Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (5 page)

"The women must be furious
wi' us," Roan moaned.

"They weren't too happy
when I left," said Winston, his gaze remaining fixed on Reith for a
moment longer. "I suggest the three o' us face them and try to
explain wha's going on."

Lachlan grimaced. "Beth'll
tie ma testicles in a knot when she hears. Fegs, mon, canna we wait
till morn? She's always a wee sluggish efter awakenin’. Her
reflexes are slower."

"Coward," said
Roan.

"Bloody right I am," said
Lachlan, exasperated. "You both know as weel as I, I'm responsible
for this mess. Beth will no' let me soon forget it,
either."

"Come on," Winston said as
he rose.

Roan stood, but Lachlan
vigorously rubbed his palms on his face before rising to his feet.
He passed Reith's upturned face a harried look and asked, "Are you
hungry or thirsty?"

"No, sir. Just
tired."

Lachlan heaved a ragged
breath. "I'm likely to be back afore long. If there is to be
anither miracle this night, I'll be stayin’ in the main house, but
I'll see you in the morn wi' breakfast. Do you prefer tea or
coffee?"

"Coffee, if you please."
Reith stood and wiped his palms on the ragged material covering his
thighs. "Chin up, sir." He smiled timorously. "I'll be hopin’ no'
to hear yer footfalls anytime soon."

Lachlan glanced down at the
peacock. "Take care o' Braussaw for me. He's a paughty one, but
deserving respect."

"Aye, sir," said Reith,
lifting the bird into his arms. He watched the trio leave, Winston
in the lead, Lachlan shuffling along at the rear. Moments after the
door closed, Braussaw sprang to life and struggled in Reith's
gentle grasp.

"Wha' have we here, now?"
he laughed low. His eyes sparkling with a shimmer of tears, he
stared at the door and murmured tremulously, "I so missed this
land."

C
hapter 2

Laura was pacing at the
foot of the staircase when Winston led the men into the house. She
froze for a moment, her eyes appearing too large in her shocky face
as she watched them approach. Winston stopped a short distance from
her, but Roan continued on until he was an arm's length away. He
fumbled for the right words to break the silence between them, but
before he could speak, she flung her arms around his neck and
hugged him almost painfully. She wept, quaking against him as he
enveloped her in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Laura," he
whispered achingly, hugging her as if to never let her go. "Are you
all right?"

Loosening her hold, she
eased back enough to tearfully stare into his eyes. "All right?"
she asked in a hoarse tone. "I thought that mob was going to hang
you!"

He told her everything that
had happened from the men in the field to Winston's quick wit in
covering Lachlan's return. She listened as if dazed. When he
stopped, she squirmed until he allowed her to step away then she
backed up to the foot of the stairs, her gaze studying each of the
men.

Finally, unable to stand
her silence, Roan asked, "Did the lads wake up?"

She nodded and gulped.
"Deliah's with them, trying to calm them down."

Stepping forward, Lachlan
scowled self-consciously. "Where's ma Beth?"

Laura shook her head.
"Don't try to talk to her right now. Lachlan, she's scared and
angrier than I've ever seen anyone."

With a guttural sound,
Lachlan headed up the staircase.

"For God sake, Lannie!"
Roan exclaimed.

Lachlan stopped and looked
down at the anxious faces. "I willna let anither night go by wi’ou'
her!" he exclaimed and stormed up the stairs.

By the time he was halfway
down the third floor hall, his pace slowed and his resolve
faltered. His heart drummed against his chest and a sickening
sensation of pressure filled his head. He paused at the door to the
master suite for a long moment.

Something tickled his left
temple, distracting him. He gave the area a swipe with a hand, and
was surprised to realize his brow had broken out in a cold sweat,
some of which was trickling down the sides of his face.

Steady, Lannie,
he told himself then rolled his eyes heavenward
with a mute groan.

Steady or not, if he
entered the master suite, Beth was surely to lose what little
restraint she had left on her temper. But if he walked away, he
knew the gap between them would only continue to open wide and
wider, until it would be nigh impossible for them to find their way
back to each other. She might be hurt, angry, and disappointed in
him, but he didn't doubt her love or its depths.

He'd go to hell and back
for her. If she didn't know that, she was about to, temper or
no.

He started to rap on the
door, then jerked his hand away and stared down at the crystal
knob. It occurred to him that, to make a stand, it would be best he
acted the part right off.

Her lover. Her love. Her
man, and the man of their family.

With this bit of fortitude
bracing his spine, he boldly turned the knob and walked into the
room, but he couldn't help his gaze cutting about, in search of her
lunging at him. He closed the door softly behind him and stepped
further into the embracing familiarity of his old suite. The
bedcovers were turned back, and the hearth was ablaze with warmth.
There were no other lights on and, although he squinted to see
every corner of the room, he couldn't locate her. His gaze lingered
on the circular display of swords on the wall to the left of his
portrait. A chill coursed through him. Ignoring it, he went to the
foot of the bed, wondering where she could be at this time of
night.

The door opened. Beth
walked in and closed it behind her. Her head down, shoulders
slumped, and her gait slow as if she were beyond tired, she
progressed toward him. She slipped out of her bathrobe by the time
she reached the side of the bed and haphazardly dropped it on the
floor.

A pulse of exhilaration
thrummed through every part of Lachlan. He felt as he had that
first day when she'd arrived last July. For two years prior, his
only connection with her had been through the portrait her friend
Carlene had painted. The portrait that still hung above the
fireplace in the parlor.

