Love Everlastin' Book 3 (20 page)

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Authors: Mickee Madden

Tags: #fairies ghosts scotland romance supernatural fantasy paranormal

BOOK: Love Everlastin' Book 3
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"Why?"

Deliah lowered her gaze to
her hands. "I didna know wha' else to do."

"If this is all real, why
now?"

Almost reluctantly, Deliah
met Beth's troubled gaze. "The returnin’ was meant to be slow,
Beth. Winston—"

"The psychic
cop—agent—whatever he is?"

"Aye. I couldna keep the
knowin’ from him too long. He has his own energy o' sorts and it
worked against mine. Whenever Roan spoke sadly o' yer and Lachlan's
leavin’, Winston unconsciously reached ou' wi' his mind to connect
wi' ye." She sighed wistfully. "Each time he did, he weakened ma
connection. I had no choice but to initiate yer return afore it
became too late and the ither side took ye."

"We were dead,
Deliah."

"Only yer
shells."

Beth wearily massaged her
throbbing temples for a time. "I'm confused."

"Aye. Little wonder. Nature
is energy, Beth. Energy is life."

"And?"

Beth's skepticism elicited a
low laugh from Deliah. "And earth magic has no wee boundaries. Ye
and Lachlan were buried by an oak, grantin’ me the ability to store
yer essences in the precious roots."

"What about Carlene and her
husband?"

"They died away from Baird
land. Beth? Can I ask ye somethin’?"

"Sure."

Deliah glanced up at the
door, a look of odd rapture on her face. "Wha' be it like to birth
a child?" She cut her gaze back to Beth. "No' the pain, for I
nearly left the room I so hurt wi' ye. But right efter, you werena
hurtin’, Beth. Ye were...I canna grasp wha' ye were
feelin’."

"Exhilaration, I
think."

"Exhilaration."

Beth nodded and then a flood
of tears filled her eyes and spilled unchecked from the outer
corners. "This is not a dream, Deliah? Lachlan and I are back?
Alive and parents?"

"Aye," said Deliah,
obviously perplexed by Beth's tears. "Are ye no' happy?"

Beth nodded. A sob caught in
her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "Lachlan.
Where is he, Deliah? Is he...alive...too?"

"Aye, o' course."

"Where is he?" Beth asked
anxiously. "Has he seen the babies?"

Deliah sadly shook her head.
"He be no' farin’ as weel as ye, Beth. In his mind, he still be
dead. He existed longer as a spirit than ever as a mon."

"What does that
mean?"

"Tis difficult for him now,
Beth. In time, he will remember the ways o' a mon—a livin’ mon.
Roan and Winston will see him through the tryin’ times to
come."

"You don't understand,
Deliah. We love each other. I should be all he needs. And his
children—"

"Beth," Deliah interrupted
in a hushed tone, "twas no' a mon ye fell in love wi', but the
energy o' wha' had been a mon. This Lachlan will be a wee
different."

Warily, Beth asked, "How
different?"

Deliah offered a shrug.
"Hard to say. Males are o' a strange mind, even among ma kind. Tis
why we females control the balance."

"We do?"

Deliah laughed. "Aye, but
tis a never-endin’ task, it is." She sobered and leaned closer to
Beth. "Beth, be kind to him durin’ his newness. I've been wi'
Lachlan since afore his dyin’. I connected wi' him to have a sense
o' bein’ alive maself."

"Was he ever aware of you
being here?"

"No. Whenever he tapped into
ma energy to sustain his spirit life, he thought it to be somethin’
wi’in himself. I didna mind, though. Through him, I was able to
feel again. Too long afore him, I had naught but darkness and
despair. Ma kind have never known loneliness. Never understood the
meanin’ o' solitude. But I do and hope to never know it
again."

Beth remained quiet for a
long time, wrapped in a gauzy shroud of dreaminess she was
unwilling to leave. She wasn't sure how she felt about being alive
again. Unquestionably, she should be ecstatic with joy and counting
her blessings. But she remained a little more than frightened. She
didn't have God to thank for her present condition, but this
incredible being called Deliah.

