Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (14 page)

"No' a thing."

"Who are you trying to
convince?" she chuckled softly, resting a hand between his shoulder
blades. She ignored the twitch of his skin to shun her touch, and
went on, "Laura reminds me a lot of myself—the alive version, I
mean. She's strong-willed and determined to make a place for
herself in this world. Like my own, her family was never close. We
were fixtures as children. I suppose...fixtures as adults, too. She
doesn't even realize that she's been searching to find
herself.

"And the boys...they
desperately need someone to guide them. I know they don't show it,
but they're needy, Roan. Needy for love and kindness. Needy for
security.

"Nothing can bring your son
back, but there are three boys who can fill that void inside you.
Deny yourself, and you deny them. I don't know which is the greater
tragedy."

Drawing in a breath, he
turned to face her. "Return to Lannie, Beth. Don't interfere in
wha' you can't possibly understand."

"I do understand." A mist of
tears sprang to her eyes. "That's what hurts so much."

Suddenly needy himself,
needy to hold and be held, Roan placed an arm about her shoulders
and drew her against him. The warmth of her body took him aback,
and banished the chill from his exposed skin.

"This is so strange," he
murmured, staring unseeingly across the room. "A bloody ghost has
turned me to
moosh."

The door to his room opened.
His sight zoomed into focus on Laura's pale face when she crossed
the threshold. As if in slow motion, he felt Beth turn in his arms,
saw Laura look in his direction and freeze in midstride.

Her name left his dry throat
in a barely audible whisper. A stricken look further paling her
filled his vision.

After a moment, she opened
her mouth to speak. Nothing came out but a croak. She turned and
fled the room, leaving the door and Roan's heart ajar.

"Don't let her leave
believing she was at fault tonight. Tell her the truth, Roan.
Everything."

His gaze dropping to Beth's
lifted face, he swallowed hard. "She'd spit it in ma face. She
already thinks I'm a madmon."

A sad smile appeared on
Beth's lips as she turned completely to face him. "Just think about
what I've said. Okay?"

"I'm up to ma ears in
promises now."

"I've got to return to
Lachlan. He's not going to be too happy when he awakens with a
hangover."

A wry expression seized
Roan's features. "The mon's dead!"

Beth began to fade before
his eyes. "Yes, but not his memories. It'll be very real to him.
Take heart, Roan."

She vanished, but 'take
heart' eerily echoed in the cold shadowed confines of the
room.

C
hapter 5

The warmth of the teacup did
little to alleviate the cold in Laura's hands. She paced in front
of the staircase, only dimly aware of the boys watching her from
their sitting positions on the first three steps. They'd eaten
breakfast and were dressed to leave—if only she could convince
someone to drive her to a telephone!

She'd barely slept a wink.
Anger continued to pump adrenaline through her veins. With the
advent of dawn, snow flurries had begun anew. Unless she left soon,
she was sure she would be trapped within the walls of Baird house
for the duration of the winter. All things considered, it was a
frightening prospect. If the boys didn't drive her insane, Roan
Ingliss undoubtedly would.

Several hours earlier, he'd
made a poor attempt to justify his actions of last
night.

What a crock!

According to him, the ghost
of Beth Staples had prompted their lovemaking.

At least he was original.
Not many men could come up with such a creative lie. She'd gone
outside to put distance between them, but he'd followed her, more
determined than ever to persuade her of his sincerity. When it
became apparent that he would not back off, she'd called him a few
choice names. It wasn't until she'd accused him of being a
womanizing tyrant that he'd retaliated. He'd kissed her.
Passionately. So passionately, she'd forgotten they were standing
in calf-deep snow, exposed to the elements. At least, she'd
forgotten for a few moments. The instant her reasoning had
returned, she kneed him hard in the groin and left him folded in
half on the ground.

He'd think twice before
pulling that stunt again.

"We're bored," Kahl
grumbled, his chin propped onto his fists.

"That's good," she murmured
absently, staring at the closed doors of the library.

It was already proving to be
a harrowing day.

She glanced at her watch.
10:32 AM.

Sitting next to Kevin, who
was positioned on the lowest step, she frowned into the dark
remains of her lukewarm tea.

Someone had arrived earlier.
By the time she'd gotten halfway through the secondary hall, she'd
caught but a glimpse of Roan ushering the visitor into the library.
She was in the hall, intending to confront Roan on the matter of
her and the boys leaving without further delay, when the woman
she'd seen in his arms the previous night, came running down the
staircase.

The woman whose portrait
hung above the mantel in the parlor. Only now she wore nothing but
a man's shirt.

Roan's?

The thought sickened
her.

A further blow to her pride
came when the woman brushed her off and also entered the library,
closing the door, shutting Laura out and deepening her resentment
toward the eccentric members of the household.

Her life in Chicago seemed a
figment of her imagination, now. She didn't even care if she was
missed, or if her atomizer designs for the new perfume line was
overlooked and the account turned over to someone else. There were
countless hopefuls waiting for her to make room for
them.

Right now, the driving
factor in her life was to leave Scotland. Nothing else mattered
until that was accomplished.

"What's wrong?" Kahl
queried, poking his aunt in the back.

She looked at him. "I'm
waiting to talk to Mr. Ingliss."

"We gonna leave?" Kevin
asked, his thin brows drew down in a frown.

"Yes."

"When?" asked
Alby.

"I'll know once I talk to
Mr. Ingliss."

"When you gonna talk to him,
huh?"

"As soon as he comes out of
the library, Kevin."

