A Christmas Spirit (5 page)

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.

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.”

Gabriel set off, with Paige by his side. It stunned him how easily they got along.

’Twas a feeling he rather fancied. Mayhap overmuch.

Already his thoughts ran dark at her leaving.

For nearly two hours, they walked the halls of Gorloch. At every little thing, no matter how insignificant Gabriel thought it to be, Paige’s eyes shone with blinding excitement. She claimed to love old things.

Gabriel banked that fact to memory. He had to be the oldest thing she’d ever encountered.

When they’d explored nearly the entire keep, Gabriel headed to the one special place—indoors, that is—he thought Paige would love best.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

Gabriel glanced down at her and wagged his brows. “The east tower.”

Paige’s face turned white and she slowed her steps. “I don’t think I want to go to the place you died,” she said quietly.

Gabriel looked at her and shook his head. “Nay, lass. That happened in the west tower.” He bent his head forward. “It would bother you so much to see it?” He himself never ventured there anymore. ’Twas full of bad memories, or worse—no memories at all.

Paige pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and nodded. She looked up at him and held his gaze for a handful of seconds, those purple-m ooned eyes boring into his. “Yes, it would bother me a lot.”

A lump formed in Gabriel’s throat and he swallowed past it. “I canna recall anyone being bothered by it in quite some time, lass,” he said.

They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the hidden steps leading upward. Gabriel gave a curt nod toward the single, narrow door. “In you go,” he instructed.

Paige lifted one brow, then opened the door. It creaked and groaned on old hinges, and she peered into the blackened stair-well. “Gosh, it’s dark in there.” She turned around. “Spiders?”

Gabriel grinned. “Mayhap. Craigmire doesna go up here much anymore. Bad knees.” He inclined his head. “Grasp the rope there as you climb, and hold on tightly.” Christ, if the girl fell he’d in no way be able to stop her.

She did as he asked, and began the ascent. “It’s so dark in here,” she whispered.

“I’ll move ahead of you.” Gabriel did, and remained as close as he could without Paige passing through him. “Better?” he asked, and glanced down at her.

“Much,” she said, and Gabriel could easily see her blush.

At the top, he inclined his head. “Open this door and I’ll meet you on the other side.” With that, he sifted through the aged wood and waited.

Paige felt her mouth slide open as she watched the sexy ghost disappear right through the door. Three days ago, she wouldn’t have ever entertained the thought of anything like sexy medieval spirits existing.

Now? The man consumed her every thought.

She’d never admit it.

“Paige MacDonald?” Gabriel called from the other side. “I’m waiting.”

Smiling to herself, Paige drew a deep breath, opened the door and peeked inside.

A gasp escaped her. She couldn’t help it. The room’s beauty stunned her.

The beauty of the man perched on the sill in front of eight adjoining picture windows stunned her even more.

A corner tower, the windows started at hip height and rose ten feet. Eight panels in all, there was an unobstructed view of the land surrounding Gorloch. Although still gray and furiously storming outside, the brightness of the sheets of snow illuminated the chamber in a strange, surreal sort of light. The sills were wide planks of polished wood—wide enough for a person’s backside to sit and stare outside. A cavernous fireplace stood at the far end of the tower room, and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books stood at the other. And before the windows was a long, plush sectional sofa made of dark, buttery-soft leather. Several pillows in various dark colors were thrown casually atop the cushions.

And her warrior sat staring. Smiling.

A smile pulled at her mouth, just looking at Gabriel. He looked pleased with himself, as though he’d just given her the most precious of gifts. She knew she didn’t have a poker face. Her appreciation probably stretched from one corner of her mouth to the other.

“I take it you like the view?”

Paige stared. His legs were spread in a totally guy fashion, big-booted feet braced against the floor as Gabriel sat on the sill. His rugged red-a nd-black plaid—he pronounced it
played
—draped easily over his chiseled frame, and long dark hair hung over each broad, bare shoulder. His arms were crossed over his muscled chest, and those intriguing tattoos encircling both rocky biceps caught her eye, as well as the laced leather cuffs at each wrist. The hilt of his enormous sword poked up from behind him, where he kept it sheathed in a long, laced leather scabbard.

When her eyes finally rested on his face, her insides did a flip. Those intense green eyes, framed by the longest, blackest lashes she’d ever seen on a man, held tightly on to hers. A dusting of dark stubble grazed Gabriel’s cut jaw, and the most luscious lips she’d ever noticed on a man pulled up at both corners, making the dimples in his cheeks pit deeply.

All in all, the man seriously did it for her.

“Paige? The view?” he said, his voice low and deep.

Slowly, and with more courage than she ever thought to muster up before, Paige walked closer. Her eyes didn’t leave Gabriel’s once. “Breathtaking.”

“Aye,” he answered, a distinct twinkle in his eye. His gaze traveled slowly to her feet, then even slower back to her gaze. “I have to agree wholeheartedly wi’ you, Paige MacDonald.”

Paige stopped before him, smiled, then looked away, the heat of embarrassment making her courage quickly disappear.

Gabriel chuckled lightly, then cleared his throat. He pointed out the large window they sat before. “If you peer hard enough through all that blasted snow, you’ll find the pond. ’Tis frozen through and through by now. And just there”—he pointed farther to the right—“is a woodland path that Craigmire’s wife takes on her mornin’ walks.” He smiled. “Like a sprite, she is, fast movin’ and full of life for such an old gel.” He grinned down at Paige. “The kirk ruins are along the path. ’Tis quite somethin’ in the summer when the wildflowers and greenery grow lush all through it.”

Though the landscape was covered in white, the tall Scots pines rose tall and mighty over the drifts and rock. She could vaguely see the outline of the pond. “It’s all so beautiful,” she said in a whisper, more for herself than for Gabriel. She looked at him and smiled.

“Indeed it is,” he answered in that deep, soft brogue. His eyes searched hers. “I’ve got to know more about you, Paige MacDonald. Whilst you slept I thought of nothing else.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, and then she gave another nervous smile.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, and drew closer.

“I think I could listen to you talk all day,” she confessed.