Tessa leaned forward to kiss him. But before their lips touched, Beth reached out to give the woman a shake. Her hand passed through Tessa's shoulder. The blonde sprang up onto her feet, her face deathly pale, her azure eyes seeming too large for her face. Robert stood, his dark look questioning his lover's strange behavior.
“Canna you feel it?” Tessa asked in a low, husky voice. “Cold as death, it was.” She looked beseechingly into Robert's eyes. “We're bein' watched, Robert.”
“No, darlin'—”
The aproned young woman entered the room, carrying a tray. Barely glancing at the couple, she placed the tray on the coffee table then gave a curtsey. “Anythin' else?”
“No,” Robert said, with a curt, dismissing gesture.
Merra spared Tessa a long glance then hurried away. Before the maid disappeared into the room beyond the door, Tessa tipped the snifter to her lips and downed the peach brandy.
“Take it easy,” Robert scowled as Tessa tossed the emptied glass upon the sofa.
“Dinna tell me wha' to do.” With a haughty toss of her head, she eyed the young man with unmistakable superiority. “Tis thanks to ma cunnin' we're in this fine house, laddie. Dinna ever forget tha'.”
Robert's eyes flashed a warning before he turned and walked to the fireplace. Staring up at a portrait of the laird, he said, “He is no' a mon to be trifled wi', love.”
A smug smile hardened the blonde's delicate features. “I can handle him.”
Disgust brought on a weightiness in Beth's chest. Hallucination or not, she couldn't suppress a deep-rooted desire to protect Lachlan from his bride. Her mind scrambling to recall all that he'd told her about Tessa, she walked to the front of the woman and ran a measuring look over her.
The mistress of Baird House was undeniably beautiful, but for the life of her, Beth could not understand how Lachlan could not see the emptiness in the woman's blue eyes. They were devoid of compassion. Certainly devoid of love, even for Robert. Her outer perfection was but a thin cloak. And yet Lachlan had fallen in love with her.
“We could have it all,” Tessa purred, daintily tugging on each finger of her gloves until she held the lace set in one hand. “His grand house. His lovely wealth.”
Robert slowly turned until he was facing Tessa, his features cast in gloom. “I think you underestimate him, and overestimate yerself, darlin'.”
“Ye o' little faith,” she laughed, then gasped when Beth's phantom hand passed through her breast. The feeling of ice hardening around her heart, elicited a cry from her.
“Darlin'?”
The door opened. Lachlan walked in.
“Yer bath's—”
Tessa dashed to him and flung herself into his arms. Beth's furies loosed. The snifter shot through the air. Robert ducked aside in time to avoid being struck by it, but the snifter shattered upon impact with the mantel, and slivers of glass rained on him.
“Wha' the bloody hell!” he wailed, jumping to Lachlan's side and staring at the mantel in stark terror.
Baffled, Lachlan demanded, “Wha's goin' on?”
Beth clenched her fists. The sofa Tessa had been sitting on abruptly moved several feet away.
Releasing Tessa, Lachlan hesitantly moved to the center of the room, his dark gaze probing his surroundings.
Beth's fists trembled and she closed her eyes against the fury coursing through her. The two doors in the room began to repeatedly open and slam shut. Amid the blonde's shrieks, Lachlan boomed, “Stop!”
All became very quiet and still in the room. Beth glared at the blonde, her mind groping for a means by which to warn Lachlan of the woman's treachery.
“Tis evil spirits,” Tessa accused.
“No' in ma home,” Lachlan said assuredly. Placing his hands on his hips, he made a complete turn. “There has to be a reasonable explanation.”
“Such as?” Robert flung sarcastically, his pallor the color of chalk. “Ta wha' kind o' place have you brought ma sister?”
Lachlan scowled at the younger man. “Are you suggestin' ma home be haunted, Robert?” He gave a low laugh. “Might be, the long journey's playin' tricks on our minds. A good night's rest—”
“I sense an evil presence,” Tessa huffed, her posture rigid, her eyes flashing with defiance.
Evil? Beth fumed. You treacherous murdering bitch!
