Everlastin' Book 1
Page 11
“Then what is bothering you this morning?”
A breath lodged in Beth's throat when the old woman sharply turned and leveled a look of disapproval on her. “He got you to his bedroom, didn’t he?”
Through Beth's deadpan expression, crimson stole up across her face. “Beg your pardon?”
“Shame on you, Missy!”
“Now wait just a—”
Shaking an isolated finger up at Beth, Agnes forged on, “Soon as I came in this morn, I felt his smugness.”
“—damn minute!”
“The house reeks o' the wicked play o' last night! I would have thought you'd have better sense than to take up wi' the likes o' him!”
Beth was at first stunned by the woman's tirade then anger surfaced. “What happens between two consenting adults is none of your business!”
“You fool womon! Curse his clarty soul! I warned you to leave. Didn’t I? Didn’t I!”
“That's enough!”
Agnes released another snort and turned to the stove. “It's no' ma business if you choose to sleep wi' the devil, but I don’t have to like it. Now...get ou' o' ma kitchen and leave me to ma work.”
“My pleasure,” Beth murmured.
“And since you've got so much free time on yer hands, I'll no' waste ma time wi' the clean-upin'.”
“Fine.”
“Fine,” Agnes mimicked haughtily. “Lyin' wi' the devil is no' fine at all.”
Chilled to the marrow of her bones, Beth tried to loosen her white-knuckled grip on the blanket to re-adjust it about her, but it was as if her fingers were locked. With as much dignity as she could muster, she asked, “Have you seen Lachlan this morning?”
“No, and I don’t expect he has the nerve to show his wicked face to me. I'll put yer breakfast in the dinin' room when it's ready, then I'll be off.”
“Fine. Thank you,” Beth murmured as she headed for the door.
Too numb to feel anything at the moment, Beth shuffled down the hall and headed for the front doors. Beyond them, she passed through the greenhouse to the large, black-stained double doors. The instant she stepped out into the morning air, she filled her lungs and released a slow, quavering breath.
Was she losing her mind, or had everything truly been topsy-turvy since she'd set foot in Scotland?
Hoping fervently Carlene and David would return before nightfall, she walked away from the front door and strolled about the graveled yard. Off to her left, in a distance shielded from her view by trees and shrubs, she could hear the bleat of sheep and the occasional lowing of cattle. The sound had to be coming from the field where Lachlan had taken that first night, where he had kissed her in the moonlight.
Expelling him from her thoughts, she stepped up onto a grassy area and turned to view the house in its early morning splendor.
Bright sunlight slashed across the rooftops of the otherwise shadowed structure. Perched on these peaks, alongside the variously-sized chimneys, the peacocks huddled in the warm rays. Looking down at her from their lofty positions, several released caustic cries, as if telling her they were as much aware of her.
“My sentiments, exactly,” she whispered to the birds then looked about her. Patches of fog hovered serenely over sections of the land, mostly in the darker, shadowy areas.
Peacefulness embraced her once again, the balm of nature soothing her troubled spirit. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to wake up in this land every morning for the rest of her life, to stand exactly where she was now and feel the satisfaction of knowing this piece of the world belonged to her. She already knew it was going to be hard to say goodbye to Baird House when the time came for her to return to the States. Harder, still, to say goodbye to Lachlan.
Ten days left. She had to make enough memories of Scotland to last her a lifetime.
A droll smile lifted the corners of her full mouth as she realized she had already made a hellacious start on those memories.
Unbidden, Lachlan crept into her thoughts and she looked up again at the peacocks.
Carlene and David owned the house, but it was Lachlan who gave the impression he was its master. Maybe Lachlan did own it, and Carlene and David were renters sharing the estate.
After what they had shared last night, perhaps Lachlan wouldn't take offense to her questioning him on the animosity between him and Agnes. From what Beth could gather, it seemed to stem from what had happened to Lannie Baird.
“That's ridiculous, she mused. Lannie Baird died one hundred and forty-nine years ago.
