True to character, he appeared in the doorway, the grin in place, his arms laden with plates and bowls of food and snacks.
A wistful sigh passed her lips.
It was going to be a very long night.
But a night, she knew, of countless pleasures.
Nudging the door closed with a heel, Roan approached the bed. "There's enough calories here to spark a new record for us, Laura-lass."
Laura dubiously arched her eyebrows. Exactly what did he mean by a new record?
"At least three hours," he boasted, easing his armload onto the bed. "Maybe four," he added jubilantly.
In response, Laura pulled the quilt over her head.
Chapter 14
Laura didn't want to wake up. The bed was warm and cozy, compliments of the homemade quilts, and Roan's body spooned behind her. She reluctantly crack open her eyelids to find the room bathed in bright grey light. Morning had come too soon, but she could hear the boys giggling somewhere in the house, and knew she had to get up.
Roan's arm was draped across her middle, the hand cupping her right breast. A lazy smile spread across her pouty lips. He had to be exhausted. She certainly was!
Easing his arm off her, she did her best to slip from beneath the covers without waking him. But before she could lower her feet to the floor, his eyes shot open.
"What's wrong?"
"It's morning. The boys are awake."
Groaning, he rolled onto his back and rubbed his closed eyelids with his balled hands. Laura dreamily watched him. Reddish-gold stubble blanketed his lower face. He yawned and stretched his arms, linked the fingers of his hands, turned his palms upward, and cracked and popped his joints. Then he scratched his hair-covered chest while working his mouth to alleviate its dryness.
"You're not a pretty sight in the morning," she said, straining not to laugh.
His bloodshot eyes swung to her, and he grinned sleepily. "You wore me ou', womon."
Leaving the bed, she went to the chair in the corner and picked up her robe. She put it on, a good-natured glance narrowed on him. "Go back to sleep."
Roan's gaze lazily swept the length of her. "I've a better idea," he grinned mischievously. He patted the mattress where she'd been laying. "Come to bed, darlin'."
A shiver of delight passed beneath her skin. "You're insatiable."
"Aye, and bloody ready to start the day off right."
"The boys—"
"Can hold their own for a wee longer."
A squeal of glee came from the parlor. Arching her eyebrows at Roan, she headed for the door. "On second thought, Mr. Horny Toad, I think you should get up and fix breakfast."
Sitting up, Roan ran his hand up and down his scruffy face. "You do, do you?"
"Aye, lover," she chuckled, and opened the door.
She closed it behind her, frowning at the gleeful, shrill sounds the boys were making. Her hands smoothed down her hair, and then tightened the belt of her robe as she crossed the small hall into the parlor. She expected to find the tree toppled over and the colorful wrapping paper on the gifts, shredded and strewn across the room. What she did find caused her to stop in mid-stride and place a hand over her heart.
In the middle of the room, Lachlan Baird sat bent over his crossed legs, his arms covering his head to protect him from the boys, who were excitedly jumping atop and over him. Alby dropped to his knees, snorted like a bull, and rammed his head into the laird's side. Then he squealed when Lachlan's long arm shot out and captured him, and hauled him across his lap.
Kahl released a long-winded grunt, folded his hands over his chest, and pretended to fall dead against Lachlan's back.
"You little boogers!" he laughed, straightening his spine and making a feeble attempt to capture all three within his arms. Kevin foiled the plan. He flipped himself over Lachlan's broad shoulder, forcing the ghost to catch him lest he fell on top of the youngest brother. Lachlan's revenge was to cradle the boy in his arms, and vibrate his lips against Kevin's exposed midriff. Kevin's laugh nearly pierced Laura's eardrums, prompting her to end the rough play.
"Okay, boys! That's enough!"
Four pair of eyes turned in her direction. A laugh escaped her before she could suppress it. What a sight! Lachlan, his hair in wild disarray, his white, poofy-sleeved shirt, torn in strips at his shoulder, peered at her amidst a sea of pajama-clad, spindly legs and arms, draped all over him.
"Alby, Kevin, Kahl," she said, forcing her tone to sound stern. "Get off of Mr. Baird. Now."
Grumbling beneath his breath, Kevin got to his feet and helped his brothers up. "I told you she was a poop, sometimes," he said to Lachlan.
