She closed her eyes for a moment, opening them when murmurs began to circulate around her. She glanced absently at the faces then in the direction their attention was focused.
The fire. The destruction of flesh and bone, history and dreams.
Then, amidst the blaze, an image was seen slowly emerging.
"Lachlan!" Beth cried joyously, her diaphanous form moving toward him as he lumbered toward Roan and Laura. They, as well as everyone else, remained frozen in shock when Lachlan and Beth came to stand in front of the anxious couple. In Lachlan's arms was a wide-eyed Kevin, who, for the first time in his life was absolutely speechless.
"The saints be wi’ us," Ben muttered, hastily blessing himself as he stared wondrously into Lachlan's taut face.
Joy overcoming him, Roan released a sob and sank to his knees. He hugged Alby tightly with his good arm, then with a kiss to the boy's cheek, set him on his feet. Lachlan placed Kevin down, his gaze never wavering from Roan's ravaged features. Kevin endured hugs and kisses from his aunt before he turned to stare for a long moment into Roan's tear-filled eyes.
Although Roan suspected Kevin had started the fire, he reached out with his right arm and drew the boy against him. "Thank God," he repeated, over and over, until Kevin stepped back and pointed up to Lachlan.
The crowd inched closer. No longer was the manor the center of their attention. It was the man who'd walked through the flames, unscathed, carrying a boy in his arms who also appeared untouched by the wrath of the blazing inferno.
Beth proudly peered at Lachlan's profile. She could feel the pull of the grayness tugging on her, but she clung to this world, relishing the rise of emotions emanating from Lachlan.
Laura rose to her feet, her wide eyes drinking in the strange couple. Behind her breast, her heart thundered, drummed in her ears, her throat, the center of her brain.
A portly woman came through the crowd and beelined for the children, gathering them into her arms and holding them to her sagging bosom. "The bairns are cold. I'll take them to ma car to warm them up."
Laura was too rattled to object. She'd seen the master of Baird House walk through the flames with Kevin, but her mind refused to accept it as reality. In an absent gesture, she helped Roan to his feet, and stood close to his side as he and the laird stared intensely into each other's faces.
"Thank you," Roan said in a barely audible voice to Lachlan, and made a helpless gesture with his good arm. In the next second, Lachlan was embracing him.
Another hush fell over the crowd.
Lachlan held Roan out at arm's length and searched his face, a question in his dark eyes. The laird was beginning to lose his physical integrity, fluctuating between the two worlds.
"Dusk afore dawn, laddie," he said with a crooked smile. Stepping back, he drew Beth's fading form into his arms, and together they vanished into the night.
Mixed emotions pummeled Laura. Awe. Wonder. Utter joy. Disbelief that the boys' ghost had been real all along.
No...ghosts. Beth Staples, too.
And Laura had thought Roan insane.
Her world began to ebb away from her and she fainted.
For several seconds, Roan stared down at her as if disbelieving she had fainted. Then his own experience and his own pain, caught up with him. He collapsed alongside her, unaware of what a romantically poetic image the two of them presented to the crowd.
* * *
He had convinced himself that he would always feel as numb as he felt now. Numb inside. Numb outside. Four days had passed since the fire. It seemed like a lifetime. Two lifetimes.
The rocker gently swayed to and fro beneath him, in front of a warm, cozy fire in his Aunt Aggie's red-brick fireplace. The skin beneath the cast on his left arm itched. At least the break had been clean. Considering what could have been, he should feel damn lucky, but he didn't. He was grateful that Laura and the boys had survived, although to look at the bruises and cuts on her face and body, reminded him how close she'd come to death. But he wasn't at all grateful for his own life. Countless times he'd questioned his reasons for jumping out the window.
Cowardice.
He'd been afraid to die.
Worse, he'd been terrified to experience the agony of the flames as had his wife and son.
"Roan, ma dear, have some tea to warm yer insides."
His gaze swerved at the sound of Agnes' soft tone. He studied her wrinkled visage for a moment then shook his head and again stared into the flames.
"You've got to pull yerself from this depression." Her eyes filling with despair, she sighed and perched herself atop a faded oak stool to the left of the rocker. "She's leavin' this day."
