Love Everlastin' Book 3 (28 page)

"Beth," he said in a hoarse
whisper.

She couldn't
respond.

Rivulets of water escaped
the hairline along his brow and trickled down his face. When wet,
the dark auburn strands had a tendency to wave and hang a good two
inches past his broad shoulders. He had shaved off the beard and
mustache. The cleft in his chin and the deep grooves in his cheeks
filled her vision.

Beth's world shrank to
within a space that could only occupy the two of them. How many
tears had she spilled crying over his absence, his cruel
determination to ignore her and the twins? How many times had she
felt her heart break during the lonely hours she'd lain awake in
the dark, longing for him to comfort her.

After all they'd been
through together....

She'd thought about her
reaction when she next encountered him. Slug him or walk away had
been her choice alternatives. Yet neither was a viable possibility
at the moment. Her arms were leaden things hanging at her sides,
and her legs felt like Jell-O. Her ears filled with a sound akin to
rushing water, and psychological weights formed in her chest,
making it hard to breathe. She could only stare at him.

He now wore a dark green,
full-sleeved shirt which was opened down the front, exposing most
of his powerful chest. Black snug-fitting pants and knee-high black
boots, gave him the appearance of a pirate. He didn't need a sword.
His selfish desire to keep himself away was weapon enough. Sharp
enough to cut to the quick her belief their love could conquer all
obstacles.

"Say somethin’," he said,
his eyes pleading with her to snap out of her stupor. "Even a slap
would be preferable to this silence, lass."

Still Beth couldn't respond.
She knew if she attempted to move or speak, the dam of her control
would let loose, and she wasn't sure what would happen. Crying,
screaming, even hitting him wouldn't compensate for the emptiness
inside her.

Tears filled her eyes,
gushing from a well deep within her when his hands hesitantly
framed her face. She wanted to pull away. Thrust him away. But her
treacherous heart leapt with joy at his touch. The warmth of his
soft palms and fingers melted into the marrow of her bones.
Lightheaded suddenly, it took all her willpower not to lean into
him and forget what had transpired since their return. But the
emotional wound remained, and she needed it to keep herself in one
piece. Needed it to retain her own fair measure of
pride.

When it came to Lachlan, to
give in to him was to forsake everything. She'd learned shortly
into their relationship that she had to hold her ground, no matter
the initial pain it brought her or him. Her youth had waned during
the years she'd spent taking care of her ill mother. Coming to
Scotland to visit her childhood best friend, Carlene, had been the
beginning of what she'd thought was her life. Instead, she'd found
Lachlan Baird, ghost of Baird "Kist" House, and learned that
Carlene, too, had been dead for some time. Carlene's invite had
been instigated by Lachlan, who, knowing Beth was dying, coerced
Carlene into bringing Beth to Scotland. She had unknowingly come to
this house to die.

She'd never had a chance at
a new life, only a new existence, one in which Lachlan was a vital
part. And it all had come about because of the portrait Carlene had
done of Beth in their hometown of Kennewick in Washington State.
The same portrait that hung over the fireplace in the parlor.
Lachlan had somehow connected with her through that painting,
connected with her through the miles, and had decided she was his
woman. His to share eternity. And eternity they would have had
together if not for their return to the living.

And if not for his
abandoning her when she needed him most.

Words boiled up from within
her gut, traveled upward into her throat, but never reached her
lips. Before a sound could escape her, he pulled her into his arms
and kissed her passionately. At first, her senses riveted on him.
The musky, all-male scent of him, mingled with traces of soap from
his bath. The muscular solidity of him. The height and breadth of
him. The sound of his low moans as he kissed her deeper, deeper.
His arms blanketed her and she was conscious of hard biceps and
forearms. Of his heart hammering behind the glorious contours of
his chest.

Too soon, the kiss ended and
she found herself staring into his eyes through a rush of tears. He
had to know he couldn't wipe away the past two weeks with a kiss!
Did he really think she was that weak? That gullible?