Releasing a breath through pursed lips, Lachlan rose and haphazardly attempted to straighten his shirt. "Now, lad, you show yer aunt her due respect."
Kevin grimaced then poutingly offered, "I'm sorry, Aunt Laura."
"It's not our fault if Lannie's more fun than you are," Kahl said in earnest.
A grin strained to form on Laura's lips. "No...no, I guess it isn't. Have you three brushed your teeth?"
"Aw, nuts!" Kevin fumed. "My teeth ain't gritty yet!"
Lachlan spared Laura a bemused look before turning his attention to the oldest boy. "Weel, now, Kevin, you just put a nasty taste in ma mouth. Ye're no' settin' a good example for yer brithers. Now run along and help them tend to their wee mouths."
Kevin eyed the towering man then leveled a comical look on his aunt. "I love the way he says brithers. Yo, brithers, follow me to the can. Hep hep hep hep!"
The three of them, single file, marched past Laura to the bathroom.
Her gaze sparkling with laughter, swung to the laird. "You're very good with children."
Suddenly self-conscious, the tall, strapping laird made a bid to comb his fingers through his shoulder-length, snarled hair. A moment later, he lowered his hands to his sides and offered a halfhearted grin. "I hope you dinna mind me droppin' in so unexpected."
Laura shook her head. "No. As a matter of fact, I'm glad for the chance to thank you again, you know...for bringing me back."
A sobering shadow crossed Lachlan's face. He clasped his hands behind him then, after several seconds of deep thought, he casually crossed the room, leaving what he believed to be a comfortable arm's length of distance between them, for her peace of mind.
"No thanks are needed, Tes—" He scowled, then tried to vanish it with a lopsided grin. "Laura," he amended almost shyly. "Yer return unburdened ma rage. I'm as grateful for wha' you've given me."
Laura studied his rugged, handsome face, a sliver of memory surfacing from her former life. "You were a kind and overly generous husband, Lachlan. I wish.... I wish I had been a different person back then."
"Mair like the womon afore me, now, aye?" he grinned in earnest. "I did a lot o' thinkin' atween last night and this morn. If things had been different back then, I wouldna have ma Beth now, would I?"
"Probably not. Are you really...leaving, tonight?"
"Aye. I'm no' complete wi'ou' her. I'm sure you and Roan feel the same abou' one anither."
Laura smiled sadly. "We do."
"Wha' is it like, havin' the memory o' anither life?"
She sighed and took a moment to think about her reply. "At first it was scary and...unbelievable. Now it feels kind of...normal." She smiled. "Not bad for someone who didn't even believe in ghosts before coming to Scotland."
Lachlan's gaze caressed her features. "I wish all the best for you and Roan. And those lads. They're fine lads, Laura. Real fine."
"They are. They're going to miss you."
"They'll have Aggie— Ooh, by the way, lass, I hope ye're no' opposed to her grannyin' the lads. She'll be a fine nanny, I can promise you."
His revelation took her aback, but she quickly recovered. "Will she be able to...be like you and Beth?"
"Appear real, you mean? Aye. She's already taught herself the way."
A fluttering sensation passed through her stomach. "I like Agnes. The boys adore
her. And of course Roan...." She sighed again. "We'd love to have her with us."
"As it should be," he murmured, an enigmatic gleam in his eyes.
Roan came waltzing in from the bedroom, a heavy blue robe carelessly tied about his middle. Mindless of his guest, he pirouetted toward Laura, his eyes closed, his lips pursed for a kiss. Laura clamped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud. He turned one last time, then leaned in her direction and smacked his lips.
"Give us a pree, lover."
A squeak of mirth escape her. Roan lifted his eyelids, spied a tall figure standing to his left, and released a startled gasp. Wide-eyed with embarrassment, he faced the laird.
Lachlan airily raked a glance over Roan. "Ye're a sight for dead eyes," he dryly quipped, although amusement glowed in his eyes.
"I'll leave you two alone," Laura chuckled, and headed for the bathroom.
Roan watched until she disappeared from sight then, absently ruffling the hair covering the top of his head, turned a sheepish grin on Lachlan. "Good morn to you, too."