Lachlan had to be a descendent, but could a grudge remain between two families for over a century? If so, why would Agnes continue to work at Baird House? Out of loyalty to Carlene and David?
“So, Lachlan, if Agnes didn't see you this morning, how does she know we slept together?” Beth murmured, shivering as the morning's dampness seeped through to her skin.
“Maybe I misinterpreted what she said. Her accent is so thick. I can't imagine why you would tell her about last night, unless....”
Beth frowned. Had last night been a game, a conquest for Lachlan?
Where was he?
Did he usually abandon his lovers in the cold light of dawn?
Her temper surfaced as she ran the possibilities through her mind. She didn't like the fact she'd awakened alone, in her own bed, her nightgown on, as if last night had been nothing more than a dream.
She still couldn't fathom why she had given herself to him with such abandon. He was attractive—no, incredibly handsome in a way she couldn't quite analyze to her satisfaction. She had wanted him to kiss her in the moonlight the first night, and he had. And it had been a kiss unlike anything she'd imagined in her wildest fantasies. She had wanted him to make love to her, and he had.
When she'd gone to his room last night, and he'd turned to stare at her, impulses had swooped down on her and she had surrendered to them. Her physical needs, she had discovered, possessed such utter energy and fire that she found it hard to believe they were an actual part of her.
A feeling of being watched made her turned abruptly.
“Good mornin'. Didn't mean to startle you.”
The sight of a man standing a few feet away unnerved her. Closing the blanket even tighter about her, Beth shriveled within the wool fibers.
The man smiled in a lazy, self-assured manner then dipped his head to one side. “A bit nippy to be ou'.”
Beth offered a strained smile, her gaze flitting to a pair of hedge clippers held in his hands. Tall and lanky, thirtyish, with light brown hair and blue eyes, he was a pleasant-looking man, but a man who watched her as if expecting her to run back to the house.
“Good morning. Are you here to work in the gardens?”
He grinned, closing the distance between them. “His Nibs summoned me. You must be Beth Staples. I'm Borgie Ingliss, Aggie's boy. Pleasure to meet you. Ma mum said you were a fine lookin' womon, itherwise I'd been tempted to tell old Lachlan to stick his demands in his ear. I say a mon has to draw his lines.”
Beth was beginning to wonder if she wasn't still asleep.
“Arrived recently, did you?”
“Umm, yes. A few days ago.”
“And the missus went off and left you, aye?”
“Carlene? Yes. She went to pick up her husband in Edinburgh. They should be back today.” She kept, I hope, to herself.
To her unease, the man laughed. “So tha's wha' she told you. You'll know soon enough, I guess.”
“Know what?”
“It's no' for me to explain.” He started to turn away. “If you start gettin' stir crazy, let me know. I wouldn’t mind rescuin' you and takin' you ou' to Shortby's. It's the finest pub around.”
In stunned disbelief, Beth watched the man disappear beyond the high bushes across from her. If this morning was any indication of what her day was going to be like....
Ruefully, she considered climbing back into bed and waiting for Carlene to return, but the ever-growing list of innuendoes were
beginning to wear on her nerves.
Deciding to have a long talk with Agnes, she went back into the house.
One straight answer was all she needed to put her nerves at ease. One simple, understandable, straight answer.
Were the employees simply having fun with her, or was there something darkly amiss going on right under her nose?
Beth didn't like mysteries, and she had a difficult time understanding the depth of hostility that existed between the two Inglisses and Lachlan.
“Damn,” she grumbled, seeing the kitchen empty of the cook's presence. Turning on a heel, she walked into the dining room and found her breakfast arranged on the table.
“Agnes! Agnes, I would like to talk to you, please!”
Silence.
Muttering under her breath, she drew out a chair and lowered herself onto it in front of the aromatic dishes of eggs, sausages, a small chicken pie, strawberries in thick cream, and a freshly baked loaf of bread.
Beth's stomach unexpectedly churned.
She wasn't hungry for food. Just straight answers!
