Love Everlastin' Book 3 (23 page)

“Fine, Winston, I’ll tell
ye.

"During the twelfth century,
there was a monastery built exactly where this house now stands.
The monks were teachers from lands near and far, and they worked
hard day and night to farm the acres surroundin’ their home. For
centuries they co-existed wi' ma clan, learnin’ all they could from
us, respectin’ us and our ways, and we them and theirs. They
survived wars and plagues, and as their numbers grew, the monastery
was made larger. We were grateful for them, we were, for they were
kind to one anither and honored nature above all else.

"Then...in 1690, an
unnatural night fell across the land. It lasted a fortnight and,
when it passed, all the monks were dead. There was naught ma clan
could do for them, and we were ordered no' to approach the
structure for fear wha' had taken the monks could somehow spread
among ma clan. So ma clan could do but naught again but watch the
monks' precious home fall to ruin...stone by stone.

"No one even crossed the
land till 1696. Lord Sutherland and his wife, Lady Lindsay, came
and took over the remains o' the monastery. They brought many
workers wi' them, and soon a castle replaced the monks'
home."

Her voice hollow, she
continued, "Back then, maist o' this area was pine and grand oaks,
some o' which Lord Sutherland had cleared afore the castle was
finished. I remember thinkin’ how bare the land looked when maist
o' the trees were gone. The pines I didna mind gone so much, but
the oaks...such grand, grand oaks...were left but a few. Within a
few shorts months, this land barely resembled our home, but there
was naught we could do to stop him.

"You see, Winston, he was no
ordinary mon. He and his wife were witches, and practiced their
black art they did. Ma parents forbade all the clan contact wi'
them, but ma brither had a powerful need to know mair abou' them.
Some o' ma clan already feared he was bewitched when he started
meetin’ wi' Lord Sutherland's wife. Lady Lindsay encouraged him to
lie wi' her. Ma brither was always stubborn and had a mind 'o his
own, but this joinin’ wi' her consumed him.

"The end o' ma parents'
reign grew near and they decided it was time ma brither took a
bride. They chose Blue."

Winston interrupted, "That's
an odd name."

"No' really," she said
wistfully. "It suited her. She had always loved ma brither, she
did, and married him, knowin’ full weel he would be cruel to her.
And cruel he was. He wasna happy unless she was miserable, and
miserable she was from dusk till dawn, especially knowin’ he was
wi' Lady Lindsay at every chance he could.

"One night, he went to Lady
Lindsay and Blue followed him. The clan waited and...I remember we
were all afeared o' wha' was happenin’ at the castle. We heard
arguin’ and a struggle. Then came such heinous sounds filling the
air, we thought our world would shatter from the vibrations.
Everyone started to run for cover, but I had to know wha' had
happened to ma brither and Blue. I went to the castle and saw Blue,
ma brither and Lady Lindsay dead by a gazebo. And I saw this
craiture—"

She gulped and shuddered.
"Twas no' human, wha' I saw. Twas no' anythin’ I will ever forget.
I was too afeard to return to ma clan, so I hid in an oak close to
the castle. Even when this craiture went inside it, I couldna move.
I couldna do aught but hide in shame and fear.

"Just afore dawn, a red
cloud emerged from the castle. It seeped ou' from the stone walls
and spread across the land like a giant, foul-smellin’ mist. Men
and women ran from the castle and began cuttin’ down every tree and
uprootin’ every plant. They worked so quickly, Winston, like
warrior ants convergin’ on everythin’ in their path. Then they were
haulin’ the felled oaks into the castle, and the castle...the
castle...began to fade away."

"Vanish?"

"Aye, vanish, it did. Wi'
every mon and womon, includin’ ma brither and the rest o' ma clan.
The ground turned as black as a starless sky, and I found maself
trapped, and soon fallin’ into a deep sleep."

"Like Princess Aurora in
Sleeping Beauty?"

After a moment, Deliah
wormed out of Winston's embrace and turned on her bottom to face
him. Her expression was blank, her eyes devoid of their usual
sparkle.

