Finally, dispelling her image, he said, "Perhaps you could explain somethin' to me."
Beth arched an eyebrow, the smile remaining on her lips and in her eyes.
Lifting his left arm, he casually bent it to and fro at the elbow then twisted and turned it at the wrist. "The maist peculiar thing happened this morn, lass. I woke up wi' a terrible burnin' beneath the cast. It buggered me so, I went to the clinic this efternoon to have it checked." Airily, his gaze never leaving Beth's face, he jerked up his coat sleeve as far as it would go. "Notice, Beth, there's no cast."
"My my," Beth murmured, regarding his extended appendage. "You're a fast healer."
"Aye, so it seems."
She lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, so I prompted the healing along."
A frown creased his wide brow. "You can do tha' sort o' thing."
"It was another experiment."
Roan grinned. "I'm no' complainin', mind you, but I had a helluva time convincin' the doctor tha' he hadn't gone bonkers."
Beth's laugh echoed across the field. "I can imagine."
"Can you, now?" Slipping his hands into his deep coat pockets, he rocked on his feet. "Five x-rays, mind you. And when he removed the bloody cast, he still had trouble believin' the bones had knitted togither."
"I'm sorry," she chuckled with an airy shrug of her slender shoulders, "but it didn't make sense to have you laboring so hard on the house, and suffering a broken arm."
"Ma thanks, Beth."
"Any time."
Her gaze flitted toward something in the direction of the house. At last! Guarding her excitement, she looked Roan in the eye. "The house is already beginning to shape up."
He nodded. "We're hopin' to have the construction work done by Christmas Eve—which reminds me.... Do you think His Nibs will mind us havin' a wee celebration in the house if we succeed?"
"His Nibs?" Beth frowned and gave a chiding shake of her head. "You're still upset with him, aren't you?"
"No' really. Disappointed, maistly, but I guess he has his ways, me, mine." Looking down, he poked at the ground again. "Actually, once ma temper cooled down, I realized he'd come a long way in a short time. At least—" He searched Beth's face for a long moment. "—we can be civil to one anither, which is mair’n we could manage in the beginnin'."
"You're okay, Roan Ingliss."
He grinned sheepishly. "It helps to have a guardian spirit lookin' over ma shoulder."
"Mmm. Guardian spirit. It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it? But tell me, how's everything else going in your life?"
He lifted a questioning eyebrow.
"Don't be obtuse," she sighed, crossing her arms against her chest.
"Obtuse, eh?" He smiled ruefully. "Could be any number o' things ye're referrin' to. "
"Right. Okay, I'll play along. Roan Ingliss, do you miss Laura and the boys?" He frowned, prompting her to rush on, "The truth. I promise you won't melt into the snow if you should fess up to what you're actually feeling."
"Aye, I miss them." In an abrupt gesture of vexation, he shrugged deeper into his lamb's wool coat. "I do miss them, and I can't get her ou' o' ma mind. Beth, it all happened so fast. I was so...so frustrated wi' her and the laddies, and the whole situation, then next I knew, I couldn't be around them enough."
He sighed, and raked his fingers through the hair at his temple. "I don't know wha' to think, anymair. The days come and go in a blur. Is it possible to lose yer mind wi'ou' knowin' it?"
Beth released a deep, throaty laugh. "Yes, but I think your problem is called love. An affliction, I know, but it has its moments."
Roan's grin warmed his features. "Ye're a blunt womon, Beth Staples, and I'm bloody grateful for our friendship."
Without hesitation, Beth reached out and clasped one of his hands between her cool palms. "So am I."
He glanced down at their grasp, and grimaced. "His Nibs will be poppin' up, accusin' me o' handlin' his womon," he said nervously. Beth dropped her hands away, and he returned his to his pocket. "Speakin' o' him, where has he been hidin' since the fire?"
"Sulking in the grayness."
Roan rolled his eyes.
"Whenever we argue, it takes him a while to store up his energy."
"The mon has a temper."
"Not unlike someone else I know," she quipped, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
"Guilty as charged. Difference is, though, I can't poof away."
