The Immortal Highlander Read Online Free

moving for a long, long time.
    Damn and double-damn!
    She was still in such a stew over the day’s events that she wasn’t sure she could manage to walk by it without giving in to the overwhelming urge to
kick
it.
    It.
    Fairies were “its,” never “hims” or “hers.” Gram had taught her at a young age not to personify them. They weren’t human. And it was dangerous to think of them, even in the privacy of her thoughts, as if they were.
    But heavens, Gabby thought, staring, he—
it
—was certainly male.
    So tall that the bench wasn’t long enough for it to fully stretch out on, it had propped one leg on the back of the bench and bent the other at the knee, its legs spread in a basely masculine position. It was clad in snugfitting, faded jeans, a black T-shirt, and black leather boots. Long, silky black hair spilled over its folded arms, falling to sweep the sidewalk. In contrast to the golden, angelic ones she’d seen earlier that day, this one was dark and utterly devilish-looking.
    Gold armbands adorned its muscular arms, showcasing its powerful, rock-hard biceps, and a gold torque encircled its neck, gleaming richly in the amber glow of the gaslights illuming the courtyard oasis.
    Royalty, she realized, with a trace of breathless fascination. Only those of a royal house were entitled to wear torques of gold. She’d never seen a member of one of the Ruling Houses before.
    And “royal” was certainly a good word for him, er . . . it. Its profile was sheer majesty. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, strong jaw, aquiline nose, all covered with that luscious gold-velvet fairy skin. She narrowed her eyes, absorbing details. Unshaven jaw sculpted by five-o’clock shadow. Full mouth. Lower lip decadently full. Sinfully so, really. (
Gabby, quit
thinking
that!
)
    She inhaled slowly, exhaled softly, holding utterly still, one hand on the roof of her car, the other clutching her keys.
    It exuded immense sexuality: base, raw, scorching. From this distance she should not have been able to feel the heat from its body, but she could. She should not have gotten a bit dizzy from its exotic scent, but she had. As if it were twenty times more potent than any she’d encountered before; a veritable powerhouse of a fairy.
    She was never going to be able to walk past it. Just wasn’t happening. Not today. There was only so much she was capable of in a given day, and Gabby O’Callaghan had exceeded her limits.
    Still . . . it hadn’t moved. In fact, it seemed utterly oblivious to its surroundings. It couldn’t hurt to look a little longer. . . .
    Besides, she reminded herself, she had a duty to surreptitiously observe as much as possible about any unknown fairy specimen. In such fashion did the O’Callaghan women protect themselves and the future of their children—by learning about their enemy. By passing down stories. By adding new information, with sketches when possible, to the multivolume
Books of the Fae,
thereby providing future generations greater odds of escaping detection.
    This one didn’t have the sleekly muscled body of most fairy males, she noted; this one had the body of a warrior. Shoulders much too wide to squeeze onto the bench. Arms bunched with muscle, thick forearms, strong wrists. Cut abdomen rippling beneath the fabric of its T-shirt each time it shifted position. Powerful thighs caressed by soft, faded denim.
    No, not a warrior, she mused, that wasn’t quite it. A shadowy image was dancing in the dark recesses of her mind and she struggled to bring it into focus.
    More like . . . ah, she had it! Like one of those blacksmiths of yore who’d spent their days pounding steel at a scorching forge, metal clanging, sparks flying. Possessing massive brawn, yet also capable of the delicacy necessary to craft intricately embellished blades, combining pure power with exquisite control.
    There wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh on it, just rock-hard male body. It had a finely honed, brutal strength that,