Love Everlastin' Book 3 (35 page)

It wasn't easy.

She returned to the dining
room and resignedly gathered all the fragments of the crystal
paperweight into her left palm. She passed her right hand over the
shards, her face expressionless, her demeanor one of
uncharacteristic detachment. A brief starburst of blue light
detonated amidst the pieces, then magically the paperweight was
again intact, its prisms capturing the warm glow of the gaslight
fixtures on the walls. She returned the artifact to the sideboard.
Her shoulders somewhat sagging, her spirit in a limbo of sadness
she couldn't shake, she went into the secondary hall and entered
the room she knew the men were in.

They were behind the
counter, their expressions showing their vexation with her
intrusion. Bracing herself against their foul moods, she closed the
door behind her and crossed her arms against her chest like a
schoolmarm on the warpath.

"Weel," she huffed with a
defiant tilt of her chin, "ye three be a sorry sight."

"Go away," Winston grumbled,
then tipped his tumbler to his lips and finished off his Scotch.
Smacking his lips, he held out the glass for Lachlan to refill,
which the laird did with a tad too much eagerness, Deliah thought.
"Fly away," Winston grinned, and winked at her before taking a
hearty swig of his Scotch. He winced again, shook himself, then
released a burp that made Deliah wince. To her chagrin, his
drinking partners laughed.

"Wha' grand, strappin’ men
ye be," she said, her temper surfacing and lending an edge to her
tone. "Brave. Trustworthy. Real champs." Her right hand flitted to
her mouth. Giggling in a way that suspiciously rang of mockery, she
lowered the hand and added, "Pardon me. I meant chumps. Vacuous in
the head chumps be each and every one o' ye."

Setting down his tumbler
with just enough force to tell her he wasn't pleased with her
insult, Winston straightened away from the bar and glowered at her.
"This is a mon's sanctuary. We only permit the non-nagging females
to come in, and you aren't even remotely in tha' category. So go
away, Deliah. We've earned the right to enjoy a little peace and
quiet."

"Earned it, have ye? Ha! Ye,
Winston Ian Connery, wi' yer projected boogeymen and yer damnable
moods, are a pain in ma wee arse!"

Lachlan's flute fell from
his hand as he leveled a deadpan look on her.
"Bahookie,
lass! Tis no' fittin’ for
a womon to—"

In the blink of an eye,
Deliah pulled down the back of her nightgown, sprouted her wings
and leapt atop the counter. Her wings furiously batted the air as
she placed her hands on her hips and bent over with a scowl
darkening her face.

"But I be no' a womon, be
I?" she asked heatedly, a tremor in her tone. "I be a fay. A fairy.
A freak to humans, aye? So wha' care I if I say bahookie or arse.
The latter feels far grander rollin’ off ma tongue!"

Stunned, Roan and Lachlan
had stepped back at the beginning of her tirade, while Winston
shook his lowered head.

"Naggin’ females, are we?"
With the tip of her bare toes, she kicked the half-emptied bottle
of Scotch into the air and swatted it behind her with the back of
her left hand. The bottle smashed against the wall next to the
portrait of the spooning bench.

Lachlan's face grew dark and
stormy. "Och! You canna treat ma Scotch wi' such disrespect! Tis
no'...
respectful!"

"Ye be a coward, Lachlan
Baird! Ye have mair respect for a bottle than yer womon and babes!"
she charged. "And ye, Roan!" She straightened and furiously pointed
an isolated finger at him. "Ye shame ma belief in ye!"

"Now wait one
damn—"

"Haud yer wheesht!"
she cried, mimicking Lachlan, the ferocity in her
voice stunning Roan. "Ye are weak like Lachlan. Turnin’ to Scotch
to warm ye, and no' the hearth o' yer soul!"

"Tha's enough," Winston
warned in a low growl. His eyes rolled up and dealt her a scowl,
but she was too angry to stop now. It was as if the words had been
bottled up in her for so long, she couldn't staunch their flow. She
didn't want to stop them, not when her insides were so afire and
boiling up like lava into her throat.