"Can you make a decent cup o' tea, laddie?"
Roan grimaced. "I hate bein' called laddie abou' as much as you hate me callin' you old."
Lachlan laughed. Clapping Roan on the shoulder, he turned him around and led him toward the kitchen. "I wanted a few words wi' you afore tonight."
They crossed into the kitchen. Roan gestured for the laird to sit at the medium-sized, old oak table, while he went to the stove and took the kettle in hand. At the sink, half-filling the copper-bottomed vessel, he said over his shoulder, "I expected Aggie to show up."
"She's at the house."
Shutting off the tap, Roan arched a questioning brow. "Is she comin' home?"
"I'm no' sure."
While Roan placed the kettle on the stove and turned on the gas beneath it, Lachlan inspected an antique salt and pepper set.
"Do you remember those?" Roan asked, seating himself across from the laird.
"Aye." A wistful expression softened his features. "Mary brought them for her mither—Christmas, 1860, wasna it?"
"Sometime around then."
"I was fond o' Mary. She looked like her mither but she hadna Tessa's temper."
"One o' the stories passed down, was tha' you would watch her play wi' her dolls in the attic. Tha' true?"
Nodding sadly, Lachlan returned the silver set to the center of the table. "Ma only regret...no' havin' wee ones to carry on ma name." He grinned crookedly and met Roan's gaze. "Which is why I'm here."
Roan scratched the top of his head. "Ah, and here I thought it was because you missed me."
"Ye're feelin' verra good this morn, aye?" Lachlan asked coyly.
"Aye."
"Beat yer record, did you?"
Crimson flooded Roan's face. "Wha'?"
"Dinna ruffle yer feathers, laddie," he laughed. "I popped in last night, hopin' we could have a wee visit. Soon as I heard you mention yer goal for the eve, weel...I left."
"Appreciate it," Roan muttered.
"Weel?"
Roan regarded Lachlan's devilishly arched eyebrows, and scowled.
"I'm a wee curious," the laird grinned.
"No. No' quite."
"You've years to practice."
The fading blush darkened once again. "You came to speak to me abou' somethin' specific, didn't you?"
"Aye. Lovely shade, yer face," Lachlan chuckled, then visibly sobered. "Tis abou' ma home and fortune. It remains yers."
Wryly, Roan nodded.
"I've recovered the jewels and maist o' the money, Roan. I put them in a trunk in the cellar. Which reminds me—" He grinned. "—the scotch survived. Hardy stuff."
"Lannie...."
The kettle began to whistle. Jumping up from his chair, Roan remained thoughtfully quiet while he fixed two cups of tea. He returned to the table, placing one cup in front of Lachlan, and seated himself, avoiding the dark, probing gaze.
"Lannie, I'm no' too keen on takin' yer money or home."
"Who else is there for me to leave ma treasures? Roan, lad, tis right you should have it all. You've a family to take care o' now. Besides...." He took a long sip of his tea, wrinkled his nose, and went on, "I liked yer idea o' turnin' the place into a retreat."
"I never said—"
"It was on yer mind afore the first fire."
"Speakin' o' which...." Frowning, Roan despondently pushed his cup away from him, his gaze unseeingly leveled on the handle. After a moment, he placed his elbows atop the table, and buried his face in his hands for several seconds longer.
"No one in these parts will lend a hand or back to help rebuild the house. This last...the floors are gone. I-I know you performed a miracle in front of a few...bringin' Laura back to me, but I talked to a mate o' mine at the pub, yesterday, and he said no one wants to see the place restored.
"Lannie, they're just ordinary people. You and the house represent their darkest fears. Wha' one person might consider a miracle, anither sees as somethin' evil."
"No' efter tonight," Lachlan said mysteriously.
Roan leaned back in his chair and warily eyed the man. "Wha' have you got planned?"
"If I told you, it wouldna be a surprise, would it?" he grinned. He sobered, locking gazes with his host. "One last promise, Roan Ingliss."
Sighing, Roan nodded.
"Accept ma gift."
"If it means tha' much to you."
"It means the world to me."
"All right, then. Lannie, are you really goin' on tonight? You could stay—"
"No' wi'ou' Beth." Lachlan rose from his chair. "I've one last thin' to get off ma chest."
