Everlastin' Book 1 (10 page)

“She loves you, lass,” he
said softly, the fingers of one hand playing with a curl at her
temple. “She talked in great length abou' you.”

“That must have been
boring,” she murmured, a flush staining her cheeks. “I never
understood why she hung around with me. We were so different. She
was always the doer; me, the observer.”

“Perhaps we see you
differently than you see yerself.” He grinned. “We know the fire
exists.”

“What fire?”

“The fire in yer
soul.”

He was doing it again, Beth
realized. Analyzing her. What puzzled her was his ability to reach
into her heart of hearts and surface the woman she could be if she
let go of her inhibitions.

“Maybe a little flame,” she
said to fill the silence between them.

“No.” Releasing the
blanket, he gestured widely with his hands. “A blazin' fire. I've
felt it scorch me. When we're
kissin'.”

Suddenly ill-at-ease, Beth
attempted to get to her feet. But Lachlan gripped the corners of
the blanket and tugged her forward onto his lap. His cool lips
targeted her mouth. His arms cradling her, he kissed her deeply but
not with the same intensity he'd kissed her in the gazebo.
Nonetheless, she melted in his arms and wrapped hers about his
neck. Her fingers entwined through his thick hair.

“Ye're makin' me crazy,
womon,” he said looking down into her glazed eyes. “Do you believe
in love at first sight?”

Beth gave a low laugh. “I
don't know what I believe anymore.”

“You've a lot to
learn.”

“Are you volunteering as my
teacher?”

With a groan, he moved her
off his lap and rose to his feet. Taking her hand, he helped her
up, his clasp remaining as she peered up at him
expectantly.

“There's an old sayin'....”
He frowned and shifted his weight. “Stop lookin' at me wi' those
dreamy eyes. Fegs! They make all thought flee ma mind!”

Beth's smile showed to
advantage her deep dimples.

“Ye're acquaintin' yerself
wi' yer power over me, you minx.”

“You mean, exercising my
feminine wiles?”

He nodded.

“Is that what I'm doing?”
she mused aloud, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I'd forgotten
what it was like.”

“Torture on the target,” he
drawled.

Tilting her head to one
side, she seductively arched a brow. “A little suffering never hurt
anyone.”

“Hmm.” His eyes became
hooded. A muscle ticked along his powerful jawline as he inhaled
through his nostrils. “I think abou' you all the time, Beth,” he
said seriously, caressing the underpart of her chin. “As I said,
Carlene talked a lot abou’ you, and I would find maself starin’ at
yer portrait, wonderin’ wha’ you would be like to hold. Tis grander
than anythin’ in ma imagine, lass. I feel as though I have waited
the whole o’ ma life for you.”

“Then why did you push me
away in the gazebo?”

Lachlan looked heavenward
and sighed before locking his gaze with hers. “When we make love, I
want everythin' to be perfect. No shortcuts. No doubts lingerin' in
the aftermath. I canna risk losin’ you, Beth.”

Amid a rush of thrills at
his words, Beth anchored herself to the earth. She would be back in
Kennewick, Washington in two weeks. Preparing for college. Getting
on with her life.

“Hey. You offered to make
supper.”

“Aye.”

“I'm starving,” she laughed,
and ran toward the house.

He watched after her with a
bemused expression.

“Women,” he
grinned.

His Yank was a delightful
ball of fire, but he had to be careful not to extinguish the flame.
Although she was not aware of it, the chemistry between them had
already constructed the foundation of their bond, built upon the
psychic link she had not as yet consciously accepted.

Two steps
remained.

He had to win her love
completely, which he was confident wouldn't be all that difficult.
She was not the kind of woman to allow a man to kiss and pet her
unless her heart was guiding her.

However, the last step
troubled him.

Unless she learned to open
up and trust him, there would always be a wall between
them.

And Lachlan Baird had a
thing about walls of any kind obstructing him.

C
hapter 4

The peafowls shrilled the
advent of a new dawn. Beth cracked open her eyes and grimaced. The
ache in the back of her head was ever present, gnawing on her
nerves for the past twenty-four hours. It had taken eight aspirin
at bedtime to ease the headache enough to allow her to fall to
sleep.

Another succession of
caterwauls caused a stabbing pain in her temples and she mutely
wished the birds skewered above an open fire.

She lay quietly for an
indeterminable time, staring sleepily up at the ceiling, waiting
for her body to gather up the energy to rise from the bed. Memory
of the supper Lachlan had concocted the previous night brought a
whimsical smile to her mouth. Eggs Benedict, wedges of cheese, and
fried dough slathered in butter and honey. Anything beyond eggs,
he'd told her, was out of his league.

A soft laugh caressed her
throat. She'd never known anyone like him and probably never would
again. He could be the most entertaining companion, or a royal pain
in the—

Carlene and
David.

Giving in to a wide yawn,
Beth groggily sat up. Surely they would return today, or Beth would
give serious thought to returning to the States and getting on with
her life. If she remained too long without Carlene around to act as
a buffer, Beth knew she would give in to making love with Lachlan,
and she wasn’t sure she could leave him behind after sharing that
kind of intimacy with him.

After a long bath, she went
through the motions of preparing herself for the day. Dressed in a
pair of acid wash jeans and a baggy lightweight sweat shirt to ward
off the morning chill of the house, she left her room. The bedroom
door across the hall was shut. A secretive smile on her lips, she
headed down the hall.

Never had she imagined a
house could be so absolutely quiet, so full of silence, and yet the
air seemed to possess a tangible presence. Trying not to dwell on
it, she headed out through the double set of front
doors.

Three of the peacocks called
out upon seeing her. Leaning against the stone front of the house,
she watched the birds through a wan smile.

