Love Everlastin' Book 3 (39 page)

Silence weighted the night
for several moments until, "Uncle Roan?" a voice
squeaked.

"Kevin," Roan panted, "wha'
is goin’ on!"

"We thought you were the
boogeyman," said Kahl.

"Sweet Jesus," Lachlan
moaned.

"Wha' are we caught up in?"
asked Roan angrily.

"Our trap," said Kevin. "It
worked pretty good, huh?"

"We got 'em all over out
here," Alby boasted.

Trussed up on his side,
Winston ordered, "Cut us free."

"We can't," said Kahl. He
shrugged his small shoulders. "We're not allowed to touch scissors
or knives."

"Get somethin’!" Roan
bellowed.

"Okay, okay!"

Kevin’s footfalls plodded in
the direction of the house.

"Where did you get this
rope?" Roan asked Kahl, glaring up at the boy through the damp hair
clinging to his face.

"It ain’t rope. It's yarn.
We tied it all together."

"Yarn..." Roan's voice
drifted off as incredulity settled inside his brain. "From the
missin’ sweaters?"

"Sure," said Kahl. "It was
for a good cause. We couldn't let the boogeyman—

"There is no boogeymon!"
Roan thundered, jerking his body within the cocooning
yarn.

"Yes sa!" Alby shouted. "He
grabbed me, remember?"

"That was a thief," said
Winston. "He was only efter some o' the treasures in the
house."

"Aye," agreed Lachlan. "But
the police took him away."

The boys fell silent as the
distinct sound of large flapping wings filled the air.

Winston tightly closed his
eyes and clenched his teeth against a groan.

"Lads," he heard Deliah say
in a firm tone, "return to the house. We'll be along,
shortly."

"But—"

"Kevin, do as ye be
told."

The boys headed for the
house and Deliah knelt first beside Roan. As she cut away the taut
strands of yarn, she scolded, "Ye be fortunate the household be
awake, leastwise, we would have found us three frozen corpses come
morn!"

Holding his tongue against a
retort, Roan busied himself with yanking away the strands while she
cut Lachlan's bonds, then Winston's. As they finished unwrapping
themselves and got to their feet, she stood back with her hands on
hips, her wings fluttering in a cadence of unmistakable
pique.

"Fine example ye three be
settin’ for the young ones! Tary no'. Beth and Laura are fraught
wi' worry."

With this said she flew back
to the house, leaving the men to re-group.

"If I know ma Beth—and I
do—she's mair likely fraught wi' anger," Lachlan said
grimly.

"Shit," Winston
muttered.

They headed toward the
house, side by side, silent and looking like three men who were
expecting to face the guillotine. Some fifteen feet from the front
doors, Winston said, "Wait," and pointed to the tree in front of
the carriage house. "Tha’s where Deliah tossed the broken oak twigs
to create tha’ wall between the thief, me and Alby."

"I'll be damned," Roan
murmured, his gaze measuring the tree to be at least twelve feet
tall.

"Shall we have a closer
look?" asked Winston.

Lachlan somberly shook his
head. "Best we face the music and be done wi' it."

They entered the house,
Lachlan leading the way, Roan following and Winston tagging along
with his hands buried in his pockets. The hallway was vacant and so
was the library. Moments later, they found the women waiting for
them in the parlor. The air was thick with hostility. The boys sat
on the larger sofa, squirming, their gazes lowered
guiltily.

Of the women, Laura appeared
the angriest. High color stained her cheeks and her vibrant green
eyes raked over them. She approached the men, stopping several feet
in front of them, her heated gaze narrowing in response to their
split lips and bruised and bloodied faces.

"You," she began, pointing
at Winston, "got the boys all worked up with your nonsense about
boogeymen! I just found out they've been sneaking outside every
night and using yarn to make a trap for your killer!"

"I'm sorry."

"Is that all you have to
say?" she asked furiously.

Winston looked at the boys,
who were now staring at him through lowered eyelashes. "The Phantom
was in ma mind. There's no one here ou' to hurt anyone."

The boys exchanged
conspiratorial looks and mumbled amongst themselves.

Laura released a breath of
vexation and threw her hands up. "We've all been suffering a little
cabin fever. But isn't it just swell you men can take off on a whim
and have yourselves a fun time."

"Laura—"

"Shut up, Roan. I'm so damn
angry right now...." She drew in a breath to calm herself. "You
think Scotch and beer are the answer to all your problems, don't
you?"

"No. Laura—"

"Well, I hope it keeps you
warm at night, because I sure as hell won't."

Lachlan's face darkened with
a scowl as he stepped forward. "Ye're bein’ too harsh. We went ou'
for a few drinks! We came back, dinna we?"

"How magnanimous of you,"
Beth said from her position at the back of the sofa. "And it's
obvious you got into a brawl."

"One o' the patrons insulted
ma monhood," Lachlan blustered.

Beth came around the sofa
and positioned herself next to Laura. Deliah, meanwhile, remained a
few feet away, crouched in front of the hearth and warming her
hands before the fire. Her wings were retracted, her hair cloaking
her slender form.

"We were wrong to leave the
house," Winston said wearily, his gaze on Deliah, his heart in his
throat.

"Wrong?" Lachlan exclaimed.
"Tis a mon's right to—"

"Shut up," Beth warned in a
furious, low tone. "Right now, your
monhood
is in serious question, so
shut the hell up before I do something you will sorely
regret."

Lachlan opened his mouth
then clamped it shut with a scowl.

"Do you think scaring the
boys to the point they feel they have to invent traps, humorous?"
Laura asked Roan.

