MacGowan's Ghost (30 page)

“But you just took one, lass. Before we went to Ethan's.”

“Not a cold one. I'll be back.”

Then she turned and slipped into the cottage.

Since no one had thought to leave on a lamp, the interior of the cottage had only a slight silvery glow from the moon as it poured in through the two large picture windows facing the loch. Finding the small hallway, she made for the room she'd set her overnight bag in. Once there, she yanked off her jacket and flung it onto the bed. “It's so hot in here,” she muttered under her breath while digging through her bag.

“Allie, stop, love.”

She squealed and jumped. Turning around, she pasted on a smile she hoped the dark would conceal.

Especially if it looked as fake as it felt.

“I'll just be a minute,” she said, and brushed by Gabe, who stood just outside the door to the room.

Allie didn't even make it to the bathroom door.

Gabe grabbed her hand as she tried to pass, and she jerked to a stop. Without a word, he rounded on her, placed his fingertips on her stomach, gently pushed until her back touched the wall. He braced his weight with a hand to either side of her head and stared down at her.

Even just standing there, with him so close and she with her emotions soaring, Allie's breath came hard. She tried to slow it down, but her chest rose and fell and she knew Gabe noticed.

He
looked.

Once more, he asked, “Lass, what's wrong with you?”

She attempted to duck under his arm. He lowered it and trapped her again.

Allie rubbed her forehead and then looked Gabe dead center in the eyes. “You might be able to control yourself, Gabe MacGowan, and remain calm and collected and unaffected by, well, you know. Me.” She narrowed her eyes. “I'm not quite that strong. I'm the type of person whose emotions can't just be bottled up. For long.”

“I see,” he said, his voice smooth and nonflustered.

Allie frowned and ducked under his arm once more and this time, she made it. She scooted down the short hallway toward the bathroom, but again, she didn't make it.

“Enough, lass,” Gabe said as he spun her around. Once more, she found herself pressed against the wall. “Do you think I find any of this easy?” His breathing came a bit faster now, frustrated, maybe even angry. He dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning closer to her ear as though making sure no one else heard his confession but him. “Dunna think for one bloody second I'm no' dyin' inside to touch you.” His gaze dropped, and one hand grazed her hip, eased over to where her sweater didn't quite cover her stomach, and slipped a knuckle over the sensitive skin by her navel.

Allie sucked in a sharp breath, just at the contact.

His gaze then slowly lifted back up to her throat, her mouth, and then to her eyes. “I'm starved for you, Allie Morgan, wild-hungry to taste you.” His voice dropped lower still, his brogue thick, and this time, with his eyes still fixed to Allie's, he brushed his lips over hers. “To take you.” He closed his eyes shut, hung his head, and
breathed.
Then he looked up again. “Dunna you understand, lass? If I started to touch you, I'm no' sure I'd ever have the power or desire to stop.”

Allie wet her lips and stared into Gabe's stormy green eyes. “Maybe I wouldn't
want
you to stop, Gabe MacGowan.” She dared not touch him, for she could already feel the wound-up barely contained explosion within Gabe's body. Her voice dropped to a whisper on its own. “Maybe I want you just as badly.” She laughed softly. “
Need
you.”

Gabe's eyes closed, and he swore. “I promise, love,” he said, his voice hoarse. He looked at her. “It's more than that. It has to do with me no' losin' control. 'Tis something I vowed never to do again.”

Suddenly, it hit Allie like a ton of bricks.

It had to do with his sobriety. Not just about keeping her reputation intact. It had to do with making sure he stayed in complete control of his urges, including the ones that tempted him to drink.

Inwardly, Allie cringed. Could she be any more selfish?

Outwardly, she threw her arms around Gabe's neck, kissed his cheek, and hugged him tightly. “I'm sorry,” she said against his throat. “I'm—I wasn't thinking.”

Gabe's arms went around her, one hand cradling the back of her head. His body shook, and his breathing was ragged, but he managed a soft laugh. “ 'Tis all right, love. 'Twill be fine.” He kissed her temple. “Let's just rest up before morning. 'Tis nearly midnight.”