For several seconds he
stared into her eyes as if questioning her mood, her thoughts. Then
a grin twitched on his generous mouth and he said, "I knew you
couldna stay angry for long, ma Beth."

Her temper flared,
overwhelming her completely as she stepped back and swiped the back
of an arm across her still-tingling lips. "You bastard! How dare
you strut in here like you have any rights where I'm
concerned!"

"I do."

Beth sucked in a furious
breath. Tears dropped onto her flushed cheeks with each blink. "The
hell you do, you ass!"

A flare of anger flashed in
his eyes as he placed his hands on his hips and leaned a bit
forward. "I swear, lass, I'll wash yer mouth ou' wi' soap
if—"

"And I'll knee your
testicles up into your nostrils if you even try!" she threatened,
and lifted her chin in triumph when he recoiled in shock at her
words. "We're not married and I'm not your possession."

Lachlan recovered as best he
could and eyed her narrowly, heatedly. "I'm the mon in our
family—"

"You're a useless piece of.
. .of. . .shit!" she hissed, too angry to care about her language.
The dignified Beth, the soft-spoken, ladylike, mousey Beth, was
long gone.

"Och!" he cried, running his
hands down his face. "I was wrong to care mair abou' me than you
and the babes. Okay? Is tha' wha' you want to hear, Beth? This mon
afore you, was
wrong!
Dinna you think I know tha'? Sweet Jesus, I'm tryin’ ma best
to make amends!"

Panting, Beth adamantly
shook her head. "My guess is, you're horny, Lannie old boy, and
figured a kiss would buy you time in my bed!"

His face took on a look of
stark incredulity before he released a strangled laugh. "Horny, you
say? First o' all, ma darling, you've never been tha' easy in the
lovin’ department. Secondly,
ma..sweet...fire
, tis
ma
bed I'm bein’
denied."

"Fine. I'll move into the
nursery."

Beth attempted to push past
him, but his anger now matched her own. Roughly, he gripped her
upper arms and yanked her against him, and kissed her punishingly,
determined to weaken her determination to resist him. For his
trouble, she sank her teeth into his lower lip. He wailed, released
her and jumped back. He dabbed at the bleeding wound with the
fingers of his right hand, then stared at the blood-smeared digits
as if on the verge of passing out.

"Don't you ever handle me
like that again, Lachlan Baird!"

Beth tore out of the room,
into the hall and toward the stairs. She slowed her flight as she
descended, allowing for her blurred vision, benefit of the tears
she couldn't hold back.

"We're no' through," growled
a voice behind her.

Her heart slammed against
her chest wall. Lachlan was following her, intending to pursue the
argument to what end, she didn't know. There was nothing left to be
said between them. He could kiss her, hold her, spout off his words
of love until he was blue in the face, and none of it would change
the fact that he cared more about his sorry carcass than he did for
the twins or her. She was better emotionally equipped to handle her
future without him. Without trust, love didn't have a
foundation.

She burst into the dining
room, hoping with the others present, Lachlan would crawl back to
the carriage house and leave her alone. Startled expressions swam
in front of her. Roan and Laura. Winston and Deliah. Agnes. Alby
was sitting at the table, bent over a coloring book, an orange
crayon poised above one of the pages.

"Beth, wha's wrong?" asked
Agnes.

"Damn you, Beth—"

Lachlan came to an abrupt
halt behind Beth when he saw the others in the room. His chest
heaved on a sigh of vexation, and he was about to offer an apology
when his gaze fell on the bundles held in Agnes and Winston's arms.
Roaring filled his ears. His vision bleared. His heart dropped into
his stomach, then shot up and lodged in his throat.

Laura screamed. The
unexpectedness and shrillness of it shocked everyone. The babies
began to wail, while the adults watched in perplexity as Laura
sprang atop the seat of the chair at the head of the
table.

"A rat!" she squealed
hysterically, pointing to the ornate sideboard. "A huge
rat!"

