Lachlan's smile was sardonic. “Ma guess is, you'll know soon enough.”
“Tell me somethin', Baird,” Roan began all too nonchalantly. “Are you holdin' a grudge against yer kin? I hear, Baird, yer brithers never took their noses ou' o' their business journals long enough to search for you.”
Roan studied the ghost's eerie frozen state. The dark eyes that had been slicing through him moments before, were now devoid of expression. But Roan knew if he looked long and deeply into those eyes, he would see the pain his words had inflicted. “And those still alive,” he pressed on, shutting out the compassion trying to surface in him, “consider you a thing to be shunned, an embarrassment to the Baird name.”
To Roan's disappointment, Lachlan grinned. “Did you feel good stickin' me to the quick wi' yer words abou' ma livin' clan, Roan-you-slime? Aye, you did.” Lachlan tapped his right temple with two isolated fingers of his right hand. “Tis a good feelin', aye? Tis how I feel every time I make an Ingliss squirm.”
Lachlan slowly began to fade. “And I'll be feelin' tha' kind o' good for a verra long time.”
When Lachlan was no longer visible, Roan released a long breath. He sank on the edge of the bed and lowered his head then linked the fingers of his hands and draped them over the back of his neck. His insides were queasy, his nerves strung taut.
“I'll send you to hell, Baird.”
At yer heels, laughed a voice in his head.
The color drained completely from his face when Roan realized it had been the ghost's voice he'd heard within the supposed privacy of his mind.
Angrier than he'd ever been, Roan buried himself beneath the covers on the bed and tried to push all thought of Lachlan Baird from his mind.
* * *
Beth breached the haze of the between-world's passageway and stepped into Lachlan's bedroom. She took but a moment to metabolize the energies at her disposal into a semblance of the woman she had been. There was no way for her to judge how long she'd retired to the grayness. The surcease had awarded her the tranquility she'd needed to sort through her turbulent emotions. A calmer, somnolently-tempered woman stared at the man who was sitting crosslegged on the foot of the bed, staring dully into the fire glowing within the hearth.
Her retreat had awarded her more than just a chance to come to terms with her feelings. There in the infinite grayness, alone, without anything to distract her, she'd come to touch upon the knowledge—atoms of information, revelations, floating in the otherworld—waiting to be absorbed by an intelligence and utilized. It was as if every person who had ever traveled through the passage-way—the between place of the real world and the grayness—had left behind some part of their being, some portion of the experiences they'd had in life. And it had struck her that high emotions were attached to every molecule, as if the passageway was a repository where journeying souls purged the psychological ties of their past existence.
She had found her own fear of death among those fragments, along with the stark grief she'd known after the deaths of her adoptive parents. There wasn't a whole lot of Beth among those atoms, which told her she was still holding dear to a life that was forever lost to her. She had yet to release the anger, the joy, the other sorrows she'd known. But these she could not relinquish as yet. She would hold them dear for as long as she could, for she had learned that she had a purpose in this quasi-existence, one as vital as the role she'd played in making her mother's last years as comfortable as possible.
Now she was here for Lachlan, to challenge the anguish and rage that kept him bound to his present existence. She had to somehow abolish his vista of his past, or at least to prompt him to concentrate on the positive events prior to Tessa's betrayal.
Lachlan sighed and lowered his face into his hands. Painful heart sensations gripped Beth. She didn't like to see him so despondent, so lonely. But she had to be careful how much she gave in to him. Lachlan was a charmer, a man confident in his prowess. Beth wanted nothing more than to lie in his arms for countless hours, but lovemaking with him had a tendency to reinforce his beliefs that a surrender to her needs meant waiving her will as well.
A tingling sensation began in her abdomen and slowly spread through her body with accompanying warmth. Releasing a thready breath, she closed her eyes momentarily in a vain attempt to still the desire simmering within her. She had come to talk to Lachlan, to try to reason with his obstinate side.
As if her hands had a mind of their own, her trembling fingers untied the satin belt beneath her breasts. She shucked the gown downward until it was but a lacy pool about her ankles then stepped out of it. The fireplace's glow tinged her nudity in golden and orange hues, shadowing and accentuating the seductive curves of her body.
