Everlastin' Book 1 (30 page)

“I've come to a decision.
I'll no' stand for the arrangement wi' the Ingliss,” he said,
choosing to stare up at the portrait rather than meet Beth's gaze.
“Tis no' yer place to dictate ma feelin's toward tha' pack o'
wolves.”

“Let's discuss your feelings
toward me.”

He cast her a worried look,
frowned, then peered up at the portrait again. “I've tried a
hundred times to explain—”

“So, try again.”

With a sound of woe rattling
in his throat, he turned to face her. But the movement was too
quick, making him sway, and he braced a hand on the ledge of the
mantel to steady himself.

“Try again?” He ran his free
hand down his face and tried to shake the proverbial cobwebs from
his mind. “Might be I'm no' in the mood. Yer paughty actions wi'
the Ingliss cut me deep—as well you knew it would.”

“Yes, I would have defied
your decision no matter what it had been,” Beth admitted calmly.
“But I do believe your grudge against that family has gone on long
enough.”

“Tis
ma
grudge.”

“Tis your grudge, your
house, and your treasures. You're a self-centered, spiteful little
man, Lachlan—”

“Hold it!”

“—
and I'm fed up with the
world—and beyond—revolving around what you want.”

His face shockingly pale,
Lachlan clapped an open hand over his pseudo heart. “You would
choke on a kind word to me, wouldna you?”

“No. You do have your
moments.”

A cracked cry burst from his
throat. Looking up at the portrait, he wagged a forefinger at the
depiction of his love. “There's no' a cruel line in yer face,
darlin'. How was I to know you wouldna be as sweet in the flesh as
you are on the canvas?”

“Talk to
me.”

Lachlan's head bobbed as it
turned toward Beth. “Talk to you?” He jabbed an isolated thumb up
at the portrait.
“She's
far kinder. I can take ma lickin's, lass, but yer tongue has a
fierce sting to it.”

Beth sighed with a hint of
annoyance. “You're drunk.”

“Nearly on ma lips,” he
grinned crookedly. “Fortification, darlin'.”

“Lachlan, why am I
here?”

The soft sound of Beth's
tone caused a shiver to pass through Lachlan's numbing body.
Turning away. he braced his elbows on the mantel's edge. He buried
his face in his palms and tried to will away the disorienting
effects of the alcohol he'd consumed.

“When Carlene and David
first came here as prospective renters, I was excited,” he began
dully, straightening away from the fireplace, but keeping his
profile to Beth. It was easier to stare up at her portrait than
anticipate anger or disgust flashing in her real eyes. “It had been
a while since a young couple had considered the place. Oh, many had
come wi' the notion to reside within these grand walls, but I ran
them off for one reason or anither. Carlene and David were
different than the rest. They talked abou' havin' children
within
these
verra
walls tha' first day. I could sense they felt a strong love for
this place.

“It was abou' a week later
afore I made maself known to them. David took ma presence calm
enough. Carlene....” He smiled wistfully. “Weel, efter a time o'
hysterics, she decided I was a bonus. It was the first time since
ma death I felt comfortable around the livin'. It was nice, Beth.
Real nice. And David could play a sportin' game o'
chess.

“A month efter they moved
in, Carlene asked if she could hang up yer portrait here. The first
time I laid eyes on it, I felt this...punch in ma gut. As days
slipped into weeks, Beth, I found maself comin' here all the time
to talk to you. There were times, I swear, you talked back to
me—but wi' a kinder tongue than I've heard since you arrived, I can
tell you!”

Delivering Beth a petulant
look, he went on, “I'm no' sure when I began to link wi' you.
Suddenly, I was receivin' yer thoughts, and feelin' the workin's o'
yer body as though they were ma own. I endured the headaches wi'
you, and terrible they were. I kept tryin' to will you to have the
problem checked wi' a doctor, but you never seemed to pick up ma
thoughts in tha’ regard.”

