Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2

by Mickee Madden

  Groaning with a violent shudder, he planted his hands at her waistline to slow her strokes.

  "Laura," he growled thickly.

  Despite his grip, she increased her movements, grinding his shaft deep within her.

  Roan was forced to utilize the extent of his willpower to keep from exploding inside her. Veins rose and mapped his broad neck with the strain to hold back. A pulse throbbed at his temples. He clenched and bared his teeth. The skin across his face grew tauter by the second. She watched him through glazed, bright eyes, studied his face in a manner that betrayed her delight in his readiness.

  A cold sliver lanced his brain, startling him. From deep within his subconscious, a voice hissed that she was controlling him again. The idea sickened him, until she released a guttural groan, and the muscles surrounding his shaft, began to pulsate. Instantaneously, he climaxed, caught up in the most powerful throes he'd ever experienced. At that moment Laura was his world, his universe, the bestower of the most exquisite pleasure life offered.

  At the height of their soaring, he kissed her almost fiercely, clutching her against him within the band of his muscular arms. When the last shudder began to wane in their bodies, he wondered if he would ever feel so alive again.

  Then—

  Nuzzling a cheek to the side of his broad neck, Laura whispered, "Lachlan, I love you."

  Liquid ice passed beneath his skin. Rage swelled within his skull. Immobile with shock, he questioned the validity of what he'd heard. Denials stormed the barriers of his reasoning. Laura Bennett had been under the illusion that she'd been making love with Lachlan?

  The idea nauseated him. Barely able to contain his contempt for what he believed to be a master manipulation, he gripped Laura's upper arms and held her away from him. The soft, sensual afterglow in her eyes yanked on his heartstrings. He wanted her again. He wanted to touch and kiss every inch of her, taste her, inhale her, lose himself in the dark, moist cavity between her thighs.

  Lose himself to utter passion and oblivion.

  Unexpected pain gripped every part of him.

  He should have known she never would have fallen for him.

  Laura smiled tiredly. Although dimly aware that something was troubling him, she was uncharacteristically absorbed in her contentment. She languidly traced a finger along his lower lip, staring into his eyes, yet not grasping their betrayal of his withdrawal.

  "Who am I?"

  His solemn tone elicited a laugh from her. "Who are you? You, silly."

  "Ma name."

  "Roan...." She frowned and smiled at the same time. "Roan."

  "Last name?"

  "Roan—"

  "Ma last name!"

  His anger took her aback.

  "Baird! What's wrong with you?"

  His chest rising and falling on labored breaths, Roan clamped down on his outrage. He urged her off his lap. Springing to his feet, he stared down at her as though she'd sprouted horns and had used them to rip him open from heart to groin.

  "Get ou'," he growled, pointing toward the door.

  Laura couldn't move for several seconds. Then, her movements sluggish, she went to where her nightgown lay in a heap on the floor, and slipped it on. Despite the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to look him in the eye. She refused to try to second guess his mood change. Their lovemaking had been incredible, and yet he was acting as though she'd hurt him in some way.

  "Get ou', Laura," he said, his tone thickly laced with a threat to physically remove her, if necessary.

  "What's wrong?" she choked.

  "Us!"

  The heat of her skin threatened to consume her. Anger-filled words crescendoed in her head, but she couldn't bring herself to voice them.

  Instead, she softly told him, "Try not to lose any sleep over this. I know I won't." Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she left his room, almost silently closing the door behind her.

  Roan clenched his hands by his sides. Tears he fought back seemed to fill his throat. The room felt colder than ever before, turning his skin to ice. After several minutes, he lifted his eyes heavenward and allowed a choked sound to escape his control.

  "Damn you, Lannie," he rasped, shutting his eyes tightly. "Did we amuse you, you swine!"

  His movements savage, he stalked to the bed and began to tear away the covers, dumping them onto the floor. Guttural sounds passed his clenched teeth. He wanted to shout his outrage at someone—anyone—before it split him in two. And in part, he wanted to blame Laura, but he was rational enough to realize that she'd also been a pawn.