"I know no' this person,"
she said flatly.

"She's a character from a
fairy tale."

Her eyebrows shot up and she
fell into ruminative silence. It amused Winston to watch her and a
grin remained on his handsome face until the ponderous glaze left
her eyes and she soberly regarded him as one might regard a problem
to be solved.

"Do ye now believe Blue be
ma brither’s wife?"

The question took him aback
and he laughed a bit nervously. "It's no' important."

"It be to me."

Winston sighed. "I believe
you, but there's a few dozen questions I need to ask
you."

She nodded.

"Okay, Deliah, where have
you been all this time?"

"Been?"

"Been," he parroted. "You
said you hid in one o’ the oaks, and fell into a deep
sleep."

"I did."

"Are you a
ghost?"

A dubious smile curved up
the corners of her lovely mouth. "I be as alive as ye,
Winston."

"So...." He faltered as he
vied to collect his thoughts. "Magic kept you here?"

"Where else would I
go?"

Winston sighed with a hint
of annoyance. "You're evading direct answers."

"No. Ye ask strange
questions."

"No' so strange from ma
point o' reference.

"Let me ask ye
one."

He arched his right eyebrow
and considered denying her request, then shrugged that she should
go ahead and ask him anything.

'Wha' are ye afraid o',
Winston Ian Connery?"

"Failure."

"And?"

"Failure," he repeated in
the same dull tone.

"And?"

"Why don't you tell
me?"

"Ah." She sighed, and it
bespoke of her fatigue and discouragement. "I know ye're afraid o'
me. O' wha' I make ye feel."

"Deliah—"

"If ye would be honest wi'
yerself, ye would know wha' I say be true. Ye are verra unlike
Lachlan and Roan. When they were nervous, I urged them to speak
poetry. Especially works by Robert Burns. He was a fine poet. But I
can no mair bring the urge upon ye, as I can wipe away yer past.
Even when I gave ye the rose—"

"Wha'?"

"The rose," she murmured.
"Twas symbolic. Ma way o' tellin’ ye she would come to know
peace."

"She died."

"Aye, and I can see her
daith still bothers ye. But why, I wonder? Naught can hurt her
now."

"You performed the Christmas
Eve miracle?"

She shrugged noncommittally.
"Some o' it was ma doin’. Some, Lachlan's. The rose was meant to
ease yer soul, Winston, and return ye to me. Ye returned, but no'
in the way I'd hoped. Ye came here to die, ye did, and I resented
ye at first for wantin’ to deny me yer company."

A shadow of hostility passed
across his face. "Who are you?"

"No' a ghost or spirit. No'
a witch or gypsy wench, or aught else yer mind could chose to call
me. I be Deliah. I be someone who fell in love wi' ye the instant
ye first came upon Baird ground. And I be someone who can love ye
despite yer abilities, despite yer past, and despite yer
unwillingness to trust wha's in yer heart."

Suddenly, Winston felt as if
the room were closing in around him. His body temperature rose and
panic robbed him of breath. Getting to his feet and patting his
sweating brow with the back of a hand, he walked to the bed and
kept his back to her.

"It's time you left. Change
into some warm clothes and get something in your
stomach."

"Winston."

Her name fell on his ears
like a whisper both caressing and startling him at the same
time.

"Winston," she repeated, but
this time her hands came to rest on his shoulders. "I love ye, and
I be no' ashamed to admit it."

"You don't know me!" he
growled, glaring at nothingness.

"I know everythin’ abou' ye,
and I glory in every detail, even in wha' ye call yer darker side.
Winston, I have seen evil and suffered from its backlash. I have
known loneliness, but always knew someone would come to free me.
And ye did. Now, Winston, tis time to put everythin’ else aside and
bond, ye and I."

He whirled around, an
incredulous look on his face. "Bond?"

"Aye. As in bed
me."

"You're insane!"

She shook her head. "Share
the intimacies wi' me, Winston."

"Back off!"

