Quaking, fiercely gripping the cotton fabric, she gasped, "What is that?"
"Those bloody peacocks," Roan murmured, overly conscious of his instinctual action to enclose her slender frame within his hold. Easing his arms to his sides, he said, "You'll get used to them."
Laura's head shot up. "What? Oh, no. Oooooooh, no!" She backed up to the dining room door. "I don't plan to be here long enough to get used to you!"
Reaching out, Roan gripped her arm and drew her toward him. The retort about to spring past his lips died when he noticed a dark green strand of yarn hanging beneath the hemline of her coat. Without moving her head, Laura dropped her gaze. His scowled returned as he unfastened the lower buttons and removed the wadded remains of his sweater. When he looked incredulously into her face, he was quick to note how pale she'd become.
"Yer handiwork?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Ah. The nephews." He held the yarn to within an inch of her face. "Bored, were they?"
She offered a feeble shrug.
Turning abruptly, Roan deposited the wool in a waste can by the back door. "Ma favorite sweater." He stood in front of her and crossed his arms again. "But, hey, we can't have the wee lads bored now, can we?"
Laura's troubled gaze rose slowly to meet his eyes. "I'll gladly replace the damn thing when I can get to a bank."
"Ma Aunt Aggie made it for me last Christmas."
Laura rolled her eyes. "Well don't expect me to knit you one."
"Perish the thought."
"Perish this," she said angrily, then paled. She looked over her shoulder, murmuring, "They're awfully quiet." Whirling toward the door, she entered the dining room, and jerked to a stop. Her hands went up to cover her face. Roan stepped up behind her then, with a Scottish expletive, rushed past her to the table.
"The little boogers!" he exclaimed, his horrified gaze sweeping over the disaster.
Lowering her hands, Laura forced her leaden legs to carry her closer.
Food was splattered in every direction, staining the Irish lace tablecloth, the Oriental carpet beneath the table, and the east and west walls. Sickened by the scene, she slowly made her way around the table.
"How could they have made such a mess in such a short time?"
Roan shook his head then ran a hand down his face.
"Oh, no," Laura whimpered, glancing in the direction of a sideboard along the east wall. Walking to it, she crouched and began to pick up the pieces of a porcelain Oriental figurine.
"Leave it," Roan ordered, coming to her side. "We've got to find them before they get into any mair mischief."
Standing, she placed the remains atop the sideboard. "Please tell me it isn't an antique."
"Everthin' here is as old as dirt," Roan grumbled. Taking her by the arm, he added, "Come wi' me."
They no sooner entered the foyer, Kevin's voice rang out, "Hey! Look what I found!"
"The library," Roan said, dragging Laura along by the hand. Passing through the open sliding doors, they entered the room to find the oldest boy standing in front of an opening between two tall bookcases.
"I didn't do nothing," Kevin sputtered, gaping at the exposed passageway. "It just opened. No lie! Just...opened!"
Laura stood numbly at the threshold while Roan rushed to the opening and peered into the semi-darkness beyond. Looking at Kevin, he asked brusquely, "Kahl or Alby venture in there?"
"Nope."
"Where are they?" Laura weakly probed.
Kevin shrugged. "What's in there, huh? Can we check it out?"
Roan turned to face the boy, an angry scowl darkening his features. "Where's yer brithers, lad?"
Kevin passed Laura a bewildered look. "What's brithers?"
"Alby and Kahl!" Roan snapped.
"I dunno. They took off."
Pulling the panel shut, Roan gave it a push to reassure himself that it would remain closed.
He walked up to Kevin. "Off where? Ou'side?"
"Naw. I heard them running up the stairs."
"Don't let him ou' o' yer sight," Roan growled at Laura, then stormed out of the room.
With Kevin's hand tightly clasped within her own, Laura silently followed Roan. Every time he shouted one of the boys' names, or slammed a door shut to a room he'd finished searching, she winced. Tugging Kevin behind her, she ascended the staircase with lessening enthusiasm. Roan dashed down the hall to their right, while she remained posted at the top of the landing.
"Kahl! Alby! Come ou', you little boogers!"
