Nessa grinned, eased him down into the seat, and patted him on the shoulder. “Great sense of humor there, Gabriel. As soon as you’re well, maybe we’ll try this date again.”
Gabriel captured her hand and planted a kiss in her palm, then nodded with a promise in his eyes. “I guarantee the next time we’re in a backseat together it’ll be much more enjoyable for us both.”
Nessa smiled and pulled off her jacket to cover as much of his chest as the tiny garment would warm. She feared he might go into shock before she made it back. His face had turned a decided shade of gray. “You rest. I’ll be back with help before you know it.”
She closed the car door to his silent nod. With a frown, she looked up and down the deserted country road. Should she go back to the inn to get the car? Or should she try to make her way to the pub? The best she could figure, they were almost halfway between the two points. As her grandmother used to say, it was six of one or half a dozen of the other.
She knew Trish had left the keys in the car and had planned on spending tonight up in her room. Nessa decided to head for the inn. Trish could help her get Gabriel into the car and for some reason, the ghostly blue light of the full moon urged her in that direction.
As Nessa settled into a mile-eating jog, she took one last glance back at the car. She stumbled as she saw the Highlander from her dreams loom over the door of the wrecked automobile. Her spine tingled. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as though her soul had just shivered.
The Highlander raised his head to meet her startled gaze just as he reached for the handle of the door. When he noticed her, he straightened and moved away from the car. Although he took steps, he floated above the ground. Not corporeal, his form was almost transparent. The trees and bushes behind him shimmered through his body. Nessa had never seen a ghost before but she was positive that was what she saw now.
“Leave him alone. He’s hurt and I’m going for help. He’s got enough to deal with without seeing a ghost.” Nessa spoke without fear. She knew the apparition. After all, he’d been visiting her dreams since the summer she turned eighteen.
The Highlander’s eyes narrowed as he moved toward her. His pale hair fluttered in an imaginary wind. When he stood in front of her, he towered over her. She’d never met a man so tall. Nessa wasn’t afraid. This was her Highlander, the gentle man of her dreams.
All that was amiss was the fiery rage flashing from his eyes. She’d never seen his face filled with such fury. All she had seen was loneliness and reassuring affection reflected in his gaze. She’d always thought that must be the reason they’d always connected. Nessa had been lonely her entire life and those who should’ve loved her had only caused her pain.
“What’s wrong?” Nessa whispered up into the specter’s grim face. “Why are you so angry…so upset?”
The Highlander’s mouth tightened. His jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth. He jabbed once toward Nessa and then back toward the car then snapped his head with a negative shake.
Nessa misunderstood and waved away his worries. Her Highlander must be trying to protect her. “Look. It’s just one date. I’m sure he’ll lose interest and move on to Trish once he realizes I’m more the intellectual type. You know men never stay interested in me.”
His nostrils flared. The apparition pointed at Nessa again, then shook his head harder as he pointed toward the car. Once more, he pointed to where Nessa’s heart hammered in her chest and then pointed to his own chest, and nodded just once. Her eyes widened as his meaning became clear and Nessa grew more irritated the longer she stared into his snapping eyes. “A fat lot of good it would do for me to be in love with you! You’re not even real. You’re only in my head.”
He shook his head, slower this time. Her phantom placed his hand upon his heart, then once again motioned toward Nessa. He reached for her as though he wished he could stroke her cheek. His face fell, his expression changing to one of suffering pain as his hand passed through her instead of resting upon her skin.
“Look. I don’t know why my mind conjured you up. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that second bottle of ale while I was getting dressed. But you need to take yourself back to wherever it is you go when I’m awake. I promise I’ll see you later in my dreams.”
Nessa turned on her heel and shook herself as she started jogging in the direction of the inn. “And I thought coming to Scotland would sort everything out in my life. What the hell could I have been thinking?”
Her face to the full moon and her determined stride headed for help at the inn, Nessa refused to look back toward the car again. She missed the loneliness aching in Latharn’s eyes as he faded into the night.
ChapterEleven
“Strengthen blood, strengthen bone, purge spirit, cleanse soul, honored seductress hear my call…heal my body…give me all.”
He lay naked on the floor with the candles burning around his body. Gabriel mumbled the ancient chant three times. The flames of the candles sputtered and danced as his breath stirred the fetid air in the room. She said she would heal him but he had to remain this way all night to prove his complete obedience and dedication to her.
It was worth it. A dislocated knee and broken ribs took too long to heal the natural way. If she healed him overnight, he could fake his injuries to his advantage. Sympathy was sometimes a woman’s greatest weakness. Most women tended to be nurturers.
He drew a shaking breath and clenched his fists. The fierce throbbing worsened. Surely, her arrival would be soon. He shifted uncomfortably on the cold, damp floor. Her whisper echoed in the darkness as the chill of the room settled deeper into his swollen knee. Her icy fingertips tickled up his flesh. She searched for the broken edges of his painful ribs. His heart hammered faster as she stroked her hands up and down his sides...and then her icy touch slid lower.
The flames of the candles shot higher into the darkness even as a layer of frost crackled across the floor. His skin was seared to the frozen stone surface. As he shivered, his flesh split and tore. Now she stroked him and purred in his ear. How could anyone ever deny her? He would serve her forever and even longer. She promised him power; she promised him pleasure, and, best of all, she promised him sweet revenge.
ChapterTwelve
Nessa sat hunched in front of the glowing laptop, peering through the glasses on the end of her nose. With a groan, she yanked them off her face and threw them on the desk. Leaning back in the chair, she covered her face with her hands and massaged her gritty eyes. Last night had started out as a nervous mess and then plummeted into a catastrophe.
Gabriel had ended up hurt and now sported a wrenched knee and three broken ribs. She and Trish had gotten him tucked in at Cordelia’s house in the early hours of the morning. They had discovered Cordelia was not only his waitress but more like the family he’d never had. She and her mother had more or less adopted Gabriel when he’d first settled in Durness after leaving his homeland of Ireland. Cordelia was as fiercely loyal to Gabriel as any natural-born sister would ever be.
When Nessa had gotten back to her room, she’d fallen into bed. She hadn’t even moved the pile of discarded clothes, just curled her tired body around them. She’d fallen right to sleep. But her dreams had been torture, not the usual erotic bliss with her loving Highlander. With a shuddering sigh, Nessa closed her eyes, replaying the nightmare from the evening before.
Her Highlander had appeared but he’d been enraged, so angry she thought he might speak for the first time since they had met. But he’d just gestured back and forth from his heart to hers. His eyes had flashed with rage as he pounded on his chest. He’d clenched his teeth and raked his hands through his hair. He’d reminded her of a madman. Toward the end of the dream, he’d spread his hands in front of her and somehow caused an image of Gabriel to appear. Horrified, Nessa had watched as her ancient Highlander had swung his claymore and separated Gabriel’s body from his head.
The Scot was an animal, panting like a primeval beast with blood and hatred in his eyes. He’d raised his bloodied weapon into the air with one hand and Gabriel’s dripping head in the other. He’d thrown his head back, lips curled into an open-mouthed sneer. The corded muscles of his throat had moved as though he roared a silent battle cry.
