by Cindy Miles
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Is it working?”
Allie giggled and mimicked his circling. “Nay.”
He laughed, and abruptly changed directions, brushing so close to her that Allie felt a tingle at the spot they would have touched. Without much thought, she took her hand and swiped it through Justin’s arm. Another tingling sensation, this time stronger. When she looked up, Justin was watching her closely.
“What does it feel like, lass?” he asked.
Allie, keeping in step, shrugged. “Sort of like when you’ve been sitting with your foot under your bottom for too long.”
Justin changed directions and nodded. “Aye, and it starts to prickle once you get up.” He grinned that cocky grin. “ ’Tis quite an intimate thing, the swiping of a mortal’s limb through that of a spirit. Did you know that, lass?”
Allie turned, dipped, and narrowed her eyes. “You are flirting again, Catesby.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Again, is it working?”
Allie lifted a brow.
Justin laughed. “Then I shall strive harder to accomplish the feat.”
“Rogue.”
“Tease.”
They both laughed together.
Keeping in step, Allie cocked her head. “I just can’t get over how the entire village of Sealladh na Mara accepts all of you. Do you ever think of how unique it is?”
Justin glanced away, shrugged, and then met her gaze. “Aye, and nay. When I visit other places, I do realize how fortunate we are here to have the entire village accept us. Of course,” he said, ducking his head and drawing close, “we’ve been here since their forefathers’ forefathers were bairns. They’ve known us all of their lives.” He gave a winsome grin. “I remember the verra first time I stumbled up the cobbled path”—he inclined his head in that direction he spoke of—“just there a ways. I didna realize just yet that I had died. I simply thought I’d been lost at sea for a spell.” He glanced down at her and shrugged. “I stumbled right upon a MacGowan. I suppose ’twould be young Gabe’s great-grandfather’s great-grandfather. Or something o’ that nature.”
Allie looked at him. “What was his name?”
“Luke. Luke MacGowan, and he was one big, ornery lad. He’d just anchored his fishin’ boat and was makin’ his way to Odin’s when I sort of walked through him.” He shook his head. “We stared at each other for a long bloody time.” He met her gaze. “And then the bloody fool tried to take a swing at me. After that, it didna take long to become friends.”
Allie could see how that had happened. Justin was just about the most charming soul she’d ever encountered. She felt sure he could be stern if he had to, but his personality was so confident and easygoing, she just bet he was able to coerce his shipmates into following command without too much force.
She grinned. “And you met the friar not long after arriving here?”
Justin nodded. “Aye. We each knew what the other was the moment we clapped eyes on each other.” He waved a hand in the air. “Drew is an easy lad to get along with, so we, too, became fast friends. And ’twas nice enough to have a soul in the same . . . shape as myself. Aye?”
Allie nodded. “Definitely aye.”
The music wound down, and Justin gave Allie a low bow.
Just as a slow, haunting melody kicked up. Winsome and Celtic, it sounded as though it were snatched straight from the movie Braveheart.
Justin grinned; then his gaze lifted and rested on something behind her. His expression faded into something else. Wordlessly, he bowed and backed away.
Strong and purposeful fingers encircled Allie’s upper arm and pulled her around. She was surprised to be face-to-face with Gabe MacGowan, his green eyes a mixture of accusation and desire. How she could tell that, Allie didn’t know. But she could.
Just as she knew they connected on a level far beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Her heart thumped erratically as he stared at her, his jaw tense, eyes searching her face. It all but unnerved her, and Allie wasn’t one to normally become unnerved. She was now.
Without a single word and without breaking his stare, Gabe loosened his grip on her arm and found her hand, lifting and placing it around his neck. Her other hand, he took in his, raising it to rest on his chest. With his free hand he found her hip, and tugged gently to pull her closer. The warmth she felt from his grip through her clothes, strangely enough, made her shiver.
Allie found she could barely breathe.
