Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (12 page)

"Aye, I'm hungry," Lachlan
grinned apologetically. He glanced at Roan. "And you?"

"Starvin’."

Deliah clamped a hand over
her mouth. She paled even more before her face became flushed and
her eyes dulled. Moments later, she lowered the hand and swallowed
almost convulsively. She shuddered and stated, "I dinna like tha'
feeling."

"Describe it," said
Roan.

She thought over her
response before answering. "Tis like ma insides are tryin’ to
escape ma mouth."

"Ye're
nauseated?"

"If tha' be it, aye," she
said weakly. "Ither times, I feel like a leaf caught up in a
swirlin’ breeze, and darkness winks around me. Tis so frightenin’.
I canna understand wha' be wrong." Tears welled up in her eyes as
she looked into Lachlan's face, which had darkened with concern.
"Lachlan, wha' be it like to die?"

"Deliah!" Roan choked in
shock.

She burst into wretched
sobs and buried her face in her hands, her slender form quaking
beneath the blanket.

Roan glanced helplessly at
Lachlan. "I'll get Winston."

Lachlan nodded, although
Deliah adamantly shook her head. Roan immediately dashed across the
room and into the hall. Lachlan swept Deliah up into his arms and
carried her to the sofa, where he sat with her on his lap and
cradled in his arms.

"Hush, lass," he said
softly. He adjusted the blanket to better cover her nakedness and
snugged her closer against the warmth of his body. "Ye're no'
dyin’. Fate wouldna be so cruel to bless us wi' you, only to take
you away so soon."

"It took ye," she wept
against his shoulder.

"Fegs, lass, but fate had
ither plans for me. I was always meant to be wi' ma Beth, as you
are meant to be wi' Winston. I know this to be true. Know it as
surely as I can know anythin’."

Her weeping ebbed some, and
he went on, "Everythin’ tha' happens in an individual's life,
Deliah, happens for a reason. If you hadna been trapped in the
root, and I hadna built this grand house on top o' you, how
different would have been ma daith, aye? Beth would have died in
the States. Laura and Roan wouldna have met, and God only knows
wha' would have happened to the lads. You brought us all thegither.
Wi’ou' you, Deliah lass, Baird House would be just anither old
house, wi' no' a lick o' magic to grace her walls."

Sniffing, she tilted back
her head and looked into his eyes. "But wha' if this fate doesna
think me useful anymair?"

He chuffed. "Fate is mair
the paths we choose in life."

"But tis wrong o' me to
exist in yer world."

His eyebrows jerked upward.
"Is it now? Fegs, lass, wha' o' me? I'm a century and a half off
kilter!"

She chuckled. "Aye, we be
both ou' o' our elements here."

"No. You and I belong where
we belong, which is in the here and the now."

Two breathless men ran into
the room, Roan flushed, Winston's face the color of ash. Roan sat
on the settee to the sofa's right, while Winston hesitantly seated
himself on the edge of the sofa next to Lachlan. Deliah looked at
Winston through watery, troubled eyes, her chin quivering, one side
of her face pressed against Lachlan's shoulder.

"I didna want ye to know,"
she told Winston tremulously.

Winston was at a loss for
words. His breathing was erratic, his eyes dulled with worry. After
a few seconds, he released a gust of breath and raked the fingers
of one hand through his tousled hair.

"You haven't eaten since
late this morn—yesterday morn," he corrected, glancing at his
watch. It was just after 2:00 AM.

"I havena felt weel for
some time," she said, fresh tears brimming her eyes.

Lachlan stiffened and
stared off into space. His body tingled almost uncomfortably, and
his brain felt afire.

"How long?" Winston asked
her.

"Mair'n a week. I be sorry
to worry ye."

"Never mind me!" He cast
Lachlan and Roan a look of helplessness, not noticing the former's
eerie, frozen state. "We can't take her to a doctor. Bloody hell,
if she is sick, wha' do we do?"

"Don’t panic," Roan
muttered, then briskly rubbed his palms up and down his face.
"Wait," he said, lowering his hands, "ye're psychic. Can’t you
mentally determine wha's wrong wi' her?"

