Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (48 page)

One bird released a cry,
inciting the others. Lachlan winced yet smiled, his gaze sweeping
fondly over the creatures that had graced this land even before his
arrival. He braced folded arms atop one of the higher sections of
the crenelated wall and inhaled deeply. Above all else he smelled
the rose gardens, the fragrance tantalizing his olfactory sense
like a lover's seductive caress. Unbidden, tears misted his
eyes.

"Ye're a damn fool, Lachlan
Ian Baird," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He tried to
will back the moisture, but a tear escaped down his cheek and he
self-consciously swiped it away with the back of a hand.

He'd awakened several hours
ago to the realization he'd been having a nightmare. Although he
had no memory of it, the aftermath haunted the periphery of his
awareness. Granted, he was juggling a lot these days, with "the
parents" trying to settle in, the lads overly active with all the
new attention they were receiving, Taryn having absconded with the
MacLachlan dirk, the fairies, and foremost, his stupidity in
drawing the media to the estate once again. Any one item on that
list was enough to make him restless. Combined, they chafed his
idea of the man he'd believed himself to be once upon a time. The
Lachlan of the nineteenth century no longer existed. In this time,
his confidence took repeated blows. There was so much to learn and
adjust to. Failure had never been in the old Lachlan's vocabulary,
but these days the possibility of it shadowed his every waking
minute.

A flutter of wings drew his
attention to his right, and a smile turned up one corner of his
mouth. "Good morn, ma paughty friend," he said, reaching out to
smooth a hand over the bird's extended head. "I thought I heard you
caterwaulin’ wi' the ithers."

Braussaw cocked his head
before releasing a cry that made Lachlan clench his teeth and
grimace. "I used 'paughty' affectionately." Gently lifting the
peacock into the crook of his right arm, he chuffed an appreciative
sound when Braussaw rubbed his head against Lachlan's bare chest
and throat. "Weel, arena we a friendly lump o' feathers this
morn?"

The bird fidgeted and
Lachlan set him on the wall in front of him. Braussaw strutted in
place and fanned his tail for several moments before settling down
so Lachlan could more thoroughly stroke his breast.

Lachlan's gaze shifted to
view the sun's slow ascent. The brilliant orb filled him with a fey
sense of renewal, one he couldn't define at the moment.

"Anither day," he said more
to himself than the bird. He lowered his gaze to the peacock's
steady perusal of him. "You were here afore me, and you'll be here
when I'm gone. I've always trusted you to watch over the ithers.
Dinna let ma absence sway you from yer duties."

A choked sound escaped his
control, and he rolled his eyes to the heavens. The humidity in the
air clung to his bare skin, and he absently ran a palm over his
chest and down the thigh of his black pants as he regarded the
ancient peacock. When he had first begun building Baird House,
Braussaw was there.

Watching.

Listening.

Squawking his disapproval
of what he considered a violation of his land. Although the bird
was unusually aggressive for his species, he had also been quick to
make friends with Lachlan, staying at his heels like a loyal puppy
and craving attention for the duration of the construction of the
house. After that, Braussaw was content to receive an occasional
visit from the new master of the land.

"If I think o' maself as
old as dirt," Lachlan said humorously, "then you are as old as the
heavens."

The bird released a
guttural sound then cast off the tower and glided to the ground
below, where he searched for breakfast amidst the greenery. The
others followed in a flurry of colorful motion, their wings
flapping and loosed feathers gently dotting the air in a slower
descent to the earth.

Lachlan braced his forearms
on the wall and absently watched the birds for a time before
shifting his gaze to the sun inching its way into the sky. It was
going to be a hot day, he decided. He told himself to make sure the
grounds were watered more than usual, then corrected the mental
notation when he remembered Reith would better know the grounds'
needs.

"Aye, Reith is the better
groundsmon," he said, unaware that he was speaking aloud and not
mulling over his feelings in his mind. "Roan is the better laird,
and Winston by far the best for the security o' this place. You've
ou'stayed yer usefulness, old mon. Tis time to move on."

