Love Everlastin' Book 3 (27 page)

"Well take a good look at
them, Lachlan, and I can promise you won't see failure. They're
beautiful, healthy babies."

"Has she named
them?"

"No. I think she's been
hoping you would participate in choosing the names."

"Roan said Aggie's leavin’
today."

"After dinner." Laura
frowned bemusedly. "She said the strangest thing, Lachlan. Said
Deliah had finally agreed to release her."

"Deliah?"

"The young woman Winston
found at the gazebo. She was naked and half frozen. We still don't
know much about her, but she claims to belong to the
house."

"Deliah," Lachlan murmured,
his brow creased in deep thought. "The name is familiar, but a
distant kind o' memory. There, but no' quite. Do you know wha' I
mean?"

"Is she someone from your
past?"

"No. Perhaps." Lachlan shook
his head. "I just know I've heard the name. I can almost hear it
now, whispering in ma mind."

Laura cleared her throat.
"I-ah saved the best part. She thinks she's the magic in the
house."

Lachlan pondered this for a
time, too, then rose to his feet. A dull ache was manifesting at
his temples. He felt a bit unsteady and light in the head, but
Laura's words continued to echo through his mind.

"Lachlan, what's wrong? You
like look you're going to faint."

He made an absent gesture
with a hand. "Tis just yer words are ringin’ true in ma mind.
Deliah.
Deliah."
He walked four paces away then returned to stand by the cot.
"Sometimes when I was in the grayness, I thought there was someone
in there wi' me. A presence. Naught I could see, but rather
somethin’ there to watch over me. to tell you the truth, I never
gave it much thought."

Laura rose and faced
Lachlan. "Are you saying you believe she's from the
grayness?"

"I dinna know." Lachlan
sighed wearily. "I canna think straight." He looked across the open
space of the carriage house. "Tis bloody cold in here. Every time I
move, I swear I can hear ma skin crinklin’ wi' ice."

"Why didn't you light the
wood stove?"

Lachlan's gaze followed to
where she pointed. He could just make out a small potbellied stove
by the wall on the opposite side of the door.

"I didna see it."

"Roan installed it. Look,
Lachlan, come back to the house. It's a lot warmer, and it's where
you belong."

"Aye, I've got to go back,
but maistly to do the grovelin’ you mentioned. No' only to Beth but
Roan. And Aggie. Laura, I canna let her leave wi’ou' sayin’ goodbye
to her. But I know she doesna want to see me."

"I know you care about her,"
Laura said kindly. "Between you and me, I think it would sadden her
if you didn't show up for her party." Laura grinned mischievously.
"However, before making your grand entrance, you need a bath and a
change of clothes."

Grimacing, Lachlan looked
down at his shirt. "What's wrong wi' ma clothes?"

"Besides being stinky and
outdated?" she teased.

Lifting his right arm,
Lachlan took a whiff. "Och, I do smell ripe. All right, a bath it
is. But I dinna know abou' wearin’ a modern mon's clothes. Were
mine tossed away?"

"No, they're in a trunk in
the attic."

He comically lifted his
eyebrows.

"Lachlan, they probably
smell...musty."

"I like musty. Tis ma middle
name."

Laura laughed and raised her
hands in a gesture of defeat. "Okay. At least you agreed to the
bath and changing out of these clothes. And shave this mess off
your face." She gave his beard a playful tug. "I'll loan you one of
Roan's razors. We'll just sneak you back into the house. When I
left, Beth and the babies were in the dining room with Aggie, and
Roan was planning to bake with the boys. While you take a bath in
the master suite, I'll get you a change of clothes from the
attic."

"Roan was adamant he didna
want me at the party."

Laura nodded. "He's hurt
more than angry."

Nodding, Lachlan sighed then
a gleam of mischief came alive in his eyes. "I could bring him a
fine bottle o' Scotch. We did our best bondin’ over a flute or
two."

