MacGowan's Ghost (19 page)

Allie smiled. “That is weird, for sure.”

Gabe stood, moved in front of her, placed a hand on either side of her thighs. With that profound stare, he studied her for several seconds. “I canna say where any of this is goin', lass, and I damn sure dunna know what will happen over the next month. Whether I decide to sell or no' sell, I'll still need your help, if you'll stay on.” He leaned closer, still tall enough that he had to duck his head to look her in the eye. “Christ Almighty, I dunna know what I've done without you all this time. I think you were sent to me, lass.”

Allie stared at him, her heart in her throat, that inner connection she felt with Gabe stronger than ever, and before she thought about it her hand lifted, and she brushed her fingertips gently over Gabe's lips. His eyes closed briefly.

Allie whispered, “I think you're right.”

Inside, though, she was terrified.

In such a short time, Allie found herself falling for a guy. A guy who lived an ocean away from her home, her family.

A guy who wasn't sure about his own feelings.

She dropped her hand, but Gabe remained close, and without any words between them, that sensual electricity returned and snapped, and it all but made the air rush from her lungs. The way he looked at her, as though he'd found something precious and unique, mystified her. She'd been hurt before. Who hadn't? The thing was, before? She'd thought
that
guy had looked at her as though he'd found something precious and unique, too.

She hadn't been wrong, really, about
that
other guy.

Allie simply hadn't planned on him feeling the same way about another girl at the same time.

“Hey,” Gabe said, shaking her out of her reverie.

“Look at me.”

She did, and couldn't help but drop her gaze to his mouth. When he smiled, it was a beautiful, even smile with lots of great white teeth showing.

But when he spoke? That same mouth veered to the left, just a fraction off-center. A little crooked.

Sexy? Good God, she adored it.

Add in that dead-sexy Highland brogue?

A slow, even smile spread across Gabe's face. “I know what you're thinkin', lass.”

Allie blinked. “You do?”

“Aye, I do.” He leaned into her, his lips so close but not touching hers. “I willna kiss you unless you want me to, Allie,” he whispered. “And to be honest, I'm nervous as hell around you.”

Allie's head whirled, almost as though she'd had too much wine. “You don't seem
nerv
,
nurv
,” she started. That was one word she couldn't even mimic.

Gabe said it again. “Nervous, and aye, I am.” He pulled back and looked at her. His arms were still braced on either side of her thighs, and he'd not moved an inch to touch her. Intensity etched into his features, his jaw flinched. “I've no' been with another woman since—” He looked down, then back up. “It's been a verra long time.”

Allie blinked. She hardly knew what to say to that.

She wondered just how long
a long time
really was. Surely not as long as herself.

She gave a half grin. “A sexy guy like you? Come on, MacGowan. That's hard to believe.” Her voice didn't sound at all as confident and witty as she'd meant it to be.

He leaned close again, his lips brushing her ear. “ 'Tisna because I havena had the opportunity, lass.” He breathed, silent. Then, “I havena had the desire.” Pulling back, he looked at her hard. “For sex. For companionship. Christ, for anything.” His eyes burned with . . . something. Fear? Hesitancy? “Until you.”

Good Lord Almighty. What was she to say to
that
?

Lifting her hands, she slipped them around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. “Well then,” she mouthed against his lips, “lucky me.”

“Hardly,” he whispered back, and settled his mouth over hers. “Lucky
me
.”

He touched her nowhere, only his lips to hers, and he stayed that way for several seconds, simply
inhaling, exhaling.
Allie could feel the power inside him, all but making him hum with desire to release, to explode, and yet he remained tranquil, in control.
Barely.

He moved then, slightly, his tongue grazing her bottom lip before drawing it in and suckling it slowly in the most sensual kiss Allie had ever experienced in her life. Every time his tongue brushed hers, her body went numb, sensations within her purred, and she pulled him closer and kissed him back.

His control, she sensed, began to slip.