Lachlan fell sullenly quiet
for several long moments. He was tired and feeling out of sorts.
And drunk. The scotch was doing crazy things to his system, but he
nonetheless went on.

“I told Carlene I was sure
you were dyin', and I feared you had no inklin' o' wha' was
happenin' to you. We agreed you should be brought here. David
wanted naught to do wi' any o' it. We'd planned to tell you
everythin' right away, but then Carlene and David were killed in
their motor carriage.”

A wounded look softened
Lachlan's face as he looked at Beth. “For the record, Carlene
wanted to stop you from comin'. I wouldna let her. David was tired
o' the whole business and went on. I forced Carlene to remain till
efter you'd arrived. I'm no' proud o' tha', but she left me no
choice. The day she brought you here, she returned to David, and
left you in ma inestimable care.”

“You betrayed their
friendship.”

“Fegs, Beth! I was desperate
to hold you!”

“Why didn't you tell me I
was dying?”

Lachlan gestured his
frustration. “I couldna bring the words ou', love. I tried. I knew
the hemorrhagin' was worsenin'—”

“Hemorrhaging?”

“The coroner told Agnes
there were indications o' cerebral embolisms—wha’ever tha'
means—but the cause o' yer death was a cerebral
hemorrhage.”

“The embolisms were the
cause of my headaches?”

“I believe so. Agnes
remarked the doctor said it was a miracle you didna suffer a
stroke.”

“Right...a stroke,” Beth
huffed. “I guess I was just damn lucky that it killed me,
instead.”

Lachlan took three long
strides to bring himself directly in front of her. Hesitantly, he
rested his hands on her shoulders then gave them a tender squeeze.
But Beth continued to stare dully at his chest, awarding him a
moment to try to steady his legs beneath him. “The scotch is
buzzin' in ma head.”

Her gaze lifted and searched
his face through an unreadable expression. “Do you want to
sit?”

Lachlan hesitated then gave
a single nod. Beth guided him to one of the sofas and helped him to
lower himself onto it. Choosing to remain on her feet, she went to
stand behind him.

“Something happened to me
this morning.”

Cradling his head with his
hands, he looked up at her over his shoulder.

“I was in the attic,” she
began in an absent tone. “I found this dress in one of the trunks,
and put it on. Not long after, I felt something change—the air or
something. I came downstairs and found you in this
room.”

A pain-filled scowl masked
his face. “I wasna down here this morn.”

“You weren't alone.” Beth
looked down and locked eyes with him. “Robert and Tessa were with
you.”

Lachlan laughed then
grimaced as its sound lanced his aching head. “You have gone daft,
womon.”

“It was your wedding night,
Lachlan. Tessa was wearing a purple and red gown, and purple lace
gloves. A little hat with feathers was cocked to one side on her
head. Cocked on the right side, if memory serves me. All I really
remember about Robert is that he had longish, fine brown hair, and
narrow eyes. Oh, and a pointy chin.

“A maid came in. Tessa asked
for peach brandy.”

Despite his pounding
headache, Lachlan bolted to his feet and faced Beth. Her unreadable
expression chilled him, made him wary of further disclosure. “What
witchery be this?”

“You drew her a bath,
remember?” Beth went on quietly. “You left them alone in this room
and, when you returned, Tessa was hysterical. Her brandy glass
mysteriously flew through the air and smashed on the mantel. I was
aiming at Robert, but missed.”

“It canna be,” he murmured,
trembling with shock.

“Robert escorted her to your
room. They made love, in the tub, in front of the
hearth.”

“Stop!”

“You once told me that Tessa
felt this place was haunted. It was. Briefly. By me. Somehow, I
went back.”

“Tis no'
possible!”

“At first I thought you were
somehow responsible for the phenomenon, but I know now you had no
hand in it. I tried to warn you about her, Lachlan. You sat in
that—” She pointed with an isolated finger. “—chair, and I touched
your knees. You, too, were aware of my presence, but you chose to
ignore me.”

