As a man, he'd apparently decided to curl up and have a nap in someone's yard. At least he seemed to have put his shorts back on. That had to count for something. Still, he wished he'd managed to run all the way back to Tobermory. A little perspective was badly needed, some time to clear out his head and decide what exactly he needed to do about one infuriating, hypersexual, maddeningly reticent Drakkyn. Maybe he'd been mistaken, Gabriel tried to convince himself. Maybe he didn't want her as badly as he'd thought.
Then he remembered the feel of her curves pressed against him, the way she'd trembled as she came just from the contact with him, and the surprising vulnerability in her eyes when she'd told him to stay away. Gabriel groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. As tired and muddled as he was, one thing was crystal clear: he still wanted Rowan an Morgaine. He was still mad as hell at her for hurling him out of her room just when things were getting interesting, but at the same time, his blood was up, his hunting instinct alive as it never had been. Rowan was full of secrets, passionate, and obstinately inaccessible.
He'd be damned if she was going to get away from him so easily, no matter who or what she was. Gabriel grimaced a little as he shifted, trying to assuage the nagging pain in his side. He'd never had to chase a woman before. He had a bad feeling that chasing Rowan might damn near do him in, either from whatever violent form of magic she was sure to possess or sheer frustration. Still, he was going to have his hands on her again, and soon. Just how to do that, however, was going to require a bit more strategy. Maybe he'd talk to his recently love-struck brother about it. First, though, he needed a bit more rest. If he slept for just a short while longer, Gabriel reasoned, maybe he could get a handle on his options—murder, escape, insanity ...
He sighed, staying spread-eagled and nuzzling deeper into the fragrant green, and let himself drift back toward sleep. The twinge in his side, however, suddenly grew biting. It also began to feel decidedly more like the toe of some insensitive individual's shoe. Gabriel gave a soft growl. It wasn't hard to guess who that might be.
"That's right, Sleeping Beauty. Rise and shine. My wife is getting tired of coming out here to make sure you're still breathing. I tried to tell her that if stupidity hasn't killed you yet, it isn't going to. But she won't listen."
Gabriel opened one eye to focus blearily on his brother. Gideon, he noted, looked to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in continuing to kick at him. He licked his lips, wincing at the taste, and tried to speak. When that produced nothing but a strangled croak, he cleared his throat and tried again. It was only slightly more productive.
"Gah. Fuff. Bastard. Stoppit." He slapped irritably at Gideon's leg, which produced no effect except for a snort of derisive laughter from somewhere above him.
"Not a chance, little brother. It's almost noon, and frankly, you make an ugly lawn ornament."
Gabriel stopped slapping and instead extended his middle finger. Gideon laughed in earnest then, just before Gabriel felt his brother grab him beneath the arms and haul him to his feet. He finally opened both eyes, blinking owlishly in the sunlight and swaying unsteadily. Just ahead of him, Gideon and Carry's stone cottage rose from a well-groomed lawn of verdant green. From one of the second-story windows, framed by white shutters that were flung wide to the warm July day, Carly waved cheerily at him. He couldn't help but think she looked a bit more amused than was necessary over his current unkempt, half-awake state.
"Morning, sunshine!" she called, then ducked back inside once he'd managed a halfhearted raise of his hand. Her soft laughter echoed to where he was standing. Gabriel frowned. Obviously, living with Gideon was rubbing off on her, and badly.
He turned his attention back to Gideon, annoyingly clean and well rested, who was looking at him appraisingly with his arms crossed over his chest. Gabriel simply gave him a beleaguered look, hoping against hope that his brother would simply let him stagger away in peace. He wanted to talk to him, yes. But after a shower. And some food. And possibly twenty-four more hours of sleep.
A pipe dream, as usual.
"What in God's name did you get up to last night? You look like something's been gnawing on you."
"Piss off." His throat felt like he'd been swallowing gravel, and Gideon's commentary on his appearance this morning was the last thing he wanted to hear. Besides, though it may have been intended mockingly, his brother was awfully close to the truth.
"With pleasure, your ripeness." He gave a mocking half bow before waving his hand in front of his nose. "I doubted you were interested in what our new house-guest had to say for herself this morning anyway." Gideon turned with a knowing smirk and started back toward his house, not stopping when he called back, "Figured as much, really. And she seemed happier without you there anyway."
Gabriel paused, digesting this bit of unpleasant observation, then staggered after his brother. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
Gideon didn't look at him, but he did slow a little to let his brother catch up. "Just that I've never seen someone look so happy to hear that someone else was passed out on the lawn and unresponsive."
