Everlastin' Book 1

by Mickee Madden

  “Fear, ma eye,” Lachlan growled, scowling up at Beth. “Tis a sad state o' affairs when a mon canna carry on the monly traditions o' his forefaithers!”

  Beth released a terse laugh. “Meaning, grabbing a woman and kissing her when she doesn't want to be kissed?”

  A retort aborted on Lachlan's lips and a flustered tint of red colored his cheeks.

  “What's this affinity you have with Roan all of a sudden?”

  “Tis wha' you wanted,” he scowled. “Twas you who sent him here when the accident happened!”

  “Yes, it was me.”

  Lachlan rose to his feet. “You wanted to throw us thegither. I admit I could do naught to help the womon wi’ou' him, and I've told him as much. I've offered him ma precious stones, and he can have this damn house and everythin’ in it—”

  Beth's laugh further rattled him. Closing the distance between them, he curled his strong fingers about her upper arms and drew her against his hard body. Forgotten was his hangover.

  “Ye're the most fickle craiture I've ever had the displeasure to know, Beth Staples! I gave Ingliss good advice. A womon is never more flexible than when she's in love!”

  “Laura Bennett and Roan Ingliss are strangers to one another,” Beth said calmly, resisting a strong urge to press even closer to Lachlan's body. She was enjoying him being on the receiving end for a change, but she was also growing heady to snuggle in his arms.

  “So were we,” said Lachlan, confused.

  “But the connection, ma lad, hurried things along,” she reminded him. “So let nature run its course. The advice of a nineteenth-century ghost will only complicate matters.”

  “Complicate, you say!”

  “Why do you always repeat something I say?”

  “Just add it to the long list o' faults I have, darlin',” he said heatedly, unconsciously kneading the soft, moist flesh held captive beneath his fingers. “Tell me somethin', is there a damned thing I do right in yer eyes?”

  Beth deliberately let him think she was mulling over a reply. When several seconds passed, she said with deceptive ease, “You make a decent cup of tea. You can be compassionate and generous when the mood strikes you. You're an adequate lover—”

  The rest of the sentence became lost in her throat. Lachlan's head lowered and his mouth imprisoned her lips in a masterful, torrid kiss. Beth sighed within herself as his arms circled her, molding her against the hard planes and contours of his body. She knew his initial intention was to punish her for her words, but he kissed her deeply, with the love for her she knew filled him so completely.

  Sliding her arms around to his back, she reached up to thread her fingers through his thick hair. She loved the feel and smell of him, the physical strength and mastery of him. She loved everything that comprised the very essence of Lachlan Baird, and now the fires of passion were raging within her.

  Gratification was not only for the young or the living.

  Love existed on and on, through time.

  Lachlan's large hands framed her face. He kissed her hungrily, want and need vying to wash asunder the tenderness he strove to bestow on her. He didn't want to argue about past issues. They were beings of different conditionings, of different cultures, of different minds, but they were as right for each other as two lovers could be. If to pass on to the next plane made her happy, he would join her without regret.

  His hand slid down the delicate contours of her back, over the smooth, rounded firmness of her—

  “Good God, womon!” he groaned, only separating their mouths by a hair'sbreadth. “You've no' a stitch on!”

  “Sometimes, Lachlan....” Beth sighed with an undertone of amusement. Placing her hands to his powerful jawline, she stared adoringly into his eyes. “I love you.”

  “Wi' all ma faults?”

  She smiled through a blush. “Aye.”

  “I know I can be headstrong.” He kissed her brow then the tip of her nose. “But I do love you wi' every fiber o' ma bein', Beth.”

  “I know you do.”

  A shy smile quirked on his mouth, this boyish side of him sending a trilling sensation through Beth. Lachlan swept her up in his arms. He kissed her briefly then, to her confusion, he stepped in the direction of the tub—not the bedroom as she had anticipated. Without explanation, he lowered her into the water. He kissed her again, lingeringly, then straightened up and peeled out of his shirt.

