Everlastin' Book 1 (17 page)

Not this time,
she vowed, steeling herself to go limp in his
hold.

His arms enveloped her, his
arousal flattened to her midriff, sandwiched between their
quivering, aching bodies. A moan reverberated in her skull as his
tongue urged her to open her mouth. Fleeting fantasies of biting
him—and worse—flipped through her mind as she unclenched her teeth
and parted her lips. If she didn't stop him soon—didn't stop
herself
—she would soon be
forever lost to the hold he had on her.

Then she tasted the
strawberry sweetness on his tongue and she melted against him. Her
sensibilities became solely focused on the pulses racing through
her body, pumping wildly like thousands of heartbeats beneath every
part of her skin.

Drawing his mouth a
hair'sbreadth from her slightly swollen lips, he said, “Admit how
suited we are for one anither. Our hearts beat as one. We're
linked, you and I, in mind and spirit.”

Mind and spirit?

Wrenching herself from his
embrace, Beth glowered at him, her chest rising and falling with
her every panting breath.

So,
linked
were they?

Lust wasn't enough. He
wanted her mind and spirit as well! And at this particular moment,
she wasn't sure he wouldn't take it all and leave her an empty
shell once the thrills dimmed between them.

“No,” she breathed, her
hands held up to ward him off. “It's not going to work this
time!”

Lachlan calmly watched her
storm across to her bedroom and slam the door behind her. A quirky
smile played on his lips.

God, she had a fine
temper!

“Drop dead she says to me.”
He released a low, throaty laugh. “Ah, Beth, you didna drive the
poker through ma heart. Tis love, this time.”

He made a rueful face as he
inspected the scene he'd so carefully arranged for his planned
night of lovemaking with the woman. His woman. He'd known that the
instant he'd laid eyes on her portrait.

Tessa be damned.

He'd only been a hundred and
forty-nine years off track. There would never be his children to
fill his grand house, but he had found a woman to share eternity
with him.

What more could any man
want?

At a glance from him, the
fire in the fireplace dwindled and extinguished.

Lachlan stood in the
darkness, staring at the closed door in front of him, aching for
that which she had denied him this night.

“I can wait a while longer.
I do love you, lass. Soon, you'll know how verra much.”

Lachlan Baird was a man
accustomed to waiting. It saddened him that she'd thought he was
merely playing games. He hadn't wanted to leave her for even a
second, but his energies were precious little since their
passionate lovemaking two nights prior.

How he would explain it all
to her, he didn't know. But it would have to be soon. If Agnes or
that useless twit Borgie were to tell Beth his
secret....

Perhaps she'd question their
sanity, but in time she would know the truth, and resent his
keeping it from her.

He had to breach his fear of
her initial reaction. He already sensed her suspicions. They lay
innocently in her mind, but her unwillingness to accept the reality
of what her senses told her, prevented her from seeing through his
facade.

So much lay ahead of
them.

Unburdening her guilt had
been a step in the right direction. She was a stronger-willed woman
than he'd expected, but in the end, it could be to their
advantage.

If only he could breach the
boundaries of time and see into the future, know for certain how to
prepare himself for the events destined to unfold.

She was going to fight him
for her life.

He began to fade into the
night-cloaked room.

“Tis in a terrible gray
limbo I'll wait in to peak the energy to return to you,
lass.”

His misty form began to move
through the room.

“Ghosthood has its
drawbacks, but I'll be back on the morn's morn. Until then, Beth,
dream o' me kindly.”

***

Dressed again in the cotton,
calf-length skirt and a sleeveless matching top of pale blue, Beth
made her way to the far end of the second floor hall. She refused
to think about Lachlan. Whatever his excuse, she would never
forgive him for leaving her as he had. For that matter, she was at
a point of never forgiving Carlene, either.

She felt trapped, as much so
as she had all the years she took care of her mother. Six days had
passed since her arrival, six of the most perplexing days of her
life. Between the headaches and her restlessness, she'd hardly
slept. And when she did sleep, Carlene or Lachlan invaded her
dreams.

Not a moment passed when
Borgie or Agnes’ words didn’t roll over and over in her mind. There
was something so very wrong going on.

Sliding aside the heavy
drape to the entrance to the tower, she crossed the threshold to a
narrow, steep, stone staircase that hugged the wall. She climbed to
the second level. On the narrow floor space was a single, unmade
bed, a small white dresser, and a clothes rack. Two old countryside
prints in handmade frames hung on the stone walls. There was one
small, curtainless window that could be cranked opened.

On the third level was
another unmade single bed, the mattress, like the other, in perfect
condition. A dark-stained dresser was set in the corner. An open
closet had been built into one wall. Beneath a cubbyhole under the
stairs was an old black trunk. She opened it. Empty. A cross made
of straw hung on the wall over the bed. Another curtainless
window.

The fourth level had only a
single bed, a wooden vanity, and a tiny window with a yellowed
valance. Beth sat on the edge of the bed. Sighing deeply, she
placed her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her upturned
palms.

These
rooms
, she reasoned,
must have been for servants. But what a lonely, cold place to
sleep. How did they keep warm back then? There are no fireplaces on
any of the levels.

A movement was caught in
Beth's peripheral vision. She stared at a section of low wall, her
brow furrowed in deep thought. After a moment, the facing of the
mortared rock appeared to shift, as if curtained by a shimmering
illusion of heat waves.

She recalled Calum's account
of where Lannie Baird had been found. Recoiling, she glanced up and
saw a brass bell hanging high on the wall above the base of the
ascending staircase.

