Love Everlastin' Book 3

by Mickee Madden

  By the time he was thirteen, he could pick up an author's book and delve into their current thoughts and routines. Clairvoyance. His talents had made it so simple to avoid his own reality and to live through the lives of others.

  By the time he reached the new oak, he picked up on the fact that Roan and Lachlan were not in the carriage house. He stopped and released a breath of vexation. Turning his head, he spied the men at the rhododendron hedge and headed in their direction. The air was chilly but tolerable in his shirt, and the snow was already turning to mush.

  "Got to admire their ingenuity," he heard Lachlan laugh.

  Winston stopped a few feet from their position. They were crouched and unraveling the yarn from amongst the branches. Already a sizeable pile was on the ground between them.

  "If you say so," Roan grumbled. He jerked on a strand of dark green yarn and fell on his butt when it snapped free of its entangled mass. He laughed then released a sound that resembled a choked sob. "Damn me, tha's cold!" he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and inspecting the soaked seat of his pants.

  "Too much coffee," Lachlan quipped, his dark eyes filled with laughter.

  "Or too little bladder control," said Winston.

  Both men looked at him. Lachlan straightened up and massaged the back of his thighs as he asked Winston, "How did it go?" Lachlan flashed a grin, adding, "You're no' a nubby toad, so either you didna see Deliah, or she's feelin’ the spirit o' spring."

  Winston struggled to appear at ease, but he noted Roan watching him through slightly narrowed eyes. A brief scan told him Roan could see through his tenuous facade, and it made him feel all the more vulnerable, a slave to his fledgling emotions.

  "I saw her," he said, forcing a smile, but unable to keep from glancing at Roan and measuring his assessing perusal. "She's no' happy wi' the situation, but she's no' upset wi' me."

  "Good," said Lachlan.

  Roan nodded, a hand plucking at the soaked material clinging to his backside.

  "I saw Laura, too." Roan glanced off to one side and Winston went on, "She looked as though she'd been crying and hadn't slept."

  "Damn me," Roan murmured.

  "Wha' o' Beth?"

  "I didn't see her, Lachlan."

  Lachlan solemnly nodded as his gaze bleakly regarded the house. Winston abruptly threw his shields up to spare himself absorbing the others' grim moods. He was melancholy enough. A compelling urge to run back to the house shuddered through him. Resisting it taxed his ability to appear in control and, to bide time until he settle himself into a comfortable phase of apathy, he stepped beyond Roan, crouched and started to unravel another section of yarn.

  Several moments passed before Lachlan asked, "Wha' are you doin’ ou' here wi' us, laddie?"

  The dry humor in the man's tone elicited a chuff of laughter from Winston, but he sobered when he looked up and found both men eyeing him through frowns. They reminded Winston of a set of bookends. Side by side. Arms folded against their chests. Eyebrows drawn down over piercing eyes.

  Standing, Winston again slid his hands into the side pockets of his pants. "What's going on?"

  "You tell us," said Roan, his tone gruff.

  "Aye," Lachlan said, his frown turning into a scowl. "I thought we friends, Winston."

  Winston thought better of scanning them, instead, offering a light shrug. "We are."

  "Ah. I see." Roan sounded flip, peeved. "You may be the psychic one, but Lannie and I consider ourselves to be fair judges o' character."

  Winston started to lower his mind shield. He couldn't understand what was bothering the others, and he wasn't in the mood to play guessing games. But as he was about to reach out and scan them, Lachlan stepped forward and shook a finger at him.

  "No, laddie. One to one, mon to mon, why are you wastin’ yer time ou' here wi' us?"

  Anger erupted inside Winston, so abruptly and unexpectedly, he spoke without benefit of auditing his thoughts. "I'm asking maself the same question!" He pointed toward the main house. "There's a womon in there who asked me to remain wi' her. But for some bloody misplaced sense o' loyalty to both o' you, I'm here getting lip instead o' loving from her!"

  Winston trod a circle while he collected the bits of anger he'd been harboring for the past two weeks, and when he squarely faced Roan and Lachlan, his cheeks reddened and he could feel his temples throbbing with an erratic pulse.

