Hope Everlastin' Book 4

by Mickee Madden

  "Och!" cried a voice, startling them apart. Deliah rushed toward them with two blankets. Passing each of them one, she placed her hands on her hips, her round eyes sparkling with joy. "I canna say I be sorry to see ye in each ither's arms, but take heart, ma friends, no' to catch yer daith from the cold."

  Breathing heavily, Beth haphazardly rubbed one end of her blanket over her face and hair. "I n-need a hot b-bath."

  Smiling, Deliah dealt Lachlan a knowing look, one which prompted him to arch an eyebrow. "Weel, tis seems yer lucky night," she beamed. "Ye will find a hot tub awaitin’ ye in yer room."

  Eyes wide, Beth look at Lachlan then swung her gaze to Deliah. "Have the twins—"

  "They be sleepin’ as soundly as an oak."

  With a low laugh of glee, Beth planted a wet kiss on Deliah's cheek, took Lachlan by the hand, and hastily led him to the third floor. She stopped to verify that the babies were asleep. They didn't so-much-as stir while she stood at the side of the crib, staring at them with the same love and pride she always felt when near them.

  Her perfect children.

  Their world was so uncomplicated, and she silently promised them she would do her best to always keep it that way.

  She heaved a breath of contentment and turned to rejoin Lachlan in the hall, but found him standing to her left. He stared at the infants in abject wonder, and a shiver of delight passed through her. Their gazes met. His Adam's apple jerked as he gulped. He swallowed again as he leaned a little closer to have a better look at them. The gaslight fixture on the wall lent a soft glow to the room, enough to make the babies' features clearly visible. When he straightened back, blinking hard and worrying his lower lip, Beth knew he was fighting back a compulsion to touch them. Although she had counted the long days for that to happen, now wasn't the right time. They were cold and wet and—

  Again she took his hand and led him out of the nursery. She spared a look at the wet, muddy mess they'd tracked on the wood floor, and partially closed the door. Lachlan took the lead into the master bedroom, past the fully stoked fireplace and into the bathroom. Once she was inside, standing near the steaming tub of water, he closed the door and turned in time to see her deposit her blanket on the floor.

  His chest went tight and he shook with expectation. Steam rose and curled between them. The gaslight was turned down low enough to lend the bathroom a romantic, seductive atmosphere. His erection strained against the tightness of his breeches. He desperately wanted to strip out of his clothes, but her wide eyes were regarding him a bit shyly. She repeatedly lapped at the moisture on her lips, her tongue making slow sweeps along the ridges.

  His swollen penis spasmed as he imagined himself entering the warmth of her, burying himself into the blissful tightness of her. He gazed down her length, noting every enticing curve her clinging gown displayed, lingering on the dark patch visible between her legs. When he again met her eyes, he read uncertainty in them. Her hands went to her abdomen. She looked down at them and shifted from one foot to the other.

  "I-ah," she began unsteadily, her voice lower and huskier than usual, "have changed somewhat." She peered up at him and managed a weak smile. "Giving birth...."

  Lachlan's gaze briefly lowered to the placement of her hands. He dropped his blanket off to the side, then stepped up to her and tenderly framed her face with his hands. "You will always be ma sun, ma moon, ma sky, and ma earth, Beth. You are mair beautiful and desirable now than when we first met." He kissed her lightly, pressed his brow to hers, and sighed deeply. "Two babies or twelve, you will always be ma womon, and I'll never love nor lust for no ither."

  He sighed again, drew back his head, and looked deeply into her eyes. "I've been a fool, but a fool who loves you mair'n any mon has ever loved. I want you so, ma blood and ma brain is afire, but I dinna want to rush you into makin’g love if ye're no' ready."

  "I was born ready for you," she said breathlessly.

  "I wasna thinkin’ afore. You had the bairns mere weeks ago. Beth, yer body needs to heal."

  "It already has. Deliah made me a douche—"

  "A wha'?"

  "It's something you insert—"

  "Och!" He felt the skin of his face grow hot. "I dinna think I want to hear this."