Again Lachlan laughed low, and crossed the room to his bride. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her on the brow. “Some gentle lovin' and ma chest beneath yer fair head, darlin', will ease yer fears.”
“I'm too upset,” she mewled.
Standing at Lachlan's side, Beth carefully watched his pained expression as he searched his bride's face.
“Tis our weddin' night.”
“Ma sister is weary,” Robert put in, his defensive tone causing one of Lachlan's eyebrows to arch. “Have a heart, mon. You have the rest o' yer lives.”
“Tis true, darlin',” Tessa said gently, placing a hand to Lachlan's cheek. “Would it hurt you terribly to allow me to gather ma wits for a time?”
Lachlan's gaze moved from Tessa, to Robert, then back to Tessa. “As you wish.” He dropped his hands to his sides and forced an understanding smile. “I'll stay in one o' the guest rooms tonight.”
“I refuse to deny you yer bed, love,” Tessa said, her soft tone convincing, her eyes as innocently winning as those of a doe. “Let me bathe.”
“May I at least scrub yer back?”
Rising on tiptoe, Tessa briefly kissed Lachlan on the mouth. “Anither time. I'm exhausted. I pray you understand, love.”
Beth locked her teeth as Lachlan gave a nod.
“I'll see her to yer room,” Robert said, placing a palm at Tessa's elbow and turning her toward the door. “Which room is it?”
“Third floor. Fourth room on the left.”
The dullness of Lachlan's tone wrenched on Beth's heartstrings. Helplessly, she watched Robert escort Tessa from the room and close the door after them. Lachlan stood very still for a time, staring absently at the door. Then he went to one of the Wing chairs and lowered himself onto it.
Beth stood in front of him, her eyes soft with compassion. This Lachlan possessed different qualities than the man she knew. He appeared younger. Vulnerable. Lost, at the moment.
“Can I get you somethin', sir?”
Both Beth and Lachlan looked up at the maid, who stood poised by the dining room door.
“Come here a moment, Merra,” he said wearily.
Without hesitation, she came to stand in front of him, unaware that Beth had moved aside, so as not to touch her.
“Aye, sir?”
Lachlan's mouth twisted in a halfhearted grin. “How long have you been here, Merra?”
“Near eight months, sir.”
“Have you ever....” He frowned and looked off to one side. “Have you ever sensed somethin'...unnatural in this house?”
A flicker of surprise move across her face.
“Unnatural, sir?” Her small hands kneaded the front of her apron. “I don’t understand.”
With a fortifying intake of breath, Lachlan said seriously, “A ghost, lass.”
“Ghost, sir?” She giggled. “Are you pullin' ma leg, sir?”
Lachlan chuckled. “Aye, Merra, I am. Tis good to be home.”
“Tis good to have you back, sir. The house felt quite empty withou' you.”
“Tis kind o' you to say so,” he said distractedly, gazing off to one side.
“Can I get you somethin', sir? Somethin' to eat, or a scotch, maybe?”
Lachlan smiled tiredly up at her. “No thank you. Wha' I need is a good, long sleep. Merra, I'm countin' on you to make yer mistress feel welcome here.”
“Aye, I'll do ma best, sir. But....”
Lachlan arched a questioning brow. “But?”
“She's no' wha' I expected, sir.”
“In wha' way?”
Merra smiled shyly. “I'm no' sure. But she is verra lovely, sir.”
“Aye, she is. Tha’ is all for tonight. And Merra? The mistress prefers coffee to tea in the morn.”
With a nod, the young woman left the room.
For what seemed a long time, Beth stared down at Lachlan, who was lost in thought. She went down on her knees in front of him, studying the striking contours of his features, the expressive movements of his eyebrows. She couldn't begin to guess his thoughts, but he was troubled. He was a groom without his bride on their wedding night. If only he knew what was to come.
Without thought, she placed her hands atop his knees. He gave a violent start, his horrified gaze riveted where Beth had quasi-touched him.
Anguish swelled in her throat as she rose to her feet. “Lachlan, can you hear me?”
He continued to stare at his knees, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so fiercely, his knuckles were white.
“She's going to murder you!” Beth cried, frustrated that he couldn't seem to hear her. “Your beautiful young bride is going to drive a knife into your heart!”
