Hope Everlastin' Book 4

by Mickee Madden

  Of course, that was ridiculous. It wouldn't be fair to Laura to burden her with another responsibility, and Kevin, Kahl, and Alby needed their full attention.

  With a sigh, he sought the pouty contours of her mouth and kissed her deeply. He rolled onto his back, at the same time cocooning her within the muscular strength of his arms and legs. His tongue caressed hers then traced the inside of her lips. A low moan of satisfaction rattled in her throat. His hands slid to the waistline of her cotton panties. Hooking his thumbs in the narrow elastic band, he had started to slip the material down her hips when her fingers gripped his wrists.

  "Not so fast," she said with a lazy grin.

  She squirmed just enough to prompt him to untangle his legs from hers. Then she sat up and stretched out her arms, relishing the glaze of passion in his eyes and the flush on his face. It was seldom she got the opportunity to explore the boundaries of her sexuality with him. There were always interruptions—mostly the boys—or one of them was so tired by the time they were ready for bed, sleep won out.

  But now the children were outside with Beth and Lachlan. They were both rested and glorious sunshine poured through the windows. She wanted this time with him to be special, something that would keep a grin on his face for days to come.

  With this in mind, she sensuously combed her fingers through her hair, knowing the uplift of her arms showed her breasts to their best advantage. Roan's hands cupped them with diligent tenderness. The texture of his palms against her nipples sent a delicious thrill through her, and another low moan escaped her.

  His erection flexed beneath her groin. Smiling contentedly, she trenched her fingers up his chest and rolled his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. His eyes closed. A deep breath swelled the powerful contours of his chest.

  A more fiery passion ignited low in her abdomen. Enough teasing, she told herself. She wanted him inside her. Wanted to climb the spirals of ecstasy in his arms.

  She was about to swing her right leg over him when a movement in the outer corner of her right eye gave her a start. Believing one of the boys had come into the room, she jerked her head around.

  A scream ejected from her throat, and she scrambled off Roan, then off the bed, on the far side of the cause of her alarm. Roan bolted into a sitting position.

  Dazed, his wide eyes spastically searching the room, he rasped, "Wha'? Wha's wrong?"

  He was expecting to find one of the boys about, but saw nothing to justify Laura's reaction. With a grunt, he dealt her a harried look then frowned with concern. She stood trembling, her arms folded across her breasts, her face shockingly pale and the green of her eyes overly bright with what appeared to be fear.

  Climbing out of the bed, he went to her and gripped her upper arms. Again he was perplexed by her behavior, for she leaned to one side to see around him, but a glance over his shoulder told him there was no one but them in the room.

  "Laura, wha's wrong?"

  "Didn't you see him?" she shrilled, staring into his face as though he'd lost his mind.

  "See who?" He scowled. "Did one o' the lads—"

  "That man!" she cried, pointing to the other side of the bed. "He was standing there, watching us!"

  Now Roan stared at her as though all her marbles weren't quite in a row. "There was a mon in this room? Watchin’ us?"

  "Yes, dammit! He was right there—" She blinked in bewilderment. "He-ah...."

  "Wha'?" Roan released a dry chuckle. "Are you playin’ wi' ma mind, lass? Normally, I wouldn’t care you havin’ a wee fun wi' me. But if ma memory serves me correctly, were we no' abou' to embark on some hot and heavy sex?"

  "I could see through him," she murmured and swallowed hard enough for him to hear. "But I saw him, Roan. He had this stupid look on his face. You know...like he was shocked we were...you know."

  "He was shocked because we were gettin’ down to lovin?"

  "I swear I saw him. When I screamed, he...well, he sort of broke apart."

  An abrupt laugh escaped Roan. "Damn me, Laura. Wha' did you put in yer tea this morn?"

  Wounded by his skepticism, she stiffly backed up a step, her bleak gaze studying his face. "I know what I saw. He was wearing a long black raincoat and glasses."

  Roan frowned with deepening impatience. With a sigh of resignation, he walked to the other side of the bed and repeatedly swiped a hand through the air as he covered the floor space along the length of the bed. Laura watched him, shaking her head in disbelief. She couldn't decide if he was earnestly trying to determine if something had been there, or was adding further insult to her claim.