  "Roan."

  He whirled in the direction of the voice. Reflexively, he balled his hands at his sides. Breathing heavily through his nostrils, he furiously glared at the mistress of the house.

  Beth Staples took three steps closer, her demeanor calm, although her expression betrayed her trepidation. She wore the long-sleeved gown Lachlan hated, the one she'd found in the attic in an old trunk. "I'm responsible, Roan."

  "No."

  "I am." She took another step in his direction. "I thought I was helping—"

  A tortured laugh burst from him.

  "Lachlan's not aware that I interfered." She gave a feeble shrug. "It got out of hand. I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?" He quickly closed the distance, planting himself intimidatingly in front of her. "Sorry for wha'?"

  "Please put something on."

  Her request baffled him, until he looked down and realized his state of undress. Snatching up the sheet from the floor, he impatiently wrapped it around his hips and returned to her. "Now, lass, suppose you explain to me wha' the bloody hell you thought you were doin'?"

  It took Beth several attempts to speak before the words finally came out. "I thought if I just lowered your barriers a little...you would find each other."

  "Lowered our barriers?" he muttered. His clenched fists rested warringly on his hips. "Messed wi' our minds, you mean!"

  "No. Roan...." Beth deeply sighed and ran a hand through her shoulder-length riotous hair. "It was a whim. I wasn't even sure I could pull it off, but I felt strongly enough about it to give it a try."

  "Abou' wha'?" he shouted, veins mapping his temples and neck.

  "You and Laura."

  "Wha' abou' us?"

  She searched the anguish deeply carved in his face. A strong sense of betrayal emanated from him, washing through her with the effect of a bitter-cold wind.

  She went to the hearth and stared into the flames for a time.

  "You probably don’t know this, Roan, but Baird House intensifies our emotions. You and Laura bickering, her slapping you.... " She faced him. Well, it takes a while before one learns to resist the impulses."

  "So...it’s the bloody house makin’ us crazy?"

  Beth nodded. "The two of you aren't meant to be ships passing in the night. Haven't you wondered...even a little bit...what brought her here, to this house, to us—to you?"

  A scoffing laugh was his first response. "Ye're daft."

  "Think about it."

  "I don't need to bloody think abou' it! It was an accident!"

  She shook her head. "Everything happens for a reason."

  "Ah." He bobbed his head mockingly. "The hereafter blessed you wi' omniscience, aye?"

  "No."

  "No?" His eyes grew hard and fierce again. "Did Laura and I perform adequately for you?" He slapped a palm to his chest. "Were we entertainin'?"

  "Dammit, Roan, I wasn't watching or listening!"

  "No? Ye're here, aren't you?"

  "Because I...sensed...you blaming Lachlan."

  To hide his burgeoning emotions, he turned his back to her. "We make love and, 'Lachlan, I love you', she says. I ask her ma name. Roan Baird, she tells me."

  "I can't offer you a technical explanation for what happened, but when I touched her in the hall, I must have unknowingly left her with a part of myself. Her memory retained my love for Lachlan."

&nb
sp; Roan's head came around, his eyes condemningly dissecting her. "You touched me in the hall, too, didn't you?"

  "Yes. A little bit."

  "A little bit?" His mouth compressed in a scornful line. "Miraculously, I pulled ou' o' a drunk. Then, lo and behold, I'm all over Laura Bennett like a mon in heat. A little bit, Beth? Don't insult ma intelligence!"

  "I didn't brainwash either of—"

  "Hold yer gab!" he hissed, turning to face her. "Dinna fash yersel wi' a lie claimin' ye're atweel no responsible for Laura and me gettin' gey thick thegither!"

  Beth's expression went blank, then, "I can't defend myself when you lash out in a foreign language," she said, folding her arms against her chest.

