Love Everlastin' Book 3

by Mickee Madden

  "Weel, Winston, either ye come to terms wi' the worst o' wha' ye can imagine o' me, or remain ignorant o' wha' be the truth." A sob gave her pause, and she visibly braced herself to go on. "I love ye wi' all yer faults. Yer ups and downs. Yer goodness and yer darkness. I accept ye. I deserve no less. I will accept no less."

  His features darkened with contempt. "You're no' human."

  "No? I know I have a heart, because ye are breakin’ it, Winston Ian Connery. I must have a soul, because I can feel it shrivelin’ inside ma breast. I bleed and I cry. And I love wi' the same passion as—"

  "A human female?" he mocked.

  She flinched as if he had struck her. Gulping back the tears rising in her throat, she slipped from the bed on the opposite side, drawing the quilt around her as she got to her feet. Her back to him, she said, "I'll no' ask forgiveness for I've done naught wrong by ye."

  Winston watched her walk out of the room, his chest rising and falling with each great breath that roared in and out of his lungs. He wanted to cry. Scream. Smash something! Anything to vent the betrayal coiling ever-tighter in his gut.

  Witch. Dimensional nymph. What did it matter. She'd been somehow blinding him to truths, and he inwardly berated his stupidity to have allowed it to happen.

  A feeling of being watched triggered his awareness. His head shot around and he saw a peacock perched on one of the window sills. Its beady dark eyes were staring at him. He knew it was ludicrous, but he could almost swear he read intelligence in the bird's colorful face. And he could almost swear this feathered Peeping Tom was Braussaw.

  The bird released a spine-chilling cry and rapped its beak twice on the window pane. Winston stepped toward the windows, but jerked back when the bird melted into thin air. For a moment he couldn't think. Couldn't move. He'd encountered more than his share of strange occurrences in his life, but Baird House was proving to be the biggest challenge of all.

  Finally, he went to the left side window and looked down at the snowman. Crowning it was an intact bird. Motionless, but turned now in the direction of his side of the house. He was beginning to question if he'd actually knocked the stuffing out of the damn thing when he spied Roan trudging through the snow in the direction of the carriage house. Winston didn't need his psychic abilities to tell him that the current laird was fuming about something.

  His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet today. He watched Roan enter the carriage house then, shoving his hands into his pockets, left the bedroom and headed for the staircase.

  * * *

  Lachlan lifted his head from his hands when he heard footfalls approaching. A weary frown masked his features as Roan approached, the livid expression on the man's face warning him he was in for another tongue lashing. He sat up straighter, his hands resting on his knees, and braced himself for Roan's anger.

  No sooner did Roan come to a stop, he reached down and, gripping the front of Lachlan's shirt, harshly yanked him to his feet. The heavy wool blanket which had cloaked Lachlan's shoulders, fell on the cot. Lachlan's head whipped back with the force of Roan's action. To his further surprise, Roan shook him, then abruptly shoved him onto the cot and backed off two paces.

  Lachlan was breathing heavily when he shakily got to his feet. He couldn't avert his gaze from the fury in Roan's eyes.

  "Wha' did you do to Beth?" Roan shouted, his balled hands trembling at his sides. "It’s bad enough you've been sulkin’ ou' here like some wounded rodent, and avoidin’ everyone like we're to blame for yer bloody resurrection! But I draw the line when it comes to Beth, you paughty old mon!"

  He angrily raked his fingers though his mane of light brown hair, as if the action might help to calm him a bit. It didn't, and he began gesturing wildly as he continued, "She has stood by you through it all! Stood by you when the rest o' Crossmichael wanted you damned to hell! Now she has given you two grand babies, and wha' does she get for her troubles? Mair pain!"

  Roan jabbed the air in front of Lachlan's face as he went on, "You were always a self-servin’ bastard, weren't you, old mon?" he charged bitterly. "Weel let me tell you this, and it best sink in verra deeply in tha' thick skull o' yers, cause I swear on ma soul, Lannie, I'll no' stand by and watch you hurt tha' womon again!

