Everlastin' Book 1

by Mickee Madden

  Lachlan stood in the darkness, staring at the closed door in front of him, aching for that which she had denied him this night.

  “I can wait a while longer. I do love you, lass. Soon, you'll know how verra much.”

  Lachlan Baird was a man accustomed to waiting. It saddened him that she'd thought he was merely playing games. He hadn't wanted to leave her for even a second, but his energies were precious little since their passionate lovemaking two nights prior.

  How he would explain it all to her, he didn't know. But it would have to be soon. If Agnes or that useless twit Borgie were to tell Beth his secret....

  Perhaps she'd question their sanity, but in time she would know the truth, and resent his keeping it from her.

  He had to breach his fear of her initial reaction. He already sensed her suspicions. They lay innocently in her mind, but her unwillingness to accept the reality of what her senses told her, prevented her from seeing through his facade.

  So much lay ahead of them.

  Unburdening her guilt had been a step in the right direction. She was a stronger-willed woman than he'd expected, but in the end, it could be to their advantage.

  If only he could breach the boundaries of time and see into the future, know for certain how to prepare himself for the events destined to unfold.

  She was going to fight him for her life.

  He began to fade into the night-cloaked room.

  “Tis in a terrible gray limbo I'll wait in to peak the energy to return to you, lass.”

  His misty form began to move through the room.

  “Ghosthood has its drawbacks, but I'll be back on the morn's morn. Until then, Beth, dream o' me kindly.”

  ***

  Dressed again in the cotton, calf-length skirt and a sleeveless matching top of pale blue, Beth made her way to the far end of the second floor hall. She refused to think about Lachlan. Whatever his excuse, she would never forgive him for leaving her as he had. For that matter, she was at a point of never forgiving Carlene, either.

  She felt trapped, as much so as she had all the years she took care of her mother. Six days had passed since her arrival, six of the most perplexing days of her life. Between the headaches and her restlessness, she'd hardly slept. And when she did sleep, Carlene or Lachlan invaded her dreams.

  Not a moment passed when Borgie or Agnes’ words didn’t roll over and over in her mind. There was something so very wrong going on.

  Sliding aside the heavy drape to the entrance to the tower, she crossed the threshold to a narrow, steep, stone staircase that hugged the wall. She climbed to the second level. On the narrow floor space was a single, unmade bed, a small white dresser, and a clothes rack. Two old countryside prints in handmade frames hung on the stone walls. There was one small, curtainless window that could be cranked opened.

  On the third level was another unmade single bed, the mattress, like the other, in perfect condition. A dark-stained dresser was set in the corner. An open closet had been built into one wall. Beneath a cubbyhole under the stairs was an old black trunk. She opened it. Empty. A cross made of straw hung on the wall over the bed. Another curtainless window.

  The fourth level had only a single bed, a wooden vanity, and a tiny window with a yellowed valance. Beth sat on the edge of the bed. Sighing deeply, she placed her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her upturned palms.

  These rooms, she reasoned, must have been for servants. But what a lonely, cold place to sleep. How did they keep warm back then? There are no fireplaces on any of the levels.

  A movement was caught in Beth's peripheral vision. She stared at a section of low wall, her brow furrowed in deep thought. After a moment, the facing of the mortared rock appeared to shift, as if curtained by a shimmering illusion of heat waves.

  She recalled Calum's account of where Lannie Baird had been found. Recoiling, she glanced up and saw a brass bell hanging high on the wall above the base of the ascending staircase.

  Clang.

  Although she was certain the bell hadn't moved, the sound reverberated in her ears.

  Rising from the bed, she went to the window and looked out. At least the view was beautiful. The loch stretched out beneath a gently rolling morning haze. To the fore side of the loch was a cluster of homes. Beyond, rolling green hills with aligned trees and low stone walls demarcated the land boundaries.

  Absently, Beth ran a finger along the tiny window embrasure then upturned the finger to inspect it for dust. Amazingly there wasn't any. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't encountered anything in the house that showed the slightest sign of neglect.

