A Christmas Spirit (13 page)

Gabriel’s image grew more and more translucent.

Then, it struck her.

“No!” she said, her voice cracking. “Gabriel, please.”

“Paige,
shh
,” he said, and met her gaze squarely. His voice shook as he spoke. “I will always love you, lass,” he said gently, his form fast fading into the amber light of the great hall. “I will always be wi’ you.”

Paige lifted a hand and caressed his jaw. “I will always be with you,” she returned, then gave a wan smile. “Mrs. Munro. It sounds perfect.”

He was vaguely there now, his outline barely visible. “It does indeed, my wife.” His smile was the very last to go. “You’re mine forever, Paige.” He whispered,
“Dunna forget that. . . .”

And then, he was gone.

Leaving Paige in Gorloch’s great hall all alone.

Paige looked around the empty hall, her heart feeling equally as void. Slowly, she lowered herself to the cushion and sank back.

Tears rolled down her face uncontrollably, and she wiped them with the back of her hand. She hugged herself, her insides physically hurting, and she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.

Nothing but a wintry Yuletide Eve wind rushed through the stone cracks of Gorloch, leaving Paige alone.

Her heart already ached for the man she’d come to love irrevocably in a few short days.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there, but the tears had stopped and she’d finally been able to catch her breath. She’d gotten up, washed and dried the dishes, and simply wandered the halls, even grabbed Craigmire’s coat, slipped it on, and traipsed up to the battlements to look out over the snow-l aden, moon-bathed land.

Christmas Eve in the Highlands. Still ruggedly beautiful, but now it meant much, much more to her than just lovely countryside or a special land filled with turbulent and proud history.

In that same country, that same turbulence, a man had once been born. He’d lived a short life before dying a violent, treacherous death. His unsettled spirit had roamed for nearly nine hundred years, and then they’d met. She, Paige MacDonald, a lonely museum curator with no family, no love. And he, the ghost of a fierce warrior.

Together they’d found love. Contentment.

Raw ecstasy.

Paige blinked through a new set of tears, and the icy cold winter’s night froze the liquid on her cheeks. Swiping them with her sleeve, she left the battlements and made her way back to the great hall. Without much thought at all, she grabbed the thick wool blanket from the back of the sofa, wrapped herself up, and lay before the Yule fire.

There, on what had been the happiest night of her life, in a medieval castle where she’d recently been proposed to by a handsome twelfth-century Highland warrior, she silently cried herself to sleep.

The sound of car doors slamming and loud, deep voices drew Paige out of her slumber. Slowly, she cracked open her eyes. She sat up even more slowly. The fire had long since been extinguished, the hall had grown cold, and her body felt stiff and achy.

Then the memory of losing the only man she’d ever loved rushed back, and her heart cracked in half again.

A heavy fist banged on the front door, and Paige jumped. She rose and stared.
Who could it be?

“Paige?” a deep voice hollered. “Open up, lass!”

Ethan Munro.
Oh, God, she’d have to tell them they’d just lost their kinsman.

Wiping her eyes, she made her way to the front door and opened it. Big, handsome Ethan stood there grinning, surrounded by others that looked a whole lot like him.

“Yuletide greetings, Ms. MacDonald!” said Ethan, and he grasped her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Standing next to him, an attractive woman with long, straight blond hair smiled, a sweet toddler in each hand. “Hi, Paige. I’m Amelia.” She inclined her head. “Ethan’s wife.” She looked at the guys on either side of her. “I hope you don’t mind?” She turned the little ones loose, and they ran inside.

Paige swallowed a lump in her throat. “Um”—she glanced at Ethan—“ of course not. I need to speak with you, please?”

Ethan pressed his lips together, as if trying to stifle a smile. “Of course.” He grasped her elbow gently and pulled her close to the stairs. The others filed in and made their way to the sofa. Several large Highlanders plopped down and sprawled out.

It made Paige miss Gabriel even more.

“What’s the matter, lass?” Ethan asked.

Paige drew a deep breath, forcing the tears to remain at bay. “Gabriel’s gone, Ethan.”

Ethan merely stared at her.

“He proposed to me last night,” her voice cracked, “and I accepted, and then . . .”

“You did say aye, did you no’?”

That
voice came from the doorway.

She looked up. Ethan grinned, and his silvery eyes danced with merriment. He inclined his head in the direction of the front door.

Slowly, Paige turned her head and looked.

Quite suddenly, her heart jumped to her throat, and she gasped. She felt her mouth slide open, and she simply gaped.

Standing in the doorway was Gabriel Munro, dressed in a black sweater, jeans, boots, and a brown leather jacket, half of his hair pulled back and secured at the nape. Green eyes stared at her with so much intensity, she started to shake.

“Gabriel?” she said hesitantly.

He smiled. Dimples pitted his cheeks.

Paige squealed and took off, drawing up short just before plowing straight through him. Her breath coming fast, she met his gaze.

It was different, his gaze. Stronger. More intense than it was before. He stared down at her now with an absolute predatory gaze.

“Are you no’ going to embrace your fiancé?” asked Ethan.

Paige glanced at him. “What?”

Just as Ethan, with a big hand on her backside, pushed her straight at Gabriel.

Paige gasped and squealed.

Just
as Gabriel caught her, lifted her right off the floor, and brought his mouth a mere inch from hers.

Again, Paige’s mouth slid open, speechless.

“I vow you’re givin’ me an invitation, what wi’ your sweet mouth parted,” he whispered.

With her hands, Paige slid her palms along Gabriel’s arms, then his shoulders, then one on each of his jaws.

“How can this be?” Paige asked, mostly to herself. Then, she fixed her gaze onto Gabriel’s.

