Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (18 page)

Finally, he decided the fire
had left him edgier than he'd thought. Donning the black, snug
trousers, then the long-sleeved, saffron-colored shirt, he cast his
burned clothing a look of longing before leaving the
room.

He felt ridiculous in
Lachlan's trousers. Jogging down the staircase, he resisted a
strong compulsion to tug on the front. His undershorts would have
made a world of difference, but he was out of luck in that
department, too. Only something short of a miracle would see him
through the next few hours without the seams of the trousers
splitting, or the tiny ceramic buttons down the front of the
tautly-stretched shirt, popping off.

Some of his belongings were
at Aggie's. It was a long walk, but if the weather cooperated, it
would be worth the hike to get back into his own clothing. He would
also be able to assure his aunt that everything was fine at Baird
House. Considering her hatred of its owner, she had to be frantic
with worry.

He paused at the first
landing and bewilderingly ran a hand through his hair.

What was his aunt going to
say when he told her that Lachlan Baird had offered him the house,
and all that went with it?

Feeling a bit numbed, he
entered the parlor. The room was bathed in soft orange firelight.
Beth, Lachlan, and the boys were nowhere in sight, but Laura,
enfolded in a wool blue and purple plaid blanket, sat to the left
side of the hearth. Nested in her hands was a steaming cup of dark
liquid. The sight of her forlornly staring into the flames pulled
on his heartstrings.

He padded across the cold
wood floor, stopping within arm's reach of her. Still, she remained
unaware of his presence. Mindful of the snugness of his trousers,
he gingerly crouched to her right, and cleared his
throat.

Wide green eyes turned to
him.

"Did I startle
you?"

She shook her head, but he
knew that he had.

"Where are the
laddies?"

"Beth and Lachlan took them
into the kitchen."

"Are they all
right?"

Staring down into the cup,
she nodded.

"Wha' abou' Laura?" he asked
kindly, lowering his buttocks to the floor. "How is she holdin'
up?"

A tremulous smile appeared
on her mouth. "Up...oop. I love your accent."

Roan grinned. "You have the
accent, here, lass."

"That's true." She sighed
and lightly frowned into the fire. "I'm definitely the
outsider."

"Is tha' self-pity I'm
hearin'?"

Laura's heart-shaped face
turned to him, her expression guarded. "No. A reality check." She
took a sip of her tea then offered the cup to Roan. Taking it, he
held it to his lips, his gaze studying her facial bruises over the
brim.

"I was just thinking," she
sighed, lifting her knees and wrapping her arms about her shins,
"how deceptive time can be. I've been here for four days, but it
feels like months have gone by."

Roan took a generous swig of
the tea and passed the cup back to her. "A lot has
happened."

"I haven't been very
appreciative of your help, have I?"

A laugh caressed his throat.
"I know it can't be easy for you, Laura. You inherit a family.
Wreck yer car. Find yerself at the mercy o' strangers. No' to
mention how defensive I've been wi' you. All considered, I think
you've proven yer stuff."

"My stuff?"

The smile in her beguiling
eyes caused a burst of heat to ignite in Roan's chest. Bruises and
all, he'd never encountered a lovelier woman. "Aye, yer stuff.
You've a fine temper, and a constitution to equal it. Ye're
definitely no' fluff, Laura Bennett. I think you could tackle abou'
anythin' tha' came yer way."

Averting her gaze to the
fire, she softly asked, "Does that include you?"

"I don't
understand."

She frowned for a time
before she could bring herself to look him in the eye. "Roan,
please don't take this the wrong way, but I need you to...to stay
away from me."

His shocked expression
prompted her to rush on, "I have a life in the States, and my
nephews to worry about."

"Laura—"

"Let me finish," she choked,
placing the cup behind her. "I used to mock romance books. Brooding
heroes; heroines in jeopardy; the sinister Victorian manor...." A
pathetic laugh caught in her throat. "Well, I won't mock them
again, will I?"

"I'm a wee confused abou'
the 'broodin' hero' part."

For a long moment, she
searched the devastating features in front of her. She could no
longer deny that she was already in love with him, but she vowed he
would never find out. It was impossible for her, now, to abandon
all else for the sake of a man. For the sake of love. Prior to
Scotland, she'd been too selfish with her time, her independence,
to take any relationship seriously. She'd never been in love,
though. It was a miserable condition.

One, she hoped, the symptoms
of which would vanish, given distance and time.

"Laura?"

"I'm sorry.
What?"

"I'm just a mon."

"Right. I know."

"I don't think so." Sliding
closer, he captured her chin between a thumb and forefinger. "Wha'
are you afraid o'?"

She swallowed
hard.

"Love?"

"Of course not."

"Tha' quiver in yer tone
says itherwise."

"I'm tired."

Roan slowly shook his head,
his piercing eyes never breaking contact with her own. "We made
love."

Heat surged into her cheeks.
If not for his firm hold on her chin, she would have averted her
face from his scrutiny. "On a whim. It certainly didn't commit us
to—"

"Stop lyin' to yerself," he
interjected gruffly. Releasing her, he raised his right knee and
rested his right forearm atop it. "And stop pretendin' there's
nothin’ between us."

Resisting an urge to lean
away from him, Laura stiffened her spine. "I don't lie, and I don't
pretend. I'm merely trying to explain to you that I don't need any
more complications in my life."

Quirking up an eyebrow, Roan
grinned almost sardonically. "So I'm a broodin' complication, am
I?"

"Sometimes," she began
through clenched teeth, "you're a royal pain in the
ass!"

"It won't work,
lass."

"What won't
work?"

"Wieldin' tha' verbal
shield."