Getting to his feet, Kevin
peeked down the hall. "I'll bet the ghost is in there,
too."

Laura sighed. "There is no
such thing—"

Kevin shot her an impatient
look. "I seen him."

"You saw him."

"That's what I
said!"

Sighing again, Laura stared
into her teacup.

"Laura?"

Kahl's trembling tone drew
her gaze to him. "There's another ghost."

"Honey—"

"He comes in the room at
night." Kahl shuddered. "I seen him a coupla times."

"Kahl, you were dreaming,"
Laura said softly. She reached out and affectionately ruffled the
boy's red-gold mop of hair.

"He's shriveled up," Kevin
added, his grave tone causing a chill of alarm to pass through her.
"I seen him, too. He stands at the end of the bed, looking at us
when he thinks we're asleep."

"Kevin, you're frightening
your brothers."

His small shoulders drew in.
"Last night I told him to go back through the wall."

"The wall?"

"Yeah. The big thing where
we put our clothes? It kinda swings out, like the shelf-thing in
the library. He comes through there."

Although Laura's blood felt
as cold as ice, she forced a smile for the boys' benefit. "You're
letting your imagination get the better of you."

"Uh-uh." Alby snuggled close
to her left side. "He told us to leave. He sca-wed me."

Placing her arm about the
youngest boy's shoulders, she assessed Kahl and Kevin for several
long moments.

"You and Mr. Ingliss were in
the hall talking lovey-dovey," Kevin grimaced. "Make love to me,
Roan," he mimicked then gave a theatrical roll of his eyes. "Barf
talk. He got lucky, huh?"

"Kevin!"

"What? We used to hear
Carrie bonk her boyfriend all the time. No big deal."

Crimson rushed into Laura's
cheeks. "Carrie better hope I never run across her again," she
muttered.

"She was okay," Kevin said
with a shrug. "She had this cool thing she'd tell Yanks she'd
meet." Affecting a parody of her voice and accent, he went on, "In
York, a road is a gate, a gate is a bar, and a bar is a
pub."

Alby and Kahl laughed. Laura
couldn't help but grin.

"Where is York?" she asked
the boy.

"England, I think. My dad
said he'd take us there to the museums, but he never
did."

"You must miss
him."

Kevin, his face devoid of
expression, shrugged. "Not really."

"He didn't like us," Kahl
informed with equal aloofness.

"I'm sure your father loved
all three of you."

"Naw." Kahl swiped a hand
beneath his nose. "He thought we were too noisy."

"And too wound up," Kevin
added.

"But—"

Laura bit back her question
when she heard a door slide open. Gasping, she passed Kevin her
teacup and jumped to her feet.

Four people emerged from the
library. Forcing her suddenly heavy legs to move, she approached
them. Roan was the first to notice her. Of the four, he alone
appeared rattled by something. She somehow knew it had nothing to
do with her or her nephews. The other man was laughing as he spoke
to an elderly woman, his arm draped possessively about the
shoulders of the woman from the portrait.

Several feet away from them,
Laura came to a halt. Roan came toward her. It was all she could do
not to turn and run, avoid the humiliation his presence rekindled.
His movements slower than usual, he positioned himself alongside
her, and lightly placed a hand on her arm.

Clenching her teeth against
a retort, she peered at him. Despite the hurt and anger gnawing at
her nerves, her heart skipped a beat. Her throat tightened.
Psychological heaviness filled her lungs. Submitting to the
powerful chemistry his proximity evoked, she lowered her
gaze.

So as not to draw attention
to herself, she attempted to ease her arm from beneath his touch.
His fingers tightened. She looked at him again with every intention
of sending him a visual warning to back off, but again the sight of
him staring into her eyes disarmed her.

For a moment, she thought he
was about to say something to her. Not another false apology, she
hoped in the deepest recesses of her heart. Her temper would flare,
and a scene would ensue. Instead, his gaze swung to the trio a few
feet away.

"Lannie."

At his beckoning, Lachlan
Baird's dark gaze targeted Laura. A secretive smile curved up the
chiseled mouth. He winked to the woman within his hold, then dipped
his head and whispered something to the elderly woman.

Laura painfully swallowed
past the lump in her throat.

Who are these
people?

She was at their mercy, and
she didn't like it one bit. Never before had she been so aware of
her sheltered existence prior to this trip. With the loss of her
daily routine in the states, she was utterly at odds with
herself.

Put her in an office and she
could tackle anything that came her way. Within the sterile,
meticulous confines of her apartment, she excelled in utilizing her
time among her various hobbies. Art. Music. Reading.
Needlework.

Here, she was nobody. She
had no more identity than her nephews. One Yank among many who'd
come to this land.

She stiffened when the three
came toward her. The dark eyes studying her, although friendly on
the surface, seemed to penetrate to her core. Unwittingly, she
pressed closer to Roan, her hands clutching his arm.

"Good morn, Miss Bennett,"
the laird said charmingly. "Ye're lookin' much better than when I
first laid ma eyes on you."

"He was the first to arrive
efter yer accident," Roan explained.

Laura's fingers kneaded the
muscular arm within her hold. "I need to locate a
phone."

"Aye, but as Roan has
explained, lass, the lines are down."

"Surely, not
everywhere!"

Beth leaned to and asked the
older woman, "Miss Cooke, is your phone working, yet?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Her
pale gaze shifted to the stranger, then beyond to where the boys
were watching from the bottom of the staircase.

"Perhaps, Miss Cooke, you
would be kind enough to call the American Consulate when the lines
come on?" Lachlan asked her.