Steeling herself against the shyness trying to beach her compelling awareness of what her appearance would incite in Lachlan, she gracefully approached the bed. He remained unaware of her. When she stopped within an arm's reach of him, and still he did not look up, her confidence began to succumb to a feeling of ridiculousness. She was about to turn to retrieve the gown when something warm and firm clamped about her right wrist. Startled, she found herself staring down into the dark, turbulent depths of his eyes.
Her taut facial muscles would not permit anything more than a nervous tick at one corner of her mouth. She waited anxiously for Lachlan to say something as his eyes made a slow appraisal of that part of her body visible above the mattress. When his gaze lazily lifted to meet hers, she could not determine his thoughts or his mood.
And when he finally spoke, it was not what Beth had hoped to hear.
“Wha' do I have to sacrifice for this wee mercy?”
A slow burn ignited within Beth's core. Here she was, as naked as the day she was born, and Lachlan was being flippant and snide.
Jerking her wrist free of his hold, she whirled away. She kept her teeth clenched against a retort as she snatched up the gown and fumbled to find the hemline to slip over her head. Her skin was scorched with humiliation, especially the back of her, which was exposed to his lascivious scrutiny.
He doesn’t want a companion, she fumed, he wants a mindless lover! A woman without a voice or a will of her own!
She was about to pull the gown over her head when the material was yanked from her hands. Sharply turning her head, she saw the gown land on the floor several feet away. Then strong, large hands were at her waist, and she was spun around to face an imposing body as naked as her own.
“I'm not in the mood now!” she said, pushing against his broad chest.
“Darlin', ye're wearin' me thin,” he sighed, his eyes gleaming with frustration. “Come to bed.”
“Forget it!”
Muttering Gaelic, Lachlan swept Beth up into his arms and unceremoniously tossed her onto the bed. She squealed in surprise, but as soon as she hit the mattress, she was working up to slip into the grayness. But Lachlan moved swiftly, throwing his body atop hers and pinning her wrists to the bed as he positioned himself to straddle her squirming hips and abdomen.
Beth became livid with impotent anger. As long as he was touching her, she couldn't slip away to the grayness.
His focused energies had her grounded.
Working one of her wrists free, she rammed a fist into his jawline. Lachlan released a cry of surprise and pain combined then, to her disbelief, he laughed.
“You love to bust ma chops, dinna you?” he chortled, anchoring the assaulting hand back to the bed.
“Get off me.”
Lachlan gave her the impression that he was seriously considering it before he grinned down at her.
“Give me one good reason, sweetness.”
“Because if you don't....” Beth deliberately let her words trail off, her warning to linger ominously in the air. But she should have known how Lachlan would respond to that.
“I knew you'd miss me,” he laughed, sensuously leaning to and nestling his arousal against the softness of her belly. “Yer spittin' words come from a mouth achin' for ma kisses.
No. No. Dinna deny it, lass. Ye’re pantin' for me. Admit it.”
“You worm!”
Lachlan released a guttural sound, something Beth wasn't certain indicated exasperation, or amusement. He lowered himself to capture her lips, but she stubbornly turned her head aside and released a grunt of disgust. However, he was not to be so easily put off. His lips, feeling shockingly warm against her skin, moved against the side of her neck. His teeth nipped, heightening the sensitivity of her flesh. Then his tongue began to stroke, to call upon the fires deep within her to quell her anger with him.
Almost against her will, she moved her head, her lips seeking the texture and firmness of his jawline. She slid a kiss along that ridge, her eyes closing to the exquisite sensations frolicking in every part of her body. His lips continued to move along her neck, over her collarbones, leaving a burning trail of after-sensations.
“Lachlan,” she moaned, breathless with desire.
She gave a halfhearted tug to free her hands, wanting to thread her fingers through the thickness of his hair and guide his tormenting mouth to other yearning parts of her body. But Lachlan wasn't prepared to release her as yet. Lifting his head, he stared deeply into her eyes, his own betraying the fierce desire within him to possess her body. His grip light but firm, he stretched her arms high above her head, then lowered his own and targeted one of her earlobes with his teeth.