With a deep groan, Gabe slid his hands from the counter to her thighs, edged his hips between her knees, and deepened the kiss, still slowly, yet Allie could feel the desperation droning within him, right under the surface of his calm facade, and it made heat pool in places that hadn't heated in quite some time.

With a slowness that amazed Allie, Gabe slid his hands from her thighs, over her hips, and up the back of her sweater. Calluses made his hands rough, and the abrasion against her skin made her shudder and inch closer, and as Gabe wrapped his arms completely around her, his kiss turned frantic, as though he could swallow her whole and in one big gulp.

She kissed him back with just as much fervor.

And the more her hands explored, the nape of his neck, his Adam's apple, the hairline at his temple, the more desperate they both became. Gabe pushed his hands through her hair, held it steady, and turned it to the angle he wanted, and kissed, tasted, until finally, he once again abruptly stopped. With his forehead resting against hers, they both struggled to gain a decent breath. Finally, Gabe looked up.

His green eyes had turned stormy gray, and he searched her eyes, and Allie could tell he wanted to say something.

But he didn't.

Instead, he gave her one last kiss, slower this time, and then pressed his lips to her forehead. “Good night, Allie Morgan.”

With that he pushed from the counter and left the kitchen.

Allie watched him leave, and pressed two fingers to her lips, closed her eyes, and smiled.

It was several minutes later and two glasses of water before she trusted her legs to carry her to her room.

Chapter 16

“
C
hrist!” Gabe sat bolt upright in bed. He glanced at the clock. One a.m. Heart racing, forehead covered in beads of perspiration, and out of breath. Bending his knees, he rested his forearms there and dropped his head forward, trying to slow his breathing.

The chilled air from the open window hit his damp bare chest, and he swore. He hadn't left the bloody window open—

“Da?”

Gabe jumped, noticing that Jake stood directly by his side. His son stared, a blank look on his face, as though he were sleepwalking. “Go back to bed, lad.”

Jake simply stared, turned, and glanced at the open window, and then met Gabe's gaze. “She needs me, Da.”

Gabe rubbed his eyes. “Who?”

Again, Jake turned and looked at the window. “She does.” He again slid a blank expression to Gabe. “She says you dunna need me anymore. She wants me to come.”

A filmy, white mist rose within the room, seeping through the window and settling like heavy smoke in a bar. Gabe waved at it, squinting at Jake, but still it remained. “What are you talkin' about, son?”

Jake stared a moment, and then suddenly, his voice wasna his own. “Make her leave, Gabe.” The strange voice came from Jake's mouth. “Before something happens.”

An internal chill stole over Gabe and he jumped from the bed.

Jake turned and ran for the window.

“Stop it now, lad!” Gabe yelled. “Come here!”

At the window, Jake turned, smiled.

And then he jumped.

The breath rushed from Gabe's lungs and his insides turned to ice.
“No!”
His heart slammed into his throat, he ran to the window and peered out. “Jesus Christ Almighty,” he croaked. He tried to yell again, but his throat lacked the strength. “Jake!” he cried.
“Jake!”

“Da! Wake up!”

Gabe opened his eyes and sat bolt upright in bed. Jake's hands were around his arm, shaking.

“Da, wake up now!” he yelled.

Christ, 'twas only a dream.

With his heart hammering in his chest, a heavy gust of relief washed over him, and he grabbed his son and pulled him into a tight embrace. Jake's hair, clean and fresh from his bath, smelled familiar, comforting. “Christ, boy,” Gabe said, kissing Jake's cheek. He looked at him. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”

Jake patted Gabe's cheek. “It's okay, Da,” he said.

Gabe hugged him, Jake's small ear pressed against Gabe's cheek. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and thanked God it
had
only been a dream.

Gabe opened his eyes, and with his son still tight in his arms, he looked over Jake's shoulder.

By the window stood his dead wife. She stared hard at him, black, endless eyes boring into Gabe's. Her mouth yawned into an exaggerated smile.

And then she faded away.

He felt himself shake in his wee son's arms.

Och, Christ Almighty. He was losing his bloody mind.

