Love Everlastin' Book 3 (5 page)

Baffled, Winston eyed the
carvings.

"Maybe 'cause I told Lion he
couldn't roar so loud." His lower lip again jutted out and his chin
quivered. "Now they're all mad at me."

"The lion...roared?" Picking
up the piece, Winston carefully looked it over. "Mmmm. Lions can be
loud, all right. He probably would have awakened the whole
household if you hadn't quieted him down."

"You don't believe he can
roar," Alby accused, and snatched the carving from Winston's hand.
"Grownups never believe. But you will when he bites
you."

Winston unsuccessfully tried
not to smile. "Oh...indeed. So tell me, Alby, would you be up to
joining me for breakfast? I make a mean batch of
bannocks."

"Breakfast is ma
responsibility, Mr. Connery," said a feminine voice from behind
him.

Turning his head, he blinked
at the sight of Agnes Ingliss crossing the room. She was dressed in
a wool-blend simple blue dress, three-quarter-length black sweater,
black stockings and shoes. Her snow white hair was neatly secured
in a bun atop her head, and a pair of small pearl earrings adorned
her earlobes. Stopping at the side of the bed, she opened her arms.
Alby zealously sprang up and threw himself into her embrace,
wrapping his arms about her neck and planting a wet kiss on her
cheek at the same time. A smile glowed on her face as she hugged
him.

At that moment, Winston
wanted more than ever to experience that kind of bond. A hollow
ache replaced his heart. When he attempted to tap into what Agnes
was feeling, her pale blue eyes flashed him a warning that she knew
what he was trying to do. A flush stained Winston's cheeks. He'd
forgotten that her ghostly powers were intact.

"Alby, love, wha' do you say
Mr. Connery helps you wi' brushin’ yer teeth, while I tend to
breakfast?"

The boy scowled at Winston
then buried his face to the side of Agnes' wrinkled neck. She cast
Winston a guarded look then grinned.

"Now, now, Alby. You don’t
want your sausage too weel done now, do you? Old Agnes is movin’
slower these days, and I'm sure Mr. Connery would love to see how a
big lad like you can brush his teeth sparklin’ white."

"As white as a fairy's
tooth," Alby beamed.

"Aye, tha' white and mair.
Weel, do we have a plan, now?"

Alby spared Winston a shy
glance, frowned again, then halfheartedly held out his arms to him.
Winston rose to his feet. His system tingled with anticipation as
he hesitantly opened his arms. In the next instant, Alby was
clinging to him, the small arms wrapped tightly around his neck,
his legs secured about Winston's middle.

"Thank you...Mrs.
Ingliss."

"Agnes," she corrected with
a smile and a twinkle in her knowing eyes.

Alby grimaced and looked
beseechingly at the woman. "He has baaad breath!"

With a low, raspy chuckle,
Agnes headed for the door. Over her shoulder, she suggested,
"Perhaps, Alby, you could show Mr. Connery how to brush
his
teeth."

When she disappeared into
the hall, Winston ruefully eyed the boy's comical expression. "Tha'
bad, huh?"

Alby nodded.

"Come along then," said
Winston, heading for the hall. "We'll see who's the brushing
champ."

"I am."

Winston laughed and he
realized he couldn't remember when he'd felt this good about
himself, or being alive.

* * *

Laura stretched luxuriously
beneath the warm covers. With her eyes still closed and a grin of
contentment on her lips, she reached out for Roan. His side of the
bed was empty. Her eyelids lifted and she squinted into the morning
light. When her vision adjusted a moment later, she spied Roan
standing by the window in a beam of sunlight. His expression struck
her as being both wistful and desolate. He was watching something
beyond the panes, but she was relatively sure he wasn't actually
seeing anything at all.

