A raspy breath escaped him. His head turned. Diffused moonlight bathed his face, accentuating the warm cast of his eyes.
"Are you all right?"
She weakly nodded. "I-I'll pay for the damage."
Placing a hand on her arm, Roan stood, drawing her up as well. "Don't worry abou' the rug. Lannie'll take care o' it." He halfheartedly gazed around him, his nostrils flaring. "You can't sleep in here, tonight, though."
"Roan—"
"Damn me," he grumbled, sparing her a scowling look.
Laura was confused until he abruptly walked to the bed and a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Now here was a sight she wouldn't soon forget. Moonlight kissed his naked skin, illuminating his firm backside in stark relief. Heat rose into her cheeks. Her pulse quickened. He wrapped the top quilt around his middle, but it didn't help to lessen her appreciation of his physique. Facing her, he scowled again. Momentarily forgotten was the intruder that had frightened her, and the fire. "Perhaps you should start wearing pajamas," she suggested, mirth lacing her tone.
Her humor fled when he brusquely closed the distance. His eyebrows drawn down in stormy impatience, he regarded her for several seconds. "If ye're cold, lass, ask me to light you a fire."
Pride slammed against the interior of Laura's heart. "What?"
"Leave the matches be."
A breath painfully squeezed past the tightening in her throat. "It was an accident!"
"Aye. Damn near a fatal one."
"Ro-oan!" She threw her hands up in mounting exasperation. "Don't you think you're overreacting?"
Alarm stabbed at her when one of his hands clamped on the back of her neck and jerked her against the indomitable wall of his body. The breadth of his chest and shoulders completely occupied her vision, until she looked into the turbulent depths of his eyes.
"Have you ever smelled burnt flesh?" His fierce gaze lowered to her lips. His fingers flexed against her nape. "Fire destroys everythin' it touches." He stared into her eyes, his own radiating heart-wrenching despair. "Don't mock ma respect o' it. I know its power."
Tears swelled within her throat. "Your son?"
Swiftly moving away and turning his back to her, he combed the fingers of one hand through his thick hair. "This stunt has taken ten years off ma life."
Willing back her tears, Laura squared her shoulders. "It wasn't a damn stunt, Roan." Pointing, she went on, "I was about to light the kindling when I saw someone run past that window."
Roan walked to her. "Are you sure?"
"Yes!" Lowering her arm, she stared at the window for a long moment. "I know I closed the drapes before I went to bed. And I'm...pretty sure...I saw someone."
Looking over his shoulder, he said, "It was probably a peacock."
A bitter laugh escaped her. "It didn't look like a bird to me!"
Sighing, Roan searched her features through a frown. "You probably thought you'd closed the drapes."
"Dammit—"
She sucked in a breath when his hand gently lit upon the side of her face.
"You've been under a lot o' stress, Laura. The peacocks prowl the rooftops, tryin' to stay warm. They've given me a start, mair'n once."
"I guess," she murmured, forlornly glancing at the window.
"Laura."
His breathy, husky tone sent a chill through her. Meeting his gaze, her heart skipped a beat at the simmering passion his eyes betrayed. His head lowered. Weakening with anticipation of his kiss, she leaned into him.
"Fegs, mon, tis no' the time for tha'!"
Roan looked up to deliver the laird a dirty look. Laura shyly stepped back and averted her gaze from the approaching figure.
"Put these on," Lachlan said, his tone laced with mirth. He shoved a bundle into Roan's arms. "The lads are wi' Beth in the parlor," he said to Laura. "They're no worse for their fright."
"Thank you. When I return to the States, I'll reimburse you for the carpet, and anything else that's been damaged."
Roan, who'd been staring at the clothing in his hands during the brief exchange, wanly looked at Lachlan. "Yer trousers cut off ma circulation."
"Tis better than yer birthday suit," Lachlan grinned. Humorously arching an eyebrow, he glanced at the charred remains of the chair and Roan's belongings. "You have the worst luck wi' yer clothes."
"Only the past few days," Roan grumbled, narrowing a look at Laura.
With a low laugh, Lachlan headed for the door. "Come down to the parlor when ye're through here." He paused at the threshold and regarded the couple. "Laura, I regret yer stay has been so stressful. Take heart, lass. And Roan...." A wry grin appeared on his mouth. "Be nice."