“Early risers, aren't you
fellas?”

The birds strutted about,
pecking at the ground, and fluffing up their feathers. Proud and
arrogant. Secure in their surroundings. Going about their business
but keeping an eye on her.

One came close to her and
boldly looked her over. Its train of feathers rose up and spread
into a magnificent fan of colors. Then as if to put her in her
place, it brushed up against her leg and strutted off in the
direction of the house.

Placing a hand over her
heart, she laughed.

What had Lachlan called one
of the birds the other day?

Brau....
Braussaw.

An admirable name for such a
haughty creature. In many ways, the birds reminded her of
Lachlan.

A mist lay over the land.
Looking to the west, she thought about the tower and wondered what
the view of the loch would be like from that vantage
point.

“No time like the present to
find out,” she murmured.

Returning inside the house,
she went to the second floor. When she arrived at the drapes that
concealed the newel staircase, something else caught her attention.
The door perpendicular to the drapes was open. Beyond it was a
narrow, descending staircase of stone.

A wonderful aroma filled the
passageway and embraced Beth's mounting hunger. She inhaled deeply,
released a moan of longing, then descended until she reached the
bottom and passed through an open, narrow arch. Surprise stopped
her in her tracks. A few feet across from her, an elderly woman
stood bent over the large, black stove. She looked up to spare Beth
a curiously nonchalant look before placing the rest of the food
she'd cooked on a silver tray.

“Good morning.”

Beth's soft voice brought
the woman's head to turn in her direction again. The heavily lined
face showed impatience, and her pale watery-blue eyes ran a slow,
measuring look over Beth's form.

“Abou' time you came down.
You don’t expect me to climb the stairs, do you?”

The old woman was about to
lift the tray within her gnarled hands when Beth rushed forward and
took it into her own hands.

“Is this for me?”

Barely five foot in height,
the old woman placed her hands upon her hips and scowled up into
Beth's face. “I'm no' here cookin' for ma health now, am I,
Missy?”

Beth's expression sobered.
She had the strangest compulsion to apologize to the cook—but for
what, she didn't know.

“Did Carlene ask you to cook
this for me?”

“His Nibs.”

Mistaking “His Nibs” for
David, Beth glanced over the contents of the tray. Two boiled eggs
on toast. Thick slices of fried ham. Two portly sausages. Oranges
slices. A small bowl of porridge with a dab of butter in its
center, and a tiny crystal container holding blackcurrant jam. A
silver pot of coffee.

“Meals are in the dinin'
room, Missy. I'm too old to be fancier'n tha'. No bedroom
service.”

Beth managed a smile,
although, for the life of her, she couldn't understand the woman's
blatant animosity toward her. “Where is the dining
room?”

An ancient arm rose up and
the woman pointed across the kitchen.

“Thank you. Are you going to
join me, Mrs....”

“Agnes good
enough.”

“I wouldn't mind the
company, Agnes.”

The old woman's hard eyes
bored into Beth's but then, to the latter's relief, a sign of
compassion softened them and the old woman scrinched up her
face.

“Would you now?”

A musical laugh escaped
Beth. “Please? I promise not to talk your ears off.”

Agnes gave an airy shrug of
one shoulder. “Aye. I guess you would be gettin' a wee jaggey abou'
now. Go on and eat while tis hot. Me and ma tea'll be along
shortly.”

The dining room took Beth's
breath. Above an elaborately carved table for ten, hung a
five-tiered gas chandelier, its globes resembling large,
rose-tinted pearls. Long crystal pendants dangled from four of the
tiers, sparkling in the morning sunlight that filtered through
rose-colored organdy under curtains on the two massive bay
windows.

Placing her tray on the
table, she slowly drew out a chair and lowered herself onto it.
Although hunger gnawed at her stomach, the elegance of the room
captured her attention. Oriental tapestries and portraits covered
sections of the walls. An enormous sideboard displayed china and
crystal, Oriental and Grecian vases, and a pewter collection of
various animals and birds. Above the sideboard were numerous
collections of Imari plates. Several whatnot shelves displayed jade
figurines and hand-painted porcelain Japanese figures.

Standing between the bay
windows was a Japanese scroll on a tri-legged stand. Off to one
side, willowy peacock feathers sprouted up out of a tall
urn.

Color. It was so abundant in
this house.

Placing a hand over her
heart, Beth looked down at her food. Silver eating utensils were
neatly wrapped in a rose-colored linen napkin.

“I must have died and gone
to heaven,” she said, positioning the knife and fork in her
hands.

A cold movement of air
passed close to her right. Startled by it, a breath lodged in her
throat, Beth glanced in the direction. She was in the process of
telling herself it wasn't unusual for an old house to be drafty
when something icy caressed her cheek. Resisting a compelling
notion to bolt from the chair and run from the room, she shuddered
and clenched the utensils tighter. The phenomenal flurry of air
shifted at her side then moved off behind her.

Breathing sparingly, Beth
looked down at her breakfast. Once she forced herself to begin to
eat, the delicious meal brought her jitters to an end. She ate as
if she hadn't in weeks. Although the repast consisted of foods she
was familiar with, the flavor of everything was quite different
from that in the states. Blander but very good. The ham slices were
salty, tender and delicious.

“You've a good appetite,”
cackled a voice.

Beth looked up sharply to
her right. Seeing the old woman poised, a teapot in her hands, she
rose to her feet and drew out a chair to her right.

Agnes gave her a curious
look of surprise before seating herself.

“Have you eaten?”

“Aye. I've a son still at
home to tend.” The aged features scrinched up again. “No' tha' he
can’t feed himself, had he a mind.”