A shiver passed through her,
its cause unknown. Now that their lives were settling into normal
routine, the stress of what they all had endured should have been
waning. Her nephews alone seemed to adapt to their new lives. Laura
harbored a sense of loss, but a loss of what she couldn't be sure.
Perhaps, knowing that Roan wasn't as happy as he pretended had
something to do with it. At times she thought herself the cause of
his moodiness, but instinct told her his bouts of depression were
somehow still tied to Lachlan and Beth's departure. The few times
she had tried to get him to open up to her, he'd chosen to withdraw
into himself, and seek solitude from his new family. She never once
doubted he loved her. He had a way of looking at her, his eyes a
stage for pure mischief, and conveying to her how deeply connected
they were. But there were times when she feared she was losing a
part of him that was growing more impossible to reach. A portion of
his soul. She had even wondered if perhaps the original laird and
mistress hadn't mistakenly taken part of Roan with them.

Whatever the reason, seeing
him like this caused a hollow ache in her heart.

As if sensing her watching
him, he unexpectedly turned his head and looked her way. An instant
smile curved up the corners of his mouth. The sunlight bathing him
turned his irises a mesmerizing shade of amber, and highlighted his
light brown hair with pale golden streaks.

"Good morn, darlin’," he
said huskily, his gaze lazily, appreciatively, sweeping over her
concealed body.

"Good morning, yourself,"
she grinned and suggestively patted the mattress alongside
her.

He started toward her. A log
crumpled in the hearth, briefly drawing her attention to the
roaring fire heating the room. When she again looked at him, he was
sitting on the edge of the bed, his right ankle braced atop his
left knee. His shirtless state prompted a sigh to escape her. She
would never tire of his muscular build, of the powerful width of
his shoulders. His hair, which he hadn't so-much-as trimmed since
she'd first met him, now hung just past his shoulders in soft
curls. And although she'd never thought herself the type of woman
to go for the 'maned' look on a man, she dreaded the idea that he
might get bored with it and have it chopped off.

With this thought in mind,
she braced herself up on one elbow and reached out to run her
fingers through the side of his hair. His left hand cupped her
forearm and he reverently kissed the inside of her wrist, then
leaned over and nuzzled the side of her neck. Absolute bliss heated
her insides. Falling back on the pillow, she held out her arms. His
smile deepening, he moaned deep inside his chest and lowered the
side of his head to between her breasts. A moment later, he swung
himself fully onto the bed, slipped an arm beneath her, and
enveloped her within his arms and legs. Laura was never more
content than when she was surrounded by him. Inhaling deeply of his
musky scent, she stroked her fingertips along his exposed
cheek.

"Did you sleep all
right?"

"Mmmm," he softly murmured,
and nestled his face more comfortably between her breasts. "I was
dreamin’ o' a maist peculiar garden."

She located a lock of hair
by his shoulder and wound it about her middle and index fingers.
"Tell me about it," she whispered.

"No' much to tell. It was
all glittery and magiclike. I think our guest was there, too. Wha'
I remember maist was how peaceful it was. I didn't want to leave,
Laura."

"Never?"

He was silent for a moment,
then, "I'm no' sure. But I woke in a grim enough mood."

Kissing the top of his head,
Laura stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. "Why can't you admit how
much you miss Lachlan and Beth?"

"I do," he said brusquely.
"But can we no' begin our day dwellin’ on them?"

They fell silent, each lost
in their own thoughts. Unconsciously, Roan began to rotate his
thumb along Laura's right nipple, which was rigid beneath her red
and blue plaid flannel nightgown. His absentminded ministrations
stoked sexual tension to blossom deep inside her. Trying to breathe
normally, she closed her eyes and relished the liquid warmth
building inside her veins.

"I was thinkin’ we could
take a trip to Edinburgh next week," he said dreamily, as if
speaking to himself. "If the weather lets up a bit." He slipped his
left hand beneath her nightgown and absently massaged her naked
buttock and thigh. "But wi' Connery here," he went on, "I'm no'
sure we should make any plans."

"No telling how long he's
going to stay."

"Hmm. He's a strange mon,
this Winston. Laura, I can't quite put ma finger on wha' it is
abou' him tha' makes me want to bury ma head in the
sand."

"He's supposedly psychic.
Isn't that what Aggie said?"

