MacGowan's Ghost

by Cindy Miles

  Allie grinned at him.

  “We’re no’ leavin’, are we, Da?” Jake’s little voice said as he scooted across the lobby and threw an arm around Gabe’s neck.

  Gabe hugged his son and scrubbed his head. “Let’s just say I’m thinkin’ things over, lad.”

  Jake looked directly at Allie and smiled.

  Gabe gave Jake a loving pat on the backside. “Now scoot back to bed, aye? You’ve school in the morning and you need a good night’s sleep.”

  Jake then reached up, cupped his hand to Gabe’s ear, and whispered something.

  Allie couldn’t read Gabe’s expression. Surprise, maybe? She wasn’t sure.

  In the next second, the little guy was at her side, pulling on her arm so he could whisper something in her ear, too. She leaned down.

  “Thank you, Allie,” he said. “But we’ve still work to do, I think.”

  With that, he hurried back across the lobby to the stairs without turning back once.

  Allie shot Gabe a look.

  Green eyes studied her, bored right into her soul, so it seemed. It made her insides turn warm, and she wondered if anyone else could tell how flustered Gabe MacGowan made her.

  She simply smiled and shrugged. How could she convey to Gabe something she herself didn’t even understand? Later, when she could talk to Jake alone, she’d ask him more questions.

  Wee Mary tapped the table with a nail. “So, lad, tell me more of this contract. ’Tis with the Realtor, you say? What does it mean, exactly?”

  Gabe stretched his arms out over the table and clasped his hands. Allie noticed the thick veins running up his arms. He met Allie’s gaze, then turned to his aunt. “I signed a contract with the Realtor. She gathers potential buyers and sets up the times for them to view the pub and inn. The contract is set so that she doesn’t lose any money. Connected to that same contract is the one she makes with the potential buyers. They’ve signed a contract with her, as well. So I am obligated to allow them the chance to make an offer.”

  “So you basically signed away your right to say nay, aye?” Justin asked.

  Gabe nodded. “Aye, indeed.” He looked at everyone. “I’ve still no’ made up my mind.” He scowled.

  Allie thought that too much pushing wouldn’t do the situation any good, so instead she clapped her hands. “Okay. Let’s let things settle overnight, and we’ll talk again tomorrow.” She met everyone’s gaze. “How’s that?”

  “Right. Until then, we could plan just how to haunt the buyers, aye?” said Christopher Ramsey.

  Allie frowned. “No, that’s not what I meant.” She glanced at Gabe. “Let’s just think things over tonight. No hasty decisions. Okay?”

  Several grumbled ayes filled the room.

  For now, that was good enough.

  “For the record, I’d like my opinion to be heard and known,” said Justin. He looked straight at Gabe, and for a change, his expression was lacking mirth. He was dead serious. “I have known you your entire life, lad. I sometimes think I know you better than I know my own self, and there’s one thing I know for a certainty. You and Jake belong here, with all o’ us. At Sealladh na Mara.” He cleared his throat. “I dunna want you to leave.”

  Each man held the other’s gaze, and Allie could only imagine the years of memories running through both heads. She also couldn’t help but wonder if Justin or the others had ever verbally spoken their feelings of Gabe and Jake staying, or if they’d simply dived straight in to the haunting.

  Finally, Gabe wordlessly gave Justin a short nod.

  “I fancied the head trick myself,” said Lord Ramsey.

  Everyone chuckled, and he winked at Elise. “Excellent performance, mademoiselle.”

  Mademoiselle Elise Bedeau’s transparent cheeks stained pink and she gave a curt nod. “Merci. It was passing enjoyable. The look on that fop’s face as my dismembered head spoke to him was quite memorable.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Gabe, do you have an appointment scheduled for your next buyer?” Allie asked.

  He nodded. “Aye, in three days. Eight a.m. sharp.” Laina, Gabe’s mother, spoke up. “Gabe, love, your father will be coming home that day. We were thinking of planning a welcome-home party.” She winked at Allie. “He’s been a longshoreman since the day I met him.”

  A few all-knowing ahhs sounded from the male souls.

  “ ’Twas on a long weekend young Gabe here came along,” said the friar. “The very next year, his sister.” He winked. “Busy lads, those longshoremen.”

  “Och, go on with ya, then,” said Laina, blushing. A moment later, she murmured, “But you’re right.”

  Another round of laughter rose.

  “Oy, I’m tired. Sister, let’s go, aye?” said Wee Mary.

  “I can drive you both home,” said Gabe, who started to rise.

  “Nonsense, boy, sit down,” said Mary. “We’re just up the lane there.” They rose and started to leave.

  Gabe rose, too. “Auntie, dunna be so hard-headed—”

  “Lad, sit. I had me appendix out, not knee surgery,” said Mary. “Laina, tell your boy to stay put.”

  Lords Ramsey and Killigrew, as well as Captain Catesby, all rose at once. “We’ll accompany the maids,” said Killigrew.

  Mary blushed. “Now, those escorts I’ll accept. Come along, lads.” She grinned at Allie. “Beannachd leat,” she said in Gaelic.

  “Aye, beannachd leat,” repeated Laina, who waved. “ ’Till the morn.”

  “Bye,” said Allie.

  Gabe walked both ladies to the door, dropped a kiss to each of their cheeks, and repeated those same Gaelic words.

  “What does it mean?” asked Allie, rising and taking their glasses to the kitchen.

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” said Dauber, scratching his head. “Are you two up for a bit of bones tonight?” he asked the friar and Mademoiselle.

  As Allie entered the kitchen, she heard a resounding “aye” as well as “oui” behind her. She shook her head. How the spirited souls loved to gamble. Even if it was just for bragging rights.

  Rinsing out the glasses, Allie placed them in the rack and dried her hands. Glancing out of the window, she saw wispy clouds sliding past a thumbnail moon that hung low over the loch.

  “ ’Tis beautiful, aye?” Gabe’s deep brogue sounded close. He leaned on the counter beside Allie and stared out the window. He glanced at her. “When I was a wee lad, me da used to tell me stories of the kelpie who’d come to the wharf during a crescent moon to lure a mortal into the depths of the water to be its mate.” He chuckled. “Used to scare the bloody hell out of me.”

  Allie smiled, then glanced at Gabe. He hadn’t once tried to kiss her, much less touch her, since the night on the cliff. There was a hesitancy about him now, something making him hold back. It snapped in the air between them like a current of electricity.

  She hadn’t a clue what was wrong. But she decided that if he wanted to kiss her, he would. He’d unloaded a great deal of pent-up guilt to her that night overlooking the loch. Maybe he was ashamed? Maybe he wasn’t sure he wanted to go any further with someone who would be leaving eventually.

  “Me granny would say you were gatherin’ wool,” he said. “That means you’re in deep thought. What’s wrong?”

  Allie shrugged. “Do you find it strange I’m here?” she asked. She turned, placed her hands on the counter behind her, and lifted herself up to sit. “I mean, I’m practically living under your roof, eating your food, interacting with your family, your spirits, working in your pub.” She shook her head and crossed her ankles. “You hired me to oust your bothersome ghosts, but that’s not why I’m here any longer. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

  Gabe turned and leaned a hip against the counter, facing Allie yet only a couple of feet apart. He crossed his arms over his chest, and considered a moment. Then he nodded. “Aye. Almost as weird as, out of the entire bloody international and local Web sites listed for ghost busters—thousands, I
recall—I randomly select a handful by name only and yours is one of them?” He whistled low. “Bloomin’ crazy if you ask me.”

  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

  “Christ!” 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 t
he 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.