  In frustration, Roan gave a yank at the hair atop his head. "How did those words come ou’ o’ ma mouth?" Then slower, in as near to English as he could at the moment, he reiterated, "I said, shut yer mouth, and don't trouble yerself wi' a lie claimin' ye're by no means responsible for Laura and me gettin' verra friendly wi' each ither."

  "Thank you. That's a little clearer...I think."

  "I would expect this kind o' betrayal from Lannie, but no' you."

  His words caused her to wince. "The attraction was there, Roan. I only...gave it a little nudge."

  Leaning to, Roan leered into her face, "Stay ou' o' ma personal business! I don't need a bloody ghost managin' ma love-life!"

  Beth haughtily arched a brow. "What you need is a kick in the ass, my friend."

  Rearing back, Roan also crossed his arms over his chest, letting the sheet fall to the floor.

  A scolding look flashed in her eyes. "I know all about loneliness, Roan. And I've also experienced the same social withdrawal you've been going through since the death of your son and wife."

  "You don't know a bloody thing abou' me, lady."

  "I know you go through each day like a zombie." Her eyebrow arched again. "You're a good man, Roan. If someone needs help, you're there, but you never let anyone reciprocate."

  "It’s ma life."

  "Such as it is...aye?" she drawled, meeting his heated gaze with steeled determination. "When my mother took ill, Roan, I panicked. I felt trapped. And when she died, I thought the guilt of wishing her dead would crush me. Ironically, I didn't begin to live until I came to this house and met Lachlan."

  "Spare me."

  "Listen to some damn good advice."

  Her calm yet authoritative voice wilted his defensiveness.

  "For some people, Roan, there simply isn't a significant other. I thought I belonged in that category until I met Lachlan. Granted, our life together isn't remotely normal—being dead probably has a lot to do with that—but we love each other. And love is precious. Too precious to ignore. I see before me a man capable of unlimited compassion; a man with so much love in his heart, it hurts him to keep it bottled up. So why does he, Roan? Are you afraid of failing in a relationship again? Is that it?"

  Testily retrieving the sheet and tucking it around his hips, he walked to a window across the room. He stared into the snow-packed night, blind to the wonderland scene. Weariness weighted his heart. He'd always been a private person, a man who found his own company preferable to that of others. Alone, he didn't have to play a role. He didn't have to pretend that he was content with his lot in life.

  "Ask yourself what greater force delivered Laura and the boys into your hands, Roan," said Beth, from close behind him.

  He focused on her reflection in the window pane.

  "Ask yourself what a man of your heart and passion has to offer them."

  "No' a thing."

  "Who are you trying to convince?" she chuckled softly, resting a hand between his shoulder blades. She ignored the twitch of his skin to shun her touch, and went on, "Laura reminds me a lot of myself—the alive version, I mean. She's strong-willed and determined to make a place for herself in this world. Like my own, her family was never close. We were fixtures as children. I suppose...fixtures as adults, too. She doesn't even realize that she's been searching to find herself.

  "And the boys...they desperately need someone to guide them. I know they don't show it, but they're needy, Roan. Needy for love and kindness. Needy for security.

  "Nothing can bring your son back, but there are three boys who can fill that void inside you. Deny yourself, and you deny them. I don't know which is the greater tragedy."

  Drawing in a breath, he turned to face her. "Return to Lannie, Beth. Don't interfere in wha' you can't possibly understand."

  "I do understand." A mist of tears sprang to her eyes. "That's what hurts so much."

  Suddenly needy himself, needy to hold and be held, Roan placed an arm about her shoulders and drew her against him. The warmth of her body took him aback, and banished the chill from his exposed skin.

  "This is so strange," he murmured, staring unseeingly across the room. "A bloody ghost has turned me to moosh."

  The door to his room opened. His sight zoomed into focus on Laura's pale face when she crossed the threshold. As if in slow motion, he felt Beth turn in his arms, saw Laura look in his direction and freeze in midstride.

  Her name left his dry throat in a barely audible whisper. A stricken look further paling her filled his vision.