  "Will one o' you please explain to me why you cherish pride above the love and respect o' your women? Can you? Can you climb down from your testosterone high long enough to think o' how the women must be feeling abou' our conduct?"

  He laughed like a man on the verge of a breakdown, and threw his hands up to emphasize the depths of his pique. "We caused this. They've more spine than the lot o' us, and I bloody well don't like ma part in their suffering!"

  The men stared at Winston for a long pregnant moment before Lachlan shifted a heated gaze to Roan and asked, "Wha's a testosterone high?"

  Chagrined, Roan made a face. "It's a mon thing. I think."

  His expression changing to one of wry amusement, Lachlan swerved his eyes to Winston. "So, tis loyalty to friendship wha' wrenched you from Deliah's side?" He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. "Shame on you, Winston. I'm an old mon and Roan here, weel, he's a proud Ingliss. No' the best o' excuses, but we've no' yer education nor yer worldliness. Friendship is grand, laddie, but no substitute for the love o' a womon."

  "Did you insult me?" Roan asked Lachlan, bewildered.

  "Aye." Lachlan's shrewd gaze remained fixed on Winston. "I insulted us both. For a good cause."

  Roan snorted but didn't otherwise respond.

  Running a hand across his mouth, Winston heaved a sigh to calm himself. "I'm sorry. It was ma choice to leave, and I used you both as an excuse to avoid—

  "Facing the truth o' bein’ in love," completed Lachlan sagely.

  "We're ou' here to give our women the time to cool off," said Roan. "Deliah doesn't have Laura and Beth's short tempers. Ye're no' foolin’ anyone but yerself, Winston. You can smile and put on the airs o' a mon wi' no' a trouble on his mind, but yer eyes always betray you."

  Emotions rose and clogged Winston's throat, making it impossible for him to speak. He turned to face the house and folded his arms across his middle. Shortly, Roan and Lachlan stood to each side of him, their hands clasped behind them and their gazes fixed on the house.

  Again it struck Winston how alike were the two men. More like close brothers than men who had once been enemies. Even their heartbeats were synchronized. Most peculiar.

  "If I thought Laura was ready to talk to me, I'd be cozyin’ up wi' her in our bed and bringin’ in our own kind o' spring gladness."

  "Aye," Lachlan sighed. "I'd be doin’ ma grovelin’ for forgiveness right proud, then spendin’ the day remindin’ her why she fell in love wi’ me in the first place."

  Lachlan turned his head and somberly regarded Winston's profile. "But Beth isna ready or I would have heard from her. If naught else—" He surveyed the house with unmistakable longing. "—I would have seen her watchin’ me from one o' the windows. For her to make herself unseen and unheard, tis a deep hurt ma actions have dealt her. I'm no' only takin’ this time to let her temper wane, but to find the courage to face her."

  Roan lowered his head and poked the ground with the toe of his right shoe. "We're responsible for draggin’ you into this mess." He looked up and met Winston's gaze. "Don't let our stupidity keep you from Deliah."

  "I went to Shortby's willingly," said Winston, disheartened. He sighed and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he looked heavenward as he spoke. "I've never allowed maself to have friends. It's been..." He smiled almost shyly as he lowered his gaze to the ground in front of his feet. "...an experience. One I don't want to end."

  He walked six paces then turned and faced Roan and Lachlan. "I owe you both a great deal. Ma sanity, for one. I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful, but I love Deliah, and I no' on
ly should be wi' her, I need to be wi' her."

  A broad grin spread across his companions' faces.

  "Laddie," Lachlan said out the side of his mouth, "tha's wha' we've been tryin’ to tell you."

  "Ye're wastin’ time," Roan said with an exaggerated sigh and a sparkle in his eyes.

  His heart pounding wildly, Winston bobbed his head. "I'll come by to see you later." He started to back up. "Much later." His facial muscles broke out in a grin and he felt ecstatically buoyant, as if spring had awakened the darkest corners of his mind and heart. "Don't let Beth and Laura wait too long."

  "If things aren't resolved by tonight," said Roan, "I plan to storm the house in the morn."