  "If you're looking for a cold spot," she clipped, "there won't be one."

  Roan stopped and placed his hands on his hips, and passed her an exasperated look. "There has to be an explanation."

  "Besides me being an hysterical female?" she asked bitterly.

  "Laura."

  "Don't 'Laura' me! Maybe when Deliah brought Lachlan and Beth back through, another spirit came along for the ride. Who knows! Maybe hundreds of them came through, and we're just not aware of them yet!"

  Roan's face blanched. "Don’t say tha'."

  "It could be true." Shuddering, she hugged herself and looked forlornly about the room. "Let's face it, Roan, when it comes to Baird House, anything is possible."

  Roan sat on the edge of the mattress. The prospect of his home being invaded by unwelcome ghosts made his stomach queasy. "Winston or Deliah should be able to determine if we're under invasion," he said, vainly trying to inflict a hint of humor in his tone. "Maybe even Lannie."

  Laura dashed to the closet and removed a pair of jeans and a pale pink sweater.

  "Wha’ are you doin’?" he asked, watching her approach the foot of the bed with the garments in hand.

  "Getting dressed."

  "Wha' happened to—"

  Her eyes flared up with anger. "I'm not in the mood."

  With a mischievous grin, Roan stood and opened his arms to her. "Give me a minute or two and I'll change yer—"

  "No way," she said, pulling up her jeans and fastening them. She hastened to the dresser and removed a bra from the top drawer, saying over her shoulder, "I'm not into being watched while I make love."

  "Laura...." His groan trailed off as he watched her quickly don the bra. She returned for the sweater, which she slipped on as though her life depended on her speed. As she tugged the bottom down to her hips, she met his gaze through a worried frown. Silence passed between them for several long seconds before she brusquely headed for the door.

  "I'll be outside."

  She left the door open and disappeared into the hall. Again Roan sat on the bed, shaking his head with incredulity. He didn't doubt Laura had seen something. Except for the mouse incident when she'd jumped on the dining room chair and shrieked, she wasn't inclined to hysterics. In fact, he told himself, she was one of the strongest women he'd ever known.

  "Whoever the hell you are," he muttered, "I don’t think much o' yer timin’."

  * * *

  A dreamy smile seemed a permanent fixture on Beth's mouth that morning. From where she sat on a bench in the south garden gazebo, an elbow braced on the latticework railing and her chin atop the crook of the arm, she couldn't imagine ever being happier. Lachlan, a bundled infant in each arm, was introducing them to the peafowl scattered about the yard. The boys were performing acrobatics beneath the bright sunlight. Although the ground was sodden from the melted snow and the rains of the past few days, and the boys were more wet than dry, their singsong laughter filled the air and a large portion of her heart.

  Despite all the unprecedented events that had befallen her since first arriving at the estate, there was something about this place she loved. It was more than just the aesthetic splendor and the overall ambiance. Had she been born within the walls of Baird House, she couldn't have been more connected to the land.

  Lachlan returned to the gazebo, cooing softly to the babies as he approached Beth. She straightened away fr
om the railing, telling herself it was a little scary to love someone as much as she loved him. Every new day that she looked at him, it was as if her heart and soul went through a rebirth. He was the most exasperating person at times. Also the most loving. The kindest. Certainly the most unusual.

  That he loved her and their children, she didn't doubt.

  That he cherished his home and land was also not in question.

  However, that he could walk away from Baird House in order to secure a more normal existence for his family troubled her.

  During the night, they'd talked some about the possibility of moving to her home in Kennewick, Washington. In one respect, the idea excited her. In many others, she could see pitfalls he couldn't. He'd told her they could visit Baird House whenever they wanted. That was true, but living on the estate and visiting were not the same. He told her he would not regret any decision they came to, even a move to what he considered to be a foreign country. He believed he could cope, but she wasn't so sure.