A second, a third door slammed home. "It’s no' funny, you little monsters! Come ou'!"
From off to Laura's left, she heard low whimpering. Angling her head as though to keen her hearing, she waited a moment longer then went to one of the doors and pressed an ear to it.
She tried the knob. Locked.
"Alby? Alby, are you in there?"
Loud sobs came in response.
"Roan! He's locked in this room!"
While Roan ran toward her, she repeatedly tried to twist the knob.
"Here, let me," he said gruffly.
When he also couldn't get it to unlatch, he plowed a shoulder against the heavy wood. "Dammit! Lannie, do somethin'!"
Laura experienced lightheadedness when the door silently opened.
"Wow," Kevin breathed in awe.
Alby charged out of the room and squealed in protest when Roan scooped him up into his arms. "Ye're makin' an old mon ou' o' me, lad," he chided. "Now where's the ither one?"
Squirming, his arms held out to Laura, Alby screeched at the top of his lungs. Before either adult could regain their wits, Kahl ran from behind a heavy velvet drape at the end of the hall.
"Guess what I found—" Halting in midstride at the sight of Laura and Roan, Kahl added a solemn, "Uh-oh."
"Come here," Laura said sternly to Kahl, taking Alby into her arms. She waited until the third boy was in front of her, and went on, "The three of you are going to clean up the mess you made in the dining room."
"The ghost did it!" Kevin exclaimed, eagerly looking to his brothers for support.
"Yeah. Stuff started flying around—"
"The hell it did," Roan intervened, his expression livid. "Own up to yer deeds."
Kevin petulantly lowered his head for a moment. When he looked up, his tearful, angelic expression nearly doused Roan and Laura's frustration. "Alby did it all."
"Yep," Kahl put in, nodding vigorously. "Alby did it all."
"Tha's it," Roan growled, taking both boys by the nape and marching them to the stairs. "It’s one thing to do mischief," he continued, urging them into a descent, "anither to lie abou' it."
"I found a tower," Kahl squeaked, his thin shoulders trying to shuck off Roan's hold. "Did people live there, huh? Anybody die there? Huh? Did they?"
"It was a place for wee boogers—" Cutting himself off, Roan passed a harried looked over his shoulder at Laura. Although he dearly wanted to rattle the boys as much as they had rattled him, their aunt was definitely not in the mood for one of his fabrications. An immature reaction, he knew, but it was no worse than his deepening urges to throw himself onto the floor and pitch a full-blown tantrum. If nothing else, it could possibly prompt the laird to make an appearance.
By the time he stepped onto the first floor landing, his adrenaline had slowed, and his temper had waned beneath a swell of weariness.
Surely Lachlan had to appear before the end of the day. Friends they would never be, but a blind man would have recognized the raw concern Roan'd seen on the ghost's face last night at the scene of the accident.
Unless the Yank and the lads are the laird's way of getting even with this particular Ingliss....
Grimacing at the thought, Roan turned to face Laura when she stepped down onto the landing.
"Are you all right?"
The question damn near knocked the wind from him.
Concern from her?
Searching her eyes, he felt himself inwardly shrinking back. He was ac
utely aware of the boys' unnatural silence and stillness. He could feel their eyes on him. On their aunt. Back and forth, waiting for some kind of reaction from the adults.
"Mr. Ingliss?"
Releasing the boys, he folded his arms against his chest. "Wha's to be done wi' the dinin' room?"
"The boys and I will clean it, of course," she replied icily.
But there was a wounded look in her eyes that bothered Roan. He could not recall ever seeing such a look in Adaina's eyes.
"O' course," he murmured, and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "How kind o' you to postpone yer hairbrain plans to trot off into the unknown," he added, gesturing with his head toward the front door.
"Don't start," she warned in a low tone. "C'mon, boys." Her eyes flashed Roan a dirty look. "Let's show this kind man how well we can clean up the mess."
"Alby did it," Kevin grumbled.
Kahl gave a snort. "The ghost made Alby do it."
Despite himself, a grin cracked Roan's attempt to look stern.