  After a moment, she opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out but a croak. She turned and fled the room, leaving the door and Roan's heart ajar.

  "Don't let her leave believing she was at fault tonight. Tell her the truth, Roan. Everything."

  His gaze dropping to Beth's lifted face, he swallowed hard. "She'd spit it in ma face. She already thinks I'm a madmon."

  A sad smile appeared on Beth's lips as she turned completely to face him. "Just think about what I've said. Okay?"

  "I'm up to ma ears in promises now."

  "I've got to return to Lachlan. He's not going to be too happy when he awakens with a hangover."

  A wry expression seized Roan's features. "The mon's dead!"

  Beth began to fade before his eyes. "Yes, but not his memories. It'll be very real to him. Take heart, Roan."

  She vanished, but 'take heart' eerily echoed in the cold shadowed confines of the room.

  Chapter 5

  The warmth of the teacup did little to alleviate the cold in Laura's hands. She paced in front of the staircase, only dimly aware of the boys watching her from their sitting positions on the first three steps. They'd eaten breakfast and were dressed to leave—if only she could convince someone to drive her to a telephone!

  She'd barely slept a wink. Anger continued to pump adrenaline through her veins. With the advent of dawn, snow flurries had begun anew. Unless she left soon, she was sure she would be trapped within the walls of Baird house for the duration of the winter. All things considered, it was a frightening prospect. If the boys didn't drive her insane, Roan Ingliss undoubtedly would.

  Several hours earlier, he'd made a poor attempt to justify his actions of last night.

  What a crock!

  According to him, the ghost of Beth Staples had prompted their lovemaking.

  At least he was original. Not many men could come up with such a creative lie. She'd gone outside to put distance between them, but he'd followed her, more determined than ever to persuade her of his sincerity. When it became apparent that he would not back off, she'd called him a few choice names. It wasn't until she'd accused him of being a womanizing tyrant that he'd retaliated. He'd kissed her. Passionately. So passionately, she'd forgotten they were standing in calf-deep snow, exposed to the elements. At least, she'd forgotten for a few moments. The instant her reasoning had returned, she kneed him hard in the groin and left him folded in half on the ground.

  He'd think twice before pulling that stunt again.

  "We're bored," Kahl grumbled, his chin propped onto his fists.

  "That's good," she murmured absently, staring at the closed doors of the library.

  It was already proving to be a harrowing day.

  She glanced at her watch. 10:32 AM.
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br />   Sitting next to Kevin, who was positioned on the lowest step, she frowned into the dark remains of her lukewarm tea.

  Someone had arrived earlier. By the time she'd gotten halfway through the secondary hall, she'd caught but a glimpse of Roan ushering the visitor into the library. She was in the hall, intending to confront Roan on the matter of her and the boys leaving without further delay, when the woman she'd seen in his arms the previous night, came running down the staircase.

  The woman whose portrait hung above the mantel in the parlor. Only now she wore nothing but a man's shirt.

  Roan's?

  The thought sickened her.

  A further blow to her pride came when the woman brushed her off and also entered the library, closing the door, shutting Laura out and deepening her resentment toward the eccentric members of the household.

  Her life in Chicago seemed a figment of her imagination, now. She didn't even care if she was missed, or if her atomizer designs for the new perfume line was overlooked and the account turned over to someone else. There were countless hopefuls waiting for her to make room for them.

  Right now, the driving factor in her life was to leave Scotland. Nothing else mattered until that was accomplished.

  "What's wrong?" Kahl queried, poking his aunt in the back.

  She looked at him. "I'm waiting to talk to Mr. Ingliss."

  "We gonna leave?" Kevin asked, his thin brows drew down in a frown.

  "Yes."

  "When?" asked Alby.

  "I'll know once I talk to Mr. Ingliss."

  "When you gonna talk to him, huh?"

  "As soon as he comes out of the library, Kevin."

  Getting to his feet, Kevin peeked down the hall. "I'll bet the ghost is in there, too."

  Laura sighed. "There is no such thing—"