Gabriel frowned mightily. Between her destructive little fits of temper and her sharp tongue, he was beginning to suspect that the woman had a mean streak about a mile wide. Why that interested him so was an infuriating mystery. It was going to be a pleasure to teach her that he wasn't to be gotten rid of so easily.Gideon was looking at him strangely. "Are you smiling, or about to bite me? Because if it's the latter, I have to tell you, you're in no shape. I might actually feel bad about kicking your ass."
"Then it's a good thing that would never happen."
"Try me."
"Maybe later. I'd hate to make you feel even worse about having someone in my condition beat you to a pulp."
They grinned at each other then, and Gabriel was pleased to feel his stiff muscles loosening up a little. He made a point of keeping himself in shape, but he'd obviously outdone himself this time.
"You might as well come in and have some lunch," Gabriel said. "Carly made enough food for an army last night. There are leftovers galore."
Gabriel followed his brother in, knowing Carly had only made that much because Gideon had asked her to, being that she didn't much care to cook so she didn't do it that often. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to get into everything right now, but his growling stomach refused to let him walk away from the promise of Carly's food. She'd learned the art of Italian cooking at her mother's knee, and learned it well. Sadly for all concerned, actually catching Carly cooking was a rare occurrence. Gideon's wife claimed to miss takeout when she was here, but since that wasn't an option in a place as remote as Lochaline, the rest of the MacInneses were more than happy to reap the benefits of her deprivation when she got bored enough to fuss in the kitchen.
They walked through the warm, open space of the great room Gideon had redone himself and headed for the kitchen. Gabriel envied him the space, and the patience that had allowed him to renovate what had once been the factor's house on the estate. Once boxy and outdated, the interior of the house was now open and inviting. A cozy cave for his brother, Gabriel thought, noting the little touches that had sprung up since he'd married Carly. Bright flowers in a red vase here, a scattering of photos in artfully mismatched frames. And of course, her beloved romance novels lying on nearly every available surface.
In the time since he'd met her, Gabriel had decided Carly only ran her own romantic bookshop to feed her addiction. Gideon was supportive, as long as he never had to go there. The two of them had invested in a rundown old place on Lake Ontario that had once been a captain's mansion sometime in the 1800s, Gabriel knew, and Gideon spent most of his time working to remodel it with a loosely organized group of skilled friends. If he knew his brother, they'd sell it for a handsome profit before long and then start all over again.
Of course, it was all just temporary. Eventually, Duncan would decide to hand over the reins to his elder son, making him Pack Alpha and Guardian of the Stone. Gideon and Carly would move back permanently, which he was selfishly and unashamedly glad for, and Duncan would finally get to enjoy being an eccentric and irritating old codger. And he ...
Well, that was the problem, wasn't it? Gabriel opened the fridge and grabbed the plastic container full of some sort of pasta heaven while Gideon settled himself at the breakfast bar. He could see the future for everyone else, clear as day. But he'd never really known (or cared, truth be told) what he'd be doing. Probably still living in a shabby apartment above Wolf at the Door, he'd figured, bedding beautiful women, imposing on everyone at Iargail from time to time, and doing as he pleased.
Which did no one any good, he now realized. Least of all him.
Gabriel plopped a heap of pasta in a bowl and slammed it in the microwave, scowling.
Gideon relaxed at the counter, studying him as one might a particularly fascinating new species of insect. Gabriel knew he was waiting for him to spill his guts, as he always had, so he took malicious pleasure in remaining silent. The microwave ran, then beeped. Gabriel kept his mouth shut, removing his bowl and rummaging in one of the drawers for a fork.
He tried not to look smug when Gideon began to tap his fingers on the counter.
Carly wandered in just as Gabriel was settling himself at the square wooden table tucked into the nook on the opposite side of the kitchen from his brother. She stopped short when she saw the odd seating arrangement.
"Hey, guys," she ventured, then raised a critical eyebrow when there was no response. She looked slowly from one brother to the other, noting the impatiently tapping fingers of her husband and the mulish look on her brother-in-law's face.
"Can I get you something, babe?" she asked Gideon, who gave a grunt that could have been taken as either affirmative or negative. Carly pursed her lips, dissatisfied, and turned to Gabriel.
"How's the food, scrounge?" When that earned her nothing but a nearly identical grunt, she frowned and settled her hands on her hips. A beautiful, petite blonde with big blue eyes and a mass of loose waves that were currently in the process of escaping from the elastic she'd pulled it back with, Carly had a hard time passing for intimidating. Her looks, however, were deceiving. Having grown up with two loud and obnoxious older brothers, it took a lot more to rattle her than the two massive men now filling up her kitchen with the unmistakable air of masculine bullshit.