Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (35 page)

"I am ashamed to admit that
I had forgotten what mortal children and fairies share alike," she
said to Beth.

"What is that?" Beth
asked.

"Hope everlasting." Her
gaze swept the others then returned to Beth. "Without it our
kingdoms would vanish, and your children would become apathetic
adults who would eventually destroy each other and what they could
of the world."

She glided to Beth and
lightly touched the sleeping Broc's brow. "Children are the hope of
all kingdoms, are they not?"

"Yes," Beth said , "but so
are all the people we love."

Blue stared deeply into
Beth's eyes for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Is this
Lachlan truly worthy of you?"

"No," Beth said with a
strangled, low laugh.

"In saying 'no', you mean
yes?"

Beth sighed raggedly and
briefly rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Yes. If anything, I'm the
one who isn't worthy of him, sometimes. To know him is to love him.
He's...Lachlan."

"Then I guess the time has
come to call upon the Circle Of Magic."

Blue unwittingly locked her
gaze with Reith's. A blush rose to her cheeks and she rapidly
looked away as if she had displayed weakness instead of compassion.
Then her wings twitched in an unmistakable show of annoyance, and
she glared at Reith in a mute demand he step aside to let her pass.
When instead of complying he casually folded his arms against his
chest, she soared above his head, deliberately letting her toes
bump his brow. Beth, too, had wondered about the queen's reluctance
to set foot on the ground. Now she knew why.

Blue's legs remained
motionless during her short flight to Lachlan—not extended, but
dangling as though leaden. She positioned herself at his head.
Again her feet remained a few inches off the ground as she extended
her arms over Lachlan's stiff, hovering form. The swirling specks
of light around his body slowed then abruptly stopped. Each
transformed into a mortal-sized fairy, wings unfurled, their arms
held out over the center figure of their gathering.

Lachlan.

Glittering dust of every
imaginable color formed a ring above their heads, then another
behind their calves. The queen began a chant in Gaelic and the
others joined in, the voices an orchestration of
harmony.

"The females be the
channelers," Reith explained to Beth, his voice kept low so as not
to disturb the concentration of the ring. "Till Blue, males always
ruled. As
queen
and
high
channeler,
Faerie’s magic be now purer and stronger than any in the
world."

"Thank you for defending
us," Beth whispered.

His forlorn gaze drifted to
his estranged wife. "I could do no less. Think no' unkindly o' her,
Beth. In truth, she be kind and compassionate."

Beth didn't comment on his
commendable loyalty to Blue. She glanced at Roan, Laura, and the
boys. Their attention was riveted on the ring of fairies, whose
melodious chant was becoming increasingly hypnotic. Only Beth was
aware of more fairies emerging from the oak. They stood in the
distance, their heads bent and eyes closed in exclusive
concentration of the ritual in progress.

She looked over at one
winged couple, who lifted their heads in unison and opened their
eyes to return her stare. Somehow, Beth knew they were Reith's
parents. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to either of them. Their
gazes flicked to him then back to her, and she offered them a small
smile. His mother returned the greeting, but his father remained
poker-faced, and she reasoned that he missed his son and was too
distraught to approach him.

Distraught or
proud.

She wasn't sure
which.

Beth forced herself to
observe the ritual. She was dimly aware that the circle of winds
had expanded to allow for the hundreds of fairies now attending the
gathering. Serenity mantled the site. Lost to the tune of the
chant, she dazedly stared off into space. Lachlan's body was
blocked by those of the channelers. Her blood felt as if it
throbbed with the chant's cadence. She was no longer worried if
Lachlan would make it. He would. She had sensed in Blue a
determination to succeed.

An image of the Phantom's
broken body formed on her mindscreen. It didn't upset her to see
him. He would never hurt anyone again, and that was all that
mattered. Someone would have to go for the police. Not all of the
details could be given, but there was time enough to work out a
viable story.

She thought of Stephan
Miles. Now she understood that he'd come to warn her, but when he'd
materialized in the master suite at the foot of the bed, the shock
of seeing him hadn't put her in a frame of mind conducive to
rational thought. Assuming his flailing tactics were but a childish
attempt to frighten her, she'd vented her outrage through a
diatribe, during which the Phantom had come up from behind and
overpowered her.

How easily they all could
have fallen victim.

Again, Baird House would
become besieged by reporters.

Another tragic death would
hit the newswires. If there had been even a slim chance she and
Lachlan could raise their children on the estate, it was
lost.

A soft hum drew her from
her musings. The air was alive with energy. It vibrated pleasantly
against her skin, tickling. To her right, Winston was lowering an
alert and wide-eyed Deliah to her feet. Four female fairies
approached and, although outwardly wary of Winston, eagerly pulled
Deliah aside. Again, Beth somehow knew these were some of Deliah's
sisters.

With a dreamy smile,
Winston observed the exchange of hugs, and it struck Beth that he
had come a long way from being that tortured soul who'd first
returned to the estate. Then she wondered how she knew about that,
too. No one had mentioned why or when he'd come to stay, and yet
she clearly remembered seeing him in his car, unshaven and half
frozen, hoping death would free him from the misery that had been
his life. That Winston Ian Connery no longer existed. This Winston
was happy and unafraid of the future, hopeful and passionate in his
love for Deliah.

Beth unwittingly focused on
a male fairy standing behind Laura and Roan's position. He wore an
oddly rapt expression, his attention on Laura's nephews as if this
was the first time he had been this close to mortal children.
Leaning over, he peered down at Ciarda in Laura's arms. His smile
was pixyish, and Beth felt a flutter of warmth behind her breast.
Then he looked up directly at her and straightened, his worried
expression conveying his concern that she didn't approve of his
proximity to the children.