He placed a hand over his
racing heart, and willed back the pressure behind his eyes. Before
the rest of the household awakened, he needed to rid himself of his
melancholy, break the emotional chains tying him to his
property.

A shifting of the air to
his right jerked him around. At the sight of Beth standing within
arm's reach he smiled, but it faded when it registered that her
face was damp with tears. They shimmered in her eyes, brightening
the blueness of her irises. She looked small and vulnerable in her
pale yellow, linen nightgown, one of the thin straps about to slip
over the curve of her shoulder.

She swallowed hard enough
for him to hear then forced a little smile. "I woke up and you were
gone."

Lachlan pulled her into his
arms and brushed his jawline across the soft curls covering her
temple. He wasn't sure why she was upset, but somehow knew it was
connected to him. "Bad dreams, love?"

He felt her mouth form a
smile against the sensitized skin of his collarbone. Her arms wound
about him, her fingers kneading his lower back. "No. I had to go to
the bathroom."

Lachlan chuckled. "Then I
willna ask if you were dreamin’ o' me."

Tilting back her head, she
searched the depths of his eyes. "I can't do this to you," she
said, then shook her head as fresh tears brimmed her eyes.
"Lachlan, I can't take you away from your home."

"Hush, darlin’," he said
softly, and rubbed the tip of his nose to hers. "Ye're no' forcin’
me to do anythin’."

He turned her to face the
east and, standing behind her, slipped his arms beneath hers and
linked his fingers against her middle. Resting the back of her head
against his shoulder, she covered his hands with her
own.

She released a shuddering
breath and said, "It's so beautiful here. You're part of the house
and the land, Lachlan. We'll figure out a way to stay."

His heart flip-flopped, and
his face glowed with elation. But reality was quick to reassert
itself. "I do love it here. Sometimes, lass, I canna imagine bein’
anywhere else. This land and I share a bond I dinna understand, and
never questioned afore. Perhaps, tis o' ma own makin’. Ma own
imagination."

"I don't think so," she
said miserably, and added in a lighter tone, "There are times I
believe the house is a living entity."

"For a long time, these
walls were ma only family and friend."

"What about
Braussaw?"

He frowned at the question,
his face clearing when she explained, "I heard you say he was as
old as the heavens. How long has he been here?"

"Afore me."

"Are the other peafowl as
old?"

"No. Only Braussaw. He has
a wee magic o' his own, and aye, I should have included him as ma
family and friend afore you came along."

"You fell asleep before me
last night, and I was thinking."

"Uh-oh," he chuckled, and
kissed her cheek. "Am I in trouble again?"

"No. I was thinking how we
could stay here."

"Tis no'
practical."

She nodded. "I could cut
and color my hair, and wear plain lens glasses. A new identity
would solve our—" She caught her breath when Lachlan spun her
around to face him. She regarded his frown with amusement. "I could
use an overhaul."

"Over ma twice dead
body."

"Aren't we overbearing this
morning...Horatio?"

Lachlan threw back his head
and laughed. When he again met her gaze, mischief sparkled in his
dark eyes. "I'll no' stand for you changin’ anythin’ abou' you,
lass."

"No? What if I want a
drastic change?"

When he shook his head
adamantly, she sobered and trailed her fingertips along the side of
his face. Before she reached his chin he took the hand and planted
a kiss on the smooth palm and pressed it over his heart. For a long
moment she stared at the placement of her hand, as if expecting his
heart to leap into her grasp.

"Beth-lass," he said
softly, and smiled adoringly when she looked up. "I may grumble
and...weel, panic at times when I think o' leavin’, but I swear on
ma honor I'll be happy wherever I go as long as I'm wi' you and our
children."

Compressing her lips into a
fine line, her eyes tearing again, she gave a shake of her head.
"I've been such a bitch."