His dull gaze swung to her face.
"Borgie and Ben are goin' to take them to Edinburgh."
A slow frown materialized on his brow.
"Borgie?"
"Aye. Ben's got tha' big German truck that'll take the rough roads. You might want to say yer goodbyes to them, Roan."
"The lads are afraid o' him."
"Borgie?" Agnes smiled. "No. They're still jaggey, is all."
Roan's frown darkened to a scowl. "I don't trust Borgie wi' Laura."
"Fegs, why no'?" Agnes gasped.
"He tried to rape Beth."
"Who said such a thing?"
"Beth," he replied dully. "It’s why Lannie attacked him and why his hair is white, Aunt Aggie."
"How can you sit in ma home and defend tha' devil?" she snorted, rising to her feet.
"He's no' so bad." Roan cut his gaze back to the fire. "In maist ways, he's just a mon."
"He's touched yer brain!"
"No, Aggie. He gave me the house." His pained gaze lifted to search the incredulity brightening her eyes. "His precious house and his worth."
"It’s all gone, now!"
"It’s no' his fault."
"No?" Her coy tone caused him a chill. "Perhaps, Roan, he made the offer then brought it down to spite you."
"He wouldn't do tha'."
"Ye're bewitched!"
Roan groaned deep in his chest. "No, dammit! Leave him be, Aggie. To be fair, he's lost mair’n all o' us put togither."
"He's a monster."
"He saved Kevin," said Laura coldly from the kitchen threshold.
Roan stared at her, inwardly wincing at the pathetic sight she presented. She was dressed in one of Agnes' old, wool dresses, which badly hung on her slender form. Her hair was disheveled. Dark purple and yellow bruises appeared on ever part of her exposed skin.
Agnes passed a contrary look at the woman as she stepped further into the room. "For tha', I, too, am grateful, lass. But you don’t know Lannie like I do!"
"I know enough," Laura said wearily, lowering her stiff body into a comfortable chair on the opposite side of the hearth. "How are you feeling, Roan?"
"I'm no'," he grumbled.
"Can I get you somethin' from the kitchen?" Agnes asked Laura.
"No, thank you."
"Then I'll leave the two o' you be. I'll check on the laddies."
Laura nodded absently, her gaze riveted on Roan's taut profile. When Agnes had left the room, she asked, "Did she tell you?"
"Abou’ you leavin' this efternoon?" His brooding gaze impaled her. "Aye. Ye're in no shape to travel."
"I have no choice. The phone lines are still down."
"There's always tomorrow."
Laura sadly shook her head. "Agnes gave me her address. I'll write as soon as I get settled in the States."
"Don't bother," he said, his monotone response sparking her temper. "It’s better we cut all ties."
"Is that what you really want?"
He nodded.
"Sometimes, Roan, you're a real sonofabitch."
His gaze swept to study her for a time. "It wouldn't have worked between us."
"I agree, but I don't see why we can't remain friends. Keep in touch."
A low bitter laugh vibrated in his chest. "Keep in touch?"
"Stop it."
Her sharp tone prompted him to arrogantly arch an eyebrow.
"I've been wrong about a lot of things, Roan, but so have you." She looked down at her hands which were clasped atop her lap. "I asked Aggie about your son. She told me I should ask you." She looked up, her gaze scanning his handsome features. "Tell me what happened. Please."
For a long moment he scowled at the flames. Then he sighed a woeful sound, and began his story.
"I realize now tha' I never loved Adaina. We enjoyed sex togither but little else. She thought me cold and insensitive. And...aye, I guess I am tha' sort.
"When Jamey was born, we got closer for a time. So I thought, till two years later when I learned she was havin' an affair wi' a mon I thought a friend. Gus Mackerby. Good...old...reliable...Gus."
He fell quiet for a time, unaware that the fingers of his right hand were roughly kneading the arm of his chair.
"Adaina expected me to take on Gus but truth was, I didn't care enough to cause a scene. We no sooner separated, Gus moved in. I didn't care much abou' tha', either. In some ways, I was relieved to be ou' o' the marriage.