Clang.

Although she was certain the
bell hadn't moved, the sound reverberated in her ears.

Rising from the bed, she
went to the window and looked out. At least the view was beautiful.
The loch stretched out beneath a gently rolling morning haze. To
the fore side of the loch was a cluster of homes. Beyond, rolling
green hills with aligned trees and low stone walls demarcated the
land boundaries.

Absently, Beth ran a finger
along the tiny window embrasure then upturned the finger to inspect
it for dust. Amazingly there wasn't any. Now that she thought about
it, she hadn't encountered anything in the house that showed the
slightest sign of neglect.

As if compelled, she again
looked at the wall behind her. She crossed to it and knelt, then
hesitantly laid her palm against the rock. The surface was like ice
and, for one frightening second, she believed her hand almost
capable of passing through the wall.

Nursing the hand to her
breast, she released a long breath.

Poor Lannie
Baird.

“Did you suffer?”

Maybe his spirit did still
reside in the house. She hadn't had another encounter with him — if
it had been him at all.

“I love your house, Lannie.
You managed to create something that long succeeded you. Not many
people could—” Beth sighed and murmured, “You're losing it,
kiddo.”

Standing, she turned to what
remained of the ascending staircase, steep and narrow. Massaging a
nagging stiffness in her neck, she walked to the bottom step and
looked up. The steps led up to a dark door in the
ceiling.

Beth wrinkled her nose
disdainfully. She wasn't fond of heights, but after a few moments
of considering what little else there was for her to do to occupy
her time, she decided she might as well see all of the
tower.

The door opened outward and
fell to her right onto the roof. She hurried up the last few steps,
drew herself up onto a floor of aged, tarred planks, and clung
tightly to a broad flagpole conveniently placed by the portal.
Surrounding the perimeter of the tower was a four-foot high
crenelated circular wall that gave her a reasonable sense of
security. Releasing her death hold on the pole, she crossed to the
wall and peered down at the side yard over one of the
notches.

The ground seemed a very
long ways down.

A peacock cry startled
her.

Turning her head sharply,
she tried to locate the noisy bird, but from her position, the wall
blocked her view of the house's rooftops. A nervous, low laugh
gurgled in her throat. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves,
and drank in her first panoramic view from the tower's
peak.

A butterfly sensation
flitted in her stomach as she slowly digested the incredible
landscape to the south. The morning air was crisp and clean, the
sunlight bright and promising to warm up the day. A silver mist lay
over the shadowed areas near the road to the house, and along the
west side of the property. The mist was beginning to dissolve above
the loch, revealing water of the truest azure.

Then the quiet registered in
her mind. Amazingly ambient quiet. There was such serenity
surrounding Baird House that her worries began to fade. She felt as
if she were the only person left on the planet.

A princess in her
tower.

Sighing, she closed her eyes
and lifted her face to the sun.

And this was how Lachlan
first saw her when he materialized behind her. His mouth opened to
speak but no words came out. Elation lit his dark eyes and, feeling
breathlessly buoyant, he stepped off to one side to have a better
view of her profile.

She was more beautiful than
anything he'd ever seen.

The sunlight's kiss on her
face, the shine of her curly hair and the contours of her long,
slender neck, all aroused his desire to hold her. But he waited. As
long as he didn't use excessive physical energy, he could remain
with her for most of the day.

Perhaps a picnic in the rose
garden behind the house.

No. The last meal he'd had
at that particular site was two days before his adoring bride
became a widow. The memory certainly dampened his fondness for that
spot.

A stroll along the south
pastures, or horseback riding to the border of the Lauder's farm.
Or a leisurely boat ride down the loch.

And wha’ would I say to ma
future bride if ma energies ran short and I simply...poofed
away?

Ah, lassie, I've been
meanin' to tell you somethin' for a time now. You see, I've been
dead...oooh, abou' a hundred and forty-nine years now. But dinna
let it worry you. Even dead, love puts me in ma cups.

Aye, Beth ma darlin', I'm a
ghost. A wee lonely spirit, but one wi' a mon's dreams
and....

Lachlan's dark eyebrows
drew expressively down above his straight nose.
Say tha', you fool,
he chided
himself,
and she'll whap you upside the
head, and you'll use up those precious energies o' yers just tryin'
to hold yer temper!

He irritably flexed his
shoulders beneath a beige shirt which was left open to the
waistband of his dark pants.

Weel, tis a fine mess
you've got yerself in now, Lannie old boy. No, you canna go
spillin' yer woeful story now—and tis no' a good time to confess
you pleasured her wi' a dead thin’, either.

Beth opened her eyes and was
smiling with sheer bliss when she caught sight of something in her
peripheral vision. She released a squeal of surprise, and Lachlan
nearly died for the second time. A hand over his phantom heart, his
breaths coming in hoarse spurts from lungs the precious energy
simulated from his memory, he stared at the woman as if she had
lost her mind.

“Dammit, Lachlan, you nearly
scared me to death!”

Planting a hand over her
heart, Beth made a gallant attempt to compose herself.

“You?” he wheezed. “Good
morn to you, too!”

“It was until you—” Her eyes
narrowed with accusation as she drew her gaze back to Lachlan from
the open portal on the floor. “I didn't hear you come
up.”

“I figured tha' ou' the
instant yer voice shattered ma eardrums.” Offering his most
charming smile, he stepped up beside her until their shoulders were
touching then gestured to the loch.

“Loch Ken, darlin'. Ma
personal favorite in all the Lowlands.”