"Winston...make love to
me."

"No!" But even as the word
tore from his throat, he knew he was lost.

C
hapter 9

In an attempt to resist to
her enticingly pouty lips, the desire glowing in her eyes, and the
maddening thrill of her fingertips tracing his jawline, Winston
lifted his protective mental shields and tried to probe her mind.
Deep in his subconscious, he knew there was a reason why he should
avoid her, why he shouldn't give in to his body's treacherous need
of what she offered. But her own shields were stronger. He couldn't
penetrate even the thinnest layer of her mind. It was as if her
mind belonged to infinity in its vastness. A vastness so great, to
glimpse a thought or an image would only be by sheer luck. His
inability to read her, to touch upon anything that would aide him
in turning off his libido, left him feeling as helpless as a
baby.

The soft pads of her thumbs
trailed beneath his eyebrows. When he closed his eyes, she repeated
the gesture over the lids. Delicious chills swept through him and
he sucked in a breath. For but a second, he thought he could see
sprinkles of golden, glittering dust falling on the insides of his
eyelids. With the illusion, he felt himself relax. Felt oddly
serene and at peace with himself.

"I love ye, Winston Ian
Connery," she whispered. "Only ye can fill this ache in ma heart.
Only I can fill yers."

His opened his eyes and
stared into hers. It struck him that he'd been looking for
her—waiting just for her—his whole life. Every botched
relationship, every thought he'd ever given to settling down, had
merely been ways to bide his time until he found her. He wondered
why he'd dreaded coming to this point in his life. What was more
natural than falling in love with someone as delicate and as
beautiful as was Deliah? More natural than wanting to share the
physical intimacies with such a vibrant life force as she
possessed?

In her eyes, he could see a
garden filled with flowers, their brilliant colors, shapes and
sizes so real, he thought himself back in that dream realm, basking
beneath the rays of the sun, insects buzzing with life all around
him. She radiated eternal spring. Newness. Rebirth. As long as he
was with her, the dark recesses of his soul held no power over him.
There was no past. Only today. This moment.

His insecurities fled on
wings of contentment as he bent his head and kissed her. Her lips
were warm and soft and eager to please him. He kept his hands at
his sides until she dropped the quilt, then he drew her nakedness
against him and wrapped her within his tender embrace. His fingers
explored the glorious silken strands of her hair, while he deepened
the kiss, probed the sensual perimeter of her mouth. There was no
sense of unfamiliarity in kissing or holding her. None of the
awkwardness he thought about during the brief times he'd allowed
himself to fantasize about a moment just like this.

Floral scents filled the
air. Birds chirped. Bees buzzed. A gentle breeze rustled branches
in the corners of his mind.

With a low moan, he slipped
his hands through her hair and found the smooth, soft skin of her
lower back and buttocks. He drew her against him more tightly,
pressing her into the erection straining at the front of his
slacks. Her arms slid around his waist as she stood on tiptoe,
straining to mold herself against every part of him. An almost
purring sound escape her when he abandoned her mouth and trailed
kisses along her neck and nibbled at her left ear lobe. Desire
chipped away at his resolve to go slowly, to savor each second as
if it would be the last time he could see, hear, smell, touch and
taste her.

"I canna wait," she
whispered, her tone raspy with passion. Framing his face with her
hands, her gaze adoringly flitted over his features. "May I undress
ye?"

Her question caused a blush
to stain his cheeks. Why her boldness took him aback, he didn't
know, but a large measure of his male ego thrilled at the
prospect.

Swallowing hard, he nodded.
She didn't hesitate. Her hands slipped beneath his T-shirt and the
fingertips trenched across his muscle-tight stomach. Then she was
pulling the wool sweater over his head and tossing it aside, and
next, the T-shirt. Her gaze never leaving his eyes, she unbuttoned
and unzipped his pants, and Winston felt his heart racing at an
almost painful pace. He held his breath when she planted her hands
at his waist and slowly, sensually, lowered them, sliding both his
pants and briefs down his hips.