Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (40 page)

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.

C
hapter 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."