  Beth gave an exasperated roll of her eyes. "Okay, no details. But I am healed. Inside and out. There's no need for you to worry."

  He blinked in surprise. "So why are we standin’ in our wet clothes?"

  A mischievous grin spread across her mouth and brightened her blue eyes. Lachlan stepped back, leaning against the sink while he struggled to pull off one of his boots. He kept his gaze on Beth as she shimmied out of her nightgown, pulling it over her head. A breath caught in his throat. She stood naked in front of him, her clasped hands now resting in front of her pubes, her gaze watching him closely for a reaction. He could only gulp and manage a one-sided grin, all the while jerking on the boot until it finally slipped off his foot. The second boot took less time—whether this was due to his heightened eagerness, he didn't know or care. He peeled out of his socks and tossed them at the window, where they landed and draped on the sill.

  Standing, he whipped off his shirt over his head, heaved his chest as he drew in a deep breath then flung the tattered material behind the far side of the toilet. His fingers went to the buttons on the front of his breeches. His hands trembled so fiercely, he held them out at his sides and shook them as if to relieve their stiffness.

  "Let me," said Beth. Stepping up to him, her gaze never wavering from the dark depths of his eyes, she calmly unfastened the five small buttons. She lightly nibbled on his lower lip while she eased his breeches and thick worsted undergarment down his hips and thighs.

  Lachlan gripped her wrists to stop her. His erection freed, it throbbed against her nakedness, throbbed for another kind of release. Worming her right hand free, she wrapped her fingers around his length, stroked, gently stroked then brushed the head across her smooth abdomen. Lachlan shuddered with the strain it took to maintain control. His muscles bunched, twitched, and he released a low groan when she again swept the sensitized underpart across her skin.

  "Beth!" he gasped.

  The room was steamy and growing hotter by the second.

  "I want you in my mouth," she said in a low, raspy tone.

  Lachlan's eyes widened in disbelief. They had both been virgins when he'd taken her to his bed last summer. He'd pleasured her in that special way to ease the first entry, as Millard Barluc had told him more than a century and a half ago. Barluc had also told him of how a woman could take a man into her mouth, but it had been Lachlan's understanding that only prostitutes performed that duty. And as often as Barluc had teasingly offered to pay for Lachlan to experience that pleasure, Lachlan could never bring himself to do anything that intimate with a woman he didn't first love.

  "Have I shocked you?"

  "Aye," he replied, quivering with anticipation.

  She studied the wariness in his eyes for a long moment. "Carlene used to fill me in on all her exploits. And whenever I reacted as you are now, she would call me a prude and tell me there wasn't anything wrong in giving a man pleasure."

  Lachlan stiltedly nodded. He stared at the enticing poutiness of her lips and wondered how it would feel to have them embrace him. The thought nearly made him spill his seed. He held back with all his willpower, trembling with the strain, his heart hammering wildly behind his chest.

  Beth caressed his nose with hers then sank to her knees, her hands trailing down his chest during her descent. He rolled his eyes heavenward but closed them when she helped him to step out of the remains of his clothing. A second more passed. Hoarse breaths pumped in and out of his lungs then became trapped in his throat when something warm and soft encompassed the end of his cock. He spasmed almost painfully when her tongue stroked him, the texture both maddening and intoxicating. Every flick of her tongue or slide of her mouth made him jerk in sheer pleasure.

  It wasn't quite as gratifying as
being inside her but it was a damn good bit of foreplay in his opinion.

  His testicles became rock-hard. He realized he couldn't hold on much longer, and he was put off at the idea of his seed spilling into her mouth.

  With a guttural, "Beth!" he gripped her arms and pulled her onto her feet. She looked at him, dazed, as if believing he wasn't pleased with her actions.

  "Ye're so grand!" he gasped, wound his arms around her and kissed her passionately.

  He was reaching a point of mindlessness, need outweighing his determination to hold on until they could attain gratification together. Ending the kiss, he hugged her, burying his face into one side of her wet, curly hair.

  "Fegs, lass," he groaned, "if we dinna slow down—"

  "Now," she said, her tone strained, tight.

  Lachlan looked into her eyes, unsure of her meaning.