  Perhaps she would have gone along with his conviction before he'd told her about his life prior to his death. Before that, she'd thought of him always as a wealthy man who had not known what it was to struggle from one day to another. How wrong she'd been. It was one thing for someone used to luxury to adapt to a lifestyle of budgets, another for an eighteenth century man who had amassed his own fortune to find his way in a strange country, in a time when electronics were the norm of everyday life. Lachlan would never be truly happy unless he could use his brain and brawn to better his existence.

  During the meeting last night, Roan had been adamant that if she and Lachlan moved to the States, Lachlan's fortune would go with them. It was sizeable, but not even Lachlan knew how much he was worth. There was over three hundred thousand in Scottish monies, but the gems had yet to be priced, and there were far more than even Roan had known about. Lachlan had invested most of his fortune in precious stones, which were mostly still hidden in various parts of the house. Winston had suggested he take some samples of them to Edinburgh, where he would have a gemologist of his acquaintance appraise them. It was agreed, but later, when Lachlan and Beth had retired to their room, he told her he didn't feel right about taking anything from the house, except for his personal belongings.

  "Tis no' like I canna build anither fortune," he'd told her with all sincerity, confident of his ability to provide her and his children with what he considered to be a proper way of life.

  Beth didn't tell him what present day life was like in the outside world. And she didn't voice her concern with his refusal to wear anything but the clothes he favored. She could just imagine him going on a job interview, dressed like a gentleman pirate minus the gold earring, his swaggering speech and his eighteenth century attitude, and his reaction when asked which computer program he knew.

  She could hear him say, "Wha' do I need a computer for, mon? I have a brain, dinna I?"

  "Beth?"

  Lachlan's chuckle of her name wrenched her from her reverie and she found herself staring into the smiling depths of his dark eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the heat of a flush in her cheeks.

  "Sorry. I was daydreaming."

  With a sigh, he looked down at each of the babies' sleeping faces. "Do you hear tha', young Broc and Ciarda? Yer mither is cravin’ ma sorry bones again." He looked up at Beth and shook his head. "Shame on you, lass."

  Beth laughed and fanned her face with a hand. "Shame on you! I do think of other things besides your body."

  "Hmmm." Again he glanced at his children. "And how easily a lie passes her sweet lips."

  "You're incorrigible."

  His eyes rolled up to study her mischievously. "And a handsome devil, if I say so maself."

  She laughed again and focused on the peafowl for a time then adoringly met his gaze.

  He was handsome. His brow was broad and smooth. Black expressive eyebrows and a long, straight nose. Long, thick black eyelashes surrounded eyes that were so dark, only in daylight could the pupils be seen. High cheekbones, and a squarish jawline. Grooves in his cheeks and a cleft in his chin. Chiseled lips, the lower fuller. Unless his hair was touched by sunlight it looked black, but in fact had glossy, dark red highlights. And since their return, he'd lost the paleness of his ghostly pallor. His skin wasn't tanned, but naturally darker than her own.

  "Beth, ye're lookin’ me over like a hungry wolf abou' to pounce on its prey."

  A warmer blush suffused her face. "Am I?"

  "Aye, you wicked womon."

  She released a short sigh then said nonchalantly, "I love you."

  He blinked in surprise. "Wha' brought tha' on?"

  "Can't I tell you I love you whenever I like?"

  "Tis no' like you to just say it."

  "Life is about change."

  She hadn't meant to sound so cryptic, and knew from his mild frown that her behavior was perplexing him. "Lachlan, may I ask you something?"

  "O' course."

  "I want a straight answer, okay?"

  He nodded.

  "Why do you love me?"

  His first reaction was astonishment then he softly laughed and gave a shake of his head. "I canna believe you asked me tha'."

  "I'm not questioning your love, really I'm not. I guess what I'm asking is, what do you think makes people fall in love?"

  His eyebrows peaked comically.

  "Okay," she said with a little smile. "Every time I look at you, I can't help but think how you could have any woman you want, and yet you choose to be with me."

  "Beth," he moaned humorously.

  "Let me finish." She took Ciarda into her arms, caressed her pink cheek for a moment then looked into Lachlan's eyes. "I know I'm not homely, but I'm not beautiful, either. I use to be mousy, but now I'm short-tempered, and I'm certainly not knowledgeable enough to wow you with intellectual conversation. So what's the attraction, Lachlan? Why me?"

