Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (25 page)

He was admittedly a loner.
Falling in love had not been in his plans for his future. It wasn't
that he was struggling with his losses, but struggling with
indecision. That last night in Baird House, he'd told Kevin that he
was trying to convince her to stay. She hadn't taken him seriously
and, now that she thought about it, rightly so. He'd adamantly
stated more than once that he didn't want responsibility—especially
not the responsibility of her and the boys.

He'd lost his wife and
son.

Now he was torn between
accepting a ready-made family, and turning away from the pressures
that presented.

"Ye're in no shape to
travel," said a gruff voice.

Slightly turning her head,
she saw Roan standing in the open doorway. Paleness accentuated his
gaunt features. Despite the defensive thrust of his shoulders, the
rigidity of his bearing, and the grim set of his mouth, his eyes
betrayed deep sadness.

Are you hoping I'll make up
your mind for you?
she thought
achingly.

Gingerly straightening, she
allowed her gaze to linger on the cast covering his left arm from
the wrist to the elbow. He refused to use the sling. He refused to
take the pain pills the clinic had given him.

"I'm in better shape than
you are," she said finally, softly. Unable to bear looking at him
any longer, she lowered her gaze to the luggage. "Have you gotten
any sleep?"

Roan paused a few seconds
longer then, as if reluctant to do so, walked to the foot of the
bed.

"You don't have to go,
Laura," he said huskily.

Turning her back to him, she
placed a hand over her abdomen and heaved a fortifying breath. No,
I don't have to do anything, Roan. But you haven't convinced
me...seriously tried to convince me that you really want me to
stay. I'm sorry about the house, and everything you
lost."

"I'm no' a material
mon."

His bitter tone cruelly
lanced her control. Tears swiftly welled in her eyes and spilled
down her ashen face. "Will the fire be investigated?"

He nodded then murmured,
"Aye."

"I...I think I might have—"
Her voice caught. "—have left the gas on."

"Wha' are you talkin'
abou'?"

"In the kitchen." She
lightly sank her teeth into her sore lower lip. "I vaguely remember
something about the stove. I-umm, think I left one of the burners
on."

"The first explosion was on
the third floor."

"No, I'm sure—"

A scowl of impatience
darkened his face. "Laura, it started on the third
floor."

"Oh, no," she choked,
turning to face him. "Oh God, please tell me the boys were in no
way responsible!"

Roan's demeanor softened.
"It doesn't matter how it started. Wha' does matter is tha' we all
made it ou' safely."

Tears spilling from her
eyes, she gave a stilted shake of her head. Her drawn-in shoulders
quivered. "It matters to me."

"Weel, I don't know how it
started, so let it go."

Again she shook her head.
"Promise me you'll let me know what the investigation
reveals."

"Dammit, Laura, quit harpin'
on the bloody fire!"

Although her face was
piteously wet with tears, her posture was undeniably hostile. "If
I'm responsible—or my nephews—I have a right to know. I pay my
debts, Roan! I-I'll make arrangements to pay you back every
cent!"

A mantle of warring
stubbornness enfolded Roan. "I don't want yer money or yer
pity!"

"Tough! I'll inquire about
the investigation, myself!"

Roan clenched his teeth,
unlocking them when he heaved a breath to quiet his temper. "Ben's
in the parlor. It’s no' polite to keep him waitin'."

Turning on a heel, he
briskly left her staring after him. He entered the front room where
Agnes sat on an overstuffed couch with the boys, and Ben and Borgie
were talking by the front door. All eyes turned on him. Ignoring
their questioning looks, he sat in the rocker by the hearth, and
tersely informed, "She'll be ready, shortly."

Alby scrambled from the
couch and ran to Roan. He climbed onto Roan's lap and, pouting, his
chin quivering, wrapped his arms about Roan's neck.

"Don't wanna go," he
sobbed.

