Love Everlastin' Book 3 (6 page)

"What's that?" the boy
asked.

Stopping, Winston glanced at
the labels on both packages. "For Roan Ingliss."

"Nuts. Thought maybe Santa
left me something else."

Chuckling, Winston headed
for the parlor. "Come along. I can smell breakfast on, can
you?"

Alby attempted to sniff
through his stuffy nose, shrugged and fell into step behind
Winston. "Nope. But I'm starving to death."

Winston, the packages tucked
beneath one arm, led the boy into the parlor, and beyond to the
dining room. Once inside, Alby ran ahead to where Roan and Laura
were seated at the table. Two older boys sat across from
them.

Agnes entered the room from
the kitchen. "Have a seat," she said to Winston, one white eyebrow
arched in a show of impatience as she lowered a silver tray to the
table. "Nothin’ worse than cold sausages and scones."

Winston approached the
nearest end of the elaborate table and set the packages down before
lowering himself onto one of the chairs. Agnes was immediately at
his side, filling his mug with steaming coffee, then arranging some
of the food-laden plates in front of him. Winston's gaze swept over
the dishes. Eggs. Thick slices of ham and spicy sausage patties.
Potato scones dripping with butter and homemade marmalade. Brose,
steamy and inviting.

Suddenly, he felt as though
he hadn't eaten in months.

He was helping himself to
portions of everything offered when Roan's wry tone caught his
attention. "Good morn to you, too."

Embarrassed, Winston
graciously inclined his head. "Forgive me. Good
morning."

Laura smiled and gestured to
the two boys across from her. "This is Kahl and Kevin. Say good
morning to Mr. Connery."

Kevin stuck out his tongue
and made a rude sound, while Kahl merely spared Winston a sour
glance before diving into the food on his plate.

Winston again nodded then
looked at the packages. "Ah, these were ou' by the front door.
They're addressed to you, Mr. Ingliss."

Rising from his chair, Roan
grimaced. "You make me feel like an old mon. Roan, if you please.
I'll be damned if I call you Mr. Connery."

Briefly locking eyes with
the mistress of the house, Winston again offered a perfunctory nod.
Then, unable to deny his hunger a moment longer, he lifted the
scone and took a large bite out of it. He was relishing the bursts
of flavors on his tongue when he happened to look up at the laird.
The contents in his mouth went down in a lump as Roan's stricken
expression registered.

Winston minutely lowered his
mindshield and probed the man standing next to him. The depth of
the laird's emotional pain took him aback. He glanced again at the
packages, at Laura, at each of the boys then cut his gaze back to
Roan.

"What is it?" Laura
asked.

When Roan remained as still
as a statue, she left her chair and went to stand at his right
side.

"Roan?"

He remained perfectly still.
Winston retracted his probe. Laura took the top package and walked
around to Winston's left. Placing the box down, she used one of the
knives on the table to cut the string securing the box.

She was lifting the lid when
Roan murmured a barely audible, "Don't."

Ignoring him, she removed
the cover and dropped it to the floor beside her, then spread apart
the white tissue paper concealing the contents. A gasp of delight
escaped her. Her hands trembling, she lifted a lace and satin
beaded wedding gown from the box, stepped back, and held it up
against her. Tears sprang to her eyes, blending with the sheer
radiance glowing on her face.

"Roan! It's...it's
incredible!"

Lowering his head, Roan
closed his eyes. "It was made for Beth," he said in a hollow
monotone.

"What?"

"For Beth. Lannie asked me
to order it the morn we were in the library and he told me I was
inheritin’ this place."

All color washed from
Laura's face as she clutched the gown tighter against
her.

Finally, Roan looked at her,
his own face drawn and pale. "He told me she dreamed o' havin’ a
grand weddin’, and asked if I would order the gown for her. I'd
forgotten abou' it. The ither box is probably the veil."

