“If no' for the fact I know ye're distraught and dinna mean wha' ye're sayin', I'd have you across ma knee!”
“You went to a lot of trouble for nothing, mister. I won't let you try to convince me I'm insane to keep me in this house!”
“Ye're goin' through a denial phase—”
He ducked in time to avoid being hit by an urn Beth hurled. The sound of shattering glass exploded on the fireplace mantel. Straightening up, he stared at the remnants of his precious, thirteenth century, Chinese urn, and a whimper caught in his throat.
“Have you an inklin' o' wha' tha' was worth?” he asked shrilly, his gaze questioning her sanity. “Five generations o' ma family—”
He released a squeal and quickly lifted his hands in a pleading gesture when Beth wielded a porcelain Venus figurine above her head. “No' tha'!” he gasped, his knees weakening, threatening to give out beneath him.
The precious artifact struck his shoulder. His hands made a wild bid to grasp the piece, but like a juggler out of sync, his frantic antics only flipped the figurine this way and that until it slipped through his fingers and crashed on the edge of the marble top of the coffee table.
Lachlan stared down at the countless pieces, horror further whitening his face then he swung a harried look Beth's way.
To his disbelief, she was tossing a large Austrian crystal paperweight in her hands, tossing it while glaring at him with an undeniable glint of animosity brightening her eyes.
“I want answers.” Beth heaved a ragged breath. “You've been putting something in my tea, haven't you?”
Color returned to Lachlan's face. Angry color. “I canna believe you would accuse me o' such a foul thin’! And you have no' touched yer damn tea,” he said through locked teeth.
He took a cautious step in her direction, his gaze riveted on the crystal she held threateningly higher. “I'm willin' to answer yer questions, but I'll no' stand for you threatenin' me wi' ma own treasures. Now...put...tha'...down.”
“When I'm damn good and ready. Start talking.”
Lachlan's nostrils flared. He arched one eyebrow censoriously and flexed his hands by his sides. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Anywhere that begins to make sense of all this.”
“Efter you put down ma grandmither's crystal.”
A visual showdown ensued. Lachlan held his ground, confident Beth's anger would lessen and her compassion would resurface. He knew this woman better than anyone.
Or so he thought.
As if seeing it happen in slow motion, he watched the paperweight sail through the air. His phantom heart drummed in his chest. A deafening roar filled his ears. The crystal piece whizzed past his ear. Reflexively, he shot out a hand to capture it. The crystal skimmed past the tips of his fingers. He pushed off on the balls of his feet, but the crystal shattered on impact with the fireplace tiles. A string of Gaelic curses was released as he slapped the floor the entire length of his body.
“Enough!” he bellowed, scrambling back onto his feet. “Tis—” He sharply exhaled at the sight of Beth holding up a jade figurine. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” he sobbed, raising his hands pleadingly in the air. “If ye're lookin' to see a grown mon cry, go ahead and toss it. But if there's an ounce o' compassion left in you, you'll put it down.”
“I want answers!”
A squeaky breath spilled from him as he helplessly gestured with his arms. “I said I'd answer yer questions!” he exclaimed in something akin to hysteria. “Tis no' simple to explain!”
“Oh?” Beth shuffled her shoulders in an airy, cocky manner. “How hard can it be, Lachlan?” she asked sarcastically. “You supposedly died over a hundred years ago. Carlene and David have supposedly been dead for three months. And let's not forget, I've supposedly been dead for a week. This is all a sick hoax, or I'm hallucinating. Right?”
With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head. “Neither.”
Beth glared at him for several long seconds before lowering the jade piece to her side. He gestured for her to sit on the settee and, after a brief hesitation, she sat and laid the figurine on her lap.
“All right. I'm listening.”
Lachlan's throat felt suddenly tight, and he turned away in a bid to compose himself. But his gaze fell upon Beth's portrait, her features as strong a beacon as ever for his heart. Turning his head, he looked at the three-dimensional vision. She was waiting for him to begin, her eyes downcast, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the figurine.
Sighing deeply, he ran his fingers through his hair. He'd wanted to tell her everything since that moment when he first saw her standing on the staircase, but he was still apprehensive. Then her eyes lifted and impaled him. Lachlan gulped past the tightness in his throat and forced himself to begin.