Winston eagerly took her
left hand between his own. He breathed hard in concentration,
moments later pressing the back of her fingers to his
brow.

"Please, God, help me," he
pleaded in a tight, strained tone, but the harder he tried to scan
her, the colder became his brain.

When a full minute passed
and no information awarded his attempts to screen her condition, he
jerked back, his face ravaged with bitterness. "Nothing," he bit
out, kneading her hand. "Ma mind's meeting wi' a wall!"

Lachlan drew in a sharp
breath, blinked and grinned a bit dazedly.
"Uirisg,"
he said, staring down at
Deliah's upturned face. He saw puzzlement flash across her
expression, and repeated the Gaelic word.

"Wha'?" asked Roan and
Winston in unison.

"No," she murmured. "Tis a
myth, a legend among fairies. It canna be."

"Wha'?" both men asked in
unison again. They glanced at each other with frowns then focused
on Lachlan and Deliah.

"Wha' can't be?" asked
Winston testily.

Deliah sat up, her eyes
locked with Lachlan's, a wondrous expression glowing on her face.
"No, but I wish it be so wi' all ma heart."

"If someone doesn't tell me
wha' the bloody hell is going on, ma liver will burst through ma
ears!" Winston cried.

Lachlan passed him a
comically chiding look then grinned at Deliah. "Weel, lass, yer
wish is true enough."

Wide-eyed, she stared at
Winston, who couldn't decide whether she looked horrified or
ecstatic. Her gaze unwavering, as if looking into Winston's soul,
she asked Lachlan, "How can ye believe this?"

"I just know."

"Tis a myth," she said
dreamily.

Roan jumped to his feet,
scowling at Lachlan. "Wha's this
uirisg?"

"A joinin’ o' God and
nature," Lachlan laughed and hugged Deliah.

She remained in a dazed
state, inwardly screening herself. Yes, it was there. Inside her.
As real as anything she had ever encountered.

"Lannie," Roan growled, his
nerves raw with concern, "there isn’t anythin’ funny abou' the lass
being sick!"

Lachlan put on an air of
affront. "Weel, me laddies, if you knew yer Gaelic like a good Scot
should—"

"Please," Winston pleaded
in a hoarse whisper of a tone, his eyes imploring Lachlan to tell
what he knew of her condition. He didn't ask himself how the man
could know something about Deliah his psychic ability couldn't even
glean. Nothing mattered but finding out what was wrong with
her.

"Weel," Lachlan said
loftily, his black eyes lit with merriment, "it seems Baird House
will be blessed wi' its verra first
uirisg,
which makes me wonder if the
magic isna all from our Deliah, here." He paused to further build
the suspense, knowing damn well what he was doing was a form of
torture. But his news was too grand to simply blurt out.

Deliah's gaze cut to him.
She looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Radiant. Glowing
with such happiness that its warmth seeped into his body. He
somehow knew she was now aware of her condition.

"Lannie!" Roan practically
shouted.

"Tis for Deliah to
announce," Lachlan said, nodding at her.

Her brilliant blue eyes
searched Roan's strained features then Winston's. "A
uirisg
be the offspring o'
a mortal and a fairie."

Roan blinked repeatedly in
confusion. Winston stared blankly into her face, his black eyebrows
drawn down but not in a frown or a scowl.

"O' course, a
uirisg
be but legend and
myth," she went on, her tone airy, playful. "So I be no' sure wha'
to call wha' I be carryin’ inside me. I think mayhaps
a...
baby."

The word hung in the air as
silence encompassed the room for a time. Then Winston slid off the
sofa and plopped hard on his butt on the floor, his gaze never
leaving Deliah's face. Roan sat back on the settee, astonishment
youthening his face. He could do no more than stare at Deliah, his
mouth agape, his heart pounding wildly behind his chest.

Winston's heartbeat was
also hammering away, seemingly in his throat, cutting off his
oxygen.

"Are ye no' pleased?" she
asked him, a hint of nervousness in her tone.

"Baby?" he whispered. "How?
When? Tonight—I mean, yesterday?" His face brightened. "Two weeks
ago, when we first made love! You're experiencing morning
sickness!"