"Never mind," Laura sighed, aiming the boys toward the dining room. "The sooner we clean up, the sooner we can start our new journey."
"I'm all ashiver," Roan mocked, walking behind her.
"And the sooner we can tell Mr. Ingliss where he can go," Laura went on, cutting him a wry grin over her shoulder.
Kevin dashed ahead and entered the parlor. The brothers would have followed if not for Laura's hold on the back of their coats. Halfway across the room, she released them, smiling a bit warily when they ran after Kevin.
"There's no guarantee we won't get hit wi' anither storm before the morn's done," Roan said as he fell into stride next to Laura.
Keeping her eyes on the boys entering the next room, she tilted up her chin and retorted, "I'm more concerned about the storm going on within these walls, Mr. Ingliss."
Roan arched a brow. "Me?"
Coming to an abrupt halt—Roan following suit—she faced him and testily looked him in the eye. "You've made it perfectly clear, you don't want us around."
"It’s no' tha'—"
"Then what is it?" she asked bitterly. "How would you feel if our positions were reversed? Don't you think you'd be just a little unnerved at the prospect of having to rely on strangers?"
Roan released a breath. "Aye."
"You're an ass."
She started to turn away when his large hand took a firm hold on her upper arm. Jerking her against him, he leveled a dark, brooding look on her upturned face.
"Ye're the most stubborn womon! I may no' like this situation, but I've mair sense than to let you lead the laddies ou' into this weather!"
"Let me?" she gasped, her face reddening.
"Aye, let you." He lowered his face to within inches of hers. "Use yer brain, you fool! A day or two here won't shatter yer life!"
On tiptoe, Laura brought the tips of their noses together. "Oh, won't it? A day or two more in your company, and I'll be on trial for murder!"
Roan straightened, a dark flush in his cheeks. "Ye're beggin' to be pree'd," he said through clenched teeth.
Lowering her heels to the floor, she arched a questioning brow. "I'm what?"
Abruptly, he looked toward the dining room door. "Och! The nickums are too quiet." As if the devil was at his heels, he ran to the room.
Laura followed at a slower pace, her mind struggling to define the word 'pree'd'. Nickums she automatically assumed was an endearment...of sorts. But pree'd? The way he'd said it had sent shivers along her spine.
She entered the dining room, immediately spying the boys huddled around Roan. The sight struck her as curiously humorous, considering his impatience with them. Then, as she approached, she realized their youthful eyes were filled with awe and disbelief. Slowing her pace, she glanced about her—stopped short and felt the blood plummet in her body.
Suddenly lightheaded, she unknowingly reached out and gripped the front of Roan's apron.
The room was spotless. The table cleared.
"The ghost," Kevin chimed, looking up at his aunt. "Told ya he's around, didn't I?"
Laura's legs threatened to buckle beneath her. The tightness in her throat refused to release the air trapped in her lungs. Her eyes as wide as saucers, she strained to detect even the slightest sign of what had earlier taken place. Finally, forcing her legs to move, she went to the table and inspected the lace tablecloth. Panic heated her insides. There wasn't so-much-as a stain to indicate that anyone had ever eaten atop the Irish lace.
"Let it go," Roan said huskily, coming to her side and placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.
Laura could only shake her head in disbelief.
"There are things in this house tha' can't be easily explained."
Closing her eyes and leaning against the edge of the table for support, she willed her reasoning to resurface. She became aware of Roan's hand massaging the back of her neck, but it would take far more than his touch to relax the knotted muscles and tendons.
"Who else is in this house?" she managed.
"Only the five o' us."
She looked at him, her eyes misted green pools in her ashen face. "Don't lie to me. Someone—"
"I swear, lass, there's no' anither livin' soul in this place."
Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Why are you doing this to us? What kind of game are you playing?"
A wounded look softened Roan's expressive eyes. "I haven't the sense o' humor to play useless mind games."
"Boys, come here," she ordered, glaring mistily into the masculine face. When they complied, she protectively kept them close to her as she backed away from Roan. "We're leaving. Right now. I swear if you try to do anything to stop us, I'll hurt you."
