The Immortal Highlander

Page 68

She glanced up at him. He was standing silently, his gaze focused ahead, his big body still and tense. Was he uncertain of their welcome? It was difficult for her to fathom Adam being uncertain of anything.
She was tipping her head back to inquire, when two men entered the great hall and the question flew right out of her head.
They were simply two of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. Twins, though different. They were both tall and powerfully built. One was taller by a few inches, with dark hair that swept just past his shoulders and eyes like shards of silver and ice, while the other had long black hair falling in a single braid to his waist, and eyes as gold as Adam’s torque. They were elegantly dressed in tailored clothing of dark hues, with magnificent bodies that dripped raw sex appeal.
Oh, my, she marveled, they don’t make men like these in the States. Were these typical Scotsmen? If so, she was going to have to get Elizabeth over here somehow. A connoisseur of romance novels, Elizabeth’s favorites were the Scottish ones, and these two men looked as if they’d just stepped straight off one of those covers.
“Try not to gape, ka-lyrra. They’re only human. Mortal. Puny. And married. Both of them. Happily.”
So much for fixing Elizabeth up, Gabby rued, glancing up at Adam. His hand was resting possessively in the small of her back, and he was looking down at her with an unmistakably irritated expression that looked a bit like . . . jealousy? The sin siriche du—jealous of two human men? Over her? The notion seemed so unlikely to her as to be impossible; nonetheless, it made tiny breaths clot up in her throat.
“I’m not gaping,” she managed to say, and really she wasn’t, because as soon as she’d looked back at Adam, she’d realized that though the two men might be gorgeous for humans, they were nothing compared to him.
Take those two men, merge them together, sprinkle them with Fae dust, brush them with ten times the simmering sensuality and elemental danger, and that’s Adam Black, she thought.
“Dageus, are you seeing . . .” the taller of the two began, with a disgruntled note in a voice deep and laced with a thick, soft burr.
“Rather like the faint, misty outline of a lass, Drustan?” his golden-eyed twin finished for him, with the same sexy accent.
“Aye,” the one called Drustan said, scowling.
“Aye,” Dageus agreed.
“Oh!” Gabby exclaimed. She’d forgotten about Adam’s hand at the small of her back (deadly man, he’d gotten her so used to his constant touching that she was now more likely to notice its absence than its presence!). Then again, how could the MacKeltars see her at all? she wondered, frowning. Because they were Druids? Heavens, she had so many questions!
Slipping away from Adam’s touch, she hastily apologized to the two tall, dark men. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting that I disappear when he’s touching me, because nothing disappears for me. I guess we probably gave your butler a bit of a fright.” At their blank looks, she forged on. “I’m Gabrielle O’Callaghan,” she said, stepping forward and offering her hand, “and I know you don’t know me, and I know this all probably seems quite strange, but I can explain. Could we maybe sit down somewhere? It feels like we’ve been traveling forever.”
The men exchanged glances. “ ‘We’?” the one called Drustan said warily.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Drustan,” a petite woman with straight silvery-blond hair and fringy bangs pushed past the towering Highlander, “where are your manners?”
A second woman, also petite, but with long curly hair streaked with copper and gold, emerged from behind the other twin, and they both hastened forward to greet her.
“I’m Gwen,” the silvery blonde said, “and that’s my husband, Drustan. This is Chloe and her husband, Dageus.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Gabby said, suddenly feeling like the queen of grunge, confronted by the two beautiful women. Here she was in an elegant castle, with four elegantly dressed people, she’d been traveling nonstop for a day and a half—or at least she thought she had; the time zones had gotten her rather discombobulated—and four plane changes and hours of stressful driving later, she looked it. Her hair had slipped out of its clip hours ago and she could feel it poking straight up from her head in back, she had no makeup on, and even the wrinkles in her clothes had wrinkles. She shot Adam a withering look. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me we were going to a castle and that all these people would be here. Look at me, I’m a jet-lagged, bedraggled mess.”