So together they held each other in the moonlit hall of the cottage, and through Allie's desire she realized Gabe's sheer determined strength, and she discovered she loved him even more than before.

He pulled back and looked at her. “I'm a strong man, Allie Morgan, but no' strong enough to sleep with you in my arms and behave.”

Allie didn't say anything. She just smiled.

And Gabe left her, went to the spare bedroom, and shut the door.

Sometime later, after Allie had drifted off to sleep, she awakened with a start. She lay there in the small room of the cottage, gathered her bearings, and stared into the darkness. She felt sure she'd heard—

“No!”
Gabe's voice called out, frantic, angry. “Damn you, Kait,
no
!”

Allie threw the covers back and hit the floor running. Though the same moon shone silvery light through the picture windows, she still stumbled through the shadows until she reached Gabe's room. Without hesitation, she opened the door and hurried in.

She stopped dead in her tracks. The icy temperature nearly robbed her breath. Allie immediately recognized the coldness. An intense, restless spirit was close by. It was a telltale sign.

She stifled a gasp
.
A filmy, transparent soul stood next to Gabe's bed
. His wife . . .

Allie kept her eye trained on the malevolent spirit and approached Gabe with caution. The moonlight fell across him, and he writhed in his bed, out of the covers, still wearing his jeans but bare-chested. He spoke in Gaelic, so much of what he said Allie didn't understand. What she did understand, though, was Gabe MacGowan was terrified.

Then the soul moved its stare from Gabe to Allie, and she felt a coldness settle over her that she'd not experienced in all her years of dealing with souls. Chunks of hair were missing; pale, puckered skin covered a too-skinny frame, one eye socket sat empty and blackened, and the mouth, crooked in a way that suggested a broken jaw, flailed open, shadowy. Frightening.

Allie could feel the despair and hatred pouring off the soul in heavy, suffocating waves.

She drew a deep breath and knelt down beside Gabe. She rested her hand on his biceps and stared at his wife's spirit. “Leave him,” Allie ordered. “Please, Kait, leave him alone.” She stared, unafraid, at the spirit. “If you'll let me, I can help you—”

A terrible groan sounded from the soul, threatening, overwhelming, and yet no words formed.

Gabe's wife simply screamed. And with the one eye remaining looked at Allie, pointed, and her flailing mouth smiled.

And then the soul vanished.

Chapter 27

“
G
abe! Wake up!” Gabe jerked and sat up. His heart hammered in his chest, his breath quickened, and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

A soft hand stroked his, and he jumped back. Startled, he stared into a pair of wide eyes.

“Gabe, it's Allie. Look at me.
Breathe.
”

The cobwebs of the nightmare still clogged his brain, and he slid his hand round the back of his neck. He did breathe. He closed his eyes and his body began to shake.

“Gabe, look at me.”

That same soft hand rested against his cheek, grasped his jaw, and turned his head. “Gabe.”

Gabe opened his eyes and recognition set in. He heaved a sigh, took a deep breath, and heaved another. “Christ.”

Allie. It was
Allie.
She eased onto the bed, leaned against the short headboard, and pulled Gabe to her. He went willingly, slid his arms around her waist, and settled into her softness. Her arms went round him and she held on tightly. He felt her mouth press against the top of his head. Neither said anything for quite some time.

Then Allie spoke.

“This is why you're awake at the same time every morning,” she said, her voice gentle. “She comes to you.”

Gabe inhaled Allie's scent, and it calmed him. “Aye. And I should've told you. I was goin' to that night at the wharf, but Sean interrupted.” He sighed again. “I suppose I was hopin' to handle it myself, or that she'd see I'd moved on with my life, and leave me and Jake alone.”

Allie's soft fingertips trailed his hairline, his ear. “She's not going to, Gabe. She's so miserable, so angry.”

In the silvery light, he glanced up. “At first, 'twas just dreams—or so I thought. Then they became so bloody real, I couldna tell if I was dreamin' or if her spirit was haunting me.” He squeezed her tighter. “Her soul came to me the other day during the waking hours. She knows you're with me, Allie. She's told me several times to make you go. She doesna like you.”