Roan slowly cranked himself up onto his feet. "Sometimes, ye're a regular pain in the arse."
"Ye're playin' faither to those lads now. Bahookie's a kinder word to use around wee ones, laddie."
Roan laughed.
Despair shadowed the taller man's face. He looked away then brought his dark eyes to meet Roan's. "There winna be time tonight for a proper goodbye," he said huskily, his expression trying to tell something to Roan, Roan couldn't grasp. "Despite our history, I'll miss you."
Roan briefly looked off to one side. It was all he could do to hold back the emotions rising inside him. "I'll miss you, too. It'll be bloody quiet wi'ou' you poppin' in and ou' o' ma life."
"Will you remember me kindly through the years?"
Despite his mental effort, a fine mist of tears sprang to Roan's eyes. He again looked away, but couldn't bring himself to say goodbye in this way. Meeting the laird's probing gaze, he managed a wavering smile.
"I'll make you anither promise, old mon: I'll always carry you in ma heart."
A tense moment passed. Then, as if unable to contain himself, Lachlan whisked Roan into his arms and hugged him. A hoarse breath ejected from his phantom lungs. He drew back, exposing a tear escaping down his cheek before he began to fade.
"Thank you, laddie," he whispered, and vanished completely from sight.
Roan wasn't given the chance to recover his emotions. Laura entered the kitchen. He abruptly turned his back to her, and struggled to hold back the tears pressing at the back of his eyes.
"Roan, are you all right?"
"Right as rain," he tried to say cheerily, but his voice cracked.
"Where's Lachlan?"
"Gone." Heaving a fortifying breath, he walked to the sink, turned on the cold water tap, and brusquely cupped the liquid to his face. When the tap was turned off, he peered upward to see Laura's hand on the white porcelain handle.
"He upset you," she stated, trenching her fingers through the back of his hair.
Straightening, he braced his hands on the edge of the sink, and lowered his head. "No' the way you think. Damn me, Laura, I hate to see him go so soon."
"I know," she said in a whisper of a tone.
Lifting his head, Roan gazed deeply into her eyes, compassionate eyes that told him she truly understood what he was feeling.
She rubbed his back between his shoulder blades, soothing his tensed muscles, his melancholy. "Did he happen to mention what he planned to do tonight?"
Roan shook his head.
"You're concerned, aren't you?"
"Ma gut's in knots. I don't know why."
"Does he still want you to rebuild the mansion?"
"Aye." Turning, he drew her into his arms. "You feel so good." He tightened his embrace, snuggling, molding her against him. Her face turned up, the pools of her emerald eyes capturing his attention. "Have I told you lately, ye're the maist beautiful womon ever born?"
She wrinkled her nose at him. "I don't recall you ever saying anything like that."
"Hmmm. It must have slipped yer mind."
"I don't think so," she smiled. She glanced over at the stove. "I was expecting a four-course breakfast. How disappointing."
He playfully jiggled his sandy-blonde eyebrows. "I'll make you a seven-course masterpiece if you promise to sneak back to bed wi' me when the boys go down for their nap."
Laura released a theatrical sigh. "If I must."
With a burst of laughter, Roan swooped her up into his arms. "You minx!"
"I told you," came a smug little voice, "they do it in the kitchen, too."
Roan's expression went deadpan as he lowered Laura to her feet, his gaze on the three boys standing by the doorway. They looked like angels, their hair combed, their hands folded in front of them, smiles exposing their teeth.
"We do wha' in the kitchen?" he asked with a scowl.
"Bumpity bump bump bump," Kevin replied in a singsong manner. "Kahl owes me two pence."
"For what?" Laura asked, although dreading the answer.
Kevin pointed to Roan. "It was a sure bet you couldn't last three hours."
Laura and Roan rolled their eyes in unison then looked at one another.
"We need a bigger house—wi' solid walls."
Laura regarded her nephews with an arched eyebrow. "Or earplugs for the little darlings."
"Perhaps a verra large spankin' stick," Roan added, gleefully eyeing the now squirming boys. "Verra large, indeed."
"You wouldn't dare," Kevin challenged, backing through the doorway.
"I wouldn't?"
Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 Page 27
