Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (6 page)

"Guess what I found—"
Halting in midstride at the sight of Laura and Roan, Kahl added a
solemn, "Uh-oh."

"Come here," Laura said
sternly to Kahl, taking Alby into her arms. She waited until the
third boy was in front of her, and went on, "The three of you are
going to clean up the mess you made in the dining room."

"The ghost did it!" Kevin
exclaimed, eagerly looking to his brothers for support.

"Yeah. Stuff started flying
around—"

"The hell it did," Roan
intervened, his expression livid. "Own up to yer deeds."

Kevin petulantly lowered his
head for a moment. When he looked up, his tearful, angelic
expression nearly doused Roan and Laura's frustration. "Alby did it
all."

"Yep," Kahl put in, nodding
vigorously. "Alby did it all."

"Tha's it," Roan growled,
taking both boys by the nape and marching them to the stairs. "It’s
one thing to do mischief," he continued, urging them into a
descent, "anither to lie abou' it."

"I found a tower," Kahl
squeaked, his thin shoulders trying to shuck off Roan's hold. "Did
people live there, huh? Anybody die there? Huh? Did
they?"

"It was a place for wee
boogers—" Cutting himself off, Roan passed a harried looked over
his shoulder at Laura. Although he dearly wanted to rattle the boys
as much as they had rattled him, their aunt was definitely not in
the mood for one of his fabrications. An immature reaction, he
knew, but it was no worse than his deepening urges to throw himself
onto the floor and pitch a full-blown tantrum. If nothing else, it
could possibly prompt the laird to make an appearance.

By the time he stepped onto
the first floor landing, his adrenaline had slowed, and his temper
had waned beneath a swell of weariness.

Surely Lachlan had to appear
before the end of the day. Friends they would never be, but a blind
man would have recognized the raw concern Roan'd seen on the
ghost's face last night at the scene of the accident.

Unless the Yank and the
lads are the laird's way of getting even with this particular
Ingliss....

Grimacing at the thought,
Roan turned to face Laura when she stepped down onto the
landing.

"Are you all
right?"

The question damn near
knocked the wind from him.

Concern from
her?

Searching her eyes, he felt
himself inwardly shrinking back. He was acutely aware of the boys'
unnatural silence and stillness. He could feel their eyes on him.
On their aunt. Back and forth, waiting for some kind of reaction
from the adults.

"Mr. Ingliss?"

Releasing the boys, he
folded his arms against his chest. "Wha's to be done wi' the dinin'
room?"

"The boys and I will clean
it, of course," she replied icily.

But there was a wounded look
in her eyes that bothered Roan. He could not recall ever seeing
such a look in Adaina's eyes.

"O' course," he murmured,
and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "How kind o' you to
postpone yer hairbrain plans to trot off into the unknown," he
added, gesturing with his head toward the front door.

"Don't start," she warned in
a low tone. "C'mon, boys." Her eyes flashed Roan a dirty look.
"Let's show this kind man how well we can clean up the
mess."

"Alby did it," Kevin
grumbled.

Kahl gave a snort. "The
ghost made Alby do it."

Despite himself, a grin
cracked Roan's attempt to look stern.

"Never mind," Laura sighed,
aiming the boys toward the dining room. "The sooner we clean up,
the sooner we can start our new journey."

"I'm all ashiver," Roan
mocked, walking behind her.

"And the sooner we can tell
Mr. Ingliss where he can go," Laura went on, cutting him a wry grin
over her shoulder.

Kevin dashed ahead and
entered the parlor. The brothers would have followed if not for
Laura's hold on the back of their coats. Halfway across the room,
she released them, smiling a bit warily when they ran after
Kevin.

"There's no guarantee we
won't get hit wi' anither storm before the morn's done," Roan said
as he fell into stride next to Laura.

Keeping her eyes on the boys
entering the next room, she tilted up her chin and retorted, "I'm
more concerned about the storm going on within these walls, Mr.
Ingliss."

Roan arched a brow.
"Me?"

Coming to an abrupt
halt—Roan following suit—she faced him and testily looked him in
the eye. "You've made it perfectly clear, you don't want us
around."

"It’s no' tha'—"

"Then what is it?" she asked
bitterly. "How would you feel if our positions were reversed? Don't
you think you'd be just a little unnerved at the prospect of having
to rely on strangers?"

Roan released a breath.
"Aye."

"You're an ass."

She started to turn away
when his large hand took a firm hold on her upper arm. Jerking her
against him, he leveled a dark, brooding look on her upturned
face.

"Ye're the most stubborn
womon! I may no' like this situation, but I've mair sense than to
let you lead the laddies ou' into this weather!"

"Let me?" she gasped, her
face reddening.

"Aye,
let
you." He lowered his face to
within inches of hers. "Use yer brain, you fool! A day or two here
won't shatter yer life!"

On tiptoe, Laura brought the
tips of their noses together. "Oh, won't it? A day or two more in
your company, and I'll be on trial for
murder!"

Roan straightened, a dark
flush in his cheeks. "Ye're beggin' to be pree'd," he said through
clenched teeth.

Lowering her heels to the
floor, she arched a questioning brow. "I'm what?"

Abruptly, he looked toward
the dining room door. "Och! The nickums are too quiet." As if the
devil was at his heels, he ran to the room.

Laura followed at a slower
pace, her mind struggling to define the word 'pree'd'. Nickums she
automatically assumed was an endearment...of sorts. But
pree'd?
The way he'd said
it had sent shivers along her spine.