“There's always a first for everything,” she said, and Gabe could feel her smile in her voice.

He leaned up on one elbow. “I think she's dangerous, Allie. I dunna want you near her.” He rested his head next to hers. “I can handle it.”

“You're not doing such a swell job, MacGowan,” Allie said. She turned and looked at him, and gently brushed the areas beneath both eyes. “Look at you. You're being tormented, Gabe. And honestly, I can help.”

A rush of fear swept over Gabe at the thought of Allie interacting with Kait's soul. He rolled off the bed and walked to the large picture window. Pressing his forehead against the cool glass, he watched the treetops sway from the wind.

“When I walked into the room it was like ice,” Allie said, behind him but not touching. “She's torturing you, Gabe, and she'll keep torturing you until her spirit is eased. She's so sad, so full of guilt and pain—and she doesn't know why.” Allie placed a hand on his back. “She'll continue, and maybe get worse, until her soul is mended—”

Gabe turned and took Allie by the shoulders. He leaned toward her and locked his gaze on hers. “Listen to me, lass. I dunna need your help with me dead wife.” He gave her a gentle shake. “Do you hear me? I want you to leave it be.” He'd not be able to live with himself if something happened to Allie.

She smiled and searched his eyes. “But I can't. I'm involved. And I cannot bear to see a soul suffer. She appears frightening because she's troubled, Gabe. Unlike the Odin's lot, who appear as they did in life, Kait appears as she probably did after death took its toll. She cannot help herself. Whether by guilt over the mistakes she made, her uncertainty, or a truth that is unknown—it's all made her soul demented.” She shook her head. “No matter her mistakes, and no matter how much she has tortured you, you must understand that no soul deserves to toil forever like that. She needs my help.”

Gabe heaved a frustrated sigh. He brushed a stray curl from Allie's face, then held her head with both hands. He leaned close, brushed a kiss across her lips, and gave her a hard look. “I love you for wanting to help me, Allie Morgan, and Christ, for wanting to help Kait. But I canna allow it. Her soul is dangerous.” He pulled her into a fierce hug, and he buried his face into her neck. “Just then, before you chased Kait away, I couldna wake myself up. 'Twas like I lay trapped.” He traced her jaw. “I dunna know how she's able to use me strength against me, but she is and I couldna live with myself if she hurt you. Leave it alone, I'm beggin' you. I'll be fine.”

Allie's arms wrapped around his waist, and she rested her head against his chest. He wanted to put Kait from his mind, didna want to think of Allie getting involved in something so dangerous.

He let his hands slide down Allie's back, over her hips, and just enveloping himself with her presence comforted him.

And it was then he noticed just how verra little Allie had on.

“Christ, woman,” he said against her ear. “Are you tryin' to kill me yourself?” He nuzzled her neck. “What in bloody hell are you wearin'?”

Allie gave a soft laugh. “It's a tank top and shorts, silly. Perfectly acceptable bedtime attire.”

Obviously, Allie failed to realize what a thin top and a cold room could do to a woman's body. With a groan, he set her back.

Before he took her against the bloody picture window.

He looked at her and stifled a groan. “ 'Tis passed now, Kait's presence. She never stays for verra long. Go back to sleep. We'll get up early and take our time drivin' back to Sealladh na Mara.”

“Okay.” She stared at him a moment, her eyes searching his, and although she smiled and didna mention Kait or the dream again, he knew 'twas on her mind. And that she was strong enough and willing to face whatever evil Kait had to offer, just to help him? Christ Almighty, what a woman.

His woman.

Gabe watched her leave the room and close the door. In the hall, her soft footsteps led her to her own room.

He closed his eyes and prayed the moon would sink, and the sun would rise soon.

With a groan, he flung himself back onto the bed, threw an arm over his eyes. Before sleep took him, visions of Allie beneath him, her bare skin glistening from the faint light of the moon, and the sweetness of her body as it moved with his overtook all thoughts of malevolent ghosts and night terrors . . .