  Beth watched him, her gaze sweeping over him, cataloging his every movement. When he tossed his pants aside and placed one foot in the tub, she stared up at him in awe. His body never failed to excite her, to leave her in wonderment. She managed to meet his gaze as he lowered himself into her bath, the water rising to the rim of the tub. They were facing each other, his knees above the ebbing foam, his back braced to the side of the faucet.

  “This is nice,” Beth said, her eyes lit with mischief.

  “Weel, now, darlin',” Lachlan drawled, bringing cupped water to his face and splashing it over him. “Afore I drag yer enticin' bones into the next room and ravish you—” He paused to flash her a devilish smile. “—there are a few matters we need to settle.”

  “Oh? Can't this wait till later?”

  Lachlan released a long sigh, its sound telling Beth that he was as impatient as she to retire to the bedroom and make love until their energies were spent.

  “I may be o' a primitive mind in this day and age, but I do wha' I believe is right. Granted, the grudge I held wi' the Ingliss clan was long unreasonable, but I have made ma peace wi' Roan. Now—”

  “Lachlan—”

  “Dinna be interruptin' a mon when he's abou' to choke down a fat old corbie.”

  “A what?” she laughed then sobered. “Sorry.”

  “Ye're forgiven this time.” He winked at her. “A corbie be a crow. Now, ma part o' the enmity is gone, and—”

  “You're sure about that?”

  “As sure as can be. You dinna share yer best scotch wi' a mon unless there's bondin' to be done.”

  It was all Beth co do to keep a straight face. “Of course. Go on.”

  “So, I've made ma peace wi' the mon, but I want you to know, Beth, it was a cruel means you used to put he and I thegither.”

  “It wouldn’t have been necessary if you both weren't so damn thickheaded.”

  “I see.” Lachlan folded himself in half and dipped his head beneath the water. As he straightened, he flipped his wet hair behind his head. Unnoticed, Beth and Lachlan's every movement sloshed water over the sides of the tub.

  “Tell me, Beth, did you miss me at all those long weeks?”

  “Terribly.”

  Lachlan arched a brow. “And yet you stayed away?”

  “I felt I had no choice. Lachlan, experiencing my own anger was hard enough to deal with. Experiencing yours was strangling me.”

  “So....” Filliping the water, he sent a spray at Beth. “You must be feelin' smug tha' yer scheme worked.”

  Linking her fingers at the back of her neck, she grinned at him. “Smug is a good word. Yeah, you could say I'm feeling a wee smug.”

  “And are you o' the opinion you'll always get yer own way?”

  “Only in matters I feel strongly about.”

  Lachlan bobbed his head, his brows drawn down in thought. “So we're goin' to disagree now and then, aye?”

  “We'll probably always disagree on some things.”

  “Does tha' bother you?”

  For several long moments, Beth studied the troubled depths of his eyes. “No, it doesn't bother me. Most couples have differences of opinion, but it doesn't stop them from loving each other.”

  “But the Inglisses—”

  “That was different. Lachlan, all the qualities I love most in you became lost to that hatred. Even if we hadn't been connected, I couldn't have stood by and allowed it to go on.”

  Planting her feet to each side of his hips, Beth pulled herself closer to him. When she stopped, Lachlan reached beneath the water, flattened his p
alms to her lower spine, and drew her forward until their groins met. Beth cupped her hands behind his neck, leaned to and kissed him briefly on the chin.

  “In our own clumsy ways, we've been helping each other to grow. You did everything in your power to make my death as easy as possible for me, and I did what I thought was necessary to help you rid yourself of your emotional shackles.”

  “Do you understand why I brought you here?”

  “I do. Oh, Lachlan, I'm sorry I didn't believe you sooner, but I needed the time alone to come to terms with myself. And now that I have, I promise I will never leave you again.”

  “I'll pass on wi' you, Beth—through the fires o' hell if necessary.” He pulled her into his arms, heedless of the water pooling on the floor. “I'm no' afraid o' losin' you, anymair. I refuse to believe a merciful god could separate us. There's the purgin' afore we can go on....”

  He kissed her deeply. When he lifted his head and stared into her eyes, his own were filled with apprehension. “Our love will go on wi' us, winna i'?”

