Hope Everlastin' Book 4

by Mickee Madden

  "It's okay. Umm, why would you be thinking of a daughter at all? We-ah, haven't discussed having a child of our own."

  "True, we haven't."

  "I figured you would think the boys were all you could handle for now."

  "I thought the same abou' you." He smiled a bit sadly. "Truth is, Laura, I think a lot abou' us havin’ a baby, but then I tell maself it wouldn't be fair to you or the lads."

  "Do you really think they would mind?"

  "I don't know. Probably no'. Look how attached they are to the twins."

  Laura eyes brimmed with tears. She attempted to look away, but Roan gripped her chin between a thumb and forefinger and forced her to face him.

  "Laura, have I spoiled the mood for you?"

  A single tear escaped down her cheek. "No. I've just been frantic about how to tell you."

  "Tell me wha'?" Concern masked his features as he cupped a hand at the back of her head. "Laura, you can tell me anythin’. If you don't want or can't have a child, I'll understand."

  "My last period was two months ago."

  Her strained statement hung in the air for a time then Roan blinked in bewilderment and opened his mouth to speak.

  Laura rushed on to say, "I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want you to feel trapped. So much has been going—"

  He silenced her with a kiss, then again framed her face and gazed wondrously into her eyes. "Ye're pregnant?"

  She nodded.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Winston and Deliah told me I was, for sure. I made them promise not to say anything to anyone until I worked up the courage to tell you."

  She began to weep and Roan put his arms around her and rocked her trembling form. "Hush, Laura. Hush. Do I look afraid? Disappointed? No’ as thrilled as a bleedin’ sparrow when spring chases off the bite o' winter?"

  A strangled laugh escaped her, and she peered with uncertainty into the amber depths of his eyes. "It's okay with you?"

  "Okay?" A boom of a laugh burst from his throat. "I'm ecstatic! And so will be the lads when we tell them!"

  "What about your parents?"

  "Wha’ abou' them?"

  "They're going to think you're marrying me because of the baby."

  "Damn me, do I care wha' they think?" His face beaming, his head reeling, he laughed again. "My poor darlin’. All this time you've been keepin’ this to yerself. But shame on you, Laura, for no' knowin’ me better."

  "You've been under a lot of stress."

  "This isn’t stress! A baby. We created a baby!"

  A dubious expression shadowed Laura's features. "You're going to be one of those zany fathers who spoil their kids, aren't you?"

  "Aye. And I plan to be a protective and conscientious husband, as weel. No more liftin’, and tha' includes liftin’ the boys. You shouldn't stay on yer feet for long at a time."

  "If you don't make love to me, Roan Ingliss, I swear I'll—"

  "Oh, dear," mewled a voice.

  Laura released a squeal of shock and pushed her bare chest against Roan's as she looked in horror at the opened pocket doors. Her mother stood at the threshold, her profile to them, a hand fanning her crimson face.

  "Oh, dear," Lauren repeated. "Do forgive me. I'm so embarrassed."

  Laura scrambled off Roan's lap and hastily retrieved her sweater and camisole from the sofa. The latter she balled and crammed into the left pocket of her slacks then donned the sweater as quickly as she could. Roan stood and looked a bit dazed at the woman. Neither he nor Laura had thought to shut the doors, let alone lock them.

  "Mom, I'm so sorry."

  "No apology, dear." She laughed shakily. "Alby woke me and said he couldn't find you. I would have never—"

  "It's okay, Mom."

  Laura stepped into the hall and faced her mother, humiliation scorching her skin. "We should have closed the doors. Sorry. We weren't thinking."

  Lauren's eyes were bright as she regarded her daughter. "One isn't supposed to think when in the mood," she said sagely, then fanned her face again. "Roan, I'm so sorry I intruded," she said without looking at him. "What you must think of me!"

  With a sheepish grin, Roan walked around his soon-to-be mother-in-law and planted a kiss on her temple. This done, he draped an arm about Laura's shoulders and grinned like a fool at the older woman. "In a few minutes or so it would have been verra embarrassin’," he joked.

  "My goodness, yes."

  Laura buried her face into Roan's shoulder.

  "Laura-lass, can we tell yer mither?"

  She looked up in panic, cast her mother a sickly look and murmured, "If you must."