Lachlan rose from the chair. Casually walking about the room, he ran a hand through his shoulder-length, thick hair.
“Lachlan, dammit!”
He stopped and appeared to keen an ear.
Walking up to him, Beth went on, “She's going to murder you. Lachlan, Robert is not her brother. He's her lover!”
He gave himself a visible shake, as if to dispel his weariness.
“Damn you, Lachlan, you must hear me! She's—”
Beth stiffened. What am I doing?
She'd been reacting to an hallucination as though it was real!
How convenient for Lachlan, she fumed, taking two paces back. How bloody convenient for him that this occurred, filling her with sympathy, and reinforcing her love for him!
“You bastard!” she hissed, trembling with anger. “What is this, s-some kind of hypnosis you're using on me? It won't work. Do you hear me? It won't convince me to remain with you!”
Lachlan sighed as he again raked his fingers through his hair. “Wha' are you sulkin' abou', mon? You've waited thirty-four years to have a womon. Wha's one mair night?”
Sitting on the sofa which had inexplicably moved minutes before, he ran his hands up and down his face then slapped his palms to the upholstery to each side of his slim hips. “Ye're jaggey, mon. Desire's cloudin' yer mind; playin' the devil wi' you.”
Beth headed for the door to the hall. So Lachlan had been a virgin — at least in this most bizarre daymare. She found it disturbing, especially in light of the fact he'd told her he'd been murdered before his marriage was ever consummated.
Going up the first flight of stairs, she reminded herself, Or another ploy to win your sympathy.
By the time she reached the third landing of Baird House, she was numbed by her warring thoughts. It had been her intention to return to the attic, but she unexpectedly found herself in the master bedroom.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Naked, Robert and Tessa were in each other's arms, within a metal tub set before a roaring fire in the hearth. Steam rose from the scented bath water sloshing over the rim of the tub as Tessa pumped her groin atop Robert's lap. Her head tipped back, her features betraying her mounting ecstasy.
Beth wanted to look away, but couldn't.
How daring of the couple to make love in Lachlan's room. How daring and utterly vulgar to betray him in such a manner.
Had the woman no shame?
Beth stepped back, ignoring the fact she passed through the closed door as if it were mere air.
“I won't be tricked like this,” she vowed, storming in the direction of the attic door. When she arrived back at the topmost room of the house, she stood fuming for several seconds.
“Lachlan, I'm not even sure if my love for you is real anymore. Is this what you've been hoping for, a state of mind you could easily sway to your will?
“I'm not that weak. I hate to disappoint you, but I'm going to survive this brainwashing. I'm going to go home and put this all behind me. I'm going to forget you, Lachlan.”
She released a jagged breath. “Whatever it takes, I will get over you.”
“Beth.”
The zephyrous voice gave Beth a start. Her darting gaze searched every corner of the attic.
“Beth, it's time.”
Coldness invaded every part of Beth's body. At the same moment she mutely admitted to recognizing her adoptive mother's voice, she glanced down to find the lace gown had materialized on her slim form. A sob caught in her throat as denials reared.
“Leave me alone!”
“Daddy's here, Beth. We're waiting.”
“No more!”
Beth covered her ears with her hands.
A bright light appeared in front of her, an infinite light so bright that she had looked away.
“We're all waiting,” crooned Rita. “Waiting for you to join us.”
Beth forced herself to peer into the radiance. Images began to move toward her.
“Ma? No. No! Leave me alone!”
One of the countless shadowy figures continued in her direction as the others stopped. A moment later, Rita Staples stood before Beth, as real as anything Beth had ever seen. Her arms were held out. A beguiling smile was on her lips. The lines of pain that had rapidly aged her during her illnesses, were not present.
“Don't be afraid, Beth. We're all going to be together again.”
Beth stepped back, shaking her head repeatedly. “You're an illusion.”
“Take my hand.”
“No! I did everything I could for you, Ma. It may sound selfish of me, but I want my life back!”
“It's too late, hon.”
“I know you're hiding behind a mask of her, Lachlan! Stop this!”
“Beth.”
“Go away!”
The light, images, and Rita Staples, vanished.