  "You have never appreciated how lucky you were. Aye!" Roan spat this out contemptuously. "Robert and Tessa cut short yer miserable life, but you had mair in death than maist in life! Make no mistake I love Laura, and I thank God every day for bringin’ her and I back togither, but Beth.... Any mon blessed enough to have her love, should kiss the ground she walks on! She is the best part o' you, you stupid old mon! She is the heart o' this place!"

  Breathing heavily, Roan stepped up to Lachlan. "I saw her come into the house a few minutes ago, lookin’ as if the life had been knocked ou' o' her. Didn't take a genius to figure ou' you'd hurt her again. I won't have it, Lannie. Get a grip and start actin’ like the mon you’re supposed to be!"

  Several seconds ticked by in silence, enough time to refuel Roan's anger.

  "Haven't you anythin’ to say for yerself?"

  His gaze never wavering from Roan's, Lachlan said in a monotone, "Dinna call me old."

  Roan jerked back as if Lachlan had dealt him a stunning blow. He stepped back, incredulity washing the color from his face. Then, as though he didn't have it within him to stop himself, he sailed his right fist through the air and landed it on Lachlan's jaw. The impact knocked the former laird onto the cot where, too stunned to move, the sounds of his hoarse breathing filled the room.

  Roan, too, was breathing heavily as he stared down at his smarting hand as if shocked he'd actually struck out with it. His anger became overwhelmed by guilt and shame. A temper he had, but he wasn't a man who condoned physical violence. Lachlan had always possessed the ability to provoke him, but he couldn't remember ever wanting to hurt him as much as he did moments ago.

  "Damn me," he murmured, staggering back three paces, and staring at the raw desolation on Lachlan's face as if that in itself were a deadly weapon. "Soon as the weather breaks, I'm takin’ Laura and the lads away from here. Keep yer house and yer bloody possessions. May it all comfort you throughou' the rest o' yer pathetic existence."

  Roan headed for the door, while Lachlan sat up and gingerly touched the painful, throbbing area on his left jaw. At the threshold, Roan suddenly stopped and looked Lachlan's way.

  "Aggie's passin’ over right efter dinner. We're havin’ a party for her and ye’re no' invited. You've brought us enough misery. So I'm askin’ you, Lannie, stay away till she's gone. Come morn, take back yer bloody house. Take back everythin’ you've fought so hard to keep all these years."

  Roan closed the door behind him, leaving Lachlan cocooned in silence so loud, it closed in around him.

  "Aggie's leavin’?" he murmured, misery making taut his face. "Oh, Aggie. Dinna go."

  He broke down in great, shuddering sobs. Manly or not, he couldn't stop the tears. He couldn't stop anguish from consuming him. He was desperately frightened and lonely, but had no idea how to overcome these dark forces.

  His Beth.

  He would never forget the hurt he'd read in her eyes, for he knew she would never forgive him his weaknesses. And Roan, the only friend he'd ever had, hated him. Now Aggie was leaving, and he knew it was because of him. They all belonged at Baird House. They were the magic, the heart of the Baird estate.

  He was vaguely aware of someone sitting next to him, but was given a start when arms went around him and his head was pressed to something warm and solid.

  "Lachlan," a feminine voice sighed, tender chiding lacing the tone. "You certainly have a way of bringing out the worst in some people."

  Confused and trembling violently, Lachlan drew away and forced himself to look into the face of the woman. The visage that appeared to shimmer as he squinted through his tears, belonged to—

  "Laura?"

  Chapter 10

  A somewhat shy smile turned up the corners
of Laura's mouth. "At least you didn't call me Tessa. I thought for sure you would want to add me to your list of admirers."

  Despite his inner and external pain, he managed what sounded like a chuckle. "Wha' are you doin’ ou' here? Tis cold."

  "I noticed," she said wryly then, gently cupping his chin with the fingers of her right hand, inspected the left side of his face. "Did Roan do this?"

  "No." He inwardly shriveled with she cocked a challenging eyebrow. "Aye," he amended begrudgingly, "but I provoked him. Dinna blame him."

  "When he came tearing into the house, I knew something had happened." She lowered her hands to her lap and regarded him solemnly. "Lachlan, you're a mess. Not to mention facial hair definitely does not become you. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

  Lachlan lowered his gaze. "I dinna know why. Roan told me to get a grip." He looked into the beautiful green eyes, and shrugged. "But that's the problem, Laura. I dinna know who or wha' I am, anymair. I'm displaced. Tis like I'm in the middle o' two opposin’ forces pulling me this way and tha', and I've no' a clue which is the right side."