"Beth?"

Beth realized her mind was
slipping away into a realm of escape when Deliah's voice penetrated
the barriers. Sighing deeply, she sharpened her focus on the young
woman and managed a somewhat wan smile.

"Thank you," she said
simply, but the huskiness of her tone relayed the depths of her
gratitude. And when Deliah gave a single nod, and Beth's eyes again
filled with tears, she added, "Are you remaining in Baird
House?"

The young woman's face
shadowed further with a look akin to fear. "If I be sent away,
Beth, I will die."

This time Beth reached out
and clasped the smaller hand. "No one will ever force you from this
house. You have my word on that."

Deliah nodded sadly and
lightly bit into her lower lip. "Beth, promise me you'll no' tell
anyone wha' I am."

"Why?"

Deliah adamantly shook her
head. "The men will no' understand. Beth, do promise me this, and
I'll never ask ye anither favor!"

Again seconds passed in
silence. Both women looked at each other, a strange yet magical
bond rapidly forming between them, and not one induced by magic
itself. Finally, Beth scooted up in a sitting position. She ached
and was suddenly tired and more than a little weary, but she was
curious about this woman and didn't want to end their talk just
yet.

"You know, when I first came
to this house, Deliah, I had no idea just how lonely I was. I had
no identity, and certainly no concept of my worth. It took this
house, Lachlan, and dying to find myself."

"I dinna
understand."

"Deliah, don't be afraid of
who or what you are."

"Tis easy for a human to
belong here," Deliah murmured, misery throbbing in her tone. "Wha'
I be is o' the earth. Tis shameful for ma kind to exist as I am
now."

"Why shameful?"

Deliah lowered her head. Her
magnificent hair closed about her like a curtain of satin. "I have
no ring o' passage. Ma brither stole our faither's to enter again
and again this world and, in doin’ so, caused a catastrophe tha'
wiped ou' ma family, ma clan, ma kingdom althegither."

"They're all
dead?"

"Aye." She lifted her head
and lethargically brushed her hair back from her face. "Be any
alive, they would have searched for me. We dinna abandon our
people. No...they be gone and I am here because I hid so deeply in
the roots, the evil ones couldna find me. Aye, I hid so deeply, I
lost maself."

"You're not alone here,
Deliah. There's no reason why you can't live a normal
life."

A mist of tears brightened
the blue eyes sadly searching Beth's face. "Tis no' enough to live.
Wi’ou' Winston...."

"You're in love with
him?"

Deliah nodded. "From the
first he set foot on Baird land." She sighed and it throbbed with
tears. "I've never seen a mair beautiful mon, Beth. He makes ma
heart feel so achy."

With a low chuckle, Beth
nodded. "I know that feeling, believe me."

"Aye, I know ye do." A
delicate, almost shy smile graced Deliah's face. "But Lachlan loved
ye afore ye came here, Beth. Winston, now...weel, he's no' a mon to
love easily, and I fear, no' a mon who will accept ma
differentness. Afore I left the waitin’ realm, I had a plan. Twas
to make him love me afore we met—in the flesh, so to say. But I
didna have the time I thought and, since ma arrival, he's no' been
verra happy wi' me."

"Why?"

"Weel, he think me childish
because I love the winter so. I canna tell him how new this is for
me. He would never understand tha', I can tell you! And he has this
problem wi' me removin’ ma clothes. Beth, there are times these
garments are too bindin’. When I want to experience cold, I want to
feel it all over ma body! Wouldna you?"

Beth laughed. "I can see his
point, though. People don't usually strip in freezing
weather."

"Why no'? It feels grand,
Beth. Verra grand!"

"Humans can catch cold. Get
sick. I think he was concerned for your health."

Dawning glowed on Deliah's
face. "He's worried abou' me, is he? Tha's grand, aye? Twould mean
he cares a wee, whether he chooses to admit it or no'."

Beth nodded.

"Ah, Beth, I want wi' all ma
bein’ for him to love me. But there be so many reasons he shouldna
want me at all."