  He blinked once, twice, then blew air out the side of his mouth. "You never fail to amaze me, or insult ma character when I least expect it."

  "I'm not fishing for compliments, or trying to insult you. I just don't understand."

  "Are you fancyin’ a crazy notion tha' I'll tire o' you?" he asked with a hint of pique.

  "I've thought about the possibility."

  "Ah." He repositioned Ciarda into his left arm then cupped Beth's nape with his right and drew her toward him. His mouth covered hers in a slow, deep kiss. When he ended the kiss, he pressed his brow to hers for a few moments. When he straightened back, he somberly looked her in the eye. "Beth, I could ask the same o' you. As for me havin’ any womon I want, if memory serves me, afore you, the only womon I chose dirked me in the heart."

  He smiled ruefully. "But I didna choose her because I loved her. I had no mind o' wha' love was abou' then. I only knew she would give me grand babies.

  "Beth, I've ma share o' intelligence, but you have yers as weel. It disheartens me to hear you think so little o' yerself."

  "I'm sorry," she murmured.

  Lachlan shook his head in amazement. "You are mair'n maist men dare to dream o' havin’ in their lives. You are beautiful. You have a timeless beauty tha' give wings to a mon's heart. Ye're sensitive and carin’, and have a way o' lookin’ at me tha' makes ma knees weaken and a lump to form in ma throat.

  "I once told you, lass, I wasna capable o' lovin’ anyone but you. There's no' anither mouth in the whole o' this vast world I want to kiss, or anither body tha' I will ever long to pleasure. So in answer to yer question, I love you because you are who you are. You gave life and love to an embittered bòcain—ghost—and hope to a mon who, to be honest, doesna deserve you. Wha' created the love atween us, God only knows, but I refuse to question its existence."

  He fell silent and Beth stared at him misty-eyed. She was ashamed to have doubted him, and ashamed that she did in fact think herself unworthy of unconditional love.

  "Beth," he said softly, "I promise you you'll never regret marryin’ me. Wer
e I a mon wi' a wanderin’ heart and eye, would I have died a bloody virgin?"

  This last wrenched a laugh from her. The twins jerked, startled, but quickly settled back into their cozy realm of sleep.

  "Uncle Lannie, watch!" called Kahl.

  Beth and Lachlan turned their attention to the boys. Kahl made a valiant attempt to stand on his hands, teetered, and flopped onto his back. Droplets of water sprayed up around him. Soaked to the skin, he gasped then peals of laughter erupted from him and his brothers joined in.

  Beth passed Lachlan a grin, and said to the boys, "Change your clothes. It's still chilly out here."

  The three ran to the gazebo, dashed up the steps, and stopped in front of their adopted aunt and uncle. His hair dripping wet, cheeks rosy and hazel eyes bright, Kahl swiped a hand under his nose, then exposed his small white teeth in an impish grin.

  "I'm not cold. Can't we play some more?"

  Lachlan glanced at Beth before saying to the boys, "Change into warmer clothes, laddies, then come back ou'. But you might want to try to stay drier."

  "Okay," Alby beamed. He stepped closer and peered down into each of the tiny faces visible within the folds of the blankets. "They sleep a lot."

  "Pretty soon," said Beth, "they'll be chasing you."

  "Really?" said Kevin, wide-eyed. "When do babies start walking?"

  Beth shrugged. "I think about ten months old."

  "That's a long time away," Kahl said.

  "Yeah," agreed Kevin. "We'll be old by then."

  "Laddie," Lachlan began wryly, a twinkle in his eyes, "I'm old. Tis a fair wager you will all still be lads when the bairns start runnin’ abou'. Now scat, and get ou' o' those wet clothes afore you catch cold."

  A ponderous expression masked Kahl's face and he asked, "How can you catch a cold?"

  "I can catch a ball," said Kevin.

  "I can catch a worm," Alby giggled.

  "And I can catch yer bahookie wi' the sole o' ma boot," said Lachlan with mock seriousness.