"No, but you do withdraw. You have a tendency, Roan, to try to shut out what hurts you. One day, you'll realize that emotional pain is a healing factor."
"Tha' so, Doctor Beth? Mmmm. I'll have to remember this next time I'm in misery up to ma ears."
"Just face a few truths. It's as simple as that."
"Truths? Wha' truths are we talkin' abou', now?"
"Laura. Your future together."
"It doesn't seem we have a future. No' wi' her thousands o' miles away and me here."
Beth gave an exasperated shake of her head. "Whose fault is that?"
"Ye're wantin' me to place the blame on ma shoulders?"
"They're mighty big shoulders, Roan. You allowed your pride to stand in the way of asking her to stay."
Roan scowled. "I did ask." He sighed. "In a way, I did ask, but she wasn't listenin'."
"I'm listening now," came a husky voice from behind him.
His heart shooting into his throat, he whirled about.
"This is where I say good night," Beth grinned, fading into the landscape.
Tightness formed in Roan's chest as he raked his gaze up and down Laura's small form. His hands balled within the coat pockets. He couldn't speak. He was afraid if he said anything, her image would dissolve, and he would once again find himself stuck with his own dubious company.
"You're scowling at me," she said finally, in a small voice, watching him as if expecting to have to flee at any moment.
He made every effort to clear his expression but the scowl remained deeply etched.
"My purse was recovered and sent to the consulate." Looking down, she gestured to the three-quarter-length, smart blue coat she was wearing. "The boys and I went on a shopping spree. I rented a car, and here I am." When he remained silent, she sighed nervously. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I love you, Roan. I don't want to leave Scotland, or you, or the life we could build here together."
Impatience lending an edge to her tone, she went on, "I'm fresh out of inhibitions. I'm not expecting you to marry me. I don't care if we live together, so long as we're together. If the responsibility of the boys worries you, I'll do whatever it takes to make all of our lives easier. I'm not a weak woman, and I am capable of pulling more than my share when it comes to finances and the comforts of the men in my life—which are now four. And I'm ready to take on the role of mother, aunt...and your lover, for as long as the boys need me, and you want me."
Laura released a breath through pursed lips and rolled her eyes. "Now that I've gotten all of this off my chest, would you please say something!"
"You rented a car?"
Bewildered, Laura blinked at him.
"You drove here from Edinburgh?" he asked in a voice two octaves higher than his normal.
"Yes. I rented an automatic. The roads were pretty good, and I didn't even get lost. Not once. Not bad for a Yank...aye?"
Too rattled to appreciate her humor, he gasped, "You drove from Edinburgh?"
"Roan—"
"Dammit, womon, are you crazy?"
"I must be. I’m back here, aren’t I? Has the investigation been completed on the house?"
He nodded.
"And...?"
He shrugged.
A frown briefly touched Laura's face then cleared when she walked up to him, leaving little space between them. Gripping the front of his coat, she rose on tiptoe, and stared deeply into his eyes. "It isn't wise to provoke a woman who has spent the better part of the day traveling foreign roads, in the company of three very lively, talkative
boys. I'm on the edge, Roan Ingliss, and your silence is pushing me over the brink!"
At that moment, her arrival struck him as humorous. He released a brief, booming laugh before winding his arms about her and holding her against him.
"It's about time," she grinned, snuggling closer to his body. An invitation danced in her eyes, her sensuously parted lips.
"Damn me," he chuckled nervously. "I can't believe ye're actually here!"
"That makes two of us. Roan?" Her voice deepened to a husky, sensual tone. "I was hoping for a different kind of greeting."
Without wasting another second, he lowered his head and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.
He would never be able to describe the rightness he felt at that moment, the rightness of holding her, kissing her deeply, the two of them once again on Baird territory. And he could not imagine ever feeling happier than he was right now. His blood sang out in joy, in perfect harmony with his every nerve, muscle, flesh and brain. She'd not only returned of her own free will, but had admitted to being in love with him. It was more than he would have ever dared to pray for. A small voice in the back of his head told him it was more than he deserved.