  "Don't worry about me."

  "Lass?" he probed with uncertainty.

  She reached down and curled her fingers around him.

  "Fegs," he breathed.

  He positioned her against the sink, lifted her left leg and supported it with a hand. She strained on the tiptoes of her right foot to give him better leverage. The instant he slid inside her, fierce shudders swelled through him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him. Sounds of pleasure rattled in her throat as he made precise thrusts, still determined to pleasure her before he went over the edge.

  Beth began to take control, moving to sheath as much of him as possible. Lachlan was titillated by her boldness, further aroused by the fact she was no longer that shy young woman who'd had so little confidence in herself when she'd first arrived at the house. His thrusts grew gradually more forceful each time she groaned in a way that told him this was what she wanted. He kept himself focused on her needs, her pleasure and, somehow, managed to overcome his body's urgency to release itself.

  Beth broke the kiss. Panting hard, she tilted back her head, giving him access to the graceful lines of her throat. He ran his lips and the tip of his tongue along her jawline and down her neck. She quivered in his hold. Her fingers kneaded his nape, sometimes roughly, urging him on. On. On.

  "Oh God, Lachlan!" she gasped, and squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh God. You feel so...good."

  "Look at me."

  She did so immediately.

  They stared into each other's eyes as sensations built layer upon layer within their heated bodies. Her eyes widened amidst an expression of sheer wonder, while his were black with passion, his features taut, jaw clenched. A sound of startlement escaped her. Lachlan growled deep in his chest as his own orgasm coursed through him. They clung to each other, riding the storm of sensations, shuddering, quaking, gasping in the throes of their love-making's offerings.

  For long seconds afterward, they remained embraced. Sweat mingled with the residual mud clinging to their skin.

  Releasing a long breath, Lachlan planted a brief kiss on her lips and peered adoringly into her eyes. "You have spent me, lass. I've no' the strength to move, let alone climb into the tub."

  "No?" She grinned as she traced a finger along his lower lip. "If you're planning to sleep beside me tonight, then I suggest you get into that tub with me."

  He playfully arched his eyebrows. "You do, eh?"

  She nodded, her eyes bright with laughter.

  "Efter you," he said, stepping back and giving her a partial bow at the waist.

  Beth lowered herself into the water. It was still surprisingly hot, but not enough to be uncomfortable. Deliah had added bubble bath. The remains of the iridescent bubbles swirled around her as she settled frontward, making room for Lachlan to sit behind her, his bent legs to each side of her. When he rested his arms and the back of his head along the porcelain rim, she nestled into him, her head using his chest for a pillow.

  They were contentedly silent for a time then Lachlan said, "Tis a sin to feel this bloody good."

  Beth smiled and absently caressed the back of his thighs. "I'll wash your hair if you wash mine."

  "Right now?"

  It was almost a groan, and she chuckled. "The sooner done, the sooner we can go to bed."

  The muscles in his thighs tightened. "Bed. Oh, aye. No' to sleep, I hope."

  "I thought you were exhausted."

  "I'm resilient," he chuckled. He turned her face to him and bent his head to kiss her mouth. "Especially when it comes to lovin’ ma womon." He straightened back. "Beth, we need to marry soon. For our sakes and the babes."

  "Need to?" she asked stiffly.

  "Aye."

  She turned enough to look him in the eye. "We don't have to do anything. Lachlan, lovers don't always marry, these days."

  He scowled. "No? Weel, I'm an auld-farrant mon wi' an auld-farrant attitude."

  "A what attitude?"

  "Auld—" He frowned thoughtfully then carefully pronounced, "Old-fashioned."

  "Ah."

  "Had I ma druthers, we would have married afore I first made love to you."

  Beth locked her teeth then dipped her hair into the water. She briskly scrubbed her scalp with her fingertips and combed the strands with her fingers. Lachlan watched her in silence, the scowl again intact, his thoughts grim. She took an inordinately long time to rinse the muck out of her hair, but he knew she was doing this to make him think over what he'd said.

  She could take a week, but he wouldn't change his mind. The more he learned about this decade, the less he liked. What kind of society didn't encourage marriage? Or was this merely her opinion of nuptials?