  "Tell me what?" Lauren asked.

  Roan couldn't wait. "Ye're going to be a grandmither again. Laura just told me she's carryin’ our child." He loudly kissed the top of Laura's head. "And I couldn't be happier."

  "Laura?"

  "Yes, Mom, it's true."

  "Are you happy about this?"

  Laura frowned. "Are you?"

  Lauren released a trilling laugh and clapped her hands. "I didn't think you could make me any happier, but you have! I was just telling your father tonight how I regretted missing so much of my grandsons' growing. Oh, Laura, it won't be the same as it was with Jack. I promise. We'll be here for you as long as you need us."

  "Really, Mom?"

  Lauren held out her arms, and Laura readily stepped into the embrace. Above her daughter's shoulder, Lauren mouthed a tearful thank you to Roan. It was a glorious moment for the three of them, although it did occur to him that once again he and Laura had been stopped from making love.

  "I promise not to say a word to your father," said Lauren, holding her daughter out at arm's length. "It'll mean more to him, coming from you." She tweaked Laura's chin. "I'm so proud of you."

  "Thank you, Mom. It means a lot to me to hear you say that."

  "Me, too," said Roan.

  Lauren looked at him with admiration. "Young man, I liked you the moment I laid my old eyes on you. Welcome to the Bennett family."

  She kissed him on the cheek and withdrew, her cheeks again bright pink. "Goodness, I hope I don't begin to cry. The older I get, the more sentimental I am."

  "Sentimental's good in ma book," said Roan.

  Without thought, Lauren blurted, "How on God's green earth did your parents manage to create such a handsome, sensible man?"

  She placed the fingers of one hand to her mouth and froze with disbelief. Laura and Roan laughed when she sputtered, "I can't believe I said that! Forgive me, Roan."

  "Perhaps some o' yer good taste will rub off on them."

  "I do apologize."

  "Please, don't," Roan grinned.

  A shrill, bloodcurdling scream erupted from somewhere above.

  Roan ran for the staircase. In his haste he stumbled and struck his right shin against the edge of one of the steps. Although it was covered with a Persian runner, it was not thick enough to dull the blow. He went down on a hip, howling with surprise, pain and raw vexation. Laura and her mother rushed to him, but another scream rent the air and he forced himself onto his feet. He ascended, the women behind him.

  Two more screams followed then a cacophony of shouts. By the time he hobble-climbed to the second floor, he heard Lachlan bellow, "Haud yer wheesht!"

  "What did you say to me?" Roan’s mother shrilled.

  Roan limped down the hall toward his parents' room, where others were gathered across from the open door.

  "I said hold yer noise!" Lachlan bellowed. "Yer foolishness woke the whole bloody household!"

  Roan stepped around the boys and stood at his mother and Lachlan's side. She was standing on tiptoe, pressing her face close to Lachlan's, her hands on her hips, and her chin thrust out in a manner Roan knew only too well. She was furious, but also comical-looking in her night garb. The thin straps and lace cups of her negligee could barely support her large, sagging breasts. Her hair was wrapped in a satin turban, and a thick layer of pale green night cream covered everyth
ing but her mouth and eyes.

  "How dare you talk to me like that!" she shrieked.

  She whacked Roan in the chest with the back of a hand then used the same hand to jab an isolated fingertip into Lachlan's chest, punctuating each shrill word, "I will not stand here and take this from an upstart like you!"

  Livid, Lachlan glared down at the assaulting digit and lifted his furious gaze to hers. "Are you sure you didna happen a glance in the mirror, Mrs. Ingliss?" he asked, delivering the verbal jab with a devilish grin. "Ye're a frightenin’ sight, even for a mon o' ma years!"

  "You arrogant—"

  "Mither!"

  Her gaze cut to Roan and she jerked back as if stunned to see him standing so closely. "Where were you while I was being molested in my bed!" she cried, a fist emphasizing her words.

  Intuition drew Roan's gaze to Laura's pale face. "Hon, take the lads to their rooms. I'll handle this."

  "For pity sake," Lauren huffed, glaring at Eilionoir, "get a grip!"

  "Oh, shut up! Roan, what are you going to do about it?"

  "Do abou' wha'?" he asked with his scowl, seeing from one corner of an eye his father standing back in the bedroom.