She shuddered out of sheer contentment, broke the kiss, and nuzzled her brow against the contours of his face. "I couldn't stay away. I missed you so much. The sight of you. The touch of you." Looking into his eyes, she inhaled deeply through her nose then smiled a smile that warded off the chill of the night. "The musky scent of you. I'm afraid I'm hooked on you, Roan. Away from you, I start experiencing withdrawal."
"Is ma lass becomin' a poet?" he asked almost shyly. Breathing sparingly, he studied her face, as if to further enhance his mental image of her. "Or am I dreamin'?"
"Want me to pinch you?"
"Thank you, no," he chuckled.
She strained on tiptoe once again, and was about to kiss his beckoning mouth when he looked up and stiffened. Turning her head to look in the direction of the house, she asked, "What's wrong?"
Releasing her, he stepped to her side. "Where are the boys?" he asked gruffly, his narrowed gaze riveted on the house.
"At your aunt's. Why?"
"You came here alone?"
Shivering, she turned, linked an arm through his, and pressed closer to his side. "You're scaring me."
"I saw a light movin' around the second floor. I asked you, lass, did you come alone?"
"No." A chill blossomed in the pit of her stomach. "No, Borgie came along to show me—"
Roan released a gurgle of a cry then lit into a run. Laura followed as best she could, her boots not equipped with skid-free soles as were his. Before they'd gone but ten yards, a sound of rumbling began back at the oak, deep in the ground, seemingly beneath the headstones. Unsteadily sliding to a stop, Laura stared in that direction, her heartbeat hammering at her temples. Fear built within the pit of her stomach.
The sound grew louder. Unaware that Roan had gone on quite a ways, then had turned and was running back in her direction, she stared in disbelief as the headstones keeled over one at a time, in an eerie domino effect. She couldn't move her feet, not even when Roan was suddenly beside her and tugging on her arm. By the time he realized the thundering was not from the heavens, the ground began to yawn apart in a rapid pathway toward them.
"Run!" he cried, taking her by the hand.
Laura slid most of the way to the fence, Roan dragging her along as if she were a sled. He helped her over the fence, barely getting over himself before the planks burst into the air. The chasm chased them through the trees, around the house, and mysteriously came to a halt the instant it came to the stone steps of the greenhouse which served as a front entry to the manor.
Huddled together on the small stoop, Roan stared down at the dark cleft. Fear boiled in his blood, yet left his skin like ice.
"Stay close to ma side," he warned, in a tone sharper than he'd intended.
Opening the greenhouse door, he ushered her ahead of him. She tried to open the great double doors, but found them locked. Roan fumbled with a set of keys he'd kept in his back trouser pocket, hurriedly unlocked the door and none-too-gently pushed her into the hall.
He slammed the door shut behind them. "Borgie!" he called, panic in his raw tone. "Borgie, come down!"
He took the lead in the semi-darkness, the staircase dimly lit by moonlight filtering through a massive hole in the wall. Laura followed, her stomach queasy and threatening to eject her supper. She was too afraid to remain on the ground floor alone, and too afraid to let Roan venture upstairs on his own.
On the second floor, he waited for her to catch up then went into the doorless bedroom he'd used until the night of the fire. A dark figure moved by the window. The thin beam of a flash-light cut out.
"Borgie! If you know wha’s good for you, you'll get ou', now! Lannie knows ye're here!"
A sound of fumbling was heard. A moment later, a match was lit across the room, illuminating the white-haired man while he hastily lit the kerosene lamp he'd been carrying.
"You bloody fool!" Roan hissed, advancing across the room. "Have you a daith wish, mon?"
Borgie held the lamp shoulder-high. The glow cast off from it, lent sinister shadowing to his angular features. "I've found some o' the jewels," he grinned, patting his left coat pocket. "I knew they'd survive!"
Roan felt suddenly lightheaded. "How did you know I'd brought them to this room?"
A brief look of panic masked the man's face. Then he grinned, his countenance becoming skeletal-like in the flickering lantern light. "I have ma ways, cousin. A finder's fee is due me. I'll take a few o' the stones—the rubies, I think. I love the color o' rubies. Dark red. Red as blood."