Back then, he had somehow
managed to link with her mind, getting to know her through her
thoughts and experiencing her emotions. He had thought he knew
everything about her by the time she arrived. He'd been wrong.
Meeting the physical woman had exceeded all his expectations. The
mindlinks hadn't revealed the way her blue eyes gleamed like
multi-faceted sapphires when she was passionate or angry, or became
as fathomless as the deep blue sea when she was troubled. The
mindlinks hadn't connected him to the scent of her, or the way she
shuffled her shoulders and gave a toss of her curly, light brown
hair when she was frustrated.

Her softness. The sound of
her voice. Her quick wit. The curves of her body—

Lachlan gripped one of the
walnut posts at the foot of the bed when she placed her hands at
the small of her back and languidly stretched. Her full breasts
strained against the pale blue linen of her nightgown. The thin
strap on her right shoulder slipped over the smooth curvature. That
small movement struck Lachlan as being more sensual than anything
he'd ever beheld. Beth had never considered herself beautiful. He
did. Every line and plane of her body was perfection, made him long
to touch her more than he'd longed for anything in his enduring
existences.

He realized he hadn't been
given another chance at life on a whim. Whatever had brought him
back hadn't really considered him the worthy factor. It was Beth.
Beth and their children. He didn't understand how or why he knew
this now so undeniably, but it was so clear, so absolute, he didn't
question the knowing.

Perhaps his life, his
future did hold some measure of importance, but she was his
connection to whatever fate held in store for him.

Had the knowing been in his
subconscious when they'd been brought back?

Embedded deeply in his
mind, trying to surface through the maze of confusion, and
initializing those fears and insecurities that had driven him to
turn away from her and the twins?

Some things still didn't
make sense, but in time the pieces would come together.

Beth lowered one knee onto
the mattress. She sighed and was about to finish climbing into bed
when her head shot around and her eyes widened on him. A breath
became trapped in his throat.

God, she was beautiful! Her
lips were parted, and her hair a wild mane of curls surrounding the
face that always left him breathless and lightheaded, even when he
hadn't had the corporeal equipment to actually feel anything at
all.

She remained frozen, one
bent leg on the bed. Lachlan's gaze fell on the drooped strap of
her nightgown, and he swallowed past the tightness forming in his
throat. He couldn't summon up saliva to alleviate the dryness in
his mouth. His first attempt to speak came out as a croak. He
cleared his throat, once, twice, and threw all of his willpower
into saying her name.

"Beth."

Her breathing became
shallow and her eyes narrowed. "Get out."

Lachlan glanced at the
door, then at her and shook his head. "You have to listen to
me."

"I don't have to anything,"
she said in a low, warning tone. She stiffly pointed to the door,
her eyes remaining intensely fixed on him. "Get out. And don't come
back."

Lachlan locked his teeth
against an immediate response. This time he wouldn't walk away.
This time she would listen, even if he had to sit on
her.

"Beth-lass—"

He jerked back as a pillow
came swiftly toward him. It struck him with enough force to compel
him back a step. The second blow swiftly followed, then another and
another. He was astounded by the ferocity of her attack, and
astounded that he could do no more than hold up his arms to protect
his face.

Through the staticlike roar
in his ears, he could dimly make out bits and pieces of words.
"Bastard." A garble of sounds, then "Irresponsible jerk." Louder
static, piercing his eardrums. "Not (something)
gullible."

"Beth!" he gasped, his head
reeling.

He blindly reached out,
gripped softness and gave it a hard tug. A guttural cry startled
him. His vision cleared to find a pillow clutched in one hand and
he dropped it to the floor. He was conscious of a blur of movement,
then of a jab to his midriff. He looked down and released a chuff
of disbelief when he realized the cause of his discomfort was the
point of a poker. On the other end, Beth's fury-filled eyes dared
him to move.

At least she hadn't gone
for one of the swords.

Lachlan's patience lost to
burgeoning anger. He regarded the poker, then her, his black
eyebrows drawing down into a stormy scowl.

"Tis one thing, Beth, to
order me ou' o' ma bed, ma bedroom, ma home...anither to hold a
weapon against me." He drew in a ragged breath. "Put it
down."

"Who were those men trying
to dig up our graves?" she asked through clenched teeth. When he
didn't answer right away, she jerked her head in the direction of
the door. "I saw them through one of the nursery windows. I saw
them trying to exhume us! Why? Damn you, answer me!"

Drawing back his shoulders,
he replied, "They wanted to verify I was in the ground."

Her chin quivered and a
mist of tears formed in her eyes. "Why?"

"Beth—"

"Why?"

Lachlan closed his eyes a
moment and forced himself to look at her. "At Shortby's..." He
shook his head, unable to finish.

He winced when she prodded
him with the poker, and looked down at it resentfully before
continuing, "I told some men ma name. I didna know there was a
reporter in the room. Beth—"

"What else did you tell
them?" she asked achingly, a tear spilling down her ashen face.
"That I'm back, too? That we have a son and daughter, conceived in
the afterlife?" Her voice ended on an almost shrill note, making
him flinch.

"No," he said miserably.
"Only ma name. Twas enough, though."

"I'll bet it was. I-ah,
opened the window and listened. I heard what those reporters were
shouting. Do you have any idea what your jaunt to Shortby's has
cost us? Not just you and me, but our
children?"

Lachlan rolled his eyes
heavenward and shrugged with resignation. "I know it was reckless
o' me, but Winston came up wi' a story, and it seems to have
satisfied the press."

She stared at him
expectantly.

"He told them Roan was
plannin’ to turn the estate into a retreat this summer. Tha'
I'm
Horatio
Lachlan
Baird, a distant relation, here to play the former laird durin’ the
grand opening."

"It's just a coincidence you
look exactly like him, right?" she sneered, jabbing him again.
"Something tells me that story won't work as far as I'm concerned.
But that's okay, Lachlan." She nodded more than necessary. "That's
okay. At least
you're
protected, right?"