  As if compelled, she again looked at the wall behind her. She crossed to it and knelt, then hesitantly laid her palm against the rock. The surface was like ice and, for one frightening second, she believed her hand almost capable of passing through the wall.

  Nursing the hand to her breast, she released a long breath.

  Poor Lannie Baird.

  “Did you suffer?”

  Maybe his spirit did still reside in the house. She hadn't had another encounter with him — if it had been him at all.

  “I love your house, Lannie. You managed to create something that long succeeded you. Not many people could—” Beth sighed and murmured, “You're losing it, kiddo.”

  Standing, she turned to what remained of the ascending staircase, steep and narrow. Massaging a nagging stiffness in her neck, she walked to the bottom step and looked up. The steps led up to a dark door in the ceiling.

  Beth wrinkled her nose disdainfully. She wasn't fond of heights, but after a few moments of considering what little else there was for her to do to occupy her time, she decided she might as well see all of the tower.

  The door opened outward and fell to her right onto the roof. She hurried up the last few steps, drew herself up onto a floor of aged, tarred planks, and clung tightly to a broad flagpole conveniently placed by the portal. Surrounding the perimeter of the tower was a four-foot high crenelated circular wall that gave her a reasonable sense of security. Releasing her death hold on the pole, she crossed to the wall and peered down at the side yard over one of the notches.

  The ground seemed a very long ways down.

  A peacock cry startled her.

  Turning her head sharply, she tried to locate the noisy bird, but from her position, the wall blocked her view of the house's rooftops. A nervous, low laugh gurgled in her throat. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and drank in her first panoramic view from the tower's peak.

  A butterfly sensation flitted in her stomach as she slowly digested the incredible landscape to the south. The morning air was crisp and clean, the sunlight bright and promising to warm up the day. A silver mist lay over the shadowed areas near the road to the house, and along the west side of the property. The mist was beginning to dissolve above the loch, revealing water of the truest azure.

  Then the quiet registered in her mind. Amazingly ambient quiet. There was such serenity surrounding Baird House that her worries began to fade. She felt as if she were the only person left on the planet.

  A princess in her tower.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun.

  And this was how Lachlan first saw her when he materialized behind her. His mouth opened to speak but no words came out. Elation lit his dark eyes and, feeling breathlessly buoyant, he stepped off to one side to have a better view of her profile.

  She was more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen.

  The sunlight's kiss on her face, the shine of her curly hair and the contours of her long, slender neck, all aroused his desire to hold her. But he waited. As long as he didn't use excessive physical energy, he could remain with her for most of the day.

  Perhaps a picnic in the rose garden behind the house.

  No. The last meal he'd had at that particular site was two days before his adoring bride became a widow. The memory certainly dampened his fondness for that spot.

  A stroll along the s
outh pastures, or horseback riding to the border of the Lauder's farm. Or a leisurely boat ride down the loch.

  And wha’ would I say to ma future bride if ma energies ran short and I simply...poofed away?

  Ah, lassie, I've been meanin' to tell you somethin' for a time now. You see, I've been dead...oooh, abou' a hundred and forty-nine years now. But dinna let it worry you. Even dead, love puts me in ma cups.

  Aye, Beth ma darlin', I'm a ghost. A wee lonely spirit, but one wi' a mon's dreams and....

  Lachlan's dark eyebrows drew expressively down above his straight nose. Say tha', you fool, he chided himself, and she'll whap you upside the head, and you'll use up those precious energies o' yers just tryin' to hold yer temper!

  He irritably flexed his shoulders beneath a beige shirt which was left open to the waistband of his dark pants.

  Weel, tis a fine mess you've got yerself in now, Lannie old boy. No, you canna go spillin' yer woeful story now—and tis no' a good time to confess you pleasured her wi' a dead thin’, either.

  Beth opened her eyes and was smiling with sheer bliss when she caught sight of something in her peripheral vision. She released a squeal of surprise, and Lachlan nearly died for the second time. A hand over his phantom heart, his breaths coming in hoarse spurts from lungs the precious energy simulated from his memory, he stared at the woman as if she had lost her mind.