"At first, there wasn't a problem wi' me seein' ma son whenever it suited me. He was all I cared abou', all I ever wanted.
"I'd heard rumors abou' Gus bein' too strict wi' ma boy. I told Adaina I'd take him away from her if she wasn't careful. She laughed, and said I would never take the lad, for it would require me to make a commitment to him and a committin' mon I would never be."
He sighed again and worked the stiff muscles in the back of his neck.
"Anither year slipped by. Ma visits to Jamey grew fewer, though, for the life o' me, I don't know why. I loved tha' boy. His laughter always brought sunshine into ma life.
"I was supposed to take Jamey for a three-day weekend. Adaina and Gus had made plans to take a short holiday to London. Damn me, I don't know wha' got into me, but I resented them plannin' to go off togither. I deliberately went on a drunk the night before, me and ma so-called buddies. I stayed at one o' their houses, knowin' Adaina would be frantic when I didn't show tha' morn.
"By late efternoon, ma conscience got the better o' me and I drove to the house."
Pain ravaged Roan's face. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block out the memories of the rest of that day.
"Go on," Laura said in a gentle, understanding tone.
"The place was on fire, great flames loomin' above the back o' the house. By Jamey's room. At first, I could do nothin' but stare. Then I saw Gus comin' toward me. He said Adaina had rushed back in to get Jamey. Sirens were closin' in. Those bloody, deafenin' sirens. But above them, I heard Adaina scream. It went on and on, growin' higher in pitch till I was sure it would shatter ma brain.
"I tried to run to the front door. Two men tackled me down. No' Gus. He stood watchin'. Watchin' ma wife, ma son, ma home, become swallowed up in those horrible flames. I fought to ma feet, and it was then I saw Adaina pressed against the parlor window. I could see wha' remained o' Jamey in her arms. Her hair...gone.
"I was prevented from goin' to her. Prevented from tryin' to smash through tha' bloody window to pull them ou'. And then I could see only flames lickin' up the window. A wall o' flames...."
A sob caught in his throat. He lowered his head but he could not stop the tears from escaping his closed eyelids.
Moving as quickly as her battered body allowed, Laura knelt to his side and rested her hands atop his right one, which fiercely gripped the arm of the rocker.
"There was nothing you could have done to save them, Roan," she wept, her heart breaking in two for him.
His chin quivered. He stiffened with the strain to hold at bay his emotions. "Jamey would have been wi' me and Adaina on her holiday if no' for me!"
"You don't know that for sure. Roan...things happen. We can't try to rationalize every disaster. We'd go insane. Things just...happen. It's...part of life."
"Ask me wha' started the fire," he demanded harshly.
"What, Roan?"
His pain-ridden eyes swung to look into hers. "One o' Gus' cigars smolderin' in the couch."
"That has nothing to do with you."
"No? If I'd picked up Jamey on time, no one would have been in tha' house!"
"Roan, please...let go of the past."
"It’s the past wha' holds on, Laura." He stared into the flames, his shoulders sagging beneath the burden of his remorse. "I damn near failed Alby."
"But you didn't! Look at me. Dammit, Roan, look at me!"
His tear-filled eyes swung to her face. Laura wanted to kiss away his pain at that moment, kiss away his tormenting memories. "Stop punishing yourself. You're a good man, Roan. A kind, gentle man. I know. And I thank God for delivering me into your care these past few days."
"Don't, Laura."
"I will write, and you'd better write back!"
"Don't leave. No' yet."
She gulped past the tightness forming in her throat. "I have to go."
A mask of hardness slid down over his face. "Aye, so you say."
Borgie Ingliss walked into the room, his white hair standing on end, an opened bottle of beer in his hand. "Can you be ready in a couple o' hours?" he asked Laura.
"Yes."
"Ben's gone to fill the truck. He'll be by abou' two."
"Thank you."
Laura looked at Roan. The distance she read in his eyes caused a chill to squirm along her spine. Standing, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I've got to emotionally prepare the boys to leave. I'll be back in a while."
"I won't be here," he rasped.
"Roan, don't be like this."