  Renewed tears burned his eyes and added to his frustration. "I dinna want to hurt anyone, Laura. No matter wha' I do, though, I'm responsible for someone's pain."

  Laura was thoughtfully quiet for a time, her gaze studying him with unnerving calm.

  "Okay, Lachlan, I want you to listen very carefully to me. Granted, being dead then coming back to life, can be—shall we say—unsettling?"

  He nodded grimly.

  "Probably as unsettling as discovering you're the reincarnation of a murdering bitch with the hots for wealth, right?"

  Lachlan was taken aback by not only her words, but the humor in which they were spoken. A tenuous grin appeared on his mouth before he said, "Possibly."

  "Second chances are scary, Lachlan, because we have so much to make up for from the first time around."

  She sighed deeply, her gaze staring off into space. Then she looked him in the eye with a more serious air about her. "You are Lachlan Baird, a man who broke away from his family to find his own path in life. A man who built an incredible house and through tragedy, created a legacy that will live on in the minds of people for generations to come. You are Lachlan Baird, whose love for a woman brought her to Baird House to die, so she wouldn't be as lonely in death as she had been in life. And you are Lachlan Baird, who not only forgave his murderers, but opened his heart and home to them."

  A mist of tears appeared in her eyes as she lovingly tapped him beneath the chin. "How can you doubt who and what you are, Lachlan? You began as flesh and blood, and have miraculously been given back to those who love and need you in their lives."

  "Laura," he choked, "I canna believe ye’re bestowin’ this kindness on me."

  "For the most part, you and I share a terrible past, Lachlan. Sometimes my shame for Tessa's actions comes back to haunt me, but I get past it. Do you know how?"

  He shook his head.

  "I remember last Christmas Eve, when I was lying on the ground with that awful knife in my chest, and you leaned over me. I remember the look in your eyes. They told me you would forgive me anything." She reached out and clasped his hands within hers. "They told me you would take my pain if you could."

  "The dirk was intended for me, no' you."

  "That isn't the point, Lachlan." Releasing his left hand, she placed her right palm over his hammering heart. "Long ago, you were my—Tessa's—husband. I can't count the times I've wondered how different our lives would have been if I had loved you and not Robert. If I would have had half the heart I have now. But wondering doesn't change our destinies. Nope. We're all where we should be. Together. Striving to live our lives to the best of our abilities.

  "I know you're afraid, Lachlan. Maybe the reason why I understand what you're going through more than the others is because I'm still frightened of Tessa. I know that era isn't mine, but I'm nonetheless connected to it through her memories—just like you'll always be connected to the eighteen hundreds. But that doesn't mean the past should rule us now."

  "Aye," said Lachlan dreamily, his eyes now staring off into space. "I was a fair businessmon back then. No reason I couldna make ma mark in this time."

  Laura's smile glowed on her face. "I can hear the wheels in your brain finally turning."

  "Aye. Aye."

  "You still have Baird House. And your wealth—"

  "No," he cut her off, lifting a hand in the air to emphasize the word. "Tis all yers and Roans."

  "Lachlan—"

  "Laura, I'll no' take back—"

  "What is rightfully yours?" she laughed mockingly, hoping to impress upon him how ridiculous it was to refuse what already belonged to him.

  Lachlan steepled his fingers in front of his chin. "Roan once talked abou' turnin’ Baird House into a retreat. Does he still think abou' tha'?"

  She nodded.

  "Maist o' the rooms aren't in use."

  She nodded again. "There are lots of empty room. Some I haven't even seen yet."

  "Enough for two growin’ families alone on the third floor. The second floor could be opened to the public. Even this carriage house would make a grand getaway cottage."

  "Personally, I think you and Roan would make hellaciously dynamic partners."

  His features scrinched up. "Is hellaciously really a word?"

  She laughed. "If not, it should be."

  "Aye. Hellaciously. Feels good on the tongue."