  “Dammit, Lachlan, you nearly scared me to death!”

  Planting a hand over her heart, Beth made a gallant attempt to compose herself.

  “You?” he wheezed. “Good morn to you, too!”

  “It was until you—” Her eyes narrowed with accusation as she drew her gaze back to Lachlan from the open portal on the floor. “I didn't hear you come up.”

  “I figured tha' ou' the instant yer voice shattered ma eardrums.” Offering his most charming smile, he stepped up beside her until their shoulders were touching then gestured to the loch.

  “Loch Ken, darlin'. Ma personal favorite in all the Lowlands.”

  “You wouldn't be a little prejudiced, would you?”

  The husky timbre of Beth's voice brought his gaze to her face. But the light in his eyes dimmed quickly when he realized the depth of her pique with him.

  “Abou' last night—”

  “I'm fed up with the games and lies!”

  “Lies, you say!”

  “I knew there was something peculiar about this whole business.”

  “Peculiar, now! I'd be watchin' ma words, lass. Tis a sad day when a fine-lookin' womon like yerself wakes up lookin' for a fight, rather than—”

  Beth's opened hand flew out and caught Lachlan on the side of his face. Stunned that her temper had again prompted her to strike out at him, she curled her fingers over the edge of the stone wall and stared unseeingly at the scenery below.

  Sighing deeply, Lachlan gingerly touched his fingertips to his smarting cheek. “I take it tis no' a good time to ask for a morn's kiss.”

  Beth turned to him, her face taut from her struggle to hold back the tears pressing at the back of her eyes.

  “Sometimes, your humor irks the hell out of me.”

  “Only sometimes?” He shifted uncomfortably beneath the intense inner pain her eyes betrayed. “You'd have mair heart wi' me if you knew how long I've had to amuse maself.”

  “Was making love to me a joke as well?”

  Lachlan jerked in surprise. “You know better, lass.”

  “Do I? I woke up alone, in my room, and for two days, I don't see or hear a word from you. Then you show up last night, expecting me to jump into your arms! Where were you for those two days?”

  “Gatherin' up ma strength.”

  “On the cot in the carriage house? Because you sure as hell haven't been in the house! Save it, Lachlan!” she added bitterly, a hand raised to ward off his attempt to speak as she went on to accuse, “You own this estate, don't you!”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Lachlan turned to the wall. A long moment passed in silence. His teeth were clenched, causing a muscle to tick along his strongly defined jawline. He didn't want to look at the damn landscape. He'd seen it a thousand times from this very place. Morning, noon and night. He'd seen countless sunrises and sunsets from this tower. In the past, he'd hung around the tower at night, waiting for some fool trespasser to scare the wits out of. But that hadn't been a necessary diversion for his boredom since the Cambridges had moved in.

  “Lachlan!”

  “Aye, a Baird built it. A Baird will always own it.” And tha's the truth, he thought smugly. The fact tha' tis one and the same Baird is no' relevant right now.

  “Carlene was playing matchmaker when she invited me here.”

  Lachlan cast her an impatient scowl. “Aye!”

  “And you were a part of that little scheme.”

  With a feigned shudder, he crooned, “Och, darlin', yer makin' me wish I'd had a wee shot o' scotch afore seein' you.”

  “You're not going to charm your way out of this!”

  Lachlan winced in earnest. “Shudderin' pines, lass, ma ego is badly bruised as it is from yer sharp tongue!”

  “Better your ego than your body.”

  “I'm no' tryin' to hide aught from you.” But if I tell you all right now, you'll throw yerself from the tower here, and winna tha' make a helluva mess. “Aye, I pleaded wi’ Carlene to bring you over. Wha's the harm? Are you no' happy wi' me?”

  “Happy?” Beth's face darkened, her eyes flashed, and her voice dropped two decibels. “Happy? You miserable womanizer! Did you run out of women here in Scotland to seduce?”

  Lachlan flinched but there was a glint of laughter in his eyes. “Och. If you would just calm down—”

  “I've been worried sick about Carlene and her husband! How could you— Oh, why am I wasting my breath! As of tomorrow, I'm out of here! I'm going home!”