"Enough? Do ye know wha' I
see when I look at ye now, Winston Ian Connery?"

He sighed wearily. "I'm sure
you're abou' to tell me."

"Aye. Aye, I'll tell ye! I
see nights wi’ou' stars, days wi’ou' suns, and futures wi’ou' hope.
I see a mon who be mair at home walkin’ in the grayness o' atween
life, than walkin’ wi' his fellow mon in the harsh light o'
reality."

Tears sprang to her eyes,
but she still couldn't stop. "I see a dark aura around ye and it
bears no energy. Ye are burnin’ ou' as surely as a wee stick match,
but ye are too blind and too stubborn to see ye are soon to be but
an ash in the wind!"

"Take a deep breath and
quiet down," Winston said softly, although his eyes blazed,
condemned her for exposing what he refused to accept as
truth.

"Ye would grandly like tha',
wouldna ye?" she huffed, her wings shuffling irritably. "Weel, ye
poor, poor mon, I be no' the quiet wee mouse ye wish I were! I be
naught but a tiresome Faerie princess, wi' too much to say and mair
than ma fair share o' intelligence."

She snapped her fingers in
his face. "And have I mentioned I have mair power in ma wee dainty
pinky than the lot o' ye thegither! How emasculatin’ tha' must be
for yer egos!"

Planting her hands again on
her hips, she proudly squared her shoulders. "I will no' weep for
ye, Winston Ian Connery. I will no' ache for ye. And I will no'
dress like a human to please ye!"

Winston's eyes widened with
incredulity when she bent and began to lift the hemline of her
nightgown.

"I hear the carriage house
callin’," Lachlan sputtered, mortified, his eyes
downcast.

"Och, Lachlan," she crooned,
pausing to issue him a smirk of a smile. "Have ye no wish to see I
have no inny? No navel a’tall?"

With a guttural growl,
Winston threw his arms around her legs. Deliah squealed in surprise
and jerked upright when he trapped her legs between his solid chest
and the steel-like band of his arms. She whipped the air with her
wings, then stilled them, realizing she could do them serious
damage were she to wrench free and fly into the ceiling.

Roan released a whoosh of
breath and followed Lachlan to the door. "I think you two need to
talk," Roan muttered. "Shout if you need us."

"Cowards," Winston grumbled,
glaring after them.

As soon as the door closed
behind them, he looked up into Deliah's beet-red face. "I'll let
you go if you promise to cool your temper, lass. No'
until."

The fire was gone from her.
Now she wanted to weep, but pride dammed the tears. "I
promise."

Winston glanced at the space
behind the bar. Concerned she would somehow hit her wings on the
counter or the racks of liquor behind him, he carried her around
the counter and placed her on her feet in front of the spooning
bench. Then, with a long suffering sigh, he folded his arms against
his chest and arched one censorious eyebrow.

"So, there is a fire in your
bonnet," he said dryly.

Moments ago, she had been
brimming with words and indignation, and determined to make him see
just how ridiculous was his attitude. But now there was no fight
left in her, not even the smallest flicker of a flame. "I've no
mair to say to ye," she said wearily.

Winston was quick to note
the way her wings drooped somewhat behind her. Her eyes were
downcast, and he could detect a slight quivering in her chin.
"Deliah." He sighed again, but this time it bespoke of his own
weariness. "I was frightened for you in the dining room. I wasn't
angry at you."

She regarded him petulantly.
"Frightened why?"

"It was bad enough tha'
thief saw you like this. The officers? Haven't we had enough to
cope wi' in this house?"

"Do ye take me for a
complete fool?" she asked softly.

"No' a complete
one."

She turned away from him and
stepped to the counter, where she braced her elbows and lowered her
chin onto her upturned palms. "Ye freed me and shackled me in one
grand swoop, Winston," she said despondently.

A thought occurred to him
and his face lit up with realization. "Before, when you said you
hid in the oak from Lord Sutherland's magic, you were talking abou’
the roots, weren't you?"