  “It will. I promise,” Beth said breathlessly. “We'll always be together and feeling as we do now.” She brushed the back of her fingers along his cheek then rested her brow to his chin. “But we don't have to pass on until we're ready.” Looking into his eyes again, she smiled. “I agree with tying up loose ends.”

  The worry fled from Lachlan's face and his eyes danced with joy. “You do, do you?”

  “Yeah. I'd like to spend some time here with you before we trek off into the unknown.”

  “And here I thought I loved you for yer button nose,” he chuckled.

  Together they stood in the tub. Lachlan stepped out first and, turning, he scooped Beth up into his arms. She wrapped her arms about his neck, her cheek pressed to his collarbone as he carried her into the next room. Through his force of will, three logs rose from a black wrought iron stand beside the fireplace and inserted themselves in the hearth. By the time he lowered her upon the bed, a fire was taking the chill out of the room.

  The feather mattress sagged beneath his weight as he lowered himself atop her, into her waiting arms. They kissed long and passionately, deeply, exploringly. Then he shifted to one side to allow a hand the pleasure of roaming over her slick form. For what seemed an eternity, he'd ached to touch her again.

  His trembling fingers moved along the contours of her breast, the flat, firmness of her belly, the soft-skinned slopes of her inner thighs. He ended the kiss to seek the hard erect nipple on her breast. Enclosing it within the soft inner lining of his lips, he brushed his tongue along the peak. The sound of her moan filled him with warmth. His tongue circled the nipple again and again, prompting her to arch up against him. When she could no longer bear the gentleness of his suckling, she thread her fingers through his wet hair and urged him closer.

  Lachlan complied without hesitation. The hand kneading her breast slid down her belly and moved between her thighs.

  But as he was about to explore her readiness, the bedroom door slammed open and a figure breezed by.

  Beth and Lachlan bolted up on the bed, Beth scrambling beneath the quilt to hide her nakedness. Both stared wide-eyed at the bathroom door. A stream of invectives—laced with a pronounced burr—came from within. Water could be heard going down the tub's drain. There was a rattling of something, then of something else being dragged across the floor. A cabinet door was opened. Seconds later it was slammed shut. Several minutes ticked by before Roan emerged from the bath room carrying a wastebasket heaped with sopping towels. His face was flushed with anger, his movements stilted.

  “I'm losin' ma mind,” he muttered. “How did the little monsters get up here? I would swear—”

  He looked at the motionless couple on the bed, but it was several seconds before his mind cleared enough for him to grasp the meaning of the bathroom flood.

  And another several seconds before he realized what he had interrupted.

  His face crimson, he stammered, “Land s-sakes, mon! You s-scared the w-wits ou' o' me!”

  The couple continued to stare at him as if they were frozen in time.

  “There's water leakin' through the ceilin' b-below,” Roan went on, glancing about the room in a futile attempt not to stare at the couple. “I thought...weel, I'm no' sure wha' I thought.” He looked at them again and managed a wan smile of apology. “I'd no idea you were—” His mortification darkened. “I'd better leave.”

  He was halfway to the door when the wastebasket slipped again from his hands. The towels plopped onto one of the Persian throw rugs. Falling to his knees, he scrambled to get them back into the basket, but his frayed nerves made it impossible for him to grip the container properly.

  As soon as he attempted to stand, the basket and its contents thumped to the floor again.

  “For pity's sake, mon!” Lachlan gasped. Quickly leaving the bed, he gathered up the towels and crammed them back into the basket. But instead of handing the basket to Roan, he purposefully shoved it aside then gave the other man a helping hand to his feet.

  “I canna say much for yer timin', but there's no need to get yer liver in a squeeze!”

  “Lachlan, be nice,” Beth chuckled, clutching the quilt to the base of her neck. “We were careless with the tub water, Roan. We'll clean it up.”

  A nervous tick came into Roan's eyes as he forced himself to look at the mistress of the house. “Ma apologies, Miss—”

  “Beth.”

  “It's good to see—” His voice cracked on the latter word. “—you again.”

  She smiled her warmest for him.

  A sound seeped up through the floors below.