Shaking his head in confused
denial, Lachlan stared off into space.

“If I managed to go back,
then you must be able to as well. Go back, Lachlan. Change the
past.”

“No!”

“Live your life!”

“Wi’ou' you?” he asked
harshly.

“We'll go back
together.”

He adamantly shook his head.
“Truth be, I've been happier in this existence, than the ither. And
truth be, Beth, there's no guarantee you'll be able to remain in ma
century. Let it be.”

“You could find someone
else. Have children!”

“I want naught but you! Why
is it so bloody hard for you to accept tha' I love you more than
anythin'—especially a flesh and blood existence?”

“You thought you were in
love with Tessa.”

“I was a fool,” he
grumbled.

“A virgin, you
mean.”

Her words shocked him, and
he gaped at her.

She sighed. “I'm sorry. I
guess men don't care to be tagged virgins, do they?”

“Bestill yer tongue, lass,”
he said darkly, ill-at-ease with her knowledge.

“You have the infuriating
habit of talking to me as though I were a subservient nineteenth
century woman. I don't like it, Lachlan. I have as much right to
speak my mind, as you do.”

“Aye.” Wearily, he seated
himself again on the sofa. “You've thrown yer independence in ma
face often enough.”

“I don't like decisions
being made for me.”

Lachlan grunted in
agreement. “Tis yer decision to stay or pass on,” he said, the
words stilted, as if to say them took great willpower. “You've
accused me o' keepin' you here against yer will. Truth be, lass, I
havna the power to stop you. Yer conscience and yer heart have kept
you here.”

He was right, she knew
now—perhaps had known all along. “If I do stay, Lachlan, then we
must agree to a companionship of equal status; not what Lachlan
wants, Lachlan gets.”

“I've heard o' women's lib,”
he grumbled, and cranked himself around to look up at her. “But
I've a suspicion ye're talkin' specifically abou' the
Inglisses.”

“I am.”

“No. No way.” Lachlan forced
himself up on his feet and faced her, the sofa between them. “Some
things remain a mon's business, Beth. The Inglisses—”

“Tell me something,” she
interrupted blithely, her lofty mood setting off a warning signal
in Lachlan's mind. “How do you manage to keep this place in
repairs? Who pays for the gas, and the food? Do you have a water
bill?”

Lachlan looked about him,
wondering where this line of questioning was going to land him.
“Aye, there are bills and repairs.”

“Don't tell me the Inglisses
pay them.”

Impatience stormed across
Lachlan's face. “Yer pity for them wounds me deeply.”

“Just answer me,
please.”

“I give Viola Cooke money to
take care o' the bills.”

“Who is she?”

“A dear, old soul wi' a love
for the supernatural. Her grandmither was the founder o' the 'Call
Way' in Castle Douglas many years ago. She was a staunch believer
in the efterlife, and funded the preservation o' estates blessed
wi' the spirits o' the long dead. She came here durin' the last
decade o' her life, and we had a hearty talk, we did. I was quite
surprised when she told me I was the most vibrant spirit she'd come
to meet.

“Fancy tha', Beth. Many o'
our kind dinna have the energy to pop in and ou' between the two
worlds as you and I do. She told me willpower had a lot' to do wi'
ma abilities.”

“Wonderful,” Beth
muttered.

Ignoring her, Lachlan went
on, “When Violet passed on, her daughter, Rose, took over. Now,
Viola, a third generation, is helpin' us.”

“Do you materialize to her,
too?”

“Aye. Viola's a sweet old
lady. Every All Hallows Eve, she has a séance here wi' her group. A
few groans and the like keep her happy for anither
year.”

“That's
degrading.”

Lachlan grinned and gave a
lift of his shoulders. “She takes care o' the legal work to keep
this place ou' o' the Crown's hands. She also took care o' the
arrangements to inter Carlene, David and
you,. There are some things we spirits canna do.”

“How did you get this woman
to pay for my taxi ride here?”