Roan and Winston sprang into
action, Roan removing his left shoe from his foot, and Winston
passing Beth her son, then snatching one of the candelabrums from
the table. The white candles spilled from their Sterling silver
beds as the men headed for the sideboard.

"Stop!" Deliah
shouted.

Both men turned questioning
looks on her.

While Beth and Agnes huddled
together with the babies near the fireplace, Lachlan stayed in
front of the door. Alby remained on his knees on one of the chairs,
and Laura, pale and jumping from foot to foot on the seat, hugged
herself.

Only Deliah seemed in
command of her senses. "Shame on ye both," she scolded, her vibrant
blue eyes raking the men over. "The wee craiture canna hurt
ye!"

She dropped to her haunches
and made a sound like that of a mouse. After a moment, a small gray
critter shot from beneath the sideboard and beelined in her
direction. It jumped onto her extended palm and quivering in fear,
twitched its tiny nose in the air.

Deliah stood and placed the
side of her upturned palm to her breast, her gaze searching the
others who were watching her as though she were something alien.
The babies had quieted. Deliah tenderly stroked the back of the
mouse's head and back until it, too, settled comfortably on her
hand.

"Tis too cold ou' there for
this poor craiture," she said, her demeanor challenging anyone to
defy her wishes regarding the mouse. "We must give it shelter till
winter passes."

"It's a r-rat," Laura
stammered.

"Tis a verra wee mouse,"
said Deliah. "A verra young wee mouse."

"How..." Winston closed half
the distance between himself and Deliah."...did you get it to go to
you like tha'?"

"It knows I canna hurt it,"
she said with a hint of impatience. "Alby, have ye somethin’ we
could make a home for the poor thing. For a time, at
least."

"Yeah!" Alby said gleefully,
and ran from the room.

"It's not a pet!" Laura
cried, looking more horror-stricken than ever.

"Laura, look at it," Deliah
insisted. She walked to the chair so Laura could see it better. "It
willna bite ye. It be but a baby and all alone in this big
house."

"That's comforting—it being
alone, I mean," Laura muttered.

"Its parents be dead, and it
doesna know wha' to do." Deliah made a cooing sound to the mouse
then lifted pleading eyes to Laura. "It be hungry and frightened.
Have ye no heart for it?"

Unsteadily, Laura climbed
down from the chair and reluctantly stared at the nestled rodent
atop Deliah's palm. Her features contorted in a grimace and she
shrugged. "I guess it is kind of...cute. Not crazy about its tail,
though."

Deliah smiled. "If ye name
him, Laura, he'll seem less fearful to ye."

"Name him?' Laura asked
blankly.

"Aye."

Laura offered a genuine
grimace of disgust. "Name a rodent?"

"Havena ye ever had a pet?"
Deliah asked her.

Laura nodded. "When I was a
little girl. A cat."

"Weel?"

"Okay, okay." Laura gulped
and warily eyed the mouse. Then a semblance of a grin lessened the
strain in her features. "He is kind of cute, isn't he? I like the
way his nose wiggles." She glanced at Roan. "Any
suggestions?"

With a dubious arching of
his eyebrows, Roan stepped next to Laura and regarded the mouse.
"How abou'...Spot. We could pretend he's the family dog. But I
don't expect he'll fetch the newspaper for us."

Laura playfully elbowed him
in the midriff and Roan laughed.

"Wiggles," she said finally.
She straightened her shoulders as if proud to have named something
that moments ago had filled her with terror. "Wiggles. It's cute
and wiggly."

Deliah held the mouse up
closer to her face. "Wha' say ye, Wiggles?" She laughed and nodded
to Laura. "Tis a fine name for him, it is."

"You've all gone daft,"
Lachlan grumbled by the doorway.

Deliah stiffened as her gaze
cut to Lachlan. "This be Agnes' last few hours wi' us. I willna
have ye spoil them for any o' us."

Lachlan scowled at Beth, who
glared at him from Agnes' side. Agnes on the other hand, was
looking at him with motherly compassion.