Time Everlastin' Book 5 (17 page)

Laura framed his stubbled
face with her hands and kissed him back, her joy at his return
vibrating through her touch.

"We've missed
you!"

Roan's arms slid down her
back and pressed her flush against him. "And me, you. Damn me, you
feel good."

"You look
exhausted."

Roan passed Lachlan a peeved
look. "Frazzled. His nibs demanded he drive back from Ayr. Never
again!"

"Wha' was wrong wi' ma
drivin'?" Lachlan asked haughtily. "Ye're in one piece,
aye?"

"Ma liver's on a roadside
ou'side Ayr," Roan grumbled.

Laura released a gurgle of
laughter and gestured to the house. "Hungry?"

"For you," Roan said,
playfully nestling his face at the side of her neck.

"Fegs, mon," Lachlan
blustered, "control yer willie."

When Roan straightened and
leveled a cocked eyebrow at Lachlan, Laura asked, "Your
what?"

"Don't ask," Roan said, and
swept Laura up into his arms.

"Hey!" she
giggled.

"Mind yer feet, lass," he
chided, and headed for the house.

Lachlan followed in their
wake, his hard-soled boots crunching on gravel more loudly than
Roan's rubber-soled shoes. Five feet from reaching the doors, he
jogged ahead and opened the left side, then bowed gallantly and
gestured for them to enter the small greenhouse of various
houseplants and herbs. Laura winked at him as she and Roan passed,
but stopped short of the inner bird's eye maple double
doors.

"What happened to Blue?" she
asked.

"Blue?" asked Lachlan,
closing the outer doors.

"She was with me at the
gazebo." Laura frowned. "It's not like her to leave without saying
goodbye."

"I'm here," said a tinkling
voice, nearly inaudible.

The hair touching Lachlan's
right shoulder parted, and Blue's tiny head popped out between the
strands.

"Weel, Yer Majesty," said
Lachlan airily, "make yerself comfortable."

"I always do," she said, and
disappeared behind the curtain of dark auburn hair.

The foursome entered the
elongated hall. They passed an antique settee of polished cherry
wood, combined with a hat rack, umbrella stand, and a tall mirror
against the left wall, the library's sliding mahogany doors to
their right.

At the end of this wall was
a wide, easy ascent staircase with an Oriental runner carpet of an
identical pattern to that on the floor, held in place by a series
of metal rods at the back of each step.

Passing a tiled fireplace
ornated with artifacts made of animal bones, wood and copper from
days long by, they entered the parlor. At the far end of the room
was enormously tall windows set in a bay with mahogany window
seats. Three pink and gold sofas were carefully arranged on an
enormous red and blue Persian rug. Half of the wall across their
position was wainscoted to a height of five feet, then tinted rose
up to the twenty-foot-high vaulted ceiling. Built within the center
of the wall was an immense, intricately carved wall unit with
countless shelves and cubbyholes displaying souvenirs and mementos
of centuries gone. To each side of the unit, ancient swords, their
points meeting in a tight center, formed circular
patterns.

"Home," Lachlan crooned, and
stepped in front of the fireplace. He rubbed his hands briskly
before the dwindling flames and released a moan of
pleasure.

Roan sat on the sofa with
Laura atop his lap, their fingers entwined. Roan planted a
lingering kiss on her lips then sighed with contentment.

"Longest three weeks o' ma
life," he told her. He lifted her left hand, turned it over, and
kissed the soft palm. "Longer than the trip before."

"Did you find out anything
about Taryn?" Laura asked.

Roan's response was delayed
when Blue flew from Lachlan's shoulder, settled on the chair across
from him and Laura, and morphed into her human-size. She shifted on
the embroidered seat and peered worriedly at Lachlan.

"Why didn't he return with
you?" she asked, as if it galled her to ask.

Lachlan slipped his thumbs
into the waistband of his black, snug-fitting pants, walked to the
settee, and sat.