When Lachlan went into the hall, Roan buried his face in the attire and released an expletive.
"I'm sorry."
Laura's wavering tone prompted him to contritely look at her. "No, I'm sorry for losin' ma temper." Leaning to, he kissed her lightly on the lips then drew her into his arms and slowly explored her mouth with his own. He lifted his head after a time and searched her face. "I don't know wha' I'd do if anythin' happened to you or the lads."
"You're not responsible for us."
The cool undertone of her words made him frown. "I am responsible, for as long as ye're under this roof."
Withdrawing from his arms, Laura headed out of the room. "I'll be downstairs."
After she'd left, Roan stood for a long time staring off into space. He was beginning to believe he would never understand women, never fathom their hot and cold mood swings. There was only so much a man could tolerate, could ignore.
Perhaps she was still hurt that he'd told her to leave after their lovemaking. And perhaps she'd only allowed him to kiss her because she'd been a wee shocky from fright.
A muffled sound gave him a start. Slivers of ice seeming to form in his blood, he furtively glanced about him. He waited for an indefinite time, his hearing keened, every muscle in his body taut. Although he was sure the sound had to have a reasonable explanation behind it, the hair on his arms seemed to twitch against his chilled skin. His heart raced, adrenaline feeding his probing inner sense.
Finally, he decided the fire had left him edgier than he'd thought. Donning the black, snug trousers, then the long-sleeved, saffron-colored shirt, he cast his burned clothing a look of longing before leaving the room.
He felt ridiculous in Lachlan's trousers. Jogging down the staircase, he resisted a strong compulsion to tug on the front. His undershorts would have made a world of difference, but he was out of luck in that department, too. Only something short of a miracle would see him through the next few hours without the seams of the trousers splitting, or the tiny ceramic buttons down the front of the tautly-stretched shirt, popping off.
Some of his belongings were at Aggie's. It was a long walk, but if the weather cooperated, it would be worth the hike to get back into his own clothing. He would also be able to assure his aunt that everything was fine at Baird House. Considering her hatred of its owner, she had to be frantic with worry.
He paused at the first landing and bewilderingly ran a hand through his hair.
What was his aunt going to say when he told her that Lachlan Baird had offered him the house, and all that went with it?
Feeling a bit numbed, he entered the parlor. The room was bathed in soft orange firelight. Beth, Lachlan, and the boys were nowhere in sight, but Laura, enfolded in a wool blue and purple plaid blanket, sat to the left side of the hearth. Nested in her hands was a steaming cup of dark liquid. The sight of her forlornly staring into the flames pulled on his heartstrings.
He padded across the cold wood floor, stopping within arm's reach of her. Still, she remained unaware of his presence. Mindful of the snugness of his trousers, he gingerly crouched to her right, and cleared his throat.
Wide green eyes turned to him.
"Did I startle you?"
She shook her head, but he knew that he had.
"Where are the laddies?"
"Beth and Lachlan to
ok them into the kitchen."
"Are they all right?"
Staring down into the cup, she nodded.
"Wha' abou' Laura?" he asked kindly, lowering his buttocks to the floor. "How is she holdin' up?"
A tremulous smile appeared on her mouth. "Up...oop. I love your accent."
Roan grinned. "You have the accent, here, lass."
"That's true." She sighed and lightly frowned into the fire. "I'm definitely the outsider."
"Is tha' self-pity I'm hearin'?"
Laura's heart-shaped face turned to him, her expression guarded. "No. A reality check." She took a sip of her tea then offered the cup to Roan. Taking it, he held it to his lips, his gaze studying her facial bruises over the brim.
"I was just thinking," she sighed, lifting her knees and wrapping her arms about her shins, "how deceptive time can be. I've been here for four days, but it feels like months have gone by."
Roan took a generous swig of the tea and passed the cup back to her. "A lot has happened."
"I haven't been very appreciative of your help, have I?"
A laugh caressed his throat. "I know it can't be easy for you, Laura. You inherit a family. Wreck yer car. Find yerself at the mercy o' strangers. No' to mention how defensive I've been wi' you. All considered, I think you've proven yer stuff."
"My stuff?"