"Like wha'? Maself?" He raked a contemptuous look over her wan face. "I never cared for goodbyes. Take care o' yerself and the lads."
Laura wanted to shout at him but instead, briskly walked from the room.
Borgie watched her leave, then sat in the chair she'd occupied, and released a nasally chuckle.
"She's a fine-lookin' womon, she is," he chortled.
Roan leveled a deadly look on the man. "I know wha' you tried to do to Beth Staples."
"Me?" Borgie feigned a look of innocence. "I offered the womon a ride."
"Save yer breath, you— But I'm warnin' you, cousin, if you so-much-as look at Laura in a way I don't like, I'll do mair n' turn yer bloody hair white!"
A sneer formed on Borgie's thin lips. "I'd watch ma threats if I were you, cousin. Ye're in no shape to threaten a child, let alone me."
Although it pained him to do so, Roan rose from the chair. His chest rose and fell with his every deep breath. His eyes possessed the fires of hell. "You've been warned, you swine."
From the corner of his eye, Borgie watched his cousin leave. A wicked smile played across his mouth then he tipped the bottle and gulped down its contents.
A sound of satisfaction gurgled from his throat, and he swiped an arm across his mouth. He belched, glanced over his shoulder and smiled a smile of pure malice.
"Too bad abou' Kist House," he chuckled.
Chapter 9
Laura refused to dwell on Roan's calloused disposition. Her head ached. Every bone and muscle in her body painfully pro-tested her slightest movement. She tried to focus on the fact that she was getting closer to returning home. Whatever happened after she arrived in Chicago would prove a cinch compared to her Scotland ordeal.
He had every right to feel bitter. The house and all its magnificent belongings were gone. The fact that it had been a fire that had caused the destruction was undoubtedly a weighty factor to his withdrawal. He'd lost everything he'd loved to that single element.
Damn, why did he push me away?
She did understand what he was feeling, although she'd never personally lost anyone or anything of value to fire. But she ached for his losses along with him. She wept within for his suffering. If she sincerely believed remaining in Scotland for a time longer would help him get back on his feet, she would! But she was convinced that he didn't need further complications in his life righ
t now. He needed time and space to heal his emotional and physical wounds.
Laura had every intention of returning to Scotland in the near future. Next year, if her finances permitted.
Contrary to what she'd told him that last night in Baird House, they hadn't had sex but had made love. It had been no fling. She'd lost her heart to him, and he had admitted to being in love with her.
How or why she didn't know. They hardly knew one another. But then, they'd lived what seemed a lifetime in a matter of days.
She liked Agnes, and all the strangers who had offered their help, their kindness, and who had collected articles of clothing for her and the boys. She liked them all.
Except Borgie.
Roan needn't have warned her. The instant she had laid eyes on him something in his manner, the way his gaze had boldly looked her over, left her with a strong wariness of him. She didn't relish sharing a vehicle with him, but he was going along to keep Ben company on the return trip from Edinburgh.
Zippering the oversized worn piece of luggage that Agnes had given her, Laura leaned over to appease a wave of dizziness. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to lie down, close her eyes, and escape the pain, emotional aches, and exhaustion for a time. Although Agnes had made her and the boys a large breakfast, her stomach felt empty. Queasy and in knots.
She couldn't shake the ridiculous notion that she was afraid to leave Scotland. Afraid to leave Roan. Afraid to allow time to widen the gap between—
Unfinished business.
What business?
Our relationship?
Ha. That needed work, and neither of them was in an emotional position to seriously plan for a future together.
He was in love with her but didn't want to be. Now that made more sense. It also explained his gruffness, his shutting her out. It wasn't that he needed time to work through his ordeal, he wanted to end what he considered to be a threat to his chosen way of life.
He was admittedly a loner. Falling in love had not been in his plans for his future. It wasn't that he was struggling with his losses, but struggling with indecision. That last night in Baird House, he'd told Kevin that he was trying to convince her to stay. She hadn't taken him seriously and, now that she thought about it, rightly so. He'd adamantly stated more than once that he didn't want responsibility—especially not the responsibility of her and the boys.
Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 Page 16