"Ye're doin' a fine job o' it now," he grumbled, his shoulders stiffly drawn back.
Her eyes never wavering from Roan's, she ordered, "Kevin, take your brothers into the foyer."
"Huh?"
"The hall," she said irritably, pointing toward the parlor door. "Get going. I'll be along in a minute."
"Do we hafta go?" Kahl moaned.
Kevin looked from one adult to the other, his brows drawn down in a frown. "Yeah, c'mon guys." Taking them by the arms, he pulled them across the room.
Roan watched the boys disappear into the next room before searching Laura's features again. It was on the tip of his tongue to try to explain about Lachlan Baird, but she whirled away. Three paces later, she froze in midstride. Roan stared at the back of her head, nurturing a hope that she'd decided to listen to him rather than sail on the tides of her pride.
A moment passed before he noticed that she was violently trembling, and that her head was turned in the direction of the sideboard. He glanced that way and saw nothing unusual.
Weightiness materialized in his chest. "Laura, wha's wrong?"
Silence mantled the room. Suffocating silence that completely unnerved him.
Laura's head began to shake. Then she stiltedly walked to the sideboard, her body blocking Roan's view from what had captured her attention. He waited for what seemed an eternity before approaching her. Standing close behind her, he craned his neck to see over her shoulder.
"Explain this," she said throatily, turning to face him.
A tickling sensation moved along his arms as he stared down at the Oriental statue clutched in her hands. When his gaze rose and looked into her clouded eyes, he inhaled deeply and slowly released it.
"Lannie protects wha's his."
"The owner," she said dully.
"Aye. He's been dead for over a century."
For a long time, Laura stared at him. She was devoid of emotions at this point; physically and emotionally devoid of any feeling. A roar similar to that of waves crashing on a shore, filled her ears. The statue felt unnaturally heavy in her hands, as if vying for her full attention.
"Lannie asked me to help you efter you hit the oak. He'd spent his energies, and couldn't solidify to pull you ou' o' the car."
With the speed of lightning and w
ithout conscious thought, Laura struck him open-handedly on the side of his face. Seemingly unaffected by the blow, he went on, "He'll return in a day or two."
Her hand rose again but he caught her wrist and pinned it to his chest. "You asked for the truth!"
Laura merely stared at him, the fear in her eyes intensifying with each passing moment. The fingers of her left hand tightened on the statue until her knuckles were deathly white.
"I'll go into town and call the consulate."
Her head moved in a stilted denial.
"Wha'? You don't trust me?" He scowled, his nostrils flaring. "You'd rather drag the laddies off into the cold?"
"Yes," she whispered, giving a weak tug on her arm in a demand for him to release her.
"Damn yer callous hide, Laura Bennett!" Thrusting her away from him, he stepped back and made a valiant bid to tighten the reins on his temper. "You best heed this warnin', lass! If you take the boys ou' into this cursed weather, you'll be next ignorin' their funerals!"
He pointed an isolated finger at her face. "Stay put! If I get back and I find you gone, I swear I'll track you to hell!"
"Don't threaten me," she choked.
Rage accentuated the angles of his face. "Think o' the lads, this once. They lost their mither and faither, and have to rely on you to take care o' them. Tha' scares me. Can’t imagine how they feel bein' dependent on an unemotional, self-centered womon who has no' the sense o' a church mouse to stay ou' o' the cold!"
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Laura shrilled.
"Leave this house before ma return, Laura Bennett, and I swear I'll have you brought up on charges o' child endangerment."
Wrenching the statue from her hand, he placed it on the sideboard and stormed out of the room.
Long after she'd heard a door slamming shut in the house, Laura remained perfectly still. Tears streamed down her cheeks in abandon. She was too numb to think. Too numb to do anything but try to will away the echoing of his harsh words in her skull.
He was right in that she was being stubborn. What was it about Roan Ingliss that brought out the worst in her?
Ordinarily, she walked away from a confrontation. An argument of any kind had never been worth her time or energy. Yet now, she felt a horrible compulsion to lash out at him, verbally and physically.
Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 Page 4
