MacGowan's Ghost (13 page)

“I was quite innocent, mademoiselle,” Elise said to Allie.

Allie nodded.

Justin waved a hand. “And then those two dolts,” he said in the direction of Lords Ramsey and Killigrew. “Bloody fools took to a duel—”

“Aye, and over a lass,” said Ramsey.

“I daresay she wasn't worth it,” said Killigrew.

They all laughed.

Allie shook her head. “You shot each
other
?” she asked.

Killigrew grinned. “While I, too, fell to my demise, I've no doubt, miss, that my aim hit its mark first.”

“My arse it did,” said Ramsey.

“Enough, lads, enough,” said Justin. “You're boring the poor maid to tears and I vow I cannot bear to hear the tale again.”

Allie rubbed her chin. “Leona told me that Sealladh na Mara was possibly cursed, and that's why everyone can see and interact with all of you.”

Justin gave her an arrogant smile. “Doesna sound so much like a curse, then, aye?”

“I remember the first time I discovered a mortal who could actually see me,” said Drew Digby. “ 'Twas a small lad from the castle on yon cliff.” He inclined in that direction with a slight nod. “A MacGowan, to be sure. A fine family, even back then, although the wee troublemaker tried his best to get me to participate in his antics.”

“Like what?” Allie said.

“Oh,” the friar said, smoothing his hair down, “frightening his sisters, for starters, and I promise you, I only conjured a small hedgehog or two to scamper from beneath their beds.”

They all chuckled.

“That's something else that fascinates me,” said Allie. “How exactly do you conjure?”

“
Oui
,” said Elise. “Justin taught us to simply concentrate on whatever it is we wish for the mortal to behold, then voila! It happens!”

Allie glanced at Justin. He wagged his brows. She wasn't sure she even wanted to know how he learned.

Allie leaned back and smiled. “So, how did you first meet Gabe?”

“Oh, he was such a sweet little dear,” said Elise. “With those chubby cheeks and green eyes and darling little crooked mouth.”

“Och, he was a fine little lad, indeed,” said Justin. “Although from the moment he could walk, he was quite the handful.”

“We all followed to the infirmary when he was born,” said Killigrew. “We stayed invisible, but there he was, lying in the nursery with a dozen other babes.”

“Aye, but his holler was indeed the loudest of them all,” said Ramsey. “Dandy set of lungs, that young Gabe.”

“So much like his own da,” said Justin. He gave a winsome smile. “ 'Tis strange, at times, to think of Gerald as a wee babe. But we watched him come into this world, too.”

Allie watched the spirits of Sealladh na Mara with a newfound respect. They'd watched so many babies mature into adults, only to lose them at some point in life. To grow to love someone so dearly, only to watch them die. How very sad . . .

“So you can see why we dunna want the lads to leave us, aye?” said Justin.

Allie regarded each soul, and the very same thing shone in each of their ghostly eyes.

Love for Gabe and Jake.

“Yes, I certainly can,” she answered. “And the only way I think I can help is to find out what's truly bothering Gabe.” She met Justin's gaze. “Jake says he has bad dreams of his wife.”

He nodded. “Indeed, I can see how—”

“Shht!” said Elise. Her face softened when she looked at Allie. “I don't mean to sound so crude, but 'tis Gabe's tale to tell and no one else's. 'Twould be wrong of us to tell it behind his back,
non
?”

Allie nodded. “You're absolutely right. I'm sure with a little time, he'll open up.”

She just hoped it wasn't too late when he decided to do it.

Allie stretched and yawned. “Well, I'm off to bed.” She stood and faced the lot. She started for the stairs. “Good night, then.”

A round of good-nights sounded in the room, and Justin rose from his seat. “I'll walk you to your chambers, lass.”

Allie led the way across the lobby and to the stairs, Justin just behind her. As they reached the third-floor platform, Justin fell into step beside her.

She glanced at him, noticed he was looking down at her, smiled, and shook her head.

“What is it?” he said.