Placing her elbows on the table, she lowered her chin into her upturned palms and scowled down at the repast.
She was tired of eating alone, tired of trying to entertain herself.
Fed up with the daily disappearing acts Lachlan and Agnes had perfected to a fine art.
Baird House was rapidly losing its glamour.
Chapter 6
The light was lessening in the house when Beth arrived on the third floor and saw Lachlan's bedroom door open. Walking to the threshold, she noted first the stoked fire, then the lambskin throw rugs in front of the hearth. To the far side of the rugs, a bottle of champagne sat in a silver ice bucket atop a silver, monogrammed bed tray. Alongside two crystal glasses were bread and cheese, a bowl of luscious strawberries, and a silver container of cream. She stepped further into the room to the edge of the rug and looked over the blatant seduction scene with contempt blazing in her eyes.
“I've been waitin' for you, love.”
Beth looked over her shoulder to see Lachlan standing at the threshold, a lace gown draped over his left arm.
Slowly turning her body to align with her head, she gawked at the man through a crimson face. “You're...naked.”
In response, he grinned broadly and gave the gown over his arm a shake. “For you. A belated birthday present.”
After taking a moment to analyze Beth's deadpan expression, he stepped further into the room. “It was purchased for Tessa, but she impaled old Lannie afore he could give it to her. You've a better figure than her, anyway, and I know how much you like old thin’s. Put it on, sweets. I've been achin' to behold you in it.”
A slow transformation befell Beth. Anger heightened her color, and her posture stiffened. “Of all the nerve.... You arrogant, smug...jerk!”
“Me?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Wha' have I done this time to brin’ abou' tha' beautiful flush to yer face?”
“Done? Done?”
Fuming mad now, she grabbed a black poker from a stand at the hearth and wielded it shoulder high. “Just for the record, my birthday was two days ago!”
“Tha' long?” he muttered absently, looking aside through a mild frown.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Lachlan recovered his wits with the aplomb of a master. “Busy.”
“That explains everything.”
The bitterness in her tone caused him to flinch. “I saw you talkin' to Borgie the ither day,” he said with feigned lightness. He stepped closer to Beth. “A word to the wise, darlin'; stay clear o' him. He's a foul mon.”
“And you're not?”
Beth sucked in a breath and partially lowered the poker. She couldn't help but let her gaze roam over his magnificent white body. Muscular and perfectly proportioned, his arousal beckoning and taunting her to try to deny the powerful chemistry between them.
“I'm not a whore! And I refuse to be treated like one!”
Genuinely flabbergasted, he gushed, “Ye're the grandest womon I've ever known, Beth! I've waited a long time for you. I wouldna do aught to hurt you.”
Growing more furious by the moment, she dropped the poker before her anger prompted her to swing it at him. “I'm getting damned tired of your blarney.”
“Tis the Irish who lay claim to blarney. Ah, Beth darlin'.” He came toward her, his arms opened, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling combination of mischief and passion. “No fightin' atween us. Tis a terrible waste o' ma energy, and I want it all—need it all—ta pleasure you.”
Beth stood her ground with steely determination. When he was within arm's reach of her, she twisted around, bent over, and lifted the container of cream into a hand.
“Until Carlene and David return—” Straightening, she glared at him. “—I want you to stay away from me!”
“Hold yer wheesht!” he boomed.
“If you're going to swear at me, I would appreciate understanding what you're saying!”
Lachlan rolled his eyes and squelched his own mounting anger. “I said, hold yer noise.”
“Make up your mind, Lachlan,” she said in a saccharine tone. “One minute you're pushing me to open up, the next, to shut up.”
A dubious expression scrinched up his face. “Tis no' exactly wha' I meant, love.”
“No?” Beth positioned herself close to him, her upturned mouth mere inches from his chin. “I'm not going to lay all the blame on your shoulders. I made myself an easy mark.”