Roan's heart painfully
constricted. He looked at the others in the room before circling
the boy's back with his uninjured arm. "I'll miss you, too, you
little booger," he said huskily, a forced smile on his mouth.
Alby's arms held tightly, the back of his head pressed against
Roan's jaw. Despite his inward struggle to deny himself the
slightest emotional release, tears misted Roan's eyes. "Can you
promise me somethin', lad?"

Alby nodded.

His hand massaging the boy's
back, he said, "Take care o' yer aunt. And help yer brithers to
settle into yer new home."

Drawing back, Alby's dark
blue eyes somberly searched Roan's face. "Where's Lachlan and Beth?
Can't we say goodbye to them?"

Roan heaved a ragged sigh.
"Weel, Alby, it’s hard to say where they are. I know they'll miss
you."

"Really?"

A genuine grin brightened
Roan's features. "Aye, really."

"Do ya think it hurts to be
dead?"

Roan blinked in
bewilderment. "Wha' a thing to ask."

"I want to know."

Roan's comical gaze swept to
the others before meeting the boy's again. "Weel, Alby, I think
it’s safe to say they don't feel pain."

"But Lachlan made a bad face
when I kicked him."

Roan chuckled. "Could be, he
didn't like you kickin' him."

The small shoulders moved
noncommittally.

"We didn't start the fire,"
Kevin said adamantly, his hard gaze riveted on Roan.

"No one's accusin' anyone,
laddie."

Kevin left the couch and
went to stand a short distance from the rocker. "You think one of
us did it. Don't you?"

"Lass, I'll take tha'," Ben
said, breaking the spell of tension in the room when he hurriedly
rushed to Laura and took the luggage from her grasp. He cast Roan a
look of warning as he headed out the front door, to load the case
into his truck.

Roan searched Laura's
guarded expression for a time before returning his attention to
Kevin. "I'm no' accusin' anyone, Kevin. I told yer aunt, it doesn't
matter how it started. I'm just grateful no one was seriously
hurt."

"You're glad we're going,"
Kevin said hatefully.

Quickly reaching out with
his right hand, Roan cupped the back of Kevin's head and drew him
toward him. "Listen to me verra carefully, Kevin. I care a lot for
you lads and I'm no' happy ye're leavin'."

"Yeah, sure. That's why
you're always nagging at us, right?"

A stab of guilt prompted
Roan to lower his gaze for a brief time. When he next looked into
the boy's beguiling eyes, he read in them a desperate need for the
boy to be convinced otherwise.

"When ye're right, ye're
right, lad. I've been a grump, and I apologize. Trouble is, I was
o' the mind we'd have some time to really get to know one anither.
But fate kinda threw us a curve, aye? Had I known we would be
partin' company so soon, I would have been more
patient."

He went on when Kahl came to
stand alongside his brother, his gaze sweeping the boys' drawn
faces. "You've a new life waitin' for you in the States. A new
adventure ahead o' you. I'm envious, laddies."

"Come with us," Kahl said, a
quiver in his tone.

A sad smile played across
Roan's mouth. "Truth be, I wish I could, but I've too much to do
here."

"Like what?" Kevin
asked.

"Weel, like healin', and
checkin' on the house."

"Is the house all
gone?"

"Maistly, Alby. Some thin’s
might have survived. I don't know."

"Will you write to
us?"

Kahl's question further
aggravated Kevin. "Course he won't. He's just being nice cause
we're getting outta his hair."

Roan's gaze kindly lingered
on Kevin's flushed face. "I never say wha' I don't mean. Aye, I'll
write, and I'll be lookin' forward to hearin' from the three o'
you."

"You promise?" Alby asked in
a soft voice.

In response, Roan planted a
lingering kiss on the boy's brow.

"It's time," Laura said
abruptly, tightening the loaned wool coat about her. If she didn't
leave now, she knew she never would. "Say goodbye to Agnes, and
thank her for all her kindness."