"O' course no'." Roan held
out his hands in a pleading gesture. "Damn me, Laura, I'm sorrier
than I can say. It won't happen again. I swear on
Aggie's—"

"You're damn right it
won't," Laura bit out, cutting him off with both her words and a
slice of her right hand through the air. "I don't know you anymore,
Roan. I can't even stand the sight of you, right now."

"Laura," Lachlan rasped,
then his gaze fell on Beth's flashing eyes and he held back what he
wanted to say.

"I love you, Laura," Roan
said softly. "I want to marry you."

"You bastard," she choked,
tears brimming her eyes. "I'm not that gullible, Roan. And I don't
believe any of you really know what you want. It can't be
us."

"Laura—"

"No, Roan." She drew in a
deep breath and eased back her shoulders. "I don't want to hear
another word from you tonight. In fact, I think it would be best if
the three of you moved into the carriage house for a
time."

"It be cold ou' there,"
Deliah said, rising to her feet.

Laura spared her a glance
and shook her head. "There's the wood stove, and plenty of sleeping
bags and blankets in the storage in the back." She met Roan's
wilted gaze and released a ragged breath. "We all need to get our
priorities in order, and decide what the next step is. A separation
for a while can't make matters any worse than they already
are."

Roan glumly nodded. "All
right."

"They be injured," Deliah
said in a small voice.

Winston met her gaze and
offered her a tremulous smile. It astounded him she was concerned
for their welfare when he'd treated her so badly. To ease her mind,
he said, "Just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing serious. We'll be
fine."

Deliah lowered her head and
turned her right side to him, blocking his view of her face. He
didn't need to scan her to realize that she was on the verge of
tears, and it tore him up inside to know he alone was responsible
for her misery. He considered apologizing, but then thought any
attempt he might make would probably just make their situation more
strained.

He glanced at Lachlan and
saw that he was staring at Beth with a look that bespoke of his
regret and profound sorrow. But he knew Lachlan's pride was
overruling his need to tell Beth how much he loved her, and he knew
Beth was not in a frame of mind to listen to him even if he managed
to break the silence between them.

A choked sound escaped Kahl
and Winston cut his gaze to the boys. They were not taking the
pending separation between the men and women very well, and he
wished he had it within him to comfort them. But he didn't. He
could no more open his arms or his heart to them, than he could to
Deliah.

Indeed, Roan, Lachlan and he
had made a helluva mess out of their relationships with their
women.

"We'll make sure the house
is locked up and leave," Roan said, staring at his feet. "If you
need anythin’—"

"We won't," said Laura
curtly, although a tremor was heard in her tone. "We can lock up,
ourselves."

Nodding, Roan gave her a
long look then headed out of the room. Lachlan and Winston followed
him back into the night. They were between the house and the new
oak when the sound of the outer doors being bolted stopped them in
their tracks. Each looked back in poignant silence and proceeded to
the carriage house.

C
hapter 15

Winston's legs grew heavier
and heavier with each step he took through the corridor of light.
It was an endless effulgence, with narrow walls of infinite
blackness. A place with no sound or scent, and one in which he
couldn't even feel solidity beneath his feet. One portion of his
mind concentrated on the possibility of falling through the
nothingness beneath him, while another strained to see an end to
his journey, and yet another harbored fear of what might lurk in
the blackness to each side of him. He was alone and isolated from
everything remotely familiar to him. And he was afraid he would
never return to the people he had come to regard as
family.

A zephyrous voice wove its
way through the passage. "I will love ye forever, ma dour
Scotsmon."

Deliah!
He tried to shout her name, but no sound passed his lips.
Desperate to connect with reality, he reached out with his mind,
imploring,
Find me, Deliah! Show me the
way back!

He waited. And waited. And
waited. But she never responded. Not verbally. Not telepathically.
Not even permitting him a sense of her presence. He now felt more
abandoned, more isolated, and more desperate to emerge from this
place.

Deliah, I need you! Don't
leave me now. Show me the way back to you!

Why should she, though? He'd
done everything within his power to shun her, to hurt her, to make
her cut his heartstrings and spare him from confronting the demons
of his inability to commit to love.

Begetters. Who are you?
What do you want from me?

Be...ye. Be...ye.
Be...ye.

The words tauntingly echoed
in his mind.

Deliah!

He was suddenly standing
outside the carriage house. Glorious sunlight bathed the land and
his heart leapt behind his breast at the sight of the new oak. It
now stood twenty feet tall, the broad trunk comprised of many
smaller trees plaited into one mass. The canopy of branches was
laden with vibrant green leaves, through which he glimpsed several
peafowl staring down at him. Birds chirped merrily, flitting around
the perimeter of the branches. Butterflies were in abundance,
colorfully fluttering among wildflowers and ground cover of
variegated green, red, and white, scattered around the tree and
beyond its outstretched limbs.

A misty, transparent form
appeared near the oak. Deliah. Glittering silver strips of material
draped from her shoulders and hung the length of her hair. She
danced on tiptoe with the grace of a ballerina, twirling and
pirouetting, her arms arched above her head and her radiant face
lifted to the overhead branches as if in homage. She hummed a tune
which further gladdened his heart, her voice hauntingly sweet and
beckoning. Her wings graced her like a shimmering cloak swept back
by a hearty wind.

Too soon, she melted into
the landscape and he experienced a sharp pang of loss. He closed
his eyes and willed her back, but when he looked, she remained
gone.

He gasped when time and
space unexpectedly swept past him, thrusting him through what
seemed like forward movement. He came to an abrupt stop and found
himself standing within a very different place, this one semi-dark,
lit only by a solitary lantern atop a trestle-legged table. There
were opened cans, emptied wrappers, and bags strewn about the
cement floor.