A Highlander Christmas Page 18

  Opening her eyes, she blinked; there was something in the distance, moving through the snow. It was not the white stag she had seen so often on these grounds, but a figure of a man walking towards her.

  Rubbing her hands down her chilled arms, she watched the man’s approach. He was exceptionally tall and broad. His hair was black, and he was dressed in a kilt and white cotton shirt. A thick black belt encompassed his waist, and from a loop hung a leather pouch. A triscale was embossed in the leather, and as he steadily climbed the four stairs that led to her, Isobel realized that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  “Isobel.”

  Daegan watched in horror as Isobel cocked her head to the side and studied him. She didn’t remember him. How was he to explain that she was his wife? That he had once been immortal, but was now mortal?

  “Isobel? Mo muirnín?”

  “Daegan?” she asked slowly, almost disbelievingly.

  He ran to her and lifted her up. “You remember.”

  “Shouldn’t I?”

  “Cailleach said she stole from you any memory of me.”

  “I made a wish,” she said, looking up at the sky. “I asked for a miracle so I wouldn’t have to marry St. Clair, and then you arrived.”

  “And here I am. In the flesh. Literally.”

  “Come with me,” she commanded, taking his hand and pulling him behind her. “We can be alone in my room.”

  Together they slipped unseen through the servants’ door at the side of the house. Quietly they climbed the stairs and entered the family’s private wing without being seen.

  When they reached Isobel’s chamber she turned and kissed him. “You are a miracle—you know that?”

  He smiled and lifted his hand to her cheek. He was still wearing the white scrap of fabric around his wrist. “Together forever,” he said huskily, following her gaze. “Anam a Anam.”

  “Soul to soul,” she whispered, opening the door and pulling him inside. “I love you, Daegan. You must know how much I do.”

  “I am no longer a Sidhe, Isobel,” he murmured as she cupped his face in her hands. “Your great white hart will never be again.”

  She looked at him quizzically, and Daegan hung his head, not knowing what ruled him, shame or the fear she would reject him. “I am mortal now.”

  She rained kisses upon his cheeks before whispering, “I don’t care. It’s only you I want, Daegan. The man who makes me feel whole. The man who made love to me.”

  He closed his eyes, love overpowering him. “I do not deserve you.” She laughed and kissed him. “I do not deserve the sacrifices you have made for me. But I am human, and I’m too selfish to wish I had never seen you or given my body to you. I wanted you, from that first moment in the woods when you smiled at me.”

  “I enchanted the pin so you would come back to me. I used magic to entice you.”

  “Do you think some spell held me enthralled?” she laughed, lying back on her bed and pulling him atop her. “It was you, Daegan. Your eyes, your voice. It wasn’t the magic in the pin that had me returning to you. But you.”

  His expression softened. “I want nothing more than to make love to you. But I cannot, not until you know the whole truth.”

  “We’re not married?” she asked, her voice faltering.

  Daegan’s eyes darkened. “Our lanamnas is binding, whether in your world or the Otherworld. We are married. But”—he trailed his fingers over her belly, his fingertip circling around her navel through her gown—“you should know that Cailleach has cursed me, and my curse will affect you.”

  He swallowed hard as her big blue eyes clouded with anxiety. “Our son,” he murmured, glancing at her belly, “he will be taken from us so that he cannot assume the throne of the Sidhe or rule alongside the goddess in Annwyn.”

  Her hand flew to her belly, covering his. “Am I with child?”

  He kissed her stomach, wishing it was her soft skin. “I do not know. But I would never want such a thing to happen to any child we might have. I could not bear to see you hurt, Isobel. To see my child ripped from your arms. I have enough magic left in me to perform one more thing, but you will be the one to choose.”

  He kissed her again and brushed his lips in her hair, inhaling her scent. The animal within him still lingered, heightening his senses. He couldn’t imagine not smelling Isobel as keenly as he did now. Didn’t want to imagine the day when his senses dulled and he could no longer hear her heart beating or smell her arousal blooming like a field of heather.