“You. You're like, what, six foot two?”

“Four.”

“Okay, six foot four. You're walking beside me, you tower over me, you're swaggering in that arrogant way guys walk, with your overcoat swishing around your legs, and although your physical matter isn't really there,
you're
really there.” She looked at him. “Your soul. The thing that
really
counts.” She looked away and shook her head again. “I guess that's what fascinates me so much about the unliving.”

Justin chuckled, a low, deep sound in his throat, and as they reached Allie's door, he turned to her. “Well then, lass, let me say that I've never been more bloody thrilled to be amongst the unliving.” He winked, and gave her a sweeping low bow. “Until the morn, Allie Morgan.”

He rose, gave her a lopsided grin, and swaggered off down the corridor.

Allie watched him until he disappeared.

Literally.

With a yawn, she let herself into her room and readied herself for bed.

 

Gabe could hear the moan, and somehow, he thought he was awake.

And that the moan came from
someone else
.

Yet he lay there, unable to move, unable to fully rouse. His heart slammed against his chest, and sweat beaded his forehead. A vision appeared, foggy, unclear, and tendrils of icy mist slipped about his throat and squeezed, and the breath left his lungs in a rush of forced air . . .

“No!” he shouted, and Gabe found himself sitting straight up in bed. He blinked, trying fiercely to clear the awful vision.

But before it faded, it changed. He was awake now, not half asleep. The tendrils of mist became dank hair, auburn hair—
Kait's hair
—and the place where her face should have been remained dark, shadowy, hollow. From a body that wasn't fully formed, a long arm rose, and from that, a finger.

It pointed straight at Gabe.

“No!” Gabe shouted. His eyes flew open. This time, he truly did sit up. He glanced around, peered into every darkened corner, and found nothing. He wiped his forehead that was indeed beaded with sweat, and tried to calm his ragged breath.

He couldn't tell which time he'd risen was real.

Swearing, he pushed the duvet from his body and walked to the window, lifted the pane, and let the cold air drift in. It cooled his face and bare body, and he closed his eyes and inhaled, tasting the salt of the loch on his tongue. Familiar things that haunted him yet soothed him at the same time.

Christ, he was daft.

Although he knew what he'd find, he checked the clock. One a.m. Just as he thought.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he pulled on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt he left unbuttoned, checked on Jake, who blessedly was still asleep, and slipped out into the darkened corridor. At the landing, he stopped and looked up.

It took everything he had not to take the next flight of steps and go wake Allie Morgan. Why he had the insane urge to simply talk to her, he didna know. Christ Almighty, he was losing his bloody mind . . .

He shook his head and started down, toward the kitchen. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and he felt as though he wanted to run as fast and hard as he could, just to make the dreams go away. He'd lose his mind alone. He wouldna drag anyone else along. Especially a virtual stranger.

With an intensity building within, the need to release the pent-up frustration of what was happening to him, Gabe hurried through the dark. Just as he neared the kitchen, he slammed into a body. He reached out and grabbed a pair of arms that seemingly reached for him at the same time.

Allie gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. I—Gabe, what's wrong? Are you okay? Is it Jake?”

Gabe realized only then how tightly he held on to Allie's upper arms, and he could only imagine what his expression looked like.

He loosened his grip, but didna let go. “Nay. No' Jake.”

“Take a deep breath, Gabe,” her calming voice spoke just above a whisper. “Close your eyes and breathe.”

He did as she asked, and with that deep breath Allie's scent wafted up, soft, feminine, a bit flowery, and clean. When he opened his eyes, he could barely see her, and only with what the small amount of light shed by the single lamp in the lobby allowed. She was mostly in shadows, but he could tell her hair was down, and that she wore something dark, thin, and soft. And although her words were soothing, calm, her breathing told a different tale. She was either nervous or scared. Maybe both.

“Look at me,” she said, her fingers tightening around his forearms. He hadn't even noticed right away that she'd held on. “Focus, Gabe, breathe again, and
look
at me.”