Laura rolled her eyes. "If
you must. Just don't get drunk."

"No. Laura?"

"What?"

"I canna thank you enough
for this."

"You don't owe me anything,
Lachlan. We're family and always will be."

With a husky moan of
appreciation, Lachlan drew her into his arms and hugged her.
"You're a grand lass, Laura." He released her and playfully clipped
her beneath the chin. "Scotch it is."

"I mean it about not getting
drunk. Beth might break the bottle over your head."

"Ouch," he chuckled, "and
tha' she would." He crossed his heart with his right hand. "You
have ma word I'll be on ma best behavior."

"Welcome back, Lannie," she
smiled and, taking him by the hand, led him out of the carriage
house.

* * *

Kevin let loose with a
fistful of flour toward Winston, who was sitting at the small table
in the kitchen, trying to finish his cup of coffee. Winston closed
his eyes and sputtered, while Roan, Kevin and Kahl roared with
laughter.

Winston was making a poor
effort to wipe the flour off his face when he heard Roan scold,
albeit through laughter, "Kevin! No' only isn't it nice to wreck
the kitchen anymair than it is, but I' sure Mr. Connery doesn't
appreciate flour in his face!"

Placing his flour-splattered
cup on the table, Winston stood and began to brush off some of the
white stuff from the front of his shirt and slacks.

"Roan, I appreciate you
putting the kitchen before me," Winston chuckled, then turned his
head and narrowed his eyes at Kevin, who was doubled over with
laughter. "As for you...."

Before Kevin could react,
Winston scooped him up into his arms, rolled him forward and rubbed
his chin against the boy's belly. Kevin squealed in glee and kicked
wildly. Winston repeated the gesture, then lowered Kevin to his
feet and rustled the top of his hair. "Next time, laddie," he
grinned, "it'll be toss for toss. Understand?"

Kevin could only point to
Winston's flour-spackled face and laugh, tears coursing down his
youthful face.

Winston turned to Roan and
shrugged. Still chuckling, Roan removed the apron he had tied at
his waist, and tossed it to Winston.

"You're a sorry sight," said
Roan, laughter gleaming in his eyes. He braced his rib cage with an
arm. "Ma side aches, I laughed so hard."

By the time Winston had
wiped off and shaken loose most of the flour from his clothing,
face and hair, Kevin’s mirth had wound down and he was sniffing
heartily at the oven door.

"Kevin, Kahl," Roan began in
his best authoritative tone, "get cleaned up."

Kahl scowled. "Hey! Don't we
get to do the icing?"

"Yeah," Kevin added,
standing next to his brother, his arms folded against his small
chest. "That's the best part!"

"Okay. But I want you
cleaned up, first. Now scat."

The boys charged out of the
kitchen, whooping it up like wild Indians on a raid.

Sighing, Roan jerked a thumb
in the direction of the swinging door. "I'd like to know where they
get their energy."

"Me, too," Winston grinned.
"They're good boys. You're a lucky mon."

Roan nodded. "Tha' I am." A
shrewd gleam crept into his eyes. "Speaking o' lucky, how are you
and Deliah farin’?"

Winston abruptly turned away
to place the apron on the table, then dallied with folding it while
he willed away the heated flush which had risen into his face. "She
remains a mystery," he said, in what he hoped sounded like a casual
reply.

"Tell me, Winston, do you
believe in love at first sight?"

This brought Winston around.
He felt as though his blood had plummeted to his feet. "No, I
don't. Why do you ask?"

"Deliah." The measuring
intensity in Roan's eyes deepened. "The way she looks at you, I'll
wager it's mair than just a crush."

"It's the house," Winston
said, speaking through a taut grin.

Roan gave a nod, but Winston
was willing to wager he wasn't fooling his host one bit.

Surveying the mess in the
kitchen, Roan said, "Guess I better get to work."

Laura came through the
swinging door, flashed Winston a smile, then threw her arms around
Roan's neck and planted a kiss on his mouth.