  She finally sat up and flipped her hair behind her, spraying him in the process.

  "Beth, are you no' willin’ to marry me? Is tha' it?"

  Without looking at him she said, "I don't recall you asking me."

  He thought about this and his scowl darkened. "Beth, will you marry me?"

  "Yes," she said simply, scooping water into her hands and splashing it against her face.

  "Aye?" he asked hesitantly.

  She turned and shot him an amused look. "Aye."

  His face broke out in a broad grin. "You like to make me squirm, dinna you?"

  She grinned, nodding.

  With a laugh, he wound his arms about her and brought her against his chest. "You wee wanton tease."

  "Wee, am I? I'm certainly big enough to keep you in line!"

  "Aye," he said contentedly. "Ye're mair womon than the likes o' me deserve—but I'll no' decline yer offer to make an honest mon o' me."

  "My offer?" she chortled.

  He nodded, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes lit with mischief.

  "You're incorrigible."

  "Insatiable, too. Comes from you bein’ so devastatingly sexy, love. Makes a mon think o' naught but havin’ you twenty-four hours a day."

  "I would be bowlegged in no time."

  He laughed. "All the easier to slip atween yer soft thighs," he said in a mock wolfish tone. To his delight, her face turned crimson and she looked away. "Is ma soon-ta-be-bride blushin’? Efter me havin’ you at the sink just moments ago?"

  She cleared her throat. "I remember me having you at the sink."

  "Do you now?" He coiled his arms snugly around her. "Weel, the truth is, I dinna care who had who, as long as we have each other thegither."

  "Have each other thegither," she murmured and looked at him. "Does that make sense? Each other thegither, I mean."

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Does to me."

  "Hmmm. Oops. I hear little voices coming from the nursery."

  Lachlan cocked an ear. "Ye're right. But I dinna think little voices could be heard from there."

  She stood and stepped out of the tub. Lachlan watched her rinse her breasts at the sink, then pad out of the bathroom.

  With a grin, he sank beneath the bubbleless murky water.

  * * *

  In one part of the cellar, Wade Cuttstone—a.k.a. the Phantom—glared at the flame flickering on the two-inch stub of a candle on the table in front of him. He was
cold and hungry, both of which magnified his hatred of his dank solitude. His life had somehow become overly complicated. At every corner, his mission met with bizarre twists and turns. He couldn't count the times he'd nearly gotten his hands on Laura Bennett.

  Tonight, he'd been about to leave the closet in the nursery when all hell had broken loose. He'd gotten outside via several of the passages to the first floor, and had nearly been seen by reporters.

  What had brought them to Baird House?

  Why were they shouting accusations of "fraud"?

  It all had something to do with a ghost, but he hadn't encountered one. With his superior mental abilities, he would know if a ghost existed within this house. Within the town, for that matter, although he hadn't picked up on that winged woman.

  Now she was a surprise. He still hadn't fully grasped her purpose. Was she a queen begetter?

  Was she the one leading the human women astray, creating the future generations who would destroy the planet with their chemicals and overpopulation?

  His ice blue eyes narrowed as he gripped the handle of a jeweled dirk and jabbed the sharp point into his right palm. He didn't wince at the pain, nor pay attention to the rivulets of blood oozing from the wounds. His gaze remained locked on the squirming flame, as if staring at it hard enough would afford him the answers he sought.

  Perhaps the Guardian was testing him.

  Why else would he have been seen by that runny-nosed brat in the backyard then confronted by none other than the esteemed detective, Winston Connery, himself?

  The boy and the man should have died that night, but the winged wonder had intervened. He would have to repay her for that bit of folly. Her wings would make an interesting conversation piece on his wall in the parlor of his small flat. Of course, no one would ever see them. He had no family, and had never bothered to acquire friends. In his line of work, no one could be trusted.

  And then there was this third woman, called Beth. A begetter of twins. She'd tapped into him tonight. No warning. She was suddenly there, draining his energy, and it had taken all of his willpower to telesend his outrage to her in warning for her to cease her invasion.