The smile in her beguiling eyes caused a burst of heat to ignite in Roan's chest. Bruises and all, he'd never encountered a lovelier woman. "Aye, yer stuff. You've a fine temper, and a constitution to equal it. Ye're definitely no' fluff, Laura Bennett. I think you could tackle abou' anythin' tha' came yer way."
Averting her gaze to the fire, she softly asked, "Does that include you?"
"I don't understand."
She frowned for a time before she could bring herself to look him in the eye. "Roan, please don't take this the wrong way, but I need you to...to stay away from me."
His shocked expression prompted her to rush on, "I have a life in the States, and my nephews to worry about."
"Laura—"
"Let me finish," she choked, placing the cup behind her. "I used to mock romance books. Brooding heroes; heroines in jeopardy; the sinister Victorian manor...." A pathetic laugh caught in her throat. "Well, I won't mock them again, will I?"
"I'm a wee confused abou' the 'broodin' hero' part."
For a long moment, she searched the devastating features in front of her. She could no longer deny that she was already in love with him, but she vowed he would never find out. It was impossible for her, now, to abandon all else for the sake of a man. For the sake of love. Prior to Scotland, she'd been too selfish with her time, her independence, to take any relationship seriously. She'd never been in love, though. It was a miserable condition.
One, she hoped, the symptoms of which would vanish, given distance and time.
"Laura?"
"I'm sorry. What?"
"I'm just a mon."
"Right. I know."
"I don't think so." Sliding closer, he captured her chin between a thumb and forefinger. "Wha' are you afraid o'?"
She swallowed hard.
"Love?"
"Of course not."
"Tha' quiver in yer tone says itherwise."
"I'm tired."
Roan slowly shook his head, his piercing eyes never breaking contact with her own. "We made love."
Heat surged into her cheeks. If not for his firm hold on her chin, she would have averted her face from his scrutiny. "On a whim. It certainly didn't commit us to—"
"Stop lyin' to yerself," he interjected gruffly. Releasing her, he raised his right knee and rested his right forearm atop it. "And stop pretendin' there's nothin’ between us."
Resisting an urge to lean away from him, Laura stiffened her spine. "I don't lie, and I don't pretend. I'm merely trying to explain to you that I don't need any more complications in my life."
Quirking up an eyebrow, Roan grinned almost sardonically. "So I'm a broodin' complication, am I?"
"Sometimes," she began through clenched teeth, "you're a royal pain in the ass!"
"It won't work, lass."
"What won't work?"
"Wieldin' tha' verbal shield."
Panic lancing her heart, Laura determinedly forged on. "Look, I understand where you're coming from. Okay? I'm not stupid."
Roan jiggled his head in confusion.
"The days and nights are pretty cold in this house. It's nice to...to have a warm body to snuggle up to. And of c-course, sex is a nice way to pass the time." His eyes grew stormier, stoking her unease. "I owe you a lot, and I pay my debts."
"Laura," he growled.
"However, I'm not comfortable having sex with you, knowing that I'm going to be leaving, soon. So if you would give me chores—"
Like lightning, Roan's left arm shot out and circled her back, his fingers hooking onto her left upper arm. He pulled her down and against his chest, his mouth capturing hers in a punishing kiss. After a moment's shock, Laura made a bid to push away from him. His right leg swung over her, boxing her hips between his groin and heel. His free arm wrapped around her, pinning her within an unyielding embrace.
His anger forsaking tenderness, he plundered her mouth, forcing her lips to part beneath the pressure. She moaned in protest. Her fingernails stabbed him through his shirt, his chest and midriff. The tip of his tongue came up against a wall of enamel. Switching tactics, he targeted the soft skin below her left earlobe. His teeth nipped; his lips caressed. A fierce groan of sexual awakening emanated from deep inside her.
"Don't fight me," he said, briefly looking into her tear-glazed eyes before lowering his mouth over her lips again.
She shuddered within his hold, then laxed her rigidity. He kissed her deeply, his tongue stroking hers, coaxing her into a state of sensual oblivion. His hold loosened, cradling rather than imprisoning her.
"Hey!"
The youthful shout quickly separated the couple. Roan slid back. Laura twisted around.
"Whatcha doing?" Kahl asked jubilantly, skipping toward them.