“I guess tis better to start at the beginnin',” he began stiltedly, his gaze flitting over the face of the depiction of his long-awaited love. “Ma faither was a successful shipbuilder. Efter his death, me and ma three older brithers took over the business. By the time I was twenty-two, I had mair money than most men see in a lifetime. And it was then I decided it was time to settle down and start a family o' ma own.
“I'd come to Crossmichael to visit a friend a few years previously, and I fell in love wi’ it here. An' it was here I found ma land in 1841 and started to work on this house.
“It took two years to finish and anither year to fill it wi' all the treasures here now. Then it was time to find me a hearty womon to marry, a womon to fill these walls wi' the laughter o' children.”
Lachlan swallowed hard then tried to smile through the tightness in his face. “I went clear to Aberdeen to find me a bride, and efter a few weeks, I was introduced to Tessa by a third cousin o' mine. It took me a week to convince her to marry me. Aye, I thought she was the perfect lass for this house. She had a face as soft and fair as moonlight, and hair the color o' golden wine. Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. She made me feel young and giddy, and I fell so hard in love tha' I didna think beyond whiskin' her to her new home and startin' our lives thegither. She was so shy and undemandin', I couldna refuse when she asked if her older brither could come to stay wi' us. This house was big enough.
“But ma bride began to act strangely once we arrived here. She complained o' a feelin' o' bein' watched and touched by somethin' evil. Our weddin' night was fraught wi' her weepin' and complainin' and usin' every excuse she could think o' to douse ma passion, and I left our marriage bed angrier than I'd ever been. “She needed time, she said. And as long as I left her alone, she was attentive and sweet, but each night, she went to her own bed, and me...ta mine.
“I got along weel enough wi' her brither. He seemed a sympathetic lad. Aye, you could say I thought verra weel o' Robert.
“Abou' a month efter our marriage, I told Tessa i' was time she fulfilled her wifely duties. She took it bloody good, I thought, and she promised to come to ma bed tha' night. There I lay, waitin' for her, all bathed and perfumed like some poor, love-sick sop abou' to lose his virginity. But the hours went by. She never showed up. Come morn, I went lookin' for her.
“And I found her. In her room. Sleepin' in Robert's arms.”
Releasing a scornful laugh, Lachlan turned and finally looked at Beth. It didn't matter to him that she was watching him through a look of complete apathy. His only concern at the moment was to go on with the details of the past, in hopes talk of their future together would follow.
“I couldna say aught to either o' them. Just went back to ma room and tried to make sense o' it all. Then Tessa came in, wearin' the clingy nightgown I'd bought her for our weddin' night, tears in her eyes, and all contrite and pleadin' wi' me to understand. Robert, she claimed, was no' her brither but her lover. They were too poor to marry, she said, and too in love to bear separation.
“I was too numb to be angry, and I was calm when I told her to leave wi’ him. I told her she couldna take aught from the house, though. It was all bought for a carin' mistress o' the place, and I felt s
he had no right to any o' it. She looked at me with those cursed blue eyes o' hers, tears on her cheeks, and she told me she was sorry she'd hurt me. And when she came toward me, words o' regret spillin' like honey from her tongue, I was expectin' a wee kiss on the cheek for ma troubles.”
Lachlan sighed deeply, trying to camouflage the pain in the remembrance evoked.
“Wha' I got was a dirk in ma heart—ma own great-grandfaither's, jewel-handled dirk, no less. No' a flicker o' emotion was in her eyes when she done the deed.
“Her and her Robert thought I'd died right away. I could hear them discussin' wha' to do wi' me, and there I lay, ma life's blood runnin' ou' o' me, and they thinkin' I'd long since taken ma last breath.
“It was Robert's idea to wall me up in the tower. I remember hopin' to hear a bit o' sadness in Tessa's tone, but she was cold and anxious to be done wi' the whole mess.
“Waitin' while Robert tore ou' the wall to make ma grave, I kept thinkin' I should be dead by now. The pain had stopped, but I could feel ma blood tricklin' ou' o' ma body...so slow...so steady...and ma blood felt so hot while ma body was growin' ever so cold as the time crept by.