  “Daegan?”

  “Your father’s contract with St. Clair. There is still a chance you will be forced to wed the earl.”

  She gripped his hand. “No!”

  “I could, with magic, make him consent to our match, but that will use the last of my magical stores.” He glanced at her stomach and brushed his hand down the silk. “Or I could cast a spell now, to protect our son and his firstborn son and all the other firstborn males of our line. He would be protected from Cailleach’s curse and safe from her hands. If I do this, I cannot use magic to make your father give me your hand in marriage.”

  “We’ll run away,” she said, sitting up. “We’ll go far away from my father’s clutches.”

  “We will have to make a new home. Without his consent, we could not stay here, and I cannot go back to Annwyn.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, holding on to him. “Please, Daegan, protect our son.”

  “The future will be uncertain, Isobel. I will have to learn to walk in the mortal realm. I will have to learn the ways of man in order to provide for you.”

  “I trust you, Daegan. I have faith in you. I have faith in us.”

  Gently he laid her back on the bed and crawled atop her, kissing her eyelids, her nose, her chin. He made his way to her throat, then the valley of her breasts. He undid her gown and pulled it from her body. His fingers skimmed over her nipples, which hardened at his touch. When his lips caressed her bare stomach, her muscles quivered, gooseflesh spread out, and he traced the path with his thumb. Over her womb, he whispered the magical words that would save his son from Cailleach’s wrath.

  “It’s done,” he said, “the Bocan will be forever with him and his son and his son.”

  “What is the Bocan?” she asked as he slid up beside her.

  “A shadow wraith. The Bocan will be bound to him, and when another male child is born, a new wraith will be formed to protect him.”

  “Oh, Daegan, you truly are my Christmas miracle.”

  “And you, Isobel MacDonald, are my Yuletide enchantment.”

  A Christmas Spirit

  CINDY MILES

  For all of my superfantastic and supportive readers, who’ve stuck by me and all the ghosties—this one’s for you.

  Chapter One

  DECEMBER, PRESENT DAY NORTH WEST HIGHLANDS SOMEWHERE NEAR INVERNESS

  “Please don’t die, please don’t die, puh-leeze don’t die,” crooned Paige MacDonald. Gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white, she stared through the swirling snow ahead and held her breath. The little standard-shift rental car sputtered, lurched, but thankfully, kept going.

  Paige let out a gusty sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered, and shifted into third gear. She knew she was lost. She’d missed the turnoff that led back to Inverness. But she needed to get somewhere fast, before the car broke down and she got stranded in this snow. She inched along, searching for any indication of a town, a house, a gas station—anything. Several more miles passed. Nothing.

  All at once, she spotted a narrow path. It turned sharp left from the track she was on and then disappeared through a dense forest. A small red sign marked GORLOCH B&B stood at the base of the path. Without another thought, Paige steered the car onto the graveled lane. Maybe she could call and cancel her lodgings in Inverness and stay at Gorloch for the night? She hoped they had a vacancy. She’d worry about the car in the morning.

  A few minutes passed as Paige crept her way up the
snowy lane, and then her heart soared. Up ahead, a single light twinkled through the trees. A little farther and she’d be there.

  Suddenly, the car coughed and lurched, and the engine died. With a heavy sigh, Paige shifted into neutral, coasted to the edge of the lane, and let the car roll to a stop. She yanked up the emergency brake and stared out into the blinding white downfall of snow. The wind whipped furiously, causing the rental car to sway. For as far as she could see, there was nothing but white. Unfolding the map she’d thrown on the passenger seat, she studied the small, threadlike marking that was supposed to be the road to her bed-a nd-breakfast. No signs, nothing—not even a sign for Gorloch. She frowned. Lost and her car had officially bit the big one. Great.

  Glancing at her watch, she silently said a naughty word, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

  Perhaps a self-driving tour of the North West Highlands in December hadn’t been the most thought-through plan she’d ever had. But she’d been desperate to get out of the city, away from her job, her cramped apartment. So she was lost. And her car had croaked. And there was one heck of a storm outside.