Beth smiled and nodded her
head.

After a moment's
hesitation, he walked toward her, paused midway then proceeded when
she continued to smile. Winston spared him a measuring glance
before turning back to watch Deliah and her sisters, and the
parents, who had now joined the small group.

The male fairy was younger
than she had first thought, although it was impossible to actually
determine his age. Look-wise, she would say he was in his
mid-teens, but he could be over one hundred years old for all she
knew. He stood three feet from her, his arms relaxed at his sides,
his wings twitching nervously. He cast the Circle of Magic a
cursory look then grinned shyly at Beth.

"I'm Beth Staples," she
said, her voice low, her right hand outstretched.

Again he hesitated then
cautiously clasped her fingers with his left hand. His skin was
warm and soft. Dark blue eyes watched her with the curiosity of a
child. He was slightly shorter than she, lean and muscular, his
shoulders broad for his size. Shaggy brown hair fell to his
shoulders, and even in the overly bright starlight that shone on
the wind-enclosed area, she saw that his eyelashes were long and
thick. His lips were full. When he smiled deep dimples were visible
in his cheeks.

He wore a dark green tunic
and black leggings. The other fairies wore tunics, too, of various
lengths and colors, and leggings. Some, she'd noticed wore delicate
slippers, while many, like this one, were shoeless.

"Jondee," he said, his
voice barely above a whisper.

He released her hand and
tilted his head to one side. His scrutiny was like that of a child
encountering something new and wondrous, and Beth felt the heat of
a blush bloom on her cheeks. He was far younger than Deliah, of
that Beth was sure.

He passed another glance to
the circle, then said, "Yer male be nearly healed."

"I'm forever in your
people's debt."

This surprised him. "No,
mistress."

"I am," said Beth happily,
"and gratefully so."

His eyebrows rose and fell
before he glanced in Laura's direction. When he looked into Beth's
eyes, he frowned. "When I was a chair, several mortal younglin’s
sat on me, but I have no' had the experience o' touchin’ one wi' ma
hands."

When you were a
chair?
Beth thought, bemused.

"Would be it improper to
ask ye if I may hold one o' yer younglin’s?" He rushed on, "I vow
to be verra careful."

Beth's gaze swerved to
where her babies were. Without further hesitation, she led Jondee
to Roan and Laura. The couple smiled a bit dazedly in greeting.
Laura's nephews were uncharacteristically quiet, sitting on the
ground side by side staring transfixedly at the Circle of Magic.
They didn't even look up at Beth's approach.

"How are you holdin’ up?"
asked Roan. Ciarda, now in his arms, squirmed, and he absently
lowered his head to kiss her brow.

"Kind of numb," Beth
replied. "Is it me, or are we all dreaming?"

"I don't think I've ever
seen anything more beautiful," said Laura, her gaze on the fairy
ring. "I'm ready to believe in Santa Claus and the Easter
Bunny."

With a soft laugh, Beth
took Jondee by the hand and coaxed him to stand alongside her.
"This is Jondee." Roan and Laura offered another smile. "Jondee,
this is Roan Ingliss, the new laird, and his fiancée, Laura
Bennett."

Jondee bowed his head
graciously. "Tis an honor."

"Jondee would like to hold
one of the babies," said Beth to Laura and Roan, then she asked
Jondee, "Broc or Ciarda?"

His face beamed with joy.
"Be one a girl child?" he asked breathlessly.

"Ciarda."

Roan gingerly placed the
infant into Jondee's waiting arms. At first he stood as still as a
statue, staring into Ciarda's face as if awestruck, as if to move
would somehow break the baby. Then he gracefully lowered himself to
the ground, folding his legs beneath him. He shifted Ciarda into
the crook of one arm, and shifted her again to test her willingness
to be handled by a stranger. Satisfied she was comfortable with
him, he gently unfolded the blanket and lifted her with his hands
positioned beneath her arms. He held her face level with his own.
She no longer squirmed but seemed to stare at him as if content and
secure in his hold.

"Ciarda," he said on a
wistful sigh. "Ye be as lovely as yer name." He looked up at Beth,
grinning broadly, his youthful features illuminated by the
starlight. Looking again at Ciarda, he cradled her against one
shoulder and rocked to and fro, humming sweetly.

Roan's deep sigh drew
Beth's attention.

"When I think I've seen all
there is to see in the world," he said, "anither miracle unfolds.
Canna imagine anythin’ grander than this, though," he added, his
gaze darting in the direction of Lachlan's benefactors.

Beth nodded. She was about
to voice her agreement when she felt compelled to look at Taryn.
She stood away from everyone else, her arms pressed against her
middle, looking lost, vulnerable.

Glancing at his sister,
Roan said grimly, "She willna join us. I'm worried abou' her,
Beth."

"I'll talk to her," said
Beth, and passed Broc into Roan's proffered arms.

She went to Taryn and
placed a hand on one of her slumped shoulders. The pale amber eyes
flicked her an acknowledging glance but then returned to staring
off into space.

"Are you all
right?"

Taryn's shoulders twitched
in response.

"I'm sorry your visit has
been so harrowing."

Taryn dully regarded Beth.
"Don't worry. I'll be out of your hair, first thing in the
morning."

The dispassionately
delivered statement caused Beth to frown. "No one is forcing you to
leave, Taryn. So we didn't hit it off. We really haven't had the
chance to get to know one another."

"Don't get mushy," Taryn
sneered.

"I'm trying to apologize
for my behavior."

The arrogance vanished from
Taryn. "Fine, but you don't owe me anything, including an
apology."

Sighing, Beth said, "You
really make it tough to like you."

"One of my better
qualities."

"I like your spunk, Taryn.
It's not always easy to cope with, but I imagine you need it in
your career."