Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (21 page)

What have I done?
she silently lamented, grief threatening to crush
the life out of her.

She'd been in the attic.
She'd put on the nightgown. If that much was real, had she found a
dagger, and turned it on the laird?

And Roan? He'd been there.
She'd fought him.

She had wanted to kill him,
too!

An abrupt sound of something
striking wood, sent fierce chills through her. Another sound
followed. It took her a moment to define what it was she was
hearing.

Someone was moving between
the walls.

A scream building in her
throat, she flung herself from the bed. Holding up the nightgown so
as not to trip on the hem, she ran across the room. She was nearly
to the opened door when she blindly collided with a solid form. The
scream emerged with a strangled sob. She began to fall backward.
Strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her then giving her a
firm shake.

"What's wrong wi' you?" Roan
snapped.

Looking into his livid
expression, Laura shakily asked, "Where are the boys?"

Releasing her, he raked a
hand through his unruly hair. "Wi' Beth and Lannie."

"I was in the
attic—"

"Aye, and damn near lost me
ma wits, I can tell you." Placing his hands on his hips, he ran an
appreciative glance over her nightgown, and sighed. "Wha' are you
doin' in tha'?"

Suddenly self-conscious,
Laura folded her arms across her breasts. "I-I found it in a trunk.
I must have b-been sleepwalking."

Roan eyed her skeptically
before his stern look melted to one of compassion. Gently drawing
her into the security of his arms, he kissed the crown of her head.
"Ye're beyond jaggey, lass."

Turning her head, she stared
forlornly at the far wall. "I heard something moving between the
walls."

"No."

"I did, dammit!"

Sighing with impatience, he
held her out to search her pale features. "Laura, yer nerves are on
edge—"

"Don't placate me! There's a
passageway behind the bookcase in the library,
remember?"

"Aye—"

"Well there's probably
secret passageways throughout the house! Why won't you believe
me?"

"I believe
you
believe," he said
with a hint of a smile. He clipped her affectionately beneath the
chin with a crooked finger. "I asked Lannie abou' the one behind
the bookcase. It’s no' a secret anythin', Laura. When Lannie
designed the house, he had two-foot workways made between maist o'
the exterior and interior walls."

"Workways for what?" she
asked testily.

"Pipework, maistly. You see,
Laura, he never wanted the walls to be altered to accommodate
renovations."

"All the rooms have this two
foot space?"

He nodded.

"Then why can't you admit
that there's a possibility that someone has been lurking between
the walls!" Furious, she stormed to the foot of the bed, keeping
her back to him. "The boys swear someone has been going into their
room. And I know what I heard a little while ago." She turned,
glaring at him. "Wait a minute." Her posture stiffened. "You said
Lannie designed this house, right?"

"Aye," he sighed.

"The same Lannie—Lachlan
Baird, who's with my nephews right now?"

Scowling, Roan closed the
distance, stopping within arm's reach of her. "I've been tryin' to
tell you—"

"Right, he's a
ghost!"
she flung, her
eyes further brightening.

"He was murdered in the
master suite, a century and a half ago. Beth died here, last
summer."

His words, although calmly
spoken, raised gooseflesh on Laura's exposed skin.

"Where were you before
conveniently coming through that door?" she asked, pointing to the
door in question.

He glanced over his shoulder
then leveled a darkening scowl on her.

"It's been you, hasn't it?"
She shivered uncontrollably. "You've been trying to scare us away
from here."

"Laura," he
growled.

"Just spare us the scare
tactics," she sneered, a catch in her voice. "Come morning, I'm
taking my nephews and leaving this damn house! Leaving you! We've
been nothing but an inconvenience, but I assure you, Mr. Ingliss,
I'll send you compensation for your valuable time once I return to
the States!"

"Are you bloody quite
through?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Aye," she said
scornfully.

"Ma turn. Lannie and
Beth
are
ghosts,
although, granted, it’s hard to fathom since they're so...lively,
so to say."

"You're warped."

He leaned to in a
threatening manner, the look in his eyes warning her to be silent.
"And I would never stoop to frightenin' anyone, you stubborn,
unreasonable womon! And last but no' least, I don't relish the idea
o' you and the laddies leavin'. For some reason I can't bloody well
understand at the moment, I love you."

Laura jerked as though he'd
struck her. Her eyes seeming too wide amid her pale face, she
leaned against the foot of the bed for support.

"Cat got yer tongue?" he
quipped, a flush to his cheeks. Suddenly intimidated by his
revelation, he shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze
wandering to avoid her own.

"You're insane," she said
finally, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

He forced himself to look
into her eyes. "Is tha' all you have to say?"

Laura swallowed hard and
averted her gaze. "Just leave me alone."

A slow transformation
settled over Roan. Cold, deadly anger hardened his eyes, made taut
the skin across his features, and stiffened his posture. His
nostrils flared. A chill passed through Laura. As if compelled, she
looked at him. The sight of him looming over her, his rage clear,
overwhelmed her with the worst terror she'd ever known. Ice
replaced the blood in her veins. Her feet became rooted to the
floor. She wanted to flee the room, the house, him, but she
couldn't bring herself to even so-much-as whimper.

"Tis always been yer way!"
he snarled, his breath fanning her face.
"Gang yer own gait, you dochter o' the deil!
I wash ma bloody hands o' you!"