"Aye," Roan replied in a
barely audible voice. "I guess I'm uneasy wi' him because I know
nothin’ abou' him."

"Lachlan—" Laura gasped when
Roan's fingers grazed the Vee of her loins and a spasm of wanton
need ripped through her. "—wanted him to return," she finished,
breathless, her eyes blinking rapidly.

"Aye, he did."

Lost deeper in his thoughts,
a frown marring his brow, he palmed her breast and gently kneaded
it. He wasn't aware of Laura's rapidly escalating desire, or of her
raspy breaths.

"So much to do, I don't know
where to begin."

Laura moaned softly. But
despite her heated condition, she managed, "Just take one day at a
time."

After a moment, Roan
murmured an indecipherable response. Laura reached down to run her
fingertips along his chest, but he unexpectedly sat up and wearily
ran his hands down his face.

"Ye're right. One day at a
time." Springing from the bed, he headed for the door. "I'm goin’
to check on the lads. I'll meet you downstairs for
breakfast."

Before Laura could utter a
protest, Roan was gone. For a long moment she could do nothing but
stare at the closed door in disbelief. Then she sat up, gave a
shake of her head, and deeply sighed.

"The honeymoon's over before
it began."

She glanced about the room
and gave another shake of her head, then fixed her gaze on the
portrait of Lachlan hanging over the fireplace mantel.

"I wish you could tell me
what's going on inside his head— What am I talking about? We have a
psychic in residence, don't we?"

Her spirits lifting, she
climbed out of the bed and padded toward the bathroom. Unbeknown to
her, a shadow slipped from behind the curtains of the window Roan
had been at when Laura had awakened. It moved toward the bed,
paused for a time, then crossed the room and melted into and beyond
the door.

Laura re-entered the bedroom
after brushing her teeth and washing her face and hands. She was
humming a medley of tunes while on a direct path for the wardrobe
when a familiar sensation invaded her limbs. A feeling of liquid
warmth passed beneath her skin, flowing with the steadiness of a
mountain spring. The sensation centralized within her chest.
Circled her heart then gradually dissipated. As always when she was
visited by this phenomenon, she was left with a sense of absolute
serenity. It was as if a celestial haze blanketed her
brain.

She got dressed, combed her
hair, and left the bedroom. Hunger and a need for her first cup of
coffee headed her in the direction of the kitchen. But the residual
impressions she carried of the mysterious presence she'd
encountered was urging her to seek Roan.

* * *

Winston stepped first onto
the main landing and swung Alby down the last two stairs. He was
laughing at the boy's insistence that he be given another 'swing
down', when something slammed his awareness. A brief dark cloud
passed across his mindscreen. Alarmed, he cautioned Alby to remain
where he was then ran to the double front doors. He passed through
the small greenhouse and flung open one of the outer doors, then
stepped out into the bright morning sunlight reflecting off the
snow. Countless impressions invaded his mind, so forceful he
staggered from the assault. He was stunned that his psychic powers
had returned with such a vengeance, and that his mind had opened
itself to every particle of information floating in the air. At a
point where he was finally sorting through the mental deluge,
thunder caught his attention.

A zephyrous "Too soon!"
moaned in his ears, and he instantly recognized the voice as that
of the mysterious woman he'd met the previous night. He sensed her
alarm. Her distress. Then—

At the same instant he
looked up to see a whirlpool of black clouds lowering over the
property, he sensed the woman send off a network of energy—energy
he couldn't identify. The clouds lifted slightly. Thunder loudly
rumbled. Lightning crackled and snapped within the ominous mass,
then faded into the once again sunny sky.

Winston's mind cleared of
all extraneous thought. Despite the brightness of the sunshine, a
freezing wind lashed at his body. The quilt was nearly torn from
his shoulders. Securing it, he tucked two of the corners into the
waistband of his slacks, then was about to re-enter the house when
he spied two boxes to the left of the steps. Snatching them up into
his arms, he dashed into the relative warmth of the hallway and
closed the doors behind him. Alby was waiting for him by the foot
of the staircase.