The haunting pipes and strings of the melody drifted over the loch with the slightest of sea breezes, and while not exactly the sort of music to dance to, Gabe and Allie somehow managed anyway. They moved together, she following his slow, surprisingly easy lead. The twinkling amber lights strung above their heads entwined with shadows, casting planes of darkness across Gabe’s jaw, the side of his nose, beneath his eyes, across his lips. It mesmerized her, the shadows on his face, and she found she couldn’t quite get her fill of the sight.
Or of Gabe.
For the first time, she noticed something different about him. He looked rested.
“I canna stop thinking about you,” he said, his heavy Highland brogue making about sound like aboot. “And I’m no’ sure I like it.”
The blunt honesty of his comment struck her. She sighed, then shrugged. “I have that effect on most people. Terrible trait of mine.”
The smallest of grins lifted the corner of Gabe’s mouth.
Allie found it sexy beyond belief.
His hand inched from her hip to the small of her back, and her skin tingled beneath the thin gauze of her blouse.
He leaned his head toward hers to whisper in her ear. “I can still taste you,” he said, his voice deep, a bit gritty—almost as if he smoked, but he didn’t. He inhaled. “I’ve thought about that night over and over and it’s drivin’ me crazy.” His words brushed against her hair; his tongue rolled with each r.
Both made her shiver some more.
Allie caught her breath. “Me, too.”
Gabe stared at her for a moment, the muscle in his jaw flexed, and she could tell he wanted to say something, but just wouldn’t. Finally, he muttered something under his breath, glanced away, and then once more met her gaze straight-on.
“I want to show you something,” he said. “Come with me.”
Allie looked up at him and blinked. “What about Jake?”
His brow lifted. “I’ve already seen Jake and he’s staying at my parents’ for the night.”
“It’s late,” she countered.
“We’re grown-ups.”
“I’ll just say this and then off with you both,” said Friar Digby, suddenly beside them. “Whilst I won’t be a complete bother and a ninny, I can assure you, I’ll know what goes on.” He eyed Gabe. “They’ll be no taking advantage of this maid, is that clear, lad?”
Gabe pulled Allie along. “You dunna have to threaten me, Friar. I wouldna take advantage of her or anyone else.”
“Lad?” the friar said, this time more stern.
Gabe looked over his shoulder as he led her away. “You have my word, Drew.”
That must have satisfied the friar because he didn’t follow behind.
“Where are we going?” Allie asked as they made their way through the dwindling crowd of ceilidhgoers. They received quite a few good-natured stares, but Gabe didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
He glanced down and grinned. “You’ll see.”
She supposed she would.
Gabe handed her a helmet. “Here. Put this on.”
Standing behind Odin’s, with only a streetlamp and the moon to cast any light whatsoever, Allie paused.
“Why?”
Gabe reached down to the mound he stood next to, grabbed the end of what appeared to be a dark tarp, and whipped it off. Allie thought she’d find a large grill, maybe.
No grill. A motorcycle.
One that looked fast.
She laughed. “Ha-ha, you’re kidding me.”
&nbs
p; Gabe turned to her. “You scared?”
Allie rubbed her chin and mimicked his accent. “No, I’m no’ scared.”
He grinned and nodded toward her helmet. “Great. Then put that on. I promise no’ to go fast.”
Allie stared at him a moment, weighing.
Gabe stared right back.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Gabe simply nodded once more to the helmet.
With an exaggerated sigh, Allie pulled on the helmet, waited for Gabe to start the bike, and then climbed on behind him.
Over the hum of the motor, Gabe flipped up his visor and leaned back. “Put your hands about my waist, lass. I swear, I willna bite.”
She did.
And could have sworn she heard Gabe say “yet.”
She trusted a virtual stranger with her life.
Had she lost her mind?
Within seconds, they pulled away from the pub, down the lane, and out of Sealladh na Mara, where the bonfire near the wharf still blazed, a few dancers still moved to the reels of the musicians, and where Allie could just make out the haunting strings of the melody over the purr of the bike.