  Lachlan's face grew dark with savagery. “This is yer home.”

  With a guttural sound of disgust, Beth whirled away from him. She was blinded by her anger and didn't realize where she was walking. A cry escaped her when he took a painful hold on her shoulder and spun her around to face him. She kicked him in the shin, and was trying to twist away when she look downward.

  Her blood plummeted. Her face paled.

  Two inches away from her foot was the opened stairwell. Another step and she would have fallen.

  Determined to make her listen to reason, Lachlan framed her face with his hands, his thumbs planted firmly beneath her chin to force her to look at him. “Can you really be so silly as to believe I would want you here only for sex?”

  Beth couldn't answer him. She closed her eyes tightly to shut him out. There was a pulse pounding at her temples, and a sharp pain stabbing at the back of her neck. She was on the verge of tears, but she wasn't sure why.

  “Och! Have the decency to look at me when I'm talkin' to you!”

  Her eyelids lifted and her gaze met his. But at the despondency in her eyes, Lachlan released a low moan and laid his brow to hers.

  “Ah, dammit. Forgive me.” He kissed her lightly on the lips then, lowering his hands to the curves of her shoulders, drew back to study her face for several long moments. “I love a good sparrin' o' words now and then, but lass, this is hurtin' like hell. I'm no' perfect. But I do love you mair than life itself.”

  Again he kissed her, a little longer. When he felt her response—although he was vitally aware of her trying to resist him—he embraced her in his arms and deepened the kiss. His insides heated. It was a blissful, welcomed feeling after the countless times he'd known only the grayness and its companioning cold. The warmth of the woman and the warmth of the sunrays beating down on his back, were priceless to him.

  Reluctantly, he ended the kiss. As he straightened away, he expected to see a glow of passion on Beth's face. Instead, her eyes were unnaturally bright with indignation. He slid his palms down his face before dropping his hands to his sides and leveling a frazzled look on her.

&nb
sp; “Leave, Beth, and you'll hurt me mair than you could ever imagine.”

  “There's nothing here for me,” she said coldly, her pride refusing to give in to the anguish she read in him.

  Lachlan placed a palm to his chest. He could feel the coldness returning, beginning to seep into the very core of him. His high emotions were wasting his energies. He was running out of time.

  “I've got to leave.”

  Tears rose into Beth's throat. “Then I'll say goodbye now.”

  “Goodbye? No. When I return—”

  “I plan to be out of this house today.”

  Despair radiated from every part of Lachlan. “Dinna go, lass. Dinna leave me!”

  The painful coldness was spreading rapidly through him now. Panic seized him as his gaze dropped to the opening above the stairwell. If he didn't hurry, he would fade before her eyes.

  “Promise me, Beth! Wait till ma return!”

  Pale, trembling, Beth gave a stilted shake of her head.

  Indecision ripped through him. If he left, he risked her getting too far away from the house. But if he didn't, and he vanished before her eyes, the horror of her premature realization would scar her deeply.

  “Lachlan, are you ill?” Beth stepped toward him, concern further blanching her face. “You're terribly pale.”

  She caught her breath as he swung her aside, causing her to cling to the flagpole. Tears welling up in her eyes, she watched him hurry down the steps and disappear into the dark grayness below.

  “Oh, damn,” she choked, and started after him.

  She called out his name repeatedly as she descended one flight of steps after another. It amazed her how fast the man could move—amazed and irked her. Never in her life had she met anyone as elusive as he...or as charming, and infuriating, and so absolutely head-spinning. At the moment, she didn't want to dwell on why Carlene would go along with such a subterfuge. She only wanted to sit and talk to Lachlan without their tempers getting in the way.

  Running out into the second floor hall, she came to an abrupt halt. Pain capped and squeezed her skull, staggering her. “Oh God, not another one!”

  Tears spilling down her face, she backed up and leaned against the wall for support. She wanted to go on, but it hurt to move. It also hurt to think, and she couldn't slow down the maddening pace of her heartbeat.