"So? Aunt Laura can wear
it," Kahl piped up, his mouth full of food. "Or are you planning on
not marrying her now, huh?"

Winston didn't believe it
possible but the laird grew even paler. Abruptly rising from his
chair, he was about to tell Roan to sit before he fell, but Agnes
intervened. Linking her arm through her nephew's, she led him
toward the kitchen.

She stopped at the swinging
door and said to Winston, "By the way, yer shirt and coat have
mysteriously vanished." She cast the boys a scolding look before
glancing at Winston again. "I'll no' say wha' I think happened to
them, mind you, but I wouldna be holdin’ ma breath waitin’ for them
to miraculously return."

With that, she pulled Roan
into the kitchen.

"Nuts. Grownups blame us
kids for everything," Kevin grumbled.

Winston swung his gaze to
Laura, who looked as though she was about to break down into tears
over a far less than joyous reason. "Boys," he addressed the trio,
"wha' say you finish your breakfast and let me have a talk wi' your
aunt."

"No skin off our nose," Kahl
quipped. "We can eat without being watched."

"I'm sure." He rose from his
chair. "Perhaps one o’ you will remember where ma belongings went
to?" Ignoring the two older boys' dirty looks, Winston went to
Laura's side and placed a hand at her elbow. Without the slightest
protest, she allowed him to guide her into the front hall, where he
took the wedding gown and draped it over his left arm.

"Laura, I don't mean to pry,
but—"

"He can't get over them
passing on," she choked, then lifted her watery gaze and searched
his features. "I'm jealous of a dead woman. What does that say
about me?"

Winston's attempt to offer a
smile, failed. Clearing his throat, he said, "Tha' you're a womon
in love."

"I thought...."

"He'd ordered the gown for
you," Winston completed.

Her mouth twisted
disparagingly. "I guess it doesn't take a psychic to figure that
out, does it?"

A small smile finally
appeared on Winston's mouth. "No. But...ahh...it's no' as though
your relationship has been normal, has it? Laura, his bond wi'
Lachlan Baird and the American womon was beyond even ma
comprehension. I sense tha' he's still grieving. It takes
time."

Solemnly, she nodded. "I
know it does, but it hurts me to see him get so twisted up inside.
Sometimes, I'm terrified I'm going to lose him. He gets so
distant—"

"Laura-lass."

At the sound of her name,
she spun around to see Roan standing in the doorway. He rushed
toward her, pulled her into the muscular strength of his arms then
kissed her long and passionately. During this, Winston turned away
and rolled his eyes to the heavens. He was tempted to probe their
emotions, experience what they were sharing, but he couldn't bring
himself to intrude. He was even tempted to psychically interface
with their auras, absorb the particles to enhance his understanding
of their bond, but this practice he'd used most of his life, felt
somehow wrong now. An invasion of what strictly belonged to them
and no one else.

When he heard, "It's time to
order yer gown, darlin’," he turned his head and observed the glow
on Laura's flushed face. She was looking at Roan in a way that made
Winston shrivel inside. He wondered if a woman would ever look into
his eyes with such profound love and devotion.

"There's no rush," she said
softly, resting the side of her face against Roan's broad chest.
"It was foolish of me to react the way I—"

Three squealing boys bounded
from the room, Agnes chasing them.

"Throw food, will you!" she
scolded, while they laughed and dashed up the stairs out of sight.
Agnes paused halfway up to spare the three adults a harried look.
"I feel the grayness tuggin’, but I'll see them cleaned up afore I
leave."

Then she, too, vanished
beyond the next landing.

Roan released a burst of
laughter, then clapped Winston on the arm and gestured with his
head toward the parlor. "Our food's gettin’ cold, and Aggie hates
awastin’ anythin’."

"Wha' abou'...?" Winston
asked, indicating the gown.

Roan released a sigh. "I'll
put it away in the attic. Laura deserves her own gown. One designed
for her and no one else."