  Roan looked dazedly at Lachlan. “Someone's at the door.”

  “Tha' probably means you should answer it, aye?” Lachlan said with a devilish grin.

  “But who would—”

  “Could be Miss Cooke.”

  The sound came again, more insistent.

  “Show her to the library. I'll meet you there in a bit.”

  “In clothin', I hope,” Roan grumbled, critically looking over Lachlan's nudity. Then shock whitened his handsome face. “The lads! We just got those little boogers down for a nap!”

  When Roan ran from the room, Lachlan looked at Beth and laughed.

  “Miss Cooke?” Beth sighed. “Don't tell me we're going to be interrupted by business again.”

  “I'm no' sure why she's here,” Lachlan said, going to the bed and planting a kiss on the tip of Beth's nose. “But her timin' couldna be better.”

  “Why?”

  “Loose ends, darlin'.”

  Lachlan went to a wardrobe across the room. Aware that Beth was watching his every move, he took his time donning clean black pants and a red shirt. Socks and his boots were put on last then he returned to the bed and gave Beth a teasing kiss on the lips.

  “Winna be long, I promise.”

  Beth waited until she heard the door close after him before she tossed the quilt aside. She wasn't peeved that Lachlan was leaving her out of his 'business' again, but she was determined to be a part of whatever was going on.

  Not wanting to take the time to get something of her own from the room across the hall, she slipped into one of Lachlan's shirts, a blue one, and a pair of his socks. She gingerly combed her fingers through her curly mane as she padded toward the door, a bounce in her steps that bespoke of her cheery mood. It didn't occur to her to simply materialize in the library...at least not until she was stepping off the staircase on the first floor.

  From the direction of the kitchen, a woman came from the secondary hall and stopped in her tracks upon seeing Beth.

  The woman's green eyes widened. A delicate flush colored her cheeks. With visible effort to compose herself, she walked up to Beth and extended a hand. The handshake was brief. Beth wasn't sure what to say to the Laura Bennett.

  “Are you the mistress of this house?”

  A crooked smile twitched at one corner of Beth's mouth. “I think so.”

 
; The woman's expressive eyes showed a moment of uncertainty. “I-umm...this is very awkward.”

  “Are you and your nephews comfortable?”

  “Yes, but I really—”

  “I'm sorry,” Beth interjected, as kindly as she could. “I'm late for a meeting.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “Sorry.” Beth practically dashed in the direction of the library. Sliding the door aside, she slipped into the room and closed it after her. She turned to find three pair of eyes on her. Roan's were full of amusement. Lachlan was scowling in disapproval of her attire. The elderly woman, Viola Cooke, appeared to be shaken by Beth's unexpected arrival, but she was quick to offer the mistress of Baird House a smile.

  “How good to see you again, Beth,” she said, her warble of a voice higher-pitched than usual.

  “I was hoping for a chance to apologize to you for Halloween.”

  “No need, my dear.” She giggled. “Actually, you added a bit of spice to the séance.”

  “C'mon here,” Lachlan cooed, drawing Beth into his arms. His elation rapidly seeped into her, prompting a glow to heighten her features. “Beth, darlin', I'm so happy I can hardly stand maself.”

  “Are you, now?” she laughed, staring into his sparkling eyes. “I know what you're planning.”

  Lachlan arched a brow. “Does it please you?”

  “Oh, yes. Tell him, Lachlan.”

  Draping an arm about her shoulders, he planted a kiss on her temple, then looked at Roan. “Laddie, the time's come to legalize ma promise.”

  The two men stared into each other's eyes, Roan's expression one of apprehension. “I've a bad feelin' in ma stomach, Baird. I'm really no' in the mood—”

  “Och, be still and listen for once,” Lachlan said merrily. He looked at the elderly woman. “Miss Cooke, you've been a good friend for a number o' years, and it has meant a lot to me to have you to depend on. You, yer mither, and yer grandmither have been good to me and ma home.”

  “It's been our pleasure, Mr. Baird.”

  “Weel....” Lachlan's grin was sheer charm in itself. “I need you again, sweet lady. You see, Beth and I would like to retire from the hauntin' business—”