“Robert dragged me into the openin' he'd made, and kept crammin' me in tighter and tighter. I didna find the strength to speak till he began to mortar the rocks back in place. ‘Robert,’ I said, ‘dinna do this.’
“A terrible look o' fear came into his eyes. For the longest time, he crouched there starin' at me, and I found maself thinkin' he didna have the heart to go on.
“But he did. Rock efter rock was replaced. Afore he could seal me in completely, I warned him, ‘Robert, I'll never leave ma house. You'll never own ma treasures.’”
Lachlan looked at Beth. Her head was lowered and she was again fingering the jade piece.
“It seemed to take forever for me to die, Beth. I dinna know how long for sure, but I stayed in tha' horrible darkness, tryin' to understand how it all could have gone so wrong. I think I went to sleep, but it was no' a sleep I awakened from in the usual sense.
“I was frightened by the absence o' life at first. The grayness was so overpowerin'. In tha' new beginnin', Beth, I couldna make maself seen. Och, I could scare the wits ou' o' ma murderers, and efter a while, I discovered I could keep them from takin' ma treasures, although the bulk o' ma money was ou' o' ma power to protect.
“Beth, never trust a bank.
“The anger didna come till efter their first child was born,” Lachlan went on, his tone low and raspy. “It was then I realized ma dreams were as lost as ma life. Every whimper and laugh and cry I heard from the babe, dirked me again and again.”
An ill-stifled sob was heard from Beth. Lachlan looked at her bent head and drew in a breath through his nostrils. He didn't want to cause her further sorrow, or use her compassion to his advantage. But he needed her to understand all the factors that had brought them both to this point in time.
Going to the coffee table, he sat on it across from her. He waited for her to look up. When she didn't, he gently took the figurine from her and placed it on the table alongside him. Then he leaned to, resting his forearms on his legs above his knees. Angling his head to have a look at her face, he found he could only discern her tightly compressed lips, and the quivering of her chin.
“Dinna feel sad abou' ma past. If I hadna so desperately wanted children, I might have seen wha' was comin'.”
“Go on,” she choked, bending her head further to avoid his prying eyes.
“All right, I will.
“Tessa and her Robert had nine children thegither, but their marriage was fraught wi' tears and anger maist o' the time. Robert wanted to leave this place. They had ma money and could live anywhere they wanted. But Tessa was a spiteful womon. She could sense ma presence, and she delighted in torturin' me wi' each child she bore in ma own bed.
“Robert died afore the turn o' the century.” Lachlan released a dry, low laugh. “Tessa brought in gypsies and the like to banish me. But funny thin' abou' the powers tha' be, Beth, we have mair control than we're led to believe in life. So I stayed on.
“In 1902, Tessa died. Her spirit passed on swiftly ou' o' ma reach. Her eldest son, Robbie, took over the house. His plan was to make some minor improvements, then sell ma home for wha’ever he could get for it.
“They amazed me, these Inglisses. No matter wha' I did—the howlin', the tossin' thin’s, the threatenin'—most o' tha' idiot clan refused to believe I still existed. O' course, Tessa's story had been I'd deserted her. Cool and calculatin', tha' one. The family was never sure wha' was hauntin' this place—no' till Robbie uncovered me.”
Lachlan linked his fingers. “Two things altered ma existence then, Beth. When Robbie opened the wall, I felt maself expel a breath—a great, roarin' breath tha' gave me a sense o' truly bein' alive again. Some kind o' energy moved abou' me. Its power pulled me through the grayness I'd known since ma death. At first I thought I was comin' back to life. It felt—feels—tha' real. Like we are now, darlin'.”
Beth's head lifted slowly. Her tear-filmed eyes reluctantly looked into Lachlan's. He wanted to pull her into his arms and soothe her, but he knew he had to go on. It all had to be explained before she could begin to accept her own death.
“This energy gives us the ability to materialize and spend portions o' time livin' in this world...dimension...wha’ever you wish to call it. I canna explain how it comes to be, but I know it comes from wi’in this house. I've no' been able to tap into it anywhere else. And as long as I'm full o' maself—you might say—this energy allows me to move beyond this property.”