"Och! Beth, since our
return, you've had mair'n yer fair share o' emotions to juggle.
Like me and ma no' copin’ when you needed me maist, and tha'
Cuttstone character usin’ you."

"Using me? What are you
talking about?"

His eyebrows arched in
surprise. "Twas no' you hittin’ and jabbin’ me wi' the
poker."

Beth jiggled her head in
confusion. "I was there, remember? And I was in such a foul mood, I
seriously considered running you through with that poker. Don't
make excuses for my temper."

"Twas no'
yer
temper," Lachlan
laughed. "When you took the poker to me, I saw a ghostly mask o'
Cuttstone appear in front o' yer face. Beth, he was in yer head
compellin’ you to hurt me. Tha' you didna succeed proves you were
stronger than he."

A shudder coursed through
her. "I vaguely remember hearing a voice whispering inside my
head."

"Aye. Twas tha’ bastard,
all right."

"Can he do it again? I
mean, can he get inside any one of us now?"

"No. He's an impotent
spirit, more a nuisance than anythin’. He'll no' be here long. His
ties to this world weaken by the day."

"Thank God," she murmured
then searched Lachlan's face, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.
She ran her palms over the smooth, solid contours of his pectorals
and bestowed a reverent kiss between them. His skin was warm and
moist from the rising temperature, and as familiar to her touch as
was her own.

"Lachlan, let me do this
for you." She met his gaze, her own pleading. "I know you won't be
happy in the States."

"Have you ghosts
there?"

Bewilderment flickered
across her features. "I imagine so. Why?"

"Weel, maybe I'll acquaint
myself wi' a few." He laughed at her horrified expression. "Tis a
joke." He crossed his heart and lifted the hand above his shoulder.
"I promise I've had ma fill o' the dead."

"Thank God," she repeated,
this time grinning ruefully.

"So put yer mind to rest,
love."

"I can't be that selfish.
Dammit, Lachlan, this is your home. You'll be giving up everything
you love for...for what? A mistake? You made a mistake letting that
photographer take your picture, and for that you should be forced
from your home? I don't think so. Not when there are
alternatives."

Lachlan framed her face
with his hands and kissed her. When he lowered them to her waist,
he pressed his brow to hers.

"Aye, I love this place, ma
Beth, but I love you far mair. I dinna know how many times I have
to tell you afore you believe me, but tis no hardship sayin’
so."

"What if you come to hate
your life in the States? Or me for having you there?"

"Hate you, lass?" he said
in a husky, incredulous tone, and lifted his head. "I could no mair
ever hate you than regret buildin’ this grand house. Beth, I was
lost for a long time, and you found me. I feared darkness, and you
came and gave me light. I was hurtin’ and cruel, but you came along
and gave me hope."

He dipped back his head and
closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked into her questioning
eyes, he sighed from the core of his heart of hearts. "I love the
way light reflects on yer hair," he went on, smiling as he fingered
one of her curls. "And I love every expression in yer beautiful
face and eyes." He kissed the tip of her nose and went on. "The
feel o' you in ma arms, the way you walk and the way you toss yer
hair when ye're in a temper, and every blessed tone o’ yer
voice."

Tears slipped down her
cheeks and he caught one on his lips.

Tasting it, he continued,
"Beth, I've been guilty o’ no' usin’ a lick o' sense at times, but
never have I doubted ma love, or tha' we belong thegither. I'll
never be sorry to live in yer home or learn the ways o' Yanks.
Twill be an adventure, one we'll share wi' our children. Now ask me
if I canna leave here a whole mon, and begin anew in yer
country."

"Can you?" she choked
out.

"Aye." He looked beyond her
shoulder and nodded. "Aye, I can," he said with conviction, then
smiled down at her. "I was grateful when Taryn left and talk o’ the
search came up, because it meant I would have mair time here, mair
time in Scotland. But you've chased away ma blues, lass. We can
leave today if you want. I swear on ma honor I'll no' look
back."