Struggling with each breath, Beth quaked. She desperately needed to feel anger, but she couldn't summon it. She was beyond fearing madness, too. Her instinct to survive, to cling to life, was the sole driving force keeping her mind and spirit united.
As seconds ticked by, she calmed until she felt she was in control again. She could only bide her time until the drug wore off. Once she escaped its influence, she would be free. Free of Lachlan. Free of the lies. Free to experience a life she'd as yet only dreamed about.
Faraway voices caught her attention.
Keening an ear, she waited breathlessly for a time before fleeing the attic.
She dashed downstairs and through the greenhouse. Throwing open one of the outer doors, she ran out into the late afternoon air—and gasped at the chill that embraced her.
Her eyes wide with disbelief, she looked about the landscape. Everywhere lay coatings of sleek ice and glittering frost. The change in season so perplexed her, she almost didn't notice a bent figure walking toward a red van parked at the corner of the house. A crunch of ice penetrated her stupor.
Recognition slammed home.
Running toward the figure, she cried, “Agnes! Agnes, wait!”
Beth came to an abrupt halt and stood rigid in disbelief when the cook turned and stared at her through a look of utter horror. Her reasoning beginning to spin in her head, Beth tried to force herself to concentrate.
She looked halfheartedly aside.
Was Agnes part of the winter wonderland illusion?
Her gaze shifted back to the cook, whose frail body was covered in an oversized blue coat. A dark blue knitted cap was pulled low on her brow, concealing most of her white hair.
No illusion, Beth realized, her flared nostrils breathing in deeply the crisp scent of winter. Gathering her wits, she breached the distance and managed a light laugh. “Agnes, I'm so glad to see you!”
It didn't pass Beth's notice that Agnes seemed to have aged drastically. The shrewd eyes were sunken and underscored with shadows, and seemed far too large. The lines around her mouth were deeper, the skin covering her distinct cheekbones, taut and owning of a gr
ayish pallor.
“I'm sorry if I startled you,” Beth went on, desperation etched in every fiber of her being. “I was beginning to think no one would ever show up here again!”
Agnes' arm flew up in front of her face to ward off the sight of Beth.
“What's wrong? Agnes, please, say something!”
The arm lowered. Watery blue eyes swept down the length of Beth then Agnes quickly blessed herself and started to turn.
“Agnes, please!” Beth gasped, placing a restraining hold on the woman's arm. “I have to talk to you!”
Fear emanated from the woman's eyes as she swung her head around to look up at Beth. The wrinkled mouth drew down at the corners. The sagging chin quivered. She turned to face Beth, a film of tears misting her eyes.
“Wha' are you doin' here, lass?”
“Well, uh, I haven't been able to leave. I know this sounds crazy, but I, ah, haven't been well. Yes, I've been ill. The last I remember, it was....” Beth made a helpless gesture with her shoulders and completed with a shaky laugh, “summer.”
“So sorry, so sorry,” Agnes murmured.
“Help me,” Beth pleaded then was distracted when someone in the van turned on the engine. She could see a man sitting behind the wheel, but she was anxious to persuade Agnes to help her escape Baird House.
“Agnes, I need a ride to the airport. Please, I know I'm imposing, but I have no one else to turn to.”
Her voice trailed off as the old woman began to weep. A handkerchief was withdrawn from one of the coat pockets. Agnes dabbed at her eyes with a trembling gloved hand, her gaze trained off to one side to avoid looking at Beth.
“Agnes, I wouldn't ask—”
The van door opened.
Frustrated with the intrusion, Beth watched a man climb out and amble across the gravel. He was a large man, nearly as tall as Lachlan, but built larger through the chest and shoulders. Coming to stand at Agnes' side, he scowled at Beth as if her presence was some kind of threat to the elderly woman.
Instinctively, Beth stiffened. But her defensiveness was betrayed by the haunting desperation in her eyes.
“Is there a problem here, Aunt Aggie?” he asked gruffly, looking suspiciously from Agnes' sickly pallor to Beth.
Beth looked the stranger straight in the eye. “I was only trying to ask Agnes for a favor.”
Everlastin' Book 1 Page 18