Although Gabe felt like opening the bike’s engine up and blazing across the moors, he didna. Mainly because the deer tended to be out and about after the sun went down and the last thing he wanted to do was hit one with a motorbike.
Allie’s arms encircled his waist and she held on tightly, even taking her hands and wadding them up into his shirt.
He’d told her the bloody truth. He’d no’ been able to get her off his mind at all. No matter what he tried.
And he did try.
Winding along the single-track lane, he made their way toward the cliffs. At the base, he slowed and flipped his visor. “Hold on tight, lass. We’ll be uphill for a bit.”
He thought she said “Great.” And had said it like him, with r’s rolling.
Flipping the visor back down, he grinned behind it. A lass with humor. He liked that.
Turning up the gravel path that led to the top of the cliff, Gabe drove slowly, Allie held on tightly, and within a few moments, they’d reached the crest. He pulled the bike a safe distance from the path, stopped, and killed the motor. He took off his helmet.
Allie didna move an inch.
“Lass?” he urged.
“Oh,” she said, throwing her leg over and stepping down. She pulled off her helmet and Gabe watched that mass of curls spill out.
“Wow,” she said, glancing out across the flat span of grass and rock. “We’re at your ancestors’ castle on the cliff.”
“Aye.” He dismounted, set their helmets on each handlebar, pulled a rolled blanket from the back, and inclined his head. “Ready?”
In the moonlight, she grinned. “For?”
Gabe stared at her, thinking he’d never seen anything more lovely than the American ghost ouster standing there, bathed in silver. “The view of your life.”
“Lead the way,” she said.
And he did.
As they walked, he eased his hand down and took hers, threading their fingers and pulling her close. It seemed such a natural thing to do, yet it felt foreign, just the same.
It scared him. Liking Allie Morgan scared him.
He’d decided to tell her a few things about himself, and he prayed she’d not judge him on the person he used to be.
He suspected she wouldna.
But just in case, he’d brought her to a place where she couldna run. Childish? Sneaky? Aye. ’Twas all of those things. But had he not felt such a powerful connection with her, he wouldna have bothered wasting her time. Or his.
But he had felt it. And she had, too. He could sense it. And he could ignore it no longer. She was makin’ him bloody witless.
In silence, they crossed over the grassy outcropping, closer to the edge of the cliff. The MacGowan keep rose toward the sky, more feeble than it had been in its heyday but still strong and proud. The main entrance was a yawning cave of shadows. Allie pulled closer.
“How do you know there aren’t any serial killers or bears in there?” she said, ducking her head and peering in.
Gabe smiled and shook his head. “No serial killers, Allie Morgan, and the only bears in Scotland are at the zoo.”
She turned and looked at him, the moonlight glistening in the depths of her eyes. “Wildcats?”
He nodded. “Aye, now, there may be those. Best you stay close, then.”
She blinked.
He smothered a grin.
“Come on,” he said, tucking the blanket under his arm, taking her shoulders in his hands, and turning her about. “Over to the cliff’s edge we go.”
Gabe led her closer, stopped, and shook out the blanket, spreading it over the damp, dewy grass. He inclined his head. “Sit with me?”
With a smile, she did. “Whatever you say.” Gabe, keeping a modest distance between them, sat beside her. He looked at her, the silver light of the moon sliding over her skin and hair. She moistened her lips and smiled.
And he prayed mightily he could keep his hands to himself.
Chapter 14
It was just sitting, for Christ’s sake. Sitting. Yet Gabe knew that nosy friar was lurking somewhere close by.
Probably, ’twas a good thing.
Pulling his knees up, he rested his forearms atop them and stared out across the sea loch. ’Twas cool, but no’ windy. The moon offered just the right amount of light.
Allie had remained silent, which to him was a surprise. She stared out before her, a soft smile to her lips. “It’s gorgeous.”
He looked at her. “Aye. Indeed.”
Taking a deep breath, he looked seaward and started before he changed his bloody mind. “You said you could help if you knew more.” He glanced at her. “And I need your help. So mayhap, if you know everything, you can.”