"Your differentness
shouldn't matter."

A sob caught in Deliah's
throat and she rolled her tear-filled eyes heavenward for a moment.
"I canna give him children, and I dinna think I could ever be
enough to fill his life."

"I'm sorry, Deliah, but
there are a lot of human couples who can't have children. It's best
you tell him everything. Give him the chance to decide for
himself."

"I know him too weel,"
Deliah whispered, "and he wants a family. I can only offer
maself."

A warm, understanding smile
softened Beth's lovely features. "Don't sell yourself short. Love
has its own special kind of magic."

Deliah swiped a hand beneath
her moist nose and straightened back her shoulders. "Aye, so it
does. Thank ye, Beth. Tis so nice to actually talk to
ye."

Again Beth laughed. "Strange
but definitely grand, kiddo."

Deliah stood and flipped her
hair behind her. "You’re lookin’ a wee tired. I should go and let
ye rest. But Beth, call me at any time. Twill be an honor to help
ye in any way I can, especially wi' the babies. They are maist
wondrous!"

"Thanks, Deliah, and I'll
need all the help I can get, believe me. I haven't exactly prepared
myself for motherhood."

"Tis true, but the babes are
fortunate to have ye for a mither."

"Deliah?"

"Aye?"

"If you see
Lachlan...."

Deliah smiled warmly. "Aye,
I'll have a talk wi' him. Just be patient. Remember, he be but a
mon, and men can be a wee slow in adjustin’ to wha' be strange to
them."

"Hmm, how true. Especially
Lachlan."

"Especially him. No' a mair
complex mon in the world, I dare say."

C
hapter 8

 

By the end of the second
week following Lachlan and Beth's return, the occupants of the
house were as tightly strung as steel springs. It continued to
snow. The record-breaking cold could have been responsible for the
strained temperaments of all, but in truth it was the uncertainty
of their futures. Winter lagging into spring and cabin fever only
enhanced the sour dispositions.

On four occasions, Winston
and Roan walked into town for groceries, bottles, diapers,
blankets, and infant clothing. Although they had first tried to
unbury Winston's car, which remained stuck on the roadside, then
Roan's, both tasks proved futile. The long walks had been more
exhausting than either man had imagined, but they'd sweetened the
bitter cold, grueling journeys with stops at Shortby's for
well-deserved pints of ale. There were few patrons during each
visit, but the two men hadn't entered the establishment to
socialize. They had barely spoken to each other, and just downed
enough beer to satisfy their needy taste buds and their bellies
before returning to the seemingly close confines of Baird
House.

Although the boys were the
least edgy these days, they were tired of the indoors. They
fine-tuned their plan until each was relatively certain the next
boogeyman wouldn't escape their efforts. They were sure there was
one, too. Each one reported to his siblings of someone standing
over them while they slept in their beds. Of stealthy movements and
rustling sounds between the walls. The boys pretty much ignored the
cranky adults. On the surface it appeared they were on their best
behavior, with a tantrum thrown in now and then so the adults
didn't suspect what they were really up to in their rooms, and the
adults remembered there were more than just the babies to take care
of in the attention department.

Roan was disgruntled a good
deal of the time. With Laura spending most of her days and nights
helping Beth with the babies, the boys avoiding him, Lachlan
seeking solitude, and Winston being too intense these days to be
much company, he was feeling left out and abandoned, and was
getting damned tired of sleeping alone.

Lachlan spent most of his
time either in the library or in the attic, anywhere he could avoid
people, especially Beth. His hand was almost healed, but every time
he accidentally struck it or gripped something too tightly, he was
reminded he was again capable of experiencing real pain. He
repeatedly told himself he couldn't be alive. He'd existed dead far
longer than his years prior to being walled up in the tower and
left to bleed to death by Robert Ingliss and Lachlan's treacherous
bride, Tessa. The spirit form was the more real to him. The
grayness was the truer resting place, not slumber. Something as
natural as a bowel movement was enough to distress him, enough to
make him withdraw into himself ever deeper.

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