“Leave. Like at Borgie's place,” Beth accused with quiet disgust.
“Aye. I wanted to kill him. Didna, though. He was alive when I left, and tha' was for Agnes' sake. She attended yer funeral—”
Lachlan sucked in a breath as Beth shot to her feet and walked to the far end of the room. After several moments of silence, he went on, “I guess Borgie didna realize you were... gone, lass. No' tha' a little matter like that would sway him. But I'm gettin' ahead o' maself.
“I'm no' sure wha' I expected o' the Inglisses once the truth was exposed. Perhaps a wee show o' pity for ma untimely end. But no' one o' them shed a tear, and it hurt like hell, it did.
“Ta further frustrate me, they decided I was no' fit to be buried in a church yard. Hypocritical swines!”
He rose to his feet and, with a hand clamped on the back of his neck, walked to the fireplace and looked longingly up at Beth's portrait.
“They interred me ou' by the old oak withou' benefit o' a kist or words o' remorse. No' a prayer for me, Beth, and it made me furious. I'd done naught to them but marry tha' greedy wench. No' a conscience among the bloody lot. to this day, they exist on ma money—their homes and businesses acquired from ma own sweat and blood. And buried me, they did, in tha' cold, lonely place, like some craiture wha' died on a roadside.
“Tha' verra day I swore, for as long as this Ingliss clan's blood runs warm, they will serve me and this house.”
Lachlan's voice became husky and deeper, and laced with bitterness. “Lest I visit them in their cozy homes and remind them o' their debt to me. Might sound cruel, Beth, but I've come to realize tis ma hatred for this clan that's kept me here—tha' alone givin' me the strength to co-exist wi’in the grayness and this world.
“Till you came into me life.”
Amid the tension in the room, a voice as cold as the Arctic said, “I don't want to hear anymore.”
“Have you listened to a word I've said?”
Absolute loathing contorted her features. “You're a master at deception, but I'm not buying any of it.”
To Lachlan's disbelief, Beth ran for the door. His energies began to plummet. “Beth!” he called as she flung wide the door to the hall and dashed toward the front doors.
Electricity crackled about him, causing a breeze to lift his hair back from his face. His features lined with anguish, he bellowed, “Och, Beth!”
His corporeal body broke down into a greenish mist, which moved in the same direction Beth had gone. He had to stop her. He had long ago learned that unstable emotions in this form of existence could evoke strange meteorological occurrences. Poor Beth was so desperately clinging to the hope of life. Her emotions were indeed unstable, her sanity teetering.
Lachlan had to force her to accept the truth.
Silver-blue beams of moonlight bathed Beth's blind flight. She was determined to escape this nightmare, even if it meant running indefinitely.
Several peacocks called out, shattering the stifling quietude of the night. Beth ran on faster and faster, her heart a fragmented thing within her chest. A deep-rooted fear that maybe it wasn't all lies, fueled her desperation to escape the entrapments of Lachlan's words. She couldn't let her heart go out to him.
To believe any of what he'd said would put her in a position to question his claim of her own death.
And she was definitely alive!
Her heart was thundering behind her breasts. Her lungs were aching with the strain to breathe. The cool night air had raised gooseflesh on her arms.
She was alive!
She'd either been drugged, or she'd gone insane. It really didn't matter which. Either way, she was lost to the world she'd thought she'd belonged to, or lost to the only love of a man she'd ever known.
A sound stirred her awareness. A sound both familiar and offering her hope.
The tarred private roadway passed beneath her feet, and when she came to its end, she forged into the street beyond. The high beams of a car came swiftly around a bend in the road. Beth laughed with elation as she flagged her arms wildly above her head to attract the driver's attention.
The headlights rushed on toward her, the bright beams smarting her eyes, impairing her vision. But more afraid of losing this chance to escape Kist House than of being struck by the vehicle, she jumped up and down and began shouting for the driver to stop.
The lights came at her, bearing down on her with a swiftness that was startling. The driver had to see her. She was directly in front of the vehicle's path—
Everlastin' Book 1 Page 16