Laura and Roan exchanged a guilt-ridden glance before she forced a smile. "Feeling better?"
Plopping to the floor alongside his aunt, Kahl swiped a hand beneath his nose. "Beth makes the best hot chocolate. And the ghost made us a sandwich."
"The—"
Roan interjected, "Where's yer brithers?"
Kahl wrinkled his nose at him. "Bro...thers."
"Aye, lad. Where are they?"
"In there," the boy replied, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dining room. His blue eyes shrewdly narrowed on Roan. "You gonna marry my aunt?"
"Kahl!" Laura gasped.
Roan chuckled. "Why do you want to know?"
Kahl shrugged. "I like it here."
"You do, huh?" Roan's soft gaze swung to Laura. "Perhaps you could help me convince yer aunt to stay. It’s a big house." He again looked at the boy. "I wouldn't mind some help fillin' these rooms."
"You just wanna go to bed with her," Kahl grinned, looking from one adult to the other.
A dark blush stole across Roan's face. "Weel, lad, that's a wee personal now, don't you think?"
"I ain't dumb, ya know."
"Kahl, please...change the subject. Mr. Ingliss is just funning with you."
"Are ya, mister?"
The boy's penetrating eyes took Roan aback for a moment. "I've been tryin' to convince yer aunt, I'm dead serious."
"Roan, please."
"Now, Laura," Roan chided, a sparkle in his eyes. "The lad caught us lip-locked. No sense pretendin' he didn't see wha' he saw."
"Roan," Laura rasped, sending him a visual plea to defuse the subject.
A booming laugh entered the room, dousing the rising tension. Getting to his feet, Roan helped Laura up. Kahl jumped to his feet and beelined for Lachlan. Clutching the thigh of the trousered leg, he swiped his nose across the material. Another laugh came from Lachlan, who, holding Alby on his hip, reached down and r
uffled Kahl's shaggy, red-gold head. Beth, holding Kevin's hand, came around Lachlan's tall frame.
"I'm afraid the hot chocolate has wound them up," she smiled at Laura.
Laura offered a sickly smile. Drawing the blanket snugger about her, she tried to rise above the pounding of her heart and the weakness in her legs. She felt as though everyone in the room was staring at her, seeing into her soul and dissecting the very essence of her personality. Her lips tingled. Psychological waves of heat moved across every inch of her skin.
Chemistry between people was one thing, her attraction to Roan, another. She couldn't shake the notion to lean into him, completely melt into every atom of his being.
Stop this, she scolded herself, the smile frozen on her.
Lachlan lowered Alby to the floor. Laura watched the laird through a thickening haze of mental retreat. She was vaguely aware of voices; dimly aware of movement.
What was wrong with her?
Her stomach churned.
Love?
She mentally groaned.
She wasn't falling in love with Roan Ingliss, the man, bod extraordinaire, master of this towering house. She was in love with him!
She closed her eyes against the threat of her stomach's contents rising into her throat.
Not again.
Her vision slowly focused in on the circular display of swords on the wall to her right. The orange firelight gleamed on the highly-polished metal of the blades. She drifted deeper into the comfort zone of her temporary escape, wondering if any of the swords had ever been used in battle. It was possible. Although she hadn't shown outward interest in the antiques sheltered within this house, she had been aware of them—in awe of their newness.
As she drifted deeper within herself, an image of her apartment formed in front of her mind's eye.
What did her sterile, meticulous 'home' tell others about her? Did anything she'd ever collected, ever crafted, offer true insight into her love of nature? Her love of history?
A translucent, wavering haze manifested in front of her. Somnolently, she watched as the parlor came back into focus, luminescent green framing the scene. The room was cozily warm. The gaslight fixtures on the walls were all lit. A fire roared in the hearth behind her.
The door to the hall closed.
Lightheadedness caused Laura to sway on her feet as she stared unblinkingly at a couple across from her. A woman of undeniable beauty sat primly on the settee, her vibrant blue eyes staring at a well-built man to her left. Mud stained the hemline of her long, full-skirted, black and green plaid muslin gown. A short cape of the same material covered her shoulders, and was clasped at the base of her throat with a rose-jeweled brooch. The woman's costume perfectly suited the room, Laura thought, right down to the banana curls fashioned at the sides of the woman's head.
Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 Page 12