Again, he did as she asked. He opened his eyes and looked down, and the amber glow from the lobby's lamp made her blue eyes appear dark, glassy, and fathomless. She said nothing else. She simply stared up at him, breathed with him, waiting.

And it was more than he could bloody take.

Locking in on her gaze, Gabe eased one hand up and threaded it through the heavy mass of Allie's hair—just as soft as he imagined. He watched with fascination as one long curl coiled around his finger as though it had a life of its own.

Slowly, he slid his hand to her jaw, tilted it just so, and held her chin as he lowered his head. His mouth settled over hers, soft, full lips that seemed to fit his perfectly. They stood there, mouths pressed together, and
breathed.
Gabe edged closer, cupped the back of her head with one hand, slid the other to her waist, and barely opened his mouth. When his tongue touched hers, he groaned, a sound he felt deep in his chest, a sound he had no control over.

Allie moved then, and where she'd been still as a statue before, her hands left his forearms and slid up to his neck, encircling it and pulling his mouth closer to hers. She kissed
him
then, hesitant, yet willing, and Christ, she tasted so good, he wanted more. Leaning into her, he pressed her against the wall, felt the softness of her body beneath whatever thin slip of something she wore, and pulled her closer still. Their mouths moved together, his hands held her head at just the right angle, and there, in the dark and without words, they kissed.

Allie's soft fingers trailed his jaw, slid close to their mouths, and held on tightly as he pulled her closer still. One hand moved over his chest and slipped round to his back. The sensation of her skin brushing his drove him mad. Christ, it'd been forever since a woman had touched him . . .

“Ahem!”

Gabe and Allie both jumped at the same time, efficiently clunking their heads together. Gabe held her at arm's length, and then let go and stepped back farther. He kept his eyes trained on hers. She rubbed her forehead. He rubbed his.

He didna trust his voice at all.

“I do believe 'tis time for the young lady to return to bed,” said Friar Digby with more severity than Gabe remembered ever hearing. “She's spent way too long out here in this drafty hall”—he peered at him through his ghostly cowl—“with
you
.” He smiled at Allie. “Miss? Shall I accompany you?”

Allie glanced at Gabe, the corner of her kiss-swollen mouth lifted into a tiny smile, and she nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Drew.” As she stepped around Gabe, she looked at him once more. “Good night.”

“And to you,” Gabe said.

He watched them both leave.

Turning, he put his back to the wall and rested his weight there. With one hand, he rubbed his jaw, then scrubbed his eyes.

Christ Almighty, what had he just done?

He was damned lucky the only spirit to have seen them was the friar. One never knew where they lurked.

Pushing off the wall, Gabe made for the kitchen, filled a large glass with water from the tap, and drank it down in two, three gulps. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he set the glass down and stared out the window. The loch gleamed in the moonlight, and somehow it
looked
cold outside. Just what he needed.

Without another thought, he walked to the side door, opened it up, and stepped out. A blast of icy air hit his bare chest, his throat, his face. He stood there for several minutes—maybe longer—until his heated body had cooled, and his heart had slowed to normal.

As he glanced at the cliff in the distance, and at the remnants of his ancestor's keep, he wondered briefly if his bloody heart would ever beat normal again.

As long as Allie Morgan was around, he doubted it.

With that gloomy thought in mind, Gabe eased back inside and closed the door.

 

Allie closed her door, then turned her back to it and rested her weight there. Briefly, she closed her eyes.

And that brought back every memory, every sensation of Gabe's hands moving over her skin, his mouth tasting hers, his weight pressing against her.

And the absolute power and desperation the man had bottled up inside. Allie knew it had taken nearly all his strength not to unleash that power and desperation—she could feel it simmering just below the surface of his skin, feel it in his kiss, and in how his hands had clung to her.

Opening her eyes, she heaved a hefty breath and moved to the alcove window seat, lifted the glass, and stared out over the loch. Cold and windy, the air touched her skin, cooling it, somehow soothing it, and bringing her back down to earth just a little.