  "The ghost! I woke up and he was standing over me with his hands clawed! He wanted to choke the life out of me! When I screamed, he melted into the wall near the bathroom. So what are you going to do about it?"

  "A ghost?" Roan muttered then looked at Lachlan and Winston, who both shrugged.

  "He was hideous!"

  "I'm sure he—"

  She screamed again, pointing past Roan, and he fell back against the wall, a hand clamped over the ear her voice had pierced.

  "Oh, my," from Lauren drew his attention to where his mother was pointing. There, between Laura, Lauren, the boys, and himself, was Stephen Miles. Transparent and luminescent green, he was pointing to himself and adamantly shaking his head.

  "There are two of them?" Eilionoir wailed. "Two of them?"

  Roan locked eyes with Winston, who stepped forward and leveled an intense look on Eilionoir. A moment later he turned to Roan. "The memory image in her mind is o' Cuttstone," he said disparagingly.

  "Cuttstone," Roan muttered. Now his head throbbed with pain as well as his shin.

  "Who is Cuttstone?" asked William Ingliss from inside the room.

  Roan jabbed a thumb in Stephen's direction. "Cuttstone murdered this mon in the cellar a while back. He died, himself, when he went through Lannie's bedroom window five days ago."

  Eilionoir's face sagged. "What kind of madhouse is this?"

  Stephen, satisfied that he had been cleared of being the perpetrator, vanished.

  "Neither have the power o' the grayness," said Deliah and yawned. "They be harmless."

  "Harmless?" Eilionoir snapped.

  "Aye," Deliah said patiently, "harmless. They dinna have the abilities Lachlan had."

  "That black devil tried to ruin my husband's family's good name!"

  Roan gave a roll of his eyes as Lachlan positioned himself in front of Eilionoir. "Mrs. Ingliss, I didna do anythin’ Robbie and Tessa didna deserve."

  "Are you drunk?"

  "I wish to hell I was," Lachlan grumbled. "Go to sleep, Mrs. Ingliss. We've enough o' yer hysterics for the night. If Cuttstone should return, give the bastard a boo and I'm sure he'll no' bother you again."

  "Roan, are you going to stand there and allow this pirate wannabe to talk to me like this?"

  "Pirate wannabe, am I?" Lachlan asked with comical affront.

  "Dammit, Mither." Roan wearily massaged the back of his neck. "Go to bed. If I hear one more peep ou' o' you, I swear I'll toss you off the bloody tower."

  For a second he thought she would defy him. Instead, she whirled into the bedroom and slammed shut the door, cutting her and his father off from the exhausted observers.

  "Charmin’," quipped Lachlan. He clapped Roan on the shoulder. "You canna be from her womb."

  Deliah grinned at Roan. "There be a cure for wha' ails her," she said merrily.

  "Oh?"

  "Aye. On the morrow, though. Good night."

  "Good night," Roan said to everyone.

  He wasn't looking forward to another day with his parents, but he was intrigued by Deliah's statement. With that in mind, he followed Laura to help put the boys to bed.

  Chapter 16

  Through a veil of fog and drizzle, Roan numbly watched the sun wink in and out above the horizon. It was cold and damp atop the tower, and the air held an unpleasant, dank odor. He knew he should park himself in front of a warm hearth. Instead, he secured about his shoulders the red plaid, wool blanket he'd earlier removed from the trunk at the foot of his bed.

  He'd only managed three hours sleep the previous night. Afraid his restlessness would awaken Laura, he had gone to the library to sleep on the sofa, only to discover he was wide awake.

  Little wonder.

  His sister was off doing who knew what.

  A fairy kingdom had materialized on the property.

  Uninvited parents.

  Two ghosts.

  Laura pregnant.

  His mind couldn't juggle it all.

  The peafowl were nowhere in sight. Smart birds. They knew enough to take shelter from the cold moisture. Not him. He'd come up to the tower in hopes of clearing his head, but for the past hour and a half the only thought he'd had that wasn't disjointed was he couldn't think worth a damn.

  Life at Baird House was a guarantee against boredom.

  "The household is awake."