Laura's temper flared,
dousing her fear. "Get out! I never want to see you again! If you
truly loved me—"

His hand shot out and
cinched her throat, cutting off her air. The fingers tightened,
threatening to crush her windpipe. Her eyes wide with fear, she
stared into the maniacal pools of his eyes. He meant to kill her
and she didn't possess the strength to stop him.

"Never again," he hissed,
then released her as if sickened by the touch of her, then stormed
from the room. He was halfway down the staircase when he
experienced a wash of weakness sweep through him. His legs grew
rubbery. Sitting on one of the steps, he lowered his face into his
hands. When he looked up, he stared at his surroundings through a
bewildered look.

"I've got to lay off the
scotch," he murmured, giving himself a shake. A chill settled in
his bones. His stomach churned. He looked over his shoulder and,
deciding he was closer to the second floor landing than the first,
he gingerly rose and made it to the top of the stairs. A hand
against his middle, his face the color of light gray chalk, he
staggered down the hall to the right of the staircase. He entered
the last bedroom and closed the door behind him. In the semi-dark,
he found an unmade bed and collapsed across it.

His eyes burned.

His lungs ached
unbearably.

He coughed, then again, and
made a feeble attempt to get back up.

He collapsed, his fevered
brain trying to warn him that something was wrong.

Within seconds, a long moan
was followed by his slipping into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Laura paced the
floor space to the left of the bed, a hand massaging her reddened
neck. She was no longer afraid. She was angry and hurt, vexed by
his harsh words.

After all they'd been
through, how dare he tell her to go her own way. And how dare he
call her the daughter of the devil!

A strong sense of a presence
whirled her to face the door. Standing at the threshold, looking
dejected and exhausted, Alby rocked on his feet waiting for her to
speak.

"Alby!" she gasped. Crossing
the room, she knelt in front of him and lovingly touched the
fingertips of a hand to his cool cheek. "Why are you wandering
around this big old house?"

"Sumpin' woke me up," he
pouted.

"Were you having a
nightmare?"

He shook his
head.

Laura glanced at the bed.
"Do you want to sleep with me tonight?"

He nodded, then abruptly
threw his arms about her neck and hugged her. As quickly, he drew
away, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Do you need to go to the
bathroom?"

He shook his head. "I'm
thirsty."

Laura laughed low. "How
about a warm glass of milk?"

He wrinkled his
nose.

"It'll bring the Sandman
with his magical sleeping dust."

"No sa."

"I guess you're too big for
that one," she smiled. Standing, she took him by the hand and led
him to the bed. She tucked him beneath the covers then leaned over
and planted a kiss on his brow. "I'll warm up some milk and be back
in a jiff. Stay in this bed, Alby, okay?"

"Okay."

Laura fingered a soft dark
curl on his brow. "You promise?"

He eagerly nodded then his
expression crumbled to one of sadness. "What if the ghost comes for
me?"

Straightening, she sighed.
"He won't. I'll hurry."

* * *

Alby sat up and watched her
leave the room. A frown drew down the dark slashes of his eyebrows.
"What about the scawy man?" he asked in a small voice.

"Al, you in here?" someone
whispered. Kahl's head popped around the door frame. Seeing his
younger brother, he ran across the room and jumped onto the bed
with a high-pitched squeal. Alby fell back on the pillows and
scowled at him.

"Go away."

"No way, man," Kahl grinned
wickedly. He glanced about him. "Where's Kevin?"

"I dunno."

"Where's the big
guy?"

"Dunno."

Kahl rolled his eyes. "Okay,
where's Aunt Laura?"

"Making me some
milk."

"Why?"

Alby snorted and kicked the
top covers. "Cause I can't sleep!"

"Okay, Okay! Chee. Ya
know...." The mischievous gleam in his eyes deepened. "The ghosts
are gone. We can go to the tower if we want to."

"Nope."

"How come?"

"Cause I promised to stay
here, that's why."

Kahl grimaced. "You're such
a baby."

"Am not!" Alby shouted,
sitting up and taking a swing at his brother. Missing, he
petulantly folded his arms across his small chest. "I'm
tellin'."

"I don't care. Hey." Kahl
wiggled his pale eyebrows and inched closer to his brother. "I'm
hungry."

Alby, refusing to respond,
stubbornly jutted out his lower lip.

"Maybe there's cookies or
something in the kitchen. Wanna check it out?"

"I'm s'pose to stay
here."

"Aunt Laura won't mind.
She's in the kitchen, right?"

After a moment, Alby
nodded.

Kahl shrugged. "So...what's
the problem? Kevin's probably already there. He's probably eatin'
all the cookies!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Taking his brother's hand,
Kahl pulled him from the bed and led him toward the door. "The
ghosts won't be gone long, you know," he whispered as they walked
into the hall.

"Why was Lannie mad?" Alby
stopped in his tracks and peered at Kahl. "Did he find out Kevin
took his boots and threw 'em out the window?"

Kahl shrugged, his fingers
tightening on his brother's hand. "I dunno. Who cares?"

"I like Beth." Alby's voice
quivered as his brother jerked him toward the staircase. "She's
nice."

"She's dead."

"And nice," Alby said
defensively.

A soft sound captured Kahl's
attention. Pausing at the top of the steps, he looked to his right,
in the direction of the curtain covering the entrance to the tower.
The heavy fabric swayed. He squinted to see more clearly in the dim
gaslit area. His curiosity was hooked.

Alby, also looking in that
direction, tried to pull his hand from his brother's
grip.

"C'mon," Kahl whispered. He
dragged the younger boy to the curtain, but before he could further
investigate, a sound behind the closed door to his left, gave him a
start.