She simply nodded.
“I met Jake’s mum whilst at university in Glasgow. We were both young. She was twenty-two, I was twenty-six. I was nearing my last term in law school when she found out she was pregnant. We’d been seeing each other for no’ quite a year.”
Allie sat silently, listening.
Gabe didna glance at her. Not yet.
“I was so bloody angry.” He sighed. “I felt as though me life had been swiped out from under me legs. I couldna stay in school and raise a baby, so I dropped out, as did she, and we moved back here, to Sealladh na Mara. My uncle—Wee Mary’s husband—had died a few years before. Mary offered to sell Odin’s to me, so I could make a decent living for Kait and the baby. I drained my savings and took out a loan and bought it from her. Then we married.” He breathed, feeling an anxiety build within him, and let out a long breath. “Jake was born six months later.”
They sat silent for a few moments. Allie said nothing. Just sat there, content to allow him to go at his own pace. For that he was grateful.
He hadna spoken about any of it in years.
To anyone.
“We were both unhappy. I resented the hell out o’ Kait, and she hated me for stealing her youth. She hated Sealladh na Mara, hated working the kitchen, and we fell apart quite fast. It was a bloody awful situation.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Allie nod.
He took a deep breath. Opened his mouth, then shut it again. He swore in Gaelic.
A soft laugh escaped Allie. “Your mother has taught me a few words. That’s one of them.”
Damn his mother.
And that soft laugh, and that small admission, somehow made it easier for Gabe to go on.
“I started drinking—more than usual, anyway. I’d always partied with me mates, stopped by the local pub for a few pints. The usual. But this was excessive. And I started smoking like a freight train. My escapes, I suppose. I still held things together, though. For quite some time, actually. I ran Odin’s, alongside Wee Mary. By then, Kait had given up.”
Again, Allie nodded.
“The night she had Jake, I was too drunk to drive her
to the infirmary. My da drove us. I vaguely remember Jake’s birth.”
The suffocating sensation that always accompanied all of the events surrounding his and Kait’s short-lived marriage threatened to choke him like an unseen hand to the throat, squeezing. He rose, simply standing, eyes locked on the sea. It was all he could do not to shout.
“Both of us were lousy parents to wee Jake. I was a functioning drunk, spending all of my time at the pub to avoid my wife and infant, and she simply withdrew. My mum and Wee Mary looked after Jake mostly, whilst Kait sulked about, depressed, angry. She began to drink, as well, and sleep a lot.”
Gabe could hear his own voice quiver, and he hated it. His eyes stung, for he knew how horrible a father he’d been to his infant boy. He’d never forgive himself. Never.
With a final heaving breath, Gabe finished. “The night Kait died, we’d fought terribly. I was mostly drunk; she probably was, too. I canna completely recall.” He stared up at the crescent moon and blinked. “But I can recall what happened next. She screamed that Jake wasna really mine, and that she hated us both and wanted to die.” He closed his eyes. “I remember telling her I wished she would, too. Just go on and die, then, I told her. Just bloody do it.”
Suddenly, Allie’s presence shook him from the past. She stood beside him, her fingers linking through his and squeezing tight. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft, reassuring, unaccusing. “Her death is not your fault, Gabe. It’s just not.”
He pulled his hand free. “It is my fault, Allie Morgan.” He moved from her then, a few steps away, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I drank like a fish during Kait’s pregnancy and Jake’s entire first year of life. I am a recovering alcoholic who doesna even remember his son’s birth!” Old anger built inside him, anger from Kait, anger from his own stupid self, and all the mistakes made in between. He glared at Allie. “Do you know much about recovering alcoholics, Allie? Nay? I’ll let you in on the bloody secret, then. It’s always here, Allie.” He tapped his chest. “Trapped inside. Waiting to be let out again. I have to be on guard all the bloody time.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, and moved closer to him. She reached for his hand, and he slung it away.