  The humor-laced feminine voice brought Roan's head around then his body. Blue sat atop the crenelated wall on the opposite side of the tower. Her wings were retracted into her back. She wore a pale green, Grecian-style gown and sandals. Her blue-black hair was loose, and glossy despite the lack of sunshine. Her skin was the color of fine porcelain, and her aqua blue eyes round and bright, smiling at him with a combination of sympathy and understanding.

  Like Deliah and all the fairies he'd seen during the ritual of magic, she possessed enchanting beauty and an aura of timeless serenity.

  "Did I startle you?" she asked.

  "A wee." He removed the blanket from his shoulders and was about to take it to her when she gracefully held up a hand to stop him.

  "I'm not cold. Thank you." His dubious frown prompted her explanation, "I was born in late fall, but consider myself a winter fairy. I'm the first. Hopefully, not the last."

  "I'm afraid I don't understand."

  "Fairies have always been born in the spring." She laughed low. "MoNae decided to experiment." She held up her hands and shrugged. "And here I am."

  "MoNae?" Roan asked hesitantly.

  "Mother Nature."

  "Oh." Roan frowned. Although the queen was friendly enough, he didn't know what to say to her.

  "I spoke to Deliah a short while ago. She told me about the excitement you had here last night."

  Roan nodded. "Apparently, a killer and his victim's spirit have decided to hang ‘round for a while."

  His dry tone brought added life to her eyes. "Poor Roan. You try so hard to keep a sense of balance, and so much works against you. I admire anyone who can look into the face of change and not cringe."

  "On the inside, I cringe a great deal."

  Her smile broadened. "You and I both know how strong you are in mind, body, and constitution. Deliah has caught me up on everything that has happened here since her awakening in the root. Would you believe that she was once the most timid of Reith's sisters?"

  Roan shook his head, and she sighed and looked heavenward, a wistful expression gracing her features. "I'm so looking forward to the birth of her child." Her gaze lowered to regard him. "I'm rambling. Forgive me."

  Grinning a bit nervously, Roan said, "Ye're entitled."

  "Am I?"

  "Aye, Yer Majesty."

  She sighed. "Call me Blue, please. Royal titles are so syrupy, don't you think?"

  An abrupt laugh burst from Roan.

  "
Besides," she went on merrily, "I'm not your queen, am I? So just think of me as one of the guys."

  "Right," he chuckled then sobered. "I'll never forget wha' you did for Lannie."

  She nodded, her eyes downcast. When she looked up, she peered at him through the thickness of her lowered black eyelashes. "Gratitude isn't necessary."

  After a moment, Roan closed the distance and positioned himself next to her, his lower spine braced against the top edge of the wall. "All right, Blue. I won't bring it up again."

  She smiled appreciatively then widened her eyes and sniffed the air. "Someone's cooking breakfast. Bacon."

  "You can smell it from up here?"

  She nodded. "And it's my worst weakness. Bacon, that is. Developed a hankering for it while I was living in your world. Can't eat enough of the stuff, and fairies normally don't eat meat or fish of any kind. Well, Deliah has a fondness for hamburgers."

  "Wha' do you eat?"

  "Me? I eat anything," she said wryly. "Now, your ordinary fairy subsists on vegetation. Why, I don't know. It has just always been that way. My cooks can do up a mean root, let me tell you." She inhaled longingly through her nostrils and flashed him a grin. "But nothing compares to bacon."

  "Is this a wee hint for an invite to breakfast?" he asked, his eyes dancing with laughter.

  "Unqueenly of me, I know," she said with a mock grimace. "Besides craving bacon, I'm anxious to begin work on the plans for the wedding. Because the ceremony will be held outside of our realm, the magic required to do it up proper will take several days to accumulate."

  "Proper?"

  She grinned mischievously. "You don't think we're going to just dance around in a circle, do you?"

  A wary expression slipped over Roan's face.

  "Oh, my dear man," she gushed, her playful mood tickling his curiosity, "are you in for a treat! Briar Roses' wedding bash will look like a tea party with the Mad Hatter when I'm through. You did see Walt Disney's Sleeping Beauty, didn't you? She only had three fairies in her corner. Cute little characters, but I guess the artists didn't know that fairies never get chubby. How can they with what they eat? I'm excluding myself because I don't follow their diet. Anyway, I really need a bacon fix."