He apparently could wait no more.

With a low groan, he crushed his mouth to hers, and the sensation of his warm lips pressed to hers and then his velvety tongue caressing against her own made her heart thunder. His arms enveloped her, big hands molding to her back, her neck, and pulling her mouth closer still.

Vaguely, in the background, Paige heard the Munro clan whoop and holler.

Without thinking, she shoved her hands through Gabriel’s hair and kissed him back with just as much fervor as he did. She all but wrapped her legs around his waist, and it was only when she felt his large hands cup her bottom that she heard Ethan’s deep, strong voice.

“All right, then, that’s enough laddie,” he said, and suddenly she was pulled out of Gabriel’s arms. “That shall come only after the nuptials have been voiced.”

Paige glanced up at Ethan, who wiggled his brows.

Gabriel shoved Ethan away and enveloped Paige’s body in his arms once more.

He looked down at her. “We’ve plenty o’ time for answers, but I’ll say this just to douse your obvious curiosity.” He kissed her again. “ ’Twas my hatred of the MacDonalds that kept me here all these centuries past.” He kissed her again. “And ’twas no’ only my own recognition of my mistake, but your love and my acceptance o’ it that gave me redemption.” With two strong hands, he adjusted the angle of her face just so, leaned in to kiss her, and then stopped. His eyes searched her face, and Paige completely forgot there was a medieval hall full of Munros. “Say it again, Paige MacDonald,” he whispered, and grazed his thumb along her bottom lip.

She shuddered. God, it felt better than she’d even imagined.

“Say it.”

Slowly, she smiled, and slid her arms about his waist. “I love you, Gabriel Munro,” she said softly. “And yes, I will wed you.”

The thunderous boom of Munro males echoing in the great hall was deafening, and Paige threaded her hands through Gabriel’s hair and pulled his mouth the rest of the way to hers. A groan escaped him, and she knew only she’d heard it, and they kissed their very first Yuletide kiss.

Her silent wish had come true. She’d not cared one whit how her Highlander had returned to her. Only that he had.

That he’d returned in the flesh and blood of his earthly body was more than a plus. It was a miracle.

And she’d thank God and the Powers That Be for such a miracle for the rest of her days.

“Do you think you can accept my rowdy kinsmen as well?” Gabriel said, close to her ear. The feeling had been delicious when he was a spirit. Now? It made her quake uncontrollably.

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “Gladly.”

In one fatal moment, she’d lost her love.

Hours later, she’d not only been given that love back, but in the flesh, as well as an entire family.

Paige knew then there wasn’t a soul as lucky as her.

“Welcome to the family,” said Amelia, who’d come to stand close. “I’m so happy to have another girl around.”

Paige smiled. “Thank you.”

The rest of Christmas Day flew by. The Munros, who had employed a husband and wife to cook for their large clan, brought them to Gorloch to prepare the holiday feast. Turkey, dressing, potatoes, yams—the works—had been prepared. Presents had been brought, as well, and the two young Munros had played until each had fallen asleep beneath the very real tree all the men had gone out and chopped down.

Paige thought she’d never seen more food consumed in her life as when the Munros had sat down to dinner.

Gabriel had sat directly across from her, and he’d not once taken his penetrating green gaze from hers. He ate, but not with as much fervor as one would think a soul could eat after not having one single bite for centuries on end.

He looked starved for something else entirely different.

Later that night, Gabriel whisked Paige off to be alone—not an easy thing with several large medieval Highlanders determined to make sure Paige kept her innocence intact.

Somehow, though, they managed to make it to the west tower. Without a word, Gabriel led Paige to the sofa, sat her down, then lit what candles remained in the room. Outside, a Christmas night snow fell. Gabriel settled down beside her, pulled her into his arms, and sighed.

“I fear that if I close my eyes, this will all disappear,” he said in his thick Scottish burr. He pressed his lips to her temples and nudged her cheek with his mouth. “Are you still sure? About becoming my wife?”

Paige turned in his arms to look at him. She stroked his cheek, his jaw, and then his hair. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life,” she said.

Gabriel grinned and gathered her close. “When?”

With her head to his warm chest, Paige smiled. “The sooner the better. I don’t think I can take your kin hovering over us for much longer.”

A deep rumble started in Gabriel’s chest as he chuckled. “Hogmanay, then. ’Twill give you enough time?”

Paige sighed, content. “I’ve waited for you my whole life, Gabriel Munro. I suppose I can wait another week.”

Lowering his head, he moved his mouth to her ear. “I vow I canna wait,” he said, his deep voice washing over her. She shuddered.

Neither could she.

They spent several hours before the long windows, watching the Christmas night snowfall, wrapped in one another’s arms.

Paige thought she couldn’t get much happier.

That is, until Gabriel Munro tucked her hair behind her ears, tilted her head, and covered her mouth with his . . .

Paige glanced in the mirror at herself.

She could hardly believe it was her.

Amelia had helped her plan everything. Paige had decided to wed at the Munros’ ancestral ruins, at the small abbey there on the property. Ethan had gained a permit just to allow it, and he’d acquired a priest for the ceremony, as well. Small though the wedding was, the other she Munro had not wanted Paige to miss out on one single bride’s moment. They’d bonded quite fast and had shopped for only a day before finding what Paige thought was the perfect bridal gown.

She stared at it now and wondered how Gabriel would like it.

She hadn’t seen her fiancé in almost two days. The other Munros had whisked him away for a bit o’ rousin’
.

He’d truly looked as though he’d rather not have gone. Running her hand down the soft lines of the simple antique white shift, she stared at her image. Sleeveless, it had beautiful pearls sewn to the bodice, and the low-scooped back buttoned from the middle to just below her hips.