A Highlander Christmas (36 page)

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 . . .

Paige turned her head and studied Gabriel’s profile. He
did
look ill. Something was bothering him.

It made her seriously nervous.

Then, he turned fully toward her.

“You’ve changed my life, Paige MacDonald,” he said quietly, grazing the top of her knuckles with one long finger. “I canna remember the last time I looked forward to the day, or the sunset, sunrise.” He smiled. “Or snowfall, as much as I do now. Before, ’twas merely goin’ through motions of unlife. ’Tis what I do, and there’s no gettin’ round it.” He moved closer, and stroked her jaw with his knuckles. “Until now. Now, with you, I’m experiencin’ everythin’ as though for the verra first time. It’s all new, fresh.” He grazed her lips. “I dunna want you to leave, Paige.”

She looked at him, waiting.

His eyes softened as they locked with hers. “And I dunna wish for you to just be my guest, or my companion.”

She swallowed past the large lump in her throat.

Lowering his head, he moved his mouth to her ear. “I am in love wi’ you, Paige MacDonald.” He pulled back, just enough to look her in the eye, and her heart lurched. “I know ’tis fast, but I feel as though we were meant to be together, as though you were sent here.” He smiled. “Just for me.”

Paige blinked, swallowed, and opened her mouth to speak, but Gabriel placed a single finger over her lips. “Shh, love, I need to finish.”

She waited, tears already burning her eyes.

“I canna live without you, Paige.” Sincerity burned deep in his green eyes. “I know ’tis daft soundin’,” he began, as he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “But will you wed me, Paige MacDonald?” He stroked her jaw, her lips, her throat. “Will you wed the spirit of an aged warrior? You know I’ve nothin’ to offer but my undyin’ love for you—”

“Shh,” Paige said, placing her fingers over his lips to hush him. She searched his face, looked deeply into his eyes and saw nothing but pure, raw honesty and sincere love.

So surprised by it, she gasped.

“Oh, Gabriel,” she whispered in awe. “You’ve more to offer than anyone.” She placed a hand over his heart, and for a second, she imagined his smooth skin stretched tight over rock-h ard muscle and the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm. “Your soul,” she said, again whispering, not trusting her voice to be any louder. “I am so in love with you,” she said, and moved her mouth close to his ear. “I will wed you, Gabriel Munro.” She stroked his jaw. “And I would love to be your wife.”

Paige saw many things cross Gabriel’s face. Relief, joy, love—all things she herself felt. His smile began with nothing more than his dimples pitting his cheeks. The longer he stared at her, searching her eyes, the wider his smile grew. Finally, he threw back his head and laughed, the sexy, deep sound echoing throughout Gorloch’s great hall.

Paige felt her own smile pulling at her mouth, and she simply watched in awe as her Highlander moved close, placed a hand on either side of her head, which rested on sofa cushions, and looked her dead in the eye.

Suddenly, his smile faded, replaced by something else entirely. She couldn’t exactly put a finger on it.

“Are you sure you can stand livin’ with someone for the rest of your days who cannot physically touch you? Or satisfy you in the ways a husband satisfies his woman?” he asked. “Truly?”

Paige sought his eyes, eager to put his fears at ease. “You touch me in ways you cannot fathom, Gabriel Munro. Everything else, we’ll learn together.”

Leaning forward until their lips brushed together, Gabriel whispered, “Christ, I love you, woman.”

And he kissed her. Paige’s lips tingled, and her insides burned as Gabriel moved his mouth over hers; then he pulled back and stared at her.

“I am truly the luckiest man, alive or no’,” he said.

Paige smiled, and then blinked. She stared hard, and then her mouth went dry and her throat tightened.

“What’s wrong, Paige?” Gabriel asked.

Paige continued to stare. “You’re . . . you don’t look as solid as before.” She frowned. “Is something happening?”

Gabriel glanced down at his arm, then the rest of his body. Quickly, he rose and turned, stomped each foot, and then met Paige’s gaze. “Och, Christ, no.”

Paige was up on her feet as though she’d been struck by lightning. “What is it?”

Gabriel’s somber expression made her stomach knot with fear. “What is it, Gabriel? Please!”

He locked his eyes to hers and moved close. “I had no idea, love,” he said, a sadness tingeing his voice. “Christ, I didna know.”

“Know
what
?” Paige said, all but shouting.

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.