"And what about Taryn?"
Laura persisted, directing the question now to Lachlan.

"Is Beth and the babes
asleep?" he asked.

"Yes. Do you want me to wake
Beth?"

"No, Laura. Let her sleep."
Lachlan grinned wickedly. "I'll wake her later in ma own
way."

"Spare us," Roan
muttered.

"What about Taryn and
Reith?" Laura asked impatiently.

Lachlan's eyebrows drew down
in a ponderous frown. "She's as slippery as an eel."

"But it's been months you've
been searching!" Laura said. "How could she just
vanish?"

Roan massaged Laura's nape.
"Every time we think we're close, we lose the trail."

"Aye," said Lachlan
disparagingly. "From Edinburgh to Aberdeen to the Outer Hebrides,
she's led us on a merry chase. I was sure she was on the Isle o'
Lewis. So sure!"

"She rented a car there,
then she seemed to have vanished into thin air," Roan said. "We
checked every inn on the isle. No one claims to have seen
her."

"Could she have returned to
the States?" asked Blue.

"Winston's been monitoring
the passenger lists," Laura said. "Unless she purchased a ticket
under a pseudonym."

Lachlan shook his head. "Why
the bother? She doesna know we're lookin' for her."

"She may have realized we
discovered she stole the dirk," said Laura.

"Tha' wouldn’t bother her,"
Roan said.

"Maybe she's deliberately
leading you around," suggested Blue. She frowned, and shook her
head. "No. She may be lacking in character, but I don't believe
she's deliberately eluding you."

"I agree," said
Lachlan.

"Isle of Lewis," Laura
murmured. "Is that where the Callanish Standing Stones
are?"

"Aye," said Lachlan and Roan
in unison. Laura's head swung from Lachlan to Roan, and back to
Lachlan.

"Did you visit the
site?"

Lachlan shook his head. "I
started to while Roan and Reith questioned the inn owners, but I
couldna bring maself to get too close."

"Why?" asked
Laura.

"I dinna know." Lachlan
expelled a breath and braced his elbows on his thighs. "Got a verra
strange feelin' as I approached the hill it sits on."

"What if Taryn was there?"
Laura asked.

"I would sense her," Lachlan
stated.

"What about..." Blue
swallowed hard, then forced out, "Reith? Why didn't he return with
you?"

"When we got back ta our
hotel," said Roan, "he said he wanted to stay and do mair checkin'
on his own."

"This is the third time he
has stayed out there alone!" Blue swallowed to lessen the panic in
her tone and muttered, "Not that I don't appreciate his
absence."

Lachlan's eyebrows lifted.
"For a moment there, I thought I detected a wee concern, pretty
Blue."

"No!" she said curtly then
withered into a slump. "Deliah will be worried."

"Oh, aye," Lachlan grinned.
"Almaist as much as you, aye?"

"What does he think he can
uncover that you and Roan couldn't?" Blue asked
bitterly.

"He's a grown mon, lass," he
said kindly.

"He definitely had somethin'
on his mind," said Roan.

"I dinna feel good abou'
leavin' him behind again,” said Lachlan, “but he insisted we return
here."

"Why?" asked
Laura.

Roan shrugged. "Two weeks
here, three there." Urging Laura off his lap, he exploded, "Damn
me!" and walked to the fireplace, where he trenched his fingers
through his curly, shoulder-length hair. "We've given up months
searchin' for her!" He turned and looked at the others with
burgeoning frustration. "For all we know, she could be hidin'
somewhere, laughin' at us for wastin' so much bloody time on this
game!"

"Tis no game," Lachlan
murmured. "I'm sure o' it."

This time, Roan raked one
hand through his hair. "It buggers me no end to care a wit abou'
her! No." He sighed tiredly, looked at Laura, and forced a smile.
"I do care, and I'm worried."

"What does he think he can
find?" Blue murmured, staring off into space.

"Lass, admit ye're worried
abou' him," Lachlan said softly.