“Can we go downstairs and get some milk?” Jake asked.

Again, relief flooded Gabe's insides, just at hearing the lad's voice. He took a deep breath and let his son go. “We can go downstairs and get some water, aye?” he said.

Jake sighed. “Okay, then.” He put his small hand in Gabe's. “Let's go.”

 

Two nights later, again at one a.m., Gabe awoke. Each night interrupted by dreams. Awful dreams, ones Gabe would awaken from—think, rather, he'd awakened from—only to find the dreams weren't over at all.

And each night, after finally wresting himself awake, he'd stay up, check on Jake, and go to his workshop.

First, he'd walk up the stairs and stand at Allie's door. Christ, he wanted to go to her so badly, but he didna. He'd not told her about the dreams, about Jake being part of them, about how Kait had become more tangible. He wanted to fiercely, but hadna.

Kait's spirit was tormenting him, and he was beginning to fear she would do something harmful to Jake. 'Twas the real reason he now considered following through with leaving Sealladh na Mara. What if Kait could hurt his son? His own tormenting he could handle. But menace toward Jake? Christ . . .

He faced Allie's room now. And just like every other night, he simply stood there, in the dim light of Odin's corridor. Staring.

He placed the flat of each hand on either side of the jamb and leaned his forehead against the cool oak and closed his eyes. He knew she'd be in there, sound asleep. He'd even tried several times to convince himself that, if he
did
venture into her room, he'd only do so to
talk
to her. She comforted him. Soothed him. Made him feel alive for the first time since . . . Christ, he couldna even remember.

But he knew himself much better than that.

Knew his own body even better.

And what Allie Morgan did to him.

Drawing in a long, deep breath, Gabe let it out slowly. He'd not had a drink in more than four years. Four bloody years. He'd not missed it. Not at all.

Yet kissing Allie Morgan, feeling her skin beneath his palms, her body pressed to his, made him more intoxicated than anything that came from a bottle. Her blunt honesty, her humor, and her genuine love and affection for mankind—dead and alive—moved him. She'd taken to his family. His neighbors.

He opened his eyes, pushed away from the door, and eased downstairs. No sooner had he chosen a block of marble and his tools, and situated himself on the work stool than a voice interrupted.

“Keeping late nights again, eh, lad?”

Gabe turned and nodded at Captain Catesby. “Aye, so it seems.” He inclined his head. “Conjure yourself up a stool and sit.”

Wordlessly, the captain did.

For several minutes, Gabe worked on his marble, neither he nor Catesby saying a word.

The ghost didna stay silent for long.

“How bad are the dreams, lad?”

Gabe continued his chiseling, blowing, chiseling. “Bad enough.” He glanced at his old friend. “Stop callin' me lad, Justin. We're the same age.”

Justin shrugged. “I was there when you were pissin' your bairn cloths, boy. 'Tis a hard habit, watchin' you grow up and then treatin' you as my equal.” He grinned. “Lad.”

Gabe grinned. “I suppose.”

Justin leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. The white cloth of his shirt ruffles slipped from the cuffs of his overcoat and hung down. “I am powerfully glad to know you've come to your senses about selling the place, by the by.”

Gabe glanced at him but kept working. “How do you know that's my decision?” After that last experience with Kait, he again felt completely unsure.

“Because I know for a bloody fact that those dreams you're havin' are the cause of your wanting to leave.”

Gabe stopped what he was doing and met Justin's gaze. “They're more than dreams.” He scrubbed his jaw. “I'm afraid for Jake.”

Justin gave a gusty, ghostly sigh. “You should talk to Allie about Kait, lad. She can help.”

Gabe considered. “I dunno. Things have changed, Justin. Kait has left my dreams and is now more tangible.” He looked at the sea captain. “She isna like the rest of you.” He waved a hand. “You look as you did in life. Kait is . . . unimaginable. I'm afraid she'd frighten Allie or Jake.”

Justin stroked his beard. “She wouldna hurt her own son, lad.”