Without looking at him, she
said irritably, "O' course in the roots. Tis where we slumbered
durin’ the fall and winter." She spared him a frown then returned
her chin to her palms. "Did ye think I meant I hid in the branches?
I have mair sense than tha'."

With a wry grin, Winston
chuckled. "O' course I thought you meant in the branches. So, you
hid in the roots. Then wha'?"

"I slumbered." Straightening
up, she placed her palms on the counter and absently stared at the
wall across from her. "At first, when I awakened, I thought it was
a wee rest I'd had. No' wee a’tall. The makin’ o' the foundation o'
this house is wha' awoke me. By then, it was too late for me to
escape. We canna pass through solid objects. I created the grayness
to save ma sanity. When Lachlan died, it was there I brought his
spirit. I was desperate lonely—although...he never did speak to me.
I dinna think he knew I was there, but at least I could watch over
him and pretend we were clan."

"You created the fourth
dimension?"

She turned her head just
enough to look at him. "Aye, twas ma doin’. It was the only way I
could move abou' the house. But a shadow I was.

"Eventually," she went on in
a small voice, "some humans discovered it wi' their minds. Like ye.
Ye were but a lad when ye first found the realm and sought answers
from me. So ye see, Winston, I've been aware o' ye for a verra long
time. But it wasna till ye came here tha' I knew I loved ye. For
all the good it has done me."

"You said you are a
princess."

Now she turned completely to
face him, her sadness dulling her eyes. "I had fifteen older
sisters. There was never any chance I would one day rule Faerie.
When ma brither was born, he became the chosen heir. Males ruled if
available, but we females created the laws."

"So you really have no
family, no clan."

She glanced off to one side.
"There are ither kingdoms around the world, but I would never be
but a visitor among them." Her eyes misty with tears, she met
Winston's frown of unease. "Blue was the first winter fay to be
born to Faerie. She never hibernated durin’ the cold months. When
we would awaken in the spring, she would tell me stories o' how
grand the winter world was. How snow glistened like stars. How
icicles hung from branches like crystal dirks. How different the
kingdom looked when cloaked in such whiteness. I used to think I
could imagine all she told me. Least be I thought I had till I
touched and smelled and witnessed it for maself. Ma sisters never
had the chance to experience fall and winter. Ma brither...weel, he
ventured through the passage often enough and seldom slumbered
among us, but I dinna think he really appreciated anythin’ in this
world but Lady Lindsay."

"I'm sorry for you," he said
softly.

She stiffened. "Dinna pity
me."

"No. It's no' pity, Deliah.
I know how it feels to be alone and different."

"Do ye?" she asked in a
cryptic tone. "Ye created yer world, Winston. Mine was stolen from
me by evil magic. Ma family and clan were swiped from the earth as
easily as yer hand can brush away dust from a piece o' furniture.
Granted, yer parents did no' show their love for ye as did mine,
but I wouldna let them taint ma soul were they like
yers."

"That's easy to
say."

"No. No' easy a’tall. Ye
have hurt me mair than I thought possible. And I have fallen to
temper because o' it. But ye canna change wha' or who am I,
Winston, no matter yer anger or yer disgust wi' me. Ye canna slay
ma love for ye. Ye can only make me realize tha' there is no magic
grand enough to make ye love me back."

"Deliah, I'm no' angry or
disgusted wi' you."

"Ye have a maist peculiar
way o' showin’ it, Winston Ian Connery."

A crooked grin tugged at one
side of his mouth at her use of his full name again. Whenever she
spoke it, delightful chills seemed to swirl around his heart. And
because he was feeling lighthearted after his harrowing experiences
earlier, he said without thought, "It's peculiar knowing I've
falling in love wi' a fay."

No sooner were the words
passed his lips, he jerked back in surprise. Deliah's eyes widened
and a delicate pink glow spread across her cheeks, while Winston's
turned hot with chagrin.

"Wha' did ye say?" she asked
breathlessly, her hands coming up as if to touch his chest, but
poising in midair.

Bewilderment, panic and
awkwardness flashed across his features and he shifted nervously on
his feet. "It was a slip o' the tongue," he grumbled, unable to
look into her eyes.