  Lachlan shivered and cast Roan a harried look. "Ma exact thoughts. Fegs, mon, I think we're spendin’ too much time thegither."

  With a laugh, Winston turned and lit into a semblance of a run, moving as quickly as the still-slick ground would allow. He didn't look back but kept his focus on the house. As he made his way to the kitchen door, he tried to imagine Deliah's reaction to his return. How could he have been so stupid to leave her again? Where had he found the strength to walk out of the kitchen, knowing everything he wanted and needed in life was right there, watching over him?

  He burst into the kitchen, startling Beth. She looked up from the sink, her face pale, her eyes wide.

  "Sorry," he said breathlessly, closing the door. He faced her, knowing he looked ridiculously giddy, but not caring. "I need to see Deliah."

  "I believe she's in her room."

  "Thank you." He started to run for the dining room door, but stopped short of reaching it. "Beth?"

  She looked at him a bit warily from over her shoulder.

  "I know it's no' ma place—"

  "Then don't," she said coldly, and returned to washing the dishes in the sink.

  Winston heaved a ragged breath. "I have to. Please."

  For a moment he thought she would keep her back to him, but then she reached for the dish towel on the hook to the left of the sink, and turned while drying her hands. She was in her nightgown and robe, her light brown, curly hair tousled, her eyes underscored with shadows. "Get it off your chest," she said dully.

  Again his throat felt blocked. Clearing the psychological sensation, he shifted nervously then said, "I know there's no excuse for the way Roan, Lachlan, and I have been acting." He cleared his throat. "This is more difficult than I thought."

  "If you're about to plead Lachlan's case, I'm not interested."

  The words finally formulated, and he gushed, "Beth, it's his love for you tha' frightens him."

  "That's ridiculous. Dammit, Winston, I didn't think anyone could hurt me the way he has! I'll be damned if I let him get away with this!"

  "I don't blame you. I don't! But it wouldn't hurt you so deeply if you didn't love him, Beth. All I'm suggesting is tha' when he approaches you, listen to wha' he has to say."

  Tears rose in her eyes as she trembled against the anger pushing for release. "Before or after I run him through with one of his swords?"

  A choked laugh escaped Winston before he could suppress it. "Before, I hope. I'm sorry I upset you."

  She turned back to the sink. "Worry about Deliah. Winston?"

  "Wha'?"

  She didn't look his way, but said in a small voice, "She's really having a hard time dealing with all the uproar around here. Don't say or do anything to make her feel any worse than she does."

  "Unless she's averse to accepting ma proposal, I hope to make her very happy."

  She whirled at this, her paleness vanishing beneath a glow of joy. "She thinks...."

  "Wha'?"

  A hand lifting to rest at the base of her throat, Beth replied, "I shouldn't have said anything."

  "Beth, please tell me."

  She nodded. "She thinks she isn't worthy of you or a life among us. Winston, she loves you so much."

  He smiled from the very core of his being. "I know, and I've been a perfect ass."

  "No one's perfect," she quipped, and he blushed. "Thank you for telling me."

  "Are you superstitious, Beth?"

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm going to beg you to keep your fingers crossed for me."

  Beth chuckled. "I will. May I mention this to Laura?"

  "Only if you think she'll cross her fingers, too."

  "I can pretty much guarantee it," Beth said, breathless with excitement. Her eyes shone and her carriage bespoke of renewed energy she hadn't felt for some time. "It'll be nice to have something cheery to focus on."

  On impulse, Winston walked around the island and planted a kiss on Beth's cheek. She straightened in surprise, her eyes wide, while Winston backed away, heat surging up his face. "Spring fever," he said, grinning uncontrollably then ran from the kitchen and through the dining room.

  Deliah's bedroom was on the second floor, next to the tower passage. He paused at the door, the hand about to rap frozen in midair as a shiver of nervousness worked its way through his system. Although he didn't doubt her love for him, or his for her, he couldn't help but remember the devastation he'd read in her eyes when he'd left her in the kitchen. How far could even a fay be pushed before they emotionally shut down? Would she shun him to protect herself? Shun him to make him experience the depths of sorrow she'd endured because of him?