“Hold it—”
“What really galls me,” she went on heatedly, “is that you believe I'm so gullible as to fall into your arms again after you disappear for two days! Busy, Lachlan?” She whacked his chest with such force, her palm stung. “Whatever it was that kept you so occupied, had better be capable of keeping you warm at night, because I'm through with you. Understand?”
She attempted to shove past him, but he caught her arm and drew her against his primed body. “Look into ma eyes. How can you think I'd ever be wi' anither womon? Canna you see how much I love you?”
His words caused a terrible ache in the pit of her stomach. Love? Oh, God! She'd never known the love of a man, but a man like Lachlan was incapable of really understanding the word. She wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. Already, her knees were weakening, and the touch of his skin against her own was making her headier by the moment.
“Let go of me.”
“Withou' a kiss good night? Be sensible. You know you need me as much as I need you. Ma poor, wee monhood here is abou' to snap tis so rigid. Give us a kiss.”
Beth lifted the container and poured the cream over his head. She stepped back, expecting a burst of anger from him. But as his fingers tread through his dripping hair, he looked up with eyes filled with laughter.
Rankled by his mood, she hurried to the bowl of strawberries and dumped these, too, over his head. He laughed outright. Having caught two of the plump berries in a hand, he popped them into his mouth.
“Could I possibly consider this a bit o' foreplay, Beth-ma-lass?” he chuckled, red juice trickling down his chin.
“Drop dead.”
With another chuckle, he swiped the back of a hand across his mouth. Then swiftly, he reached out and captured Beth's upper arms and pulled her against his hard body. Stunned at how fast the man could move, she stiffened in his hold. She was determined to retain her anger. She needed it to find salvation from the treacherous longing igniting fierce and merciless fires in her loins. But when Lachlan's mouth took possession of her lips, she felt herself weakening.
Damn him!
She didn't want to give in. He possessed an uncanny ability to awaken her every pore to his presence, to vanquish inhibitions that had tagged her a shy girl throughout her high school and college years.
She wasn't easy, and it infuriated her that she found him so difficult to resist.
What happened to her willpower when she was around the man? Even just the
deep quality of his voice weakened her.
Not this time, she vowed, steeling herself to go limp in his hold.
His arms enveloped her, his arousal flattened to her midriff, sandwiched between their quivering, aching bodies. A moan reverberated in her skull as his tongue urged her to open her mouth. Fleeting fantasies of biting him—and worse—flipped through her mind as she unclenched her teeth and parted her lips. If she didn't stop him soon—didn't stop herself—she would soon be forever lost to the hold he had on her.
Then she tasted the strawberry sweetness on his tongue and she melted against him. Her sensibilities became solely focused on the pulses racing through her body, pumping wildly like thousands of heartbeats beneath every part of her skin.
Drawing his mouth a hair'sbreadth from her slightly swollen lips, he said, “Admit how suited we are for one anither. Our hearts beat as one. We're linked, you and I, in mind and spirit.”
Mind and spirit?
Wrenching herself from his embrace, Beth glowered at him, her chest rising and falling with her every panting breath.
So, linked were they?
Lust wasn't enough. He wanted her mind and spirit as well! And at this particular moment, she wasn't sure he wouldn't take it all and leave her an empty shell once the thrills dimmed between them.
“No,” she breathed, her hands held up to ward him off. “It's not going to work this time!”
Lachlan calmly watched her storm across to her bedroom and slam the door behind her. A quirky smile played on his lips.
God, she had a fine temper!
“Drop dead she says to me.” He released a low, throaty laugh. “Ah, Beth, you didna drive the poker through ma heart. Tis love, this time.”
He made a rueful face as he inspected the scene he'd so carefully arranged for his planned night of lovemaking with the woman. His woman. He'd known that the instant he'd laid eyes on her portrait.
Tessa be damned.
He'd only been a hundred and forty-nine years off track. There would never be his children to fill his grand house, but he had found a woman to share eternity with him.
What more could any man want?
At a glance from him, the fire in the fireplace dwindled and extinguished.