The Immortal Highlander
Page 17

She tossed her head defiantly, averting her face. A finger beneath her chin forced her to turn back.
“Ah, yes, I like you this way much better.” Its dark eyes glittered, sparking gold.
“I don’t like you any way.” Jaw jutting, she tipped her nose skyward. Dignity, she reminded herself. She would not die without it.
“I think I got that, Irish. Best bear in mind you’re at my mercy. And I’m not feeling particularly merciful at the moment. Perhaps you should endeavor to keep me liking you.”
She muttered something she rarely said. A thing Gram would have washed out her mouth with soap for.
Its eyes flared with instant heat. Then it laughed darkly, wiping blood from its lip with the back of its hand. “That’s not what you were saying a few minutes ago.”
“That’s not how I meant it and you know it.”
Its laughter stopped abruptly and its gaze turned cold. “Ah, but I’m afraid I’m a very literal man, ka-lyrra. Don’t say that to me again unless you mean it. Because I will take you up on it. And I won’t give you the chance to take it back. Just those two words. Say them to me again and I’ll be all over you. On the floor. Me and you. Say it. Go ahead.”
Gabby gritted her teeth and stared down at the hardwood floor, counting dust bunnies. No more than you deserve, Gabby, Moira O’Callaghan chided in her mind. I raised you better than that.
Great, she thought mulishly, now everyone was ganging up on her. Even dead people.
The finger was back beneath her chin, forcing her to meet its shimmery gaze. “Got it?”
“ ‘Got it,’ ” she clipped.
“Good.” A pause, a measuring look. “So tell me, Gabrielle O’Callaghan, what exactly is it you believe my people do to the Sidhe-seers?”
She shrugged nonchalantly—in as much as she was able, tied so securely—not about to admit to anything. A shee-seer, It’d called her, the archaic name for what she was. She’d encountered it in the Books of the Fae, but never heard it spoken aloud. “I have no idea what you’re talking ab—”
It made an impatient noise and laid a finger to her lips, shushing her. “Irish, don’t dissemble with me, I have no patience for it. The féth fiada doesn’t work on you, and you called me by name. I admit, when first I caught you looking at me, I was perplexed, but there’s no other explanation for your behavior. It’s why you fought me. You know all about my race, don’t you?”
After a long moment Gabby swallowed and nodded tightly. She had well and truly betrayed herself, first by being caught looking at it, then by telling it to “go to hell” by name. It knew. And it was clearly not in the mood for games. “So what now?” she asked stiffly. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I’ve no intention of killing you, ka-lyrra. Though indeed there was a time a Sidhe-seer’s life was forfeited if caught, my people haven’t spilled human blood since The Compact governing our races was negotiated.” It swept a fall of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, its hand lingering, tracing the curve of her cheek. “Nor do I plan to hurt you, unless you hurt me again, at which point all bets are off. As of this moment I’m willing to wipe the slate clean between us, consider your hostility a misunderstanding. Allow that a wee thing like you—believing your life in jeopardy—would feel driven to fight dirty against a man like me. However, if you hurt me again, you’ll pay tenfold. Understand?”
Gabby nodded stiffly, wishing it would stop touching her. The mere brush of its hand made her skin tingle, made all the muscles in her lower stomach clench. How dare the embodiment of her worst nightmare come packaged as her hottest fantasy?
It leaned back in the chair, swept its hands through its long dark hair, then laced its fingers together behind its head. Its powerful arms rippled with the movement, cut shoulders bulging beneath the black T-shirt, massive biceps flexing, gold armbands glinting in the morning sun spilling through the tall windows. It took immense effort to keep her gaze firmly fixed on its face, keep it from sweeping down over all that fairy perfection.
The Books of the Fae contained dozens of tales about how, in the days of yore, on nights when the moon hung fat and full against a violet dusk and the Wild Hunt ran, young maidens had raced into the forests, hoping to be taken by one of the exotic Fae males. Had gone willingly to their doom.
Gabby O’Callaghan would never be such a fool. Whatever it had in store for her, she would fight it every inch of the way.
“A Sidhe-seer,” it said, dark gaze scrutinizing her intently. “It never occurred to me to look for one of you, that any of you might still be about. Aoibheal believes the Hunters eliminated the last of you long ago, as did I. How many others of your bloodline have the vision?”