"Hey, gorgeous," she
grinned, leaning back her head and searching Roan's flushed face.
"Care to help me gather snow for the snow cones?"

"I'd rather gather you up in
ma arms and carry you ta—" Roan cut his gaze to Winston and
blushed. "Ah, Winston. Did you say you had somethin’ to do
elsewhere?"

"I can take a
hint."

Grinning, Winston went into
the dining room, where, immediately seeing Deliah, his expression
turned to one of chagrin. In her arms, she held one of the babies.
The glow on her face and the cooing sounds she made to the infant,
caused a bottomless ache to form behind his chest. As usual, her
hair was loose. She wore a three-quarter length, royal blue dress
which accentuated the color of her eyes. The garment had a rolled
collar, long sleeves, no waistline, and a skirt with soft folds.
Red and black argyle socks covered her feet, and he found himself
wanting to laugh at the bizarre contrast.

But he didn't.

When she looked up and her
own smile faded, he nervously nibbled on his lower lip and headed
for the door to the main hall. Halfway, he heard Beth exclaim, "Oh,
damn!" He stopped and looked in her direction. She was standing at
the table, where the other infant was atop a blanket. She finished
securing the diaper, then cast Winston a pleading look.

"Aggie went upstairs with
the boys. I just got christened." She smiled at her son. "He has
perfect aim. Winston, would you mind holding him while I change my
top?"

A breath gushed from Winston
and he made a feeble gesture with his hands. "I'm no' good wi'
babies."

"Nonsense." Beth swaddled
the boy in the blanket and carried him to Winston. "He won't break.
Deliah can't handle them both at once. I promise I won't be
long."

Before he could convince her
he seriously didn't want this responsibility, he found himself
holding the squirming bundle. He stood frozen, staring down into a
perfect pink face wreathed in the white folds of the
blanket.

"He willna bite ye," Deliah
said softly.

Winston met her gaze and
swallowed against the tightness forming in his throat.

"Ye are too rigid. Rock him
gently. He'll soon fall back to sleep."

It took Winston several
attempts to rock from side to side without jerking. Then, "He
smiled at me."

"Gas, I'm told," she said
with a light laugh. "Although, why gas would make anyone smile be
beyond me."

"He's so small."

Deliah got up and stood in
front of him, the babies between them. "She's even mair tiny. Look
at her fingers. Have you ever seen aught so precious?"

"No," he murmured happily,
then met Deliah's eyes and sobered.

There was no need for
further words to be exchanged. Winston seated himself on one of the
chairs at the table, while Deliah positioned herself near the
hearth, her back to him.

Meanwhile, Beth ran into the
master bedroom, unbuttoning her sweater as she made her way to the
bathroom. She was out of it by the time she crossed the threshold,
and stopped short when she spied a wet towel on the floor in front
of the tub, and heard water going down the drain. Blinking, her
breaths coming in spurts, she clutched the sweater against her and
slowly turned to face the bedroom. There, not more than fifteen
feet away, Lachlan sat on a footstool in front of the hearth, his
back to her. He was combing his wet hair and unaware that she was
in the room.

Beth's gaze swung to the
portrait above the fireplace. Unbidden, she remembered when she'd
thought the painting was of one of his ancestors, of the original
Lachlan Baird who had built the house. How soon after that had she
discovered he was that man, and a man who had been dead more than a
century before making love with her in that very bed across from
her?

Suddenly, the damp sweater
didn't matter. She knew if she didn't get out of the room soon, she
would either pass out or go for his jugular. She wasn't sure which
she dreaded most. Her legs inordinately leaden, her knees stiff,
she headed in the direction of the hall door. In her state of mind,
it seemed to shift away, extending the distance she had to traverse
to make her escape. When it was within a few feet, she dared to
release a thready breath of relief, which she sucked back in when a
blur passed her, the door slammed shut, and she found herself
staring into Lachlan's dark, brooding eyes.