"Tis no' only in the morn,"
she sighed. "But, aye. When first ye and I joined, we created a
life. I dinna know why nature has granted me this, Winston, but I
be verra happy abou' it. Are ye?"

Unsteady, he rose to his
feet. She, too, stood with Lachlan's help, clutching the blanket
about her, her round eyes searching Winston's face for an
indication of his acceptance of becoming a father.

"Winston, are ye?" she
asked again, a tremor in her tone.

In response, he pulled her
into his arms and kissed her. A moment later, gripping her upper
arms to steady her, he looked into her eyes like a man unable to
express the depths of his own happiness.

"Aye," he rasped. He
nodded. "Aye! But I thought fairies couldn't have babies. Deliah,
can you give birth wi’ou' damaging yourself?"

"Aye, I can," she said
breathlessly, smiling. "The knowin’ be strong, I swear. We're goin’
to have a son, Winston. A prince born atween our worlds. A link
atween the kingdoms o' all fairies and all mortals."

Lachlan stood, frowning
thoughtfully. "Deliah, wha' do you mean by the knowin’?"

She looked over her
shoulder at him. "The knowin’ o' past, present and future. It be
stronger in you than in Winston and me. Twas no' ma own knowin’
wha' discovered ma baby. Twas you passin’ it through to me,
Lachlan."

"Damn me," Roan muttered,
still befuddled by the news of Deliah's pregnancy.

"No, Roan," she beamed. "We
be none damned but blessed. Twas no magic o' mine wha' gave us this
child, Winston. It be somethin’ I dinna understand, but be so verra
grateful to."

"Why couldn't I sense our
son?" Winston asked.

"Mayhaps because I told you
I couldna bear children," she replied, and kissed him lightly on
the mouth.

He shrugged. "Could be." He
released a breath. "A son." Sitting on the sofa, he coaxed her to
sit next to him. His left arm went about her shoulders and he
pulled her close. He grinned up at Roan and Lachlan, a grin that
held an element of uncertainty. Although he was excited at the
prospect of becoming a parent, he couldn't help but wonder what the
future had in store for Deliah and him. "Weel, laddies," he said,
perfectly imitating Lachlan's voice, "twould be fittin’ to
celebrate, aye?"

"No Scotch," Deliah said in
a small voice.

"Food," Winston
quipped.

Deliah grimaced. "I canna
stand the word, let alone be thinkin’ o' puttin’ a morsel in ma
mouth."

"Lannie and I will scrounge
up somethin’," Roan said. "Anythin’ in particular you fancyin’,
Winston?"

"Surprise me."

Roan led a reticent Lachlan
into the kitchen, where he lit a lantern positioned on the island
counter. Whistling merrily, he went to the ice box, standing off to
one side once the door was opened to permit the light to illuminate
the antique appliance's interior.

"Ah, we have eggs, part o'
the roast we had the ither night. "Cheese— Och!" He removed a bowl
and closed the door. "Bestill ma heart," Roan chortled, placing the
bowl on the table, leaning over and inhaling its contents. "Mealie
puddin’. Thought it was all gone." He lifted one of the thick
sausages, made of oatmeal, suet, onions and seasoning. "Fried,
these will banish the empty bellyaches."

Lachlan's silence caught
his notice. He looked up to see him standing on the far end of the
island counter, staring off into space.

"Lannie, wha's
wrong?"

A moment later, Lachlan's
dark eyes swerved to regard Roan forlornly. "This
knowin’."

"I don’t know wha' shook me
up mair," Roan said, chuckling. "Deliah's pregnancy, or her sayin’
ye're psychic. O' course, I can’t imagine a mon returnin’ from the
dead wi’ou' havin’ a few perks." He sobered when Lachlan remained
as still as a statue. "Lannie? Is there somethin’ you kept from
Deliah? The pregnancy can’t harm her, can it?"

"No. She, Winston and the
bairn will live a long life here."

Lachlan's monotone caused
gooseflesh to spread across Roan's arms. He approached him, almost
warily, a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach. "Then wha's
wrong?"