethan call—”
She looked up, and the expression in her eyes softened Gabriel’s heart even more. “Honestly, Gabriel, I don’t need so much fuss. I am perfectly content eating whatever.” She took off her other skate and pulled on Craigmire’s Wellies. Then, she smiled. “As long as it’s with you.”
That sentence alone gave Gabriel the verra courage he needed to bestow Paige her Yuletide gift. “As with me, lass,” he said quietly. He dropped down onto the bench beside her and met her shy gaze. “Had I the substance, I’d toss you in yon snow pile and kiss you breathless.”
Paige visibly gulped. Then, once she’d turned several shades of red and pink, she gave a bashful smile. “I’d let you, too.”
Gabriel shifted his head to one side, lowered his mouth to hers, and grazed her lips.
How he could lose himself in a mind’s-eye vision of what it might actually feel like to have those soft-l ooking lips moving fervently beneath his, to have her hands push through his hair, and to feel her tongue against his.
After a moment, he pulled back. “You’re makin’ me daft again, lass.
Inside. Now.” He grinned. “Your lips are blue.”
With a tinkling laugh, Paige gathered Mrs. Craigmire’s skates, and together they walked back to the castle.
They spent the rest of the daylight hours walking about the halls, in the larder where he insisted Paige prepare a filling Yuletide supper—no’ just a grilled cheese sandwich and soup.
She’d found a Cornish hen in the freezer, a few yams and other vegetables, as well as a frozen custard pie Craigmire had purchased from Tesco and hidden from his wife.
Once the hen had finished baking, they sat down to eat. Gabriel conjured up a mixture of candles and ornaments for the meal, and Paige had glowed with excitement.
As she poked her fork into a baked yam, she glanced at Gabriel. “I feel funny, sitting here eating while you can’t.”
Gabriel watched her mouth delicately close over the fork and chew the yam. Then she lifted her glass of wine and drank. “I enjoy watching you eat. Besides. I’ve no’ eaten in centuries. Trust me—this suffices as the closest thing to actually tasting food.”
She smiled and before long, finished eating. “I’m stuffed.”
“Miracles never cease round here,” he said, and grinned.
His stomach twisted into knots. ’Twas nearly time for Paige’s gift, and damn him, but he was as skittish as a whelp meetin’ his first virgin.
Bloody hell.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, and cocked her head to the side to study his face. “You look ill.”
He forced a smile. “ ’Tis impossible, that. Come.” He inclined his head. “Let’s worry about the dishes later. I’ve a mind to sit with you before the fire.”
“Hmm,” she said, tapping a finger to her temple. “Wash dishes, or sit before a roaring fire on Christmas Eve with the handsomest Highlander in the universe.” She rolled her eyes, then grinned. “Okay. Let’s go.”
That somehow eased his mind, and Gabriel laughed. Together they walked to the great hall, he watched helplessly as Paige stoked the fire she’d built earlier, and then they sat.
“ ’Twill be the Yuletide in a couple o’ hours,” he said.
“Yes,” she answered, staring into the flames. She looked at her hands. “I wish I had something more appealing to wear tonight.” She glanced at him and smiled. “I hadn’t counted on having an occasion to dress up for.”
“You’re perfect the way you are,” he assured her, and traced the curve of her hair with a finger. “Absolutely perfect.”
She shyly looked away.
And it was then Gabriel drew in a deep, long breath, and turned to face her.
’Twas now or never . . .