The Immortal Highlander

“I do not swoon. I have never swooned in my entire life,” Gabrielle shouted, thumping him in the back with her palms. “And that’s my bottom, not yours, so quit touching it!”

Adam laughed. Ah, how he’d missed his fiery ka-lyrra! “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Gabrielle. Seeing as how your bottom is currently in my hands, not yours, I believe that makes it mine.” With a wicked grin, he rubbed her enticing, upturned rump, dipping intimately into the cleft between her cheeks.

“Oooh—that’s the most ridiculous line of reasoning I’ve ever heard! What is that—fairy logic? Nine-tenths arrogance, and one-tenth brute force? Put me down. What did you do? Get in trouble again? Need a little Sidhe-seer help? Well, too bad. Go away.”

He patted her bottom and continued to tote her through the house at a swift pace, making for the stairs. “I’m never going away, ka-lyrra,” he purred, savoring the soft, supple weight of her against his body. It felt like a century since last he’d held her.

“Sure. Yeah, right. Go ahead, make some more empty fairy promises. I’m not falling for them this time. I’m not playing whatever stupid game you’ve got in mind. You can’t just walk out on me, only to pop back in whenever you feel like it. There’s no Open Door policy here. Hey—take me back downstairs! What do you think you’re doing? Where are you taking me?” she snapped.

He turned his face into her and nipped her thigh with a playful love bite. “To bed, Gabrielle.”

“I so don’t think so,” she hissed, promptly launching into a tirade about how he was never going to bed with her again. That she may have been gullible once, but she wasn’t anymore. That he’d cured her of all her illusions. Wriggling like a wee hellion over his shoulder, she icily informed him that she had no interest whatsoever in having such a heartless bastard in her life to any degree, that she hated him, and that she only wished he were mortal so he could die and burn in hell for all eternity.

When he tossed her down on her bed, it knocked a bit of the breath from her, which gave him time to say, “You hate me, Gabrielle? That’s a bloody shame. Because I meant it when I said I’m not leaving. I’m never leaving. I’m in love with you.”

His ka-lyrra went still as stone, her mouth frozen open in a desperate bid for breath. Her throat worked convulsively. Then, with a great, indrawn screech of air, she launched herself at him, a flying, hissing female catapult of fists and tears.

It occurred to him, as he went crashing down to the floor beneath her, that he might well never understand women.

Gabby lay on the floor in Adam’s arms, her head spinning.

He’d let her pummel him until she’d exhausted herself. He’d let her rage and yell and weep, enduring it all in patient silence until—crying so hard she couldn’t breathe—she’d begun hiccuping uncontrollably. Then he’d rolled her onto her side, pulled her back against his powerful body, wrapped his arms around her, and held her until she’d calmed, whispering soft reassurances in her ear. “Shh, sweet. Be easy, love. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Love? Adam was saying the L-word? Into what impossible fairy tale had she fallen?

“Am I awake? Is this a dream?” she whispered.

“If it is,” he whispered back, “I ask only that it go on forever. Not the crying part,” he clarified, “the holding-you-in-my-arms part.” He turned her gently then, to face him.

She buried her face in his chest, sniffling, trying to understand what was going on. Afraid to believe she was awake. Afraid that the moment she let herself believe it, she would wake up. Find herself alone in bed, in her big, silent house.

“Look at me, ka-lyrra,” he said quietly.

With a little sniffle, Gabby tipped her head back and met his dark gaze. And frowned, bemused. She’d been so stupefied to find him in her house that she’d not really taken a good look at him. Something about him was different. But what? His eyes?

“I love you, Gabrielle O’Callaghan.”

The words slammed into her; she stared at him mutely.

He kissed her then, his mouth slanting hard over hers, his velvety tongue gliding deep. And she gave herself over to it. Dream or not, it was real enough for her. She was in his arms and he was saying he loved her and if she was asleep, she just hoped she could stay asleep forever.

Even his kiss was different, she realized dimly, as her body flared to frantic, sizzling life in his arms. It held a touch of urgency that had never been there before. It was no longer shaped by immortal leisure but held a very human desperation, a mortal hunger and passion.