  At least she wasn’t spending another Christmas home alone.

  Grabbing her overnight pack, Paige tugged her hat down over her ears, tightened her scarf, and buttoned her wool coat. Pulling on her gloves, she gave a hefty sigh and a bit of silent encouragement, then opened the door and jumped out into the cold.

  The gray wintry skies had begun to turn shadowy, and before long, night would fall. She certainly didn’t want to be stranded in the woods after dark. She began to move quickly.

  Trudging up the snowy lane, Paige made her way to Gorloch’s. With the biting cold and wall of flurry, it seemed to take forever. Not a sound in the air except the crunch of ice beneath her boots and the wind rushing through the branches. It felt dreamlike yet calming at the same time. It looked like a true winter wonderland. The path wound around a copse of trees, and when it straightened, Paige stopped and gasped. Her breath slowly puffed out in front of her like white, billowy smoke.

  The lone twinkling light hadn’t come from a regular bed-a nd-breakfast, or from a stone cottage, or even a Highland croft.

  It came from a dark, looming castle.

  Paige stood still, staring. An ancient stone fortress rose from the frosty mist, uninviting and ominous. Apprehension gripped her, yet her lips were numb and snowflakes caked her eyelashes. She had no choice now but to continue on. Shifting her pack, Paige shoved her hands deep into her pockets and made for the castle doors.

  As she neared the entrance, she noticed two things. One, the main castle tower was enormous. Two, unless there was a garage somewhere around back, it didn’t look like a soul was home. With a deep breath, she took the remaining walk to the double doors, lifted her hand, grasped a large, tarnished brass ring, and knocked. She stepped back and waited.

  No one answered.

  Teeth chattering and her body shivering uncontrollably, Paige knocked again. Loudly. Seconds turned into minutes as she waited. Oh, gosh—I ’m going to freeze to death—

  “No vacancy. Go away.”

  Paige jumped at the sound of the deep voice and looked around. “Um, c-could I j-just use your phone to c-call a cab? My c-car’s dead,” she said, teeth chattering.

  Moments passed, and Paige sighed and turned to leave.

  “Come in, but be quick about it.”

  Paige looked about, but still saw no one. Should she go in? Why didn’t he open the door himself? Her body quaked with uncontrolled shivers, and she stomped her feet and rubbed her arms vigorously.

  “Come in before you bloody freeze to death.”

  With hesitancy, Paige turned the handle, pushed the massive door open, and stepped inside. The wind caught the heavy oak, pulled it from her fingers, and slammed it shut behind her. She jumped, and looked around. She saw no one. A small table and chair in the foyer contained an open ledger and a pen. A lamp burned low and cast shadows across the narrow space. Paige’s gaze moved slowly and peered into the dim room beyond. “Hello?”

  “Jus’ sign in, lass, and sit. I’ll be wi’ you in a moment.”

  “So, you do have vacancy?” she asked, thinking she’d heard wrong the first time.

  A moment passed; then that deep voice mumbled, “Aye.” “Err, great. Thanks,” said Paige. The throaty brogue was so thick, she barely understood the man. Grasping the pen, she steadied her shaking hand and signed in.

  In the great hall, Gabriel Munro shoved a hand through his hair and paced. He stopped, glanced at the girl, pushed his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets, and cursed. Then he rested his hand on his hips and paced a bit more.

  What, by the devil’s cloven hooves, was he to do with her? Damn the Craigmires’ arses for leaving him here alone. The old fool and his wife had sworn the weather would keep tourists away.

  Gabriel glanced at the girl still shivering in the foyer. Her gaze shifted first left, then right. Then, she sat down.

  It had kept all away, save that one. What was she doin’ out in such a storm? And alone, as well?

  He’d have let her leave, had she no’ admitted to being stranded. He damn well couldna let her stay out in the snow and freeze. And freeze she surely would, in such a wee, thin coat and scarf. Even the hat she had pulled nearly to her eyes looked paltry. ’Twas apparent she was no’ from the Highlands. Her accent had been the proof o’ that.