A spear of delight pierced her. Shock waves of pleasure, searing and wondrous, crashed down on her, banishing any residual resistance that might have been lingering deep within her subconscious.
“I love you,” he said by her ear. Lifting up, he ran his hands with seductive slowness down her arms, his gaze heatedly locked with hers. “We belong thegither.”
“Don't talk.”
Lachlan kissed her then, hungrily, deeply, his tongue exploring the warm, moist recesses of her mouth before their tongues began to stroke in rhythm to the movements of their bodies. Instinctively, he slid between her thighs, nesting himself against the enticing valley that had been unmercifully dogging his thoughts for what seemed an eternity.
The kiss went on, Beth's arms locking about his neck, Lachlan's brawny hands petting and kneading her shoulders, her back, her hips. She was blissfully lost to all but the incredible sensations filling her. Lachlan had a way of making her feel more than any living soul could. His mouth made an ardent trail to her left breast, where he surrounded the dark, erect peak and began to suckle.
Her groan came from the depths of her.
His teeth nipped with maddening gentleness, then his tongue swirled and lapped and teased, bringing her to a point of desperation to quench the fires building within her loins.
“I love you,” she gasped, and closed her eyes when, muttering Gaelic endearments, he moved his hands to her shoulders and drew her up. She reveled in the kisses he planted all over her face. His hands, smooth and strong, slid over her spine and hips, drawing her further onto his lap, inching her toward the rigid implement throbbing to enter her body.
Impatient with his slowness, Beth wrapped trembling fingers about his manhood and guided it into her. A stilted groan emanated deep from within Lachlan, while she released an airy, slow breath of satisfaction. She was about to thrust herself completely onto him when he gasped. His hands flew to her shoulders and, to her utter disbelief, he held her away with a look of shock tightening his features.
Her first notion was that he thought her too bold, but the more she studied his face, his expression crumbling to something akin to horror, the more confused she became.
Unwilling to dwell on what was wrong with him, she moved her hips forward, taking him in deeper, and using those muscles to entice him back into his previous mood. But Lachlan groaned piteously.
“I forgot! Damn the stars, womon, I canna waste ma energies now!”
Beth's mouth dropped open as she stared at him in sheer incredulity. She remained in numbed shock when he quickly lowered her to the mattress and sprang from the bed.
“Tis a night o' business, Beth,” he explained breathlessly, scrambling into his clothes while casting her body several looks of raw yearning. “Yer timin' is lousy.”
Blinking, her lips still parted, Beth drew herself up into a sitting position. “What?”
“Yer timin', womon!” He expelled a breath of exasperation and brushed the back of a hand across his brow. “This will have to wait. Sweet Jesus,” he added with a groan, hungrily staring at her breasts. “The one night a year....Weel, tis business. You understand?”
“No, I don't understand.” With a shaky laugh, Beth made an airy gesture with a hand. “Was it my imagination, or were we just in the midst of making love?”
“Aye.” Lachlan leveled a vulturous look on her. “And I'll be in a world o' hurt for the rest o' the day,” he grumbled, tugging on the crotch of his black pants. “Was tha' yer plan? to make me forget ma responsibilities?”
“Now wait one...damn...minute,” she fumed, slipping from the bed. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Lachlan didn't answer right away. His expression was that of a tortured man as his gaze moved up and down her body.
“Lachlan!”
Reluctantly, he looked into her fiery eyes. “Aye, love?”
“Have you been drinking?”
“No' a drop. I told you, I've business. You know we canna stretch our energies too thin.”
Brushing past him with an unmistakable air of hostility, Beth retrieved her gown. But as she was about to put it on over her head, Lachlan again snatched it from her grasp.
“Give me that!”
Lachlan flipped the gown behind him and placed his hands on his hips. “It makes you look like a bloody spook.”