Panic lancing her heart,
Laura determinedly forged on. "Look, I understand where you're
coming from. Okay? I'm not stupid."

Roan jiggled his head in
confusion.

"The days and nights are
pretty cold in this house. It's nice to...to have a warm body to
snuggle up to. And of c-course, sex is a nice way to pass the
time." His eyes grew stormier, stoking her unease. "I owe you a
lot, and I pay my debts."

"Laura," he
growled.

"However, I'm not
comfortable having sex with you, knowing that I'm going to be
leaving, soon. So if you would give me chores—"

Like lightning, Roan's left
arm shot out and circled her back, his fingers hooking onto her
left upper arm. He pulled her down and against his chest, his mouth
capturing hers in a punishing kiss. After a moment's shock, Laura
made a bid to push away from him. His right leg swung over her,
boxing her hips between his groin and heel. His free arm wrapped
around her, pinning her within an unyielding embrace.

His anger forsaking
tenderness, he plundered her mouth, forcing her lips to part
beneath the pressure. She moaned in protest. Her fingernails
stabbed him through his shirt, his chest and midriff. The tip of
his tongue came up against a wall of enamel. Switching tactics, he
targeted the soft skin below her left earlobe. His teeth nipped;
his lips caressed. A fierce groan of sexual awakening emanated from
deep inside her.

"Don't fight me," he said,
briefly looking into her tear-glazed eyes before lowering his mouth
over her lips again.

She shuddered within his
hold, then laxed her rigidity. He kissed her deeply, his tongue
stroking hers, coaxing her into a state of sensual oblivion. His
hold loosened, cradling rather than imprisoning her.

"Hey!"

The youthful shout quickly
separated the couple. Roan slid back. Laura twisted
around.

"Whatcha doing?" Kahl asked
jubilantly, skipping toward them.

Laura and Roan exchanged a
guilt-ridden glance before she forced a smile. "Feeling
better?"

Plopping to the floor
alongside his aunt, Kahl swiped a hand beneath his nose. "Beth
makes the best hot chocolate. And the ghost made us a
sandwich."

"The—"

Roan interjected, "Where's
yer brithers?"

Kahl wrinkled his nose at
him. "Bro...thers."

"Aye, lad. Where are
they?"

"In there," the boy replied,
jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dining room. His blue eyes
shrewdly narrowed on Roan. "You gonna marry my aunt?"

"Kahl!" Laura
gasped.

Roan chuckled. "Why do you
want to know?"

Kahl shrugged. "I like it
here."

"You do, huh?" Roan's soft
gaze swung to Laura. "Perhaps you could help me convince yer aunt
to stay. It’s a big house." He again looked at the boy. "I wouldn't
mind some help fillin' these rooms."

"You just wanna go to bed
with her," Kahl grinned, looking from one adult to the
other.

A dark blush stole across
Roan's face. "Weel, lad, that's a wee personal now, don't you
think?"

"I ain't dumb, ya
know."

"Kahl, please...change the
subject. Mr. Ingliss is just funning with you."

"Are ya, mister?"

The boy's penetrating eyes
took Roan aback for a moment. "I've been tryin' to convince yer
aunt, I'm dead serious."

"Roan, please."

"Now, Laura," Roan chided, a
sparkle in his eyes. "The lad caught us lip-locked. No sense
pretendin' he didn't see wha' he saw."

"Roan," Laura rasped,
sending him a visual plea to defuse the subject.

A booming laugh entered the
room, dousing the rising tension. Getting to his feet, Roan helped
Laura up. Kahl jumped to his feet and beelined for Lachlan.
Clutching the thigh of the trousered leg, he swiped his nose across
the material. Another laugh came from Lachlan, who, holding Alby on
his hip, reached down and ruffled Kahl's shaggy, red-gold head.
Beth, holding Kevin's hand, came around Lachlan's tall
frame.

"I'm afraid the hot
chocolate has wound them up," she smiled at Laura.

Laura offered a sickly
smile. Drawing the blanket snugger about her, she tried to rise
above the pounding of her heart and the weakness in her legs. She
felt as though everyone in the room was staring at her, seeing into
her soul and dissecting the very essence of her personality. Her
lips tingled. Psychological waves of heat moved across every inch
of her skin.

Chemistry between people was
one thing, her attraction to Roan, another. She couldn't shake the
notion to lean into him, completely melt into every atom of his
being.

Stop this,
she scolded herself, the smile frozen on
her.

Lachlan lowered Alby to the
floor. Laura watched the laird through a thickening haze of mental
retreat. She was vaguely aware of voices; dimly aware of
movement.

What was wrong with
her?

Her stomach
churned.

Love?

She mentally
groaned.

She wasn't falling in love
with Roan Ingliss, the man, bod extraordinaire, master of this
towering house. She was in love with him!

She closed her eyes against
the threat of her stomach's contents rising into her
throat.

Not again.

Her vision slowly focused in
on the circular display of swords on the wall to her right. The
orange firelight gleamed on the highly-polished metal of the
blades. She drifted deeper into the comfort zone of her temporary
escape, wondering if any of the swords had ever been used in
battle. It was possible. Although she hadn't shown outward interest
in the antiques sheltered within this house, she had been aware of
them—in awe of their newness.

As she drifted deeper within
herself, an image of her apartment formed in front of her mind's
eye.

What did her sterile,
meticulous 'home' tell others about her? Did anything she'd ever
collected, ever crafted, offer true insight into her love of
nature? Her love of history?

A translucent, wavering haze
manifested in front of her. Somnolently, she watched as the parlor
came back into focus, luminescent green framing the scene. The room
was cozily warm. The gaslight fixtures on the walls were all lit. A
fire roared in the hearth behind her.

The door to the hall
closed.