Roan quaked with anger, his fists balled at his sides. Stepping alongside him, Laura linked an arm through his, in hopes it would be enough to sway him from lunging at his cousin.
"They belong to Lannie!"
Borgie spat to one side. "He passed 'em down to you, you said."
"They belong to him!"
"No! He did this—" He gestured to his white hair. "—to me. He owes me, Roan! And I intend to collect ma dues!"
"I'll give you yer dues, you bastard!" came a guttural hiss. Thunder rolled across the ceiling, vibrated through the flooring.
Laura clung tightly to Roan, her horrified gaze riveted on Borgie, whose wild gaze pinged about him.
"I'll handle this, Lannie!" Roan barked, his gaze never wavering from his cousin. "Yer jewels will remain. You have ma word!"
A freezing wind whipped through the room, circled and circled until Lachlan appeared, standing between the two men, his murderous look fixed on Borgie. "I'll break yer neck wi' ma bare hands!" he threatened, shaking a fist at the white-haired man. "I warned you to never come near ma property again!"
Borgie cast his cousin an imploring look.
Roan shivered in fear of the ghost's rage. "Lannie, go and let me handle this. He'll never return!"
Lachlan's lips drew back, baring gleaming white teeth. "How did the fire start, Borgie, lad?" he asked scathingly.
Roan met Laura's gaze for an electric moment then regarded his cousin with deepening horror. "Borgie, tell me it’s no' so." An excruciating second passed in silence. "Borgie! Ma God, tell me it’s no' true!"
The white-haired man grew sickly pale. "No' me, I swear!"
"Lyin' Ingliss swine," Lachlan growled.
The words were like a severe blow to Roan. He stared at the ghost's profile, visibly wounded by the words spoken against his bloodline. "I'm an Ingliss, too."
Lachlan's flame-tinged eyes swung to Roan for but a moment. "I warned him to stay away."
"We share the same blood, he and I!" Roan bellowed. "Ingliss and Aiken blood!"
A fierce breeze swept into the room. The next instant, Beth appeared, standing across from Lachlan and between Borgie and Roan and Laura. "Let it go, Lachlan," she warned, her anger matching his own.
"No' when this—" Lachlan flung out a hand in Borgie's direction
. "—rodent o' the devil dares to trespass in ma home!"
"This is Roan's house now," Beth reminded him, trembling, her shoulders tautly held back. "You leave!"
Beth released a choked sound when Lachlan's eyes became glowing red embers. She'd never known him to be so out of control. The fury radiating from him, robbed her of warmth, left such a void inside her, she expected to implode into its core.
Oblivion.
If not for the innocent in the room, she would have welcomed oblivion.
Gone was any remnant of the man she loved. She was aware of suffocating evil, so powerful a presence, she nearly abandoned her present existence to escape it.
Lachlan's dark side.
She'd known about it for some time. She'd not only witnessed it unleashed, but had unwittingly linked with it on several occasions. Rage had never been a part of her makeup. Nothing near as dark and sinister as what lay at the core of her mate's character. She'd sensed the monster of his rage, seen it in her mind's eye more times than she cared to count. It had nearly driven her away, nearly taken over all that was good in Lachlan.
And it was free once again, its host, Lachlan, not even aware of its deadly potential. It fed off his past, hibernating in the sea of betrayal that had become the energy force of his soul.
"Lachlan, I'm warning you!" she cried, desperate to touch upon his compassion before it was too late. "I won't stand by and watch you assault an unarmed man!"
The red eyes cut to her briefly. Beth gasped. His look robbed her of energy, plunging her life force into a well of frigid hopelessness. She no longer possessed the power to help herself, let alone the others. The monster reigned over them both. Reigned over anyone unfortunate enough to be within its range.
A silent scream spilled past her lips.
An invisible hand slapped against her front and pushed her into the hall.
Roan, dazed by her swift retreat, was about to shout at Lachlan when he, too, was slammed by something unseen and shoved out of the room. Laura cried out, her hands outstretched to Roan. She cried out again when she felt herself sliding across the floor toward the couple in the hall.
Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 Page 19