Blue shivered and hugged
herself for warmth.

"Wha' is really troublin'
you?" asked Lachlan.

Blue's eyes crept to meet
Lachlan's penetrating gaze. "Do you think he'll go to the
site?"

"Site?"

"The Callanish Standing
Stones."

"Why does tha' prospect
concern you?"

She shook her head slowly.
"I'm not sure. We fairies are forbidden to trespass on those
lands."

"Why?"

Blue's eyes widened.
"They're sacred."

"And...?" Laura
urged.

"Fairies who have violated
those boundaries, have never returned," she said in a small
voice.

Lachlan stood and passed
Roan a worried glance. "Weel, Blue, Reith will return."

Closing her eyes, the Faerie
queen lowered her head.

Laura watched her, dread
twisting her insides. If it turned out that Taryn was playing
games, she vowed to throttle her. If anything happened to Reith,
the world wouldn't be large enough to hide Taryn from
Laura.

"Laura?" Roan
said.

She crossed to him and
slipped her arms about his middle. "Let's go to bed."

"Music to ma eyes," he said,
and laughed with the others when his words registered.

"Good night all," Laura
said, leading Roan from the room.

Once collective good nights
were exchanged, Lachlan gently lifted Blue into his arms. "Care to
stay in the house, tonight?"

"No. Thank you."

"To your oak we go," he said
merrily, but Blue detected the undertone of worry he attempted to
mask.

When they stepped into the
night, she asked, "You will let me know if he calls?"

"Aye."

"He will call, won't
he?"

"Aye."

"What if he doesn't call
and—"

Lachlan stopped short at the
tree and smiled into her upturned face. "When he does, shall I tell
him you—"

"Certainly not!" she
sputtered, blinked into her four-inch-form, and hovered in front of
his face. "Good night."

A grin splitting his face,
Lachlan strolled back to the house.

* * *

Dreams invade Blue's
sleep.

Sighing with deep
satisfaction, she lifts her left hand to her lips and kisses the
third finger. Her Ring Of Passage emerges from the band of skin on
the digit, a trick she taught herself after decades of trying to
conceal the treasure from humans. Silver-blue energy crackles up
her arm. Within seconds it cocoons her, pulsing and thrumming with
the magic of time. She shrinks to her normal four-inch height. The
aura turns to swirling blues and purples. A gasp of pure delight
escapes her when buds form between her shoulder blades and unfurl
into glittering, translucent silver and blue wings.

The energy vanishes. Lifting
herself just enough to straighten her legs, she bends at the waist
to retrieve the body suit. It's necessary for her to sit once again
to slip the leggings on then she hovers and pulls on the rest of
the garment. She dons the tunic, ties the connected belt, and
rockets into the air.

For a time, she whizzes
about the room, the sweet tintinnabulation of her laughter filling
the room with the sound of fairy bells.

Ting-a-ling.
Ting-a-ling.

Tis be the truer
way

A Faerie fairy
sings.

The sensation of her wings
working the air temporarily banishes from her mind the fact that
her legs dangle like dead weights beneath her. She zooms and
careens, flying in graceful circles and spirals, exercising the
ancient rites of freedom all fairies praise above all else, her
thick black hair trailing behind her head like a silken comet's
tail.

"I remember," she murmurs in
her sleep.

Coasting to the window, she
unlatches the right side and pushes it open. The first gust of air
catches her unawares. She is whisked backward, then straightens
and, head lowering into the frolicsome breeze, soars into the
night. She circles the four-hundred-and-fifty year old building,
gleefully zinging around, over and under the cascade of snowflakes,
semi-circled again, and spirals downward and hovers above a
snow-blanketed fountain.

Turning her back to a
segment standing tall in the center of a large basin, she flutters
her wings. The featherlike snow flutters into the air and away,
gradually exposing one of the three gargoyle heads that are the
fountain's water spouts. She hooks one arm behind her knees and
lowers herself onto the bestial nose of the granite
creature.