She entered the dining room,
immediately spying the boys huddled around Roan. The sight struck
her as curiously humorous, considering his impatience with them.
Then, as she approached, she realized their youthful eyes were
filled with awe and disbelief. Slowing her pace, she glanced about
her—stopped short and felt the blood plummet in her
body.

Suddenly lightheaded, she
unknowingly reached out and gripped the front of Roan's
apron.

The room was spotless. The
table cleared.

"The ghost," Kevin chimed,
looking up at his aunt. "Told ya he's around, didn't I?"

Laura's legs threatened to
buckle beneath her. The tightness in her throat refused to release
the air trapped in her lungs. Her eyes as wide as saucers, she
strained to detect even the slightest sign of what had earlier
taken place. Finally, forcing her legs to move, she went to the
table and inspected the lace tablecloth. Panic heated her insides.
There wasn't so-much-as a stain to indicate that anyone had ever
eaten atop the Irish lace.

"Let it go," Roan said
huskily, coming to her side and placing a hand on her trembling
shoulder.

Laura could only shake her
head in disbelief.

"There are things in this
house tha' can't be easily explained."

Closing her eyes and leaning
against the edge of the table for support, she willed her reasoning
to resurface. She became aware of Roan's hand massaging the back of
her neck, but it would take far more than his touch to relax the
knotted muscles and tendons.

"Who else is in this house?"
she managed.

"Only the five o'
us."

She looked at him, her eyes
misted green pools in her ashen face. "Don't lie to me.
Someone—"

"I swear, lass, there's no'
anither
livin'
soul in this place."

Tears rolled down her
cheeks. "Why are you doing this to us? What kind of game are you
playing?"

A wounded look softened
Roan's expressive eyes. "I haven't the sense o' humor to play
useless mind games."

"Boys, come here," she
ordered, glaring mistily into the masculine face. When they
complied, she protectively kept them close to her as she backed
away from Roan. "We're leaving. Right now. I swear if you try to do
anything to stop us, I'll hurt you."

"Ye're doin' a fine job o'
it now," he grumbled, his shoulders stiffly drawn back.

Her eyes never wavering from
Roan's, she ordered, "Kevin, take your brothers into the
foyer."

"Huh?"

"The hall," she said
irritably, pointing toward the parlor door. "Get going. I'll be
along in a minute."

"Do we hafta go?" Kahl
moaned.

Kevin looked from one adult
to the other, his brows drawn down in a frown. "Yeah, c'mon guys."
Taking them by the arms, he pulled them across the room.

Roan watched the boys
disappear into the next room before searching Laura's features
again. It was on the tip of his tongue to try to explain about
Lachlan Baird, but she whirled away. Three paces later, she froze
in midstride. Roan stared at the back of her head, nurturing a hope
that she'd decided to listen to him rather than sail on the tides
of her pride.

A moment passed before he
noticed that she was violently trembling, and that her head was
turned in the direction of the sideboard. He glanced that way and
saw nothing unusual.

Weightiness materialized in
his chest. "Laura, wha's wrong?"

Silence mantled the room.
Suffocating silence that completely unnerved him.

Laura's head began to shake.
Then she stiltedly walked to the sideboard, her body blocking
Roan's view from what had captured her attention. He waited for
what seemed an eternity before approaching her. Standing close
behind her, he craned his neck to see over her shoulder.

"Explain this," she said
throatily, turning to face him.

A tickling sensation moved
along his arms as he stared down at the Oriental statue clutched in
her hands. When his gaze rose and looked into her clouded eyes, he
inhaled deeply and slowly released it.

"Lannie protects wha's
his."

"The owner," she said
dully.

"Aye. He's been dead for
over a century."

For a long time, Laura
stared at him. She was devoid of emotions at this point; physically
and emotionally devoid of any feeling. A roar similar to that of
waves crashing on a shore, filled her ears. The statue felt
unnaturally heavy in her hands, as if vying for her full
attention.

"Lannie asked me to help you
efter you hit the oak. He'd spent his energies, and couldn't
solidify to pull you ou' o' the car."

With the speed of lightning
and without conscious thought, Laura struck him open-handedly on
the side of his face. Seemingly unaffected by the blow, he went on,
"He'll return in a day or two."

Her hand rose again but he
caught her wrist and pinned it to his chest. "You asked for the
truth!"

Laura merely stared at him,
the fear in her eyes intensifying with each passing moment. The
fingers of her left hand tightened on the statue until her knuckles
were deathly white.

"I'll go into town and call
the consulate."

Her head moved in a stilted
denial.

"Wha'? You don't trust me?"
He scowled, his nostrils flaring. "You'd rather drag the laddies
off into the cold?"

"Yes," she whispered, giving
a weak tug on her arm in a demand for him to release
her.

"Damn yer callous hide,
Laura Bennett!" Thrusting her away from him, he stepped back and
made a valiant bid to tighten the reins on his temper. "You best
heed this warnin', lass! If you take the boys ou' into this cursed
weather, you'll be next ignorin'
their
funerals!"

He pointed an isolated
finger at her face. "Stay put! If I get back and I find you gone, I
swear I'll track you to hell!"

"Don't threaten me," she
choked.

Rage accentuated the angles
of his face. "Think o' the lads, this once. They lost their mither
and faither, and have to rely on
you
to take care o' them. Tha' scares
me. Can’t imagine how they feel bein' dependent on an unemotional,
self-centered womon who has no' the sense o' a church mouse to stay
ou' o' the cold!"

"Who the hell do you think
you are?" Laura shrilled.

"Leave this house before ma
return, Laura Bennett, and I swear I'll have you brought up on
charges o' child endangerment."

Wrenching the statue from
her hand, he placed it on the sideboard and stormed out of the
room.