Silently, they returned to
the dining room, where the boys' food fight was evident on their
chairs and part of the table. Roan put the gown back into the box
and covered it, then seated himself alongside Laura. For a time
they ate in silence.

Winston was grateful for the
chance to relieve the ache in his stomach. He was part way into
second helpings when Roan spoke.

"Wha' abou'
Rose?"

Winston instinctively
stiffened. He'd known he would eventually have to explain, but he
had hoped for more time. Swallowing the food in his mouth, he took
a long drink of his coffee, then flattened his palms atop the table
and sat back in his chair.

"Have you read abou' the
Phantom?"

Roan arched a brow. "Aye.
The serial killer."

"She was one o' his
victims."

Laura's eyes went wide. "How
terrible!"

"I found her in a deep grave
in Melrose some months ago," Winston went on, bitterness lacing his
tone. "She was the first victim to be found alive, but she couldn't
tell us anything abou' tha' elusive bastard. You see, the
attack—the attempt on her life—was so brutal, it left her
catatonic. She was little more than a zombie." Scowling and staring
down at his plate, Winston went on, "We called her Rose after
Melrose, and kept her at the Browning Institute under intensive
medical care and guarded by four o’ our best men. I was able to
probe her identity, and contacted her family. Her actual name was
Kathleen Anne, but she will always be Rose to me.

"Meanwhile, I got back on
his trail. It led me here."

"What?" Laura gasped. "A
serial killer was here?"

"Aye, but he left before
Christmas Eve. Anither agent tracked him to Paris. Anyway, efter
wha' I'd witnessed Christmas Eve, I got this crazy idea to bring
Rose here. Tha' somehow the magic could restore her mind. Give her
back to her family. I put in the request. Red tape. The doctors
didn't want to release her. January second, I was called in on a
car chase. The Phantom had struck again, in St. Ives, and every law
enforcement agent in the area was hot on his trail.

"To make a long story short,
he attempted to drive off the quay. His car nose-dived into a boat.
Both exploded. End o’ the sadistic bastard. A week later, Rose died
in her sleep. They say her heart simply stopped. She was
twenty-five. How does such a young heart simply...stop? If she
could have just held on a while longer. Come here.
Maybe...."

He shrugged and dully eyed
the couple. "I guess I took her death too personal. I left the
agency. Left everything and walked away."

"I'm so sorry," Laura
murmured, staring down at her plate. When she again looked up, she
fixed her solemn, measuring gaze on Winston. "I detect a somewhat
American accent mixed in with your Scottish."

Winston nodded. "During my
mid-twenties, I spent four years in the States, attending different
paranormal institutes o' study."

"Were you born wi' yer
abilities?" asked Roan.

"Unfortunately, I
was."

Winston's disheartened tone
brought a frown to Roan's brow. "I see. Weel, we all have our
crosses to bear, don't we?"

Winston studied the new
laird for a time. "Aye," he said finally, his tone low, cryptic.
"Tell me, Roan, how are you faring these days?"

Roan shrugged. "You tell
me."

A crooked grin appeared on
Winston's face. "I don't make it a practice to deliberately invade
people's minds. Sometimes I have no control over it, but for the
most part—"

"I understand," Roan
interjected brusquely. "Ta answer yer question, I'm farin’ weel
enough."

Winston detected tension
building in the laird. Laura cast him a fleeting warning not to
pursue the subject, and Winston respectfully backed off. He forked
the remainder of his cold eggs into his mouth. He was about to
swallow when Roan's question took him aback.

"Wha' do you hope to find
here?"

Winston swallowed and
immediately replied, "Maself, I guess."

"You’re welcome to stay as
long as you like," said Roan. A lazy grin ticked at one corner of
his mouth. "But I'm afraid the answers you seek will be tough to
find. The magic went wi' Lannie. There are no miracles left wi’in
these walls, ma friend."

Winston stared at the couple
for a long moment. "No' true," he said huskily then sighed. "It's
definitely still here."