Roan's gaze impaled her
while the boys hugged and thanked the older woman. Her insides
coiling into knots, she forced an outer calm. Next year, she vowed.
If they were meant to be together, then the separation wouldn't
prove a mistake. He'd have time to think. Time to consider all the
ramifications enmeshed in the responsibility of taking on a woman
and three boys. He'd have the time to forgive and cleanse himself
of the past.

Laura headed for the front
door, which Borgie held open. The boys dashed ahead of her, waiting
on the stoop. Agnes rushed into the kitchen, returning with a small
sack. Handing it to Laura, she tearfully explained, "Some snacks to
get you by on the trip."

Reaching for the sack, Laura
realized her hand was trembling.

"Ye're no' goin'," Roan said
angrily.

Suddenly aware that he was
standing behind her, Laura turned to face him. Her heart sang out
with joy. He was telling her that she was going to stay. He wasn't
going to let her slip away.

Crimson stole into her
cheeks when she realized that he had spoken to Borgie. Her insides
shriveling, she made a half turn toward the door.

"I spoke to Ben," Roan went
on, his hard gaze riveted on Borgie's face.

"Tha' so?" The white-haired
man smirked. "No one said shit to me."

Roan's posture became
instantly hostile. "Weel, I'm sayin' it now. Besides, I'll be
needin' yer help at the house."

"Kist House?" A scoffing
laugh burst from him. "Over ma dead body will I ever go near tha'
place again!"

"Suit yerself, but ye're no'
goin' to Edinburgh wi' Ben."

An evil sneer marred
Borgie's already unpleasant face. "Who died and left you
boss?"

Ben showed up at the door,
his gaze pinging between the two men. "Ah, Borgie, ma truck will be
crowded as it is. I appreciate yer offer, though."

Glaring at Ben, Borgie then
turned and took a threatening step in Roan's direction. Agnes' hand
flew over her heart. Responding to the suffocating tension in the
room, Laura placed a hand to Roan's chest, and hurriedly suggested
to Ben, "Please, take the boys to the truck. I'll be along in a
minute."

She looked at Roan. His
fierce gaze continued to bore into his cousin. "Roan, may I speak
to you alone...in the kitchen?"

Agnes took hold of her son's
arm and gave it a tug. "Come along, Borgie."

"I'm no' movin', mum," he
gritted out.

"The hell you say," she
fumed, giving his arm a slap. "Come to the kitchen!"

Glaring at Roan, he
permitted his mother to lead him out of the room.

Alone with Roan, Laura
sighed theatrically. “What's wrong with you? Are you trying to
start a brawl in your aunt's house?"

Tearing his gaze from the
direction of the kitchen, his unsettling eyes stared into
hers.

"I've no love for the
mon."

"I would have never
guessed," she said flippantly, anger brightening her eyes. "The
trouble with you is, you always want everything your way. Grow up,
Roan! This 'poor me' attitude of yours, stinks."

"I don't have an
attitude."

A disparaging sound rattled
in her throat. "I don't have the time to waste standing here
arguing with you."

She turned to leave. A hand
on her arm stayed her.

Her heart painfully
drumming, she disparagingly looked at him. And it struck her at
that moment how much she loved his face.

"You've got tha' look
again," he said sourly.

"Beg your
pardon?"

"Ye're beggin' to be
pree'd."

Again, crimson stole into
her cheeks, accentuating the greenness of her eyes. "You
arrogant—"

He quickly placed the
fingertips of his right hand against her lips. His glowing look
faded to one of regret and such sadness, Laura felt her blood rush
to her head. She trembled, staring at him, praying for him to take
her into his arms and kiss away the remains of her faltering
determination to leave.

To her profound
disappointment, he lowered his hand to his side and
stiffened.

"Take care,
Laura."

Gulping back the tears
building in her throat, she dejectedly walked out the front door,
closing it behind her without sparing him a last glance.