  Again Laura laughed, and for the first time since his return, Lachlan beamed with hope.

  "Here I was afeared o' the future," he said almost breathlessly, "and the future's been starin’ me square in the face. Och, Laura, I can be an old fool."

  "Maybe a wee stubborn now and then, but I think you're entitled. However, I also think it's time you groveled at Beth's feet for forgiveness."

  Lachlan released a breath through pursed lips. "Fegs. She was fair ready to slay ma heart when she left."

  "She was here?"

  He nodded. "Roan saw her when she returned to the house. Tis why he came ou' to put me straight. Fegs, Laura, I've made a fine mess o' things. I haven't so-much-as looked at the twins. I've been afraid o' seeing ma failure in their wee faces."

  "Well take a good look at them, Lachlan, and I can promise you won't see failure. They're beautiful, healthy babies."

  "Has she named them?"

  "No. I think she's been hoping you would participate in choosing the names."

  "Roan said Aggie's leavin’ today."

  "After dinner." Laura frowned bemusedly. "She said the strangest thing, Lachlan. Said Deliah had finally agreed to release her."

  "Deliah?"

  "The young woman Winston found at the gazebo. She was naked and half frozen. We still don't know much about her, but she claims to belong to the house."

  "Deliah," Lachlan murmured, his brow creased in deep thought. "The name is familiar, but a distant kind o' memory. There, but no' quite. Do you know wha' I mean?"

  "Is she someone from your past?"

  "No. Perhaps." Lachlan shook his head. "I just know I've heard the name. I can almost hear it now, whispering in ma mind."

  Laura cleared her throat. "I-ah saved the best part. She thinks she's the magic in the house."

  Lachlan pondered this for a time, too, then rose to his feet. A dull ache was manifesting at his temples. He felt a bit unsteady and light in the head, but Laura's words continued to echo through his mind.

  "Lachlan, what's wrong? You like look you're going to faint."

  He made an absent gesture with a hand. "Tis just yer words are ringin’ true in ma mind. Deliah. Deliah." He walked four paces away then returned to stand by the cot. "Sometimes when I was in the grayness, I thought there was someone in there wi' me. A presence. Naught I could see, but rather somethin’ there to watch over me. to tell you the truth, I never gave it much thought."

  Laura rose and faced Lachlan. "Are you saying you believe she's from the grayness?"<
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  "I dinna know." Lachlan sighed wearily. "I canna think straight." He looked across the open space of the carriage house. "Tis bloody cold in here. Every time I move, I swear I can hear ma skin crinklin’ wi' ice."

  "Why didn't you light the wood stove?"

  Lachlan's gaze followed to where she pointed. He could just make out a small potbellied stove by the wall on the opposite side of the door.

  "I didna see it."

  "Roan installed it. Look, Lachlan, come back to the house. It's a lot warmer, and it's where you belong."

  "Aye, I've got to go back, but maistly to do the grovelin’ you mentioned. No' only to Beth but Roan. And Aggie. Laura, I canna let her leave wi’ou' sayin’ goodbye to her. But I know she doesna want to see me."

  "I know you care about her," Laura said kindly. "Between you and me, I think it would sadden her if you didn't show up for her party." Laura grinned mischievously. "However, before making your grand entrance, you need a bath and a change of clothes."

  Grimacing, Lachlan looked down at his shirt. "What's wrong wi' ma clothes?"

  "Besides being stinky and outdated?" she teased.

  Lifting his right arm, Lachlan took a whiff. "Och, I do smell ripe. All right, a bath it is. But I dinna know abou' wearin’ a modern mon's clothes. Were mine tossed away?"

  "No, they're in a trunk in the attic."

  He comically lifted his eyebrows.

  "Lachlan, they probably smell...musty."

  "I like musty. Tis ma middle name."

  Laura laughed and raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. "Okay. At least you agreed to the bath and changing out of these clothes. And shave this mess off your face." She gave his beard a playful tug. "I'll loan you one of Roan's razors. We'll just sneak you back into the house. When I left, Beth and the babies were in the dining room with Aggie, and Roan was planning to bake with the boys. While you take a bath in the master suite, I'll get you a change of clothes from the attic."

  "Roan was adamant he didna want me at the party."