His words had the effect of a slap in the face, and she went rigid with anger. “I happen to like that dress. And, I am a spook! Or aren't you that same pain-in-the-ass who was so determined to make me accept my death?”
“Pain-in-the-ass, you say?” Lachlan puffed himself up, his eyes furious and snapping. “A lady would choke sayin' bahookie, let alone...ass!”
“Maybe in your century.” She made a move to get her gown, but he blocked her with a swift side step.
“I'll burn the damn thing!”
“Try it.” Beth straightened back her shoulders and flashed him a lancing look. “You have far more to lose in this house than I do.”
“Ye're just bein' stubborn! I hate tha' gown!”
“I love it!”
A visual showdown ensued for several long moments.
“Tis the gown Tessa wore when she done me in,” he said finally, his shoulders quaking with anger.
“You're full of it.”
Lachlan thought about this for a moment then groaned. “So it was no' the damn gown, but it rattles me to see you wearin' somethin' as...as dolor as tha' rag.”
“Dolor?” What does dolor mean? Beth laughed. “You just want to dictate what I wear. Well, I won't stand for it. I like the dress. I like the way it feels on me, and I intend to wear it.”
“And if I said I loved the damn thing, you'd toss it in the fire!” With a sound of disgust, he swooped the gown up into a hand and tossed it to Beth. “Fine. Have it yer way! But I'm warnin' you.” He leveled an isolated finger and wagged it at her. “A mon only has so much patience, and ye're tryin' mine to the quick! You know how I feel abou' tha' dress, so dinna come to me in it again.”
Beth quickly slipped into the gown and, while Lachlan watched her with a scornful eye, she tied the belt into a neat bow then flamboyantly twirled the end of the ribbon to annoy him.
“Ye're an incorrigible tease,” he scowled.
“Poor baby.” Smiling sweetly, she added, “I hope your 'business' proves satisfying, Lannie, because it's going to be a very long time before—”
“I've a mind as to the rest o' the taunt,” he interjected irritably, and arched a censorious brow. “You've yet to come to know wha' makes a good relationship work.”
“Oh, real
ly?”
“Be snide to yer heart's content, but I...ma fine lass...take ma responsibilities verra seriously. Tis the difference between a mon and a womon, and why tis the mon who's always worn the pants in the real world.”
Beth was too stunned to speak right away. Then, shucking off her stupor, she calmly gripped the front of Lachlan's shirt and jerked him forward, placing their faces inches apart. “I'm beginning to understand why Tessa dirked you. I'm feeling the urge myself.”
Shaking himself free, Lachlan took two paces back. “Now dinna you be attackin' ma monhood!”
With a pointed glance down, Beth quipped, “It's your one asset.”
“Och! You've a mouth tha' needs a good washin'!”
Beth poofed away.
After giving an exasperated roll of his eyes, Lachlan muttered, “Wha' a mon does for love.”
Chapter 12
Giving in to his restlessness, Roan left his cozy quarters in the carriage house. His gloved hands lifted the lamb's wool collar of his coat as he leisurely strolled toward the west grounds. The air was crispy cold, but clean and invigorating. The downy snow that had fallen the previous evening was only ankle deep, but covered slick, frozen older snow. Frost and ice glistened like diamond dust on the naked branches of trees and shrubs.
Stopping at the fenceline to the Lauders' property, he gazed wistfully across the pristine fields. The house to the far side of the field was lit up. He wondered if the family was gathered around a wood stove, sipping tea or hot cider as he wished he was at this moment. He hated being at Baird House, hated it more every morning when he awakened and looked out at the manor.
Wrapped in melancholy, he pushed away from the fence and, mindful of his steps, headed back along the same path. But instead of returning to the carriage house, he took a snow-covered footpath by the main house that led to the north pasture. He still wasn't sure what had brought him out on this night, but something was beckoning him.
Lights came on in the library, the unexpectedness of the occurrence causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. He glowered at the windows covered within by sheer amber curtains, then carried on with his walk. He came to the edge of the wooded area that boarded the uncluttered north field, and was about to turn back when he spied movement by the solitary tree in its center.
Everlastin' Book 1 Page 22