  Suddenly he was terrified to cross the threshold and face her. Terrified that in the short time since they'd last spoken, she had hardened her heart against him.

  His palms clammy, Winston turned the knob, opened the door, and boldly walked into the room. He saw her immediately, kneeling in front of one of the open windows, her arms folded on the windowsill and her chin resting atop them. Quietly closing the door, he walked across the room. His nerve endings crackled. He felt both hot and cold. Both elongated windows were wide open and the hearth was cold. The room was chilly but not uncomfortable, the air fresh and redolent of spring. Faint floral scents teased his nostrils, scents he knew she somehow exuded.

  He stopped close to her, standing off to her right. She was staring unseeingly across the back of the property, lost in a realm of despair he could only begin to imagine. She had unbraided her hair and it fell down her back and pooled on the floor behind her like a carpet of satin. If he lived with her a thousand years, he told himself he would never tire of its sheen and length and texture. It wasn't within him to ever see her as anything less than miraculous and beautiful and enchanting. He'd come too close to letting her slip from his life.

  "Deliah," he rasped, his hands knotted at his sides.

  She turned her head and looked up at him, but her dreamy expression told him she didn't believe he was actually there. He waited an excruciatingly tense moment then sank to his knees next to her. The glassiness in her eyes began to wane and her eyebrows twitched as if trying to form a frown. An entanglement of wariness and desperation crept across the delicate structure of her features. Her shoulders shifted. Tensed. He could hear her shallow breathing. Almost swear he could hear the rapid palpitation of her heart.

  A timorous smile appeared on Winston's face as he reached out and tenderly touched her jawline. She blinked and her facial muscles made a bid to smile, not quite succeeding. He stroked the soft ridge with the backs of his fingers. She closed her eyes and released a wistful sigh, its sound circling his heart and sending a delightful chill through his system.

  "Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?" he asked in a soft yet husky tone.

  "Do ye?" she countered. A genuine smile lit her eyes as she settled back on her heels, her gaze searching his face as if to recommit every line and plane to her memory. "I be surprised to see ye. Why are ye here?"

  In response, Winston cupped her nape and simultaneously leaned toward while drawing her closer. He saw her eyelashes lower in a flutter of motion as he brushed his mouth across her lips in a feathery kiss. Then she sighed, her breath as soft and as sweet as spring itself. Winston was about to ease back when she gripped the fro
nt of his shirt and pulled him onto his knees and against her. Twisting around, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately, her fingers intermittently kneading his scalp and trenching through the thick straight strands of his hair. They were both on their knees, flush against each other, Winston's right arm bracing her lower back, his left hand cupping the back of her head. A cool breeze swept through the window and frolicked around them, but their fevered skin was oblivious to its presence.

  Desire as hot as lava rose behind Winston's chest, rose until he thought his brain would erupt from his skull. He broke the kiss, untangled her arms from about his neck and sat back hard on his butt on the floor. His vision was blurred for a moment. When it cleared, he saw her watching him with grim expectancy and knew she believed he was going to run from her again. Shaking his head a bit dazedly, he lifted a hand toward her.

  "Deliah, I need a bath and a shave."

  "Why?"

  An abrupt laugh coughed from him. "Because I reek, and ma stubble is irritating your skin. I can see chafed areas around yer mouth."

  "I dinna care. Ye could sprout a forest on yer face, Winston, and I wouldna care a wit."

  Breathing heavily, Winston forced himself onto his feet, his gaze never straying from the foreboding shadowing her eyes. Once he was steady on his feet, he drew in a fortifying breath and squared his shoulders.

  "I do care a wit, lass. I'll be damned if I make love to you smelling like a brewery. I won't be long, I promise." She lowered her eyes, then her head, and he prompted, "Deliah?"

  Her head remained dipped.

  In a bid to rally his waning courage, Winston glanced about the room, vaguely appreciating its green and beige tones and the heavy, dark stained furniture with its elaborate cherub carvings. Embroidered floral drapes and sheers covered the windows, and a matching quilt covered the bed. The Persian rug centered on the hardwood floor was forest green, gold, and black. The room was the perfect setting for her. Cherubs and flowers. Springtime and winged wonders.