  Now he was stuck wi’ her. Alone.

  Christ.

  He had no choice but to handle things until the girl left. With a final silent curse, Gabriel took a deep breath, readied himself, and stepped into the foyer.

  The girl sprang to her feet the moment Gabriel appeared. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, and he prayed mightily that he’d dressed appropriately. Still, she said nothing. She all but gaped.

  “You’re wantin’ a room, aye?” said Gabriel.

  She nodded, and her cheeks flushed. “I do.”

  He gave a curt nod at the desk. “Chamber thirteen. Grab your key from yon drawer and follow me.”

  The girl’s eyes darted to the desk, and a gloved hand slowly pulled out the drawer. Finding the key, she picked it up, shouldered her pack, and looked at him. “Okay,” she said quietly. Her voice, smooth and feminine, quavered just a bit. From fear or the chill, he didna know which.

  Gabriel strode across the great hall toward the staircase, the light tread of the girl’s boots just behind him, hurrying along. He’d settle her in for the night, then retreat to his own chamber. Hopefully by morn, the weather would clear and she’d leave.

  At the staircase, Gabriel glanced over his shoulder. “This way.”

  “Thanks,” she said quietly.

  Gabriel made his way to the third floor then strode to the end of the corridor. At the last door, he stopped and inclined his head. “Thirteen.”

  The girl nodded, then slowly looked up to meet Gabriel’s gaze. “My name is Paige MacDonald. Thank you for the room,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Paige MacDonald. He found himself suddenly speechless. He’d not seen the lass full-on until now. Her beauty nearly knocked the breath from him.

  At least, that was what it felt like.

  A wee thing, the top of her head came no higher than his chest, and her skin was the smoothest he’d ever seen. A small nose that fit her face, full lips, and he imagined her hair to be the color of straw. Only a small portion poked out from beneath her funny hat. He guessed the rest must be stuffed under it.

  ’Twas her eyes that caught him off guard, though. No’ just the shocking color of blue, or how the width narrowed and turned up at the outer corners and gave them the most unusual of shapes. ’Twas one reason he knew her no’ to be from those MacDonalds. The other reason? He’d killed them all before his own demise. ’Twas obvious she descended from another clan.

  All of those things struck him, in truth. But ’twas the sadness Gabriel saw in the blue depths that struck
him the most.

  It made him mightily uncomfortable.

  Just then, a growling noise interrupted his thoughts.

  The girl blushed furiously, and pressed a hand against her belly. “Sorry. I haven’t eaten in quite a while.”

  Och, damn. “Right. Err, you settle yourself in and come downstairs to the larder. I’ll show you where everythin’ is. Aye?”

  “Okay, thanks.” She turned, stuck her key in the lock, and opened the door. Stepping inside, she glanced at him and gave the slightest of smiles. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  He met her gaze and held it. “Munro. Gabriel Munro.”

  The hesitant smile on Paige’s face didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you again, Gabriel Munro.”

  And with that she shut and locked the door.

  Gabriel stood and stared. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shoved his fingers through his hair, scrubbed the back of his neck, and sighed.

  What in bloody hell was he to do with a beautiful, melancholy lass? If she only knew what he was, she’d never have asked to stay. At least she wasna one of those MacDonalds. Snow or no, he wouldna have even let her through the door.

  As he disappeared down the corridor, he frowned and prayed mightily that the storm would pass and Paige would leave come the morn.

  Chapter Two

  Paige leaned against the door, rested her head back and closed her eyes. How she loathed her silly reaction around men. Especially gorgeous men.

  Men like Gabriel Munro.

  Impossibly tall and broad, muscular, with long dark hair pulled back at the nape, the Gorloch bed-a nd-breakfast owner certainly wasn’t anything she’d expected. The others had been older, warm, and friendly. Gabriel Munro, with his piercing green eyes, worn jeans, cream-colored fisherman’s sweater, and brown hiking boots sort of intimidated her.