Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (38 page)

Deliah nodded. "Winston
scanned the pendant, and believes it dates long afore the time o'
the Picts. Because o' its aura, he couldna get an exact fix on when
it was made."

"How would Lachlan's mother
come to have it?"

"Tha' and the dirk both. I
agree wi' ma brither. No coincidence be this. Taryn only came to
Baird House to find the dirk. In trackin’ its history, Beth, she be
delvin’ into matters verra dangerous. The secrets o' the ancient
gods be no' for mortals to know—or fairies."

"Even when she's not
around, she's a pain in the ass," Beth grumbled.

"Mair'n ye know." Deliah
took in a deep breath and massaged her brow. "I be tellin’ ye this
because the menfolk dinna want us to know they be talkin’ abou'
goin’ efter her. Winston let it slip from his mind in his sleep. I
have already told Laura."

"How did she take
it?"

Deliah shrugged. "Weel, but
said she would shackle Roan to the bed if he tried to leave afore
the weddin’. Our men have no right to think we be too fragile to
know the truth."

"I agree."

"Wha'ever is decided to do
abou' Taryn, we six should discuss it through. I have no' lived
this long to be coddled and expected no' to have a mind o' ma
own."

"Deliah," Beth laughed,
"you may look as delicate as a flower, but you're as tough as a
weed."

A dubious frown appeared on
the fairy’s face. "Thank ye...I think. Shall we go?"

"No more
revelations?"

"No' at the
moment."

Although the sky of the
outer world was overcast, Beth had to squint as she emerged from
the new oak behind Deliah. The air was cool and held a promise of
rain, and from the sounds of the peafowl's chatter they were
gathered on the rooftops.

"Lachlan be waitin’ at the
south gazebo," said Deliah. "Are yer eyes now sensitive to the
light?"

"A little. Go to Winston. I
don't see a gray haze in front of your face anymore. I'm sure I can
find Lachlan."

"When the twins be returned
to the house, Laura and I will watch them."

"I can't ask you to do
that."

"Ye no' be askin’," Deliah
interrupted. "Laura and I discussed it this morn. Efter wha' ye and
Lachlan have been through, a wee time alone be wha' ye both need.
He's been a bit o' a grouch wi’ou' ye."

"I'll do my best to
de-grouch him, then. Thanks, Deliah."

"Ma pleasure."

Deliah headed toward the
house. Beth watched until she entered the front doors then headed
for the gazebo. As she walked through the rose gardens she searched
for him, but didn't see him until she'd stepped onto the planked
floor of the gazebo.

He sat on the lower step
across from her, talking to himself—or so it seemed, at first. His
light blue, full-sleeved shirt was stretched tautly across his
broad back, and she released a thready breath in anticipation of
caressing his warm, naked flesh.

Barefoot, her tread was
silent as she closed the distance and positioned herself against
the arch post, behind him. Braussaw stood on the ground in front of
him, looking eerily alert for a stuffed bird.

"...and when you put two
females thegither, ma friend, time has no meanin’. They'll chatter
away the hours, they will, wi' no' a thought for their poor menfolk
waitin’ on the side for a wee loving." He sighed dramatically, and
Beth had to compress her lips to keep from chuckling out
loud.

"Ah, Braussaw, to be fair
to ma Beth, when she gives me her all tis far mair'n maist men can
hope for."

The peacock released a
guttural coo, which nearly made Beth jump out of her
skin.

Braussaw was
alive?

"Ahhh, you have it bloody
good, you do," he said to the bird. "You eat and you sleep, and
strut yer stuff for all ye're worth. Wha' do you worry abou'? You
have naught to lose, except maybe yer tail to a feather bandit. I'm
sure, though, maist are no' willin’ to brave the ire o' Baird
House's ghost to pluck you clean."

He sighed again, a lonesome
sound that tugged on Beth's heartstrings.

"Two days wi’ou' Beth is an
eternity. I never knew how large was ma bed till she wasna in it.
Tis a curse, you know. Aye, Braussaw, a curse a mon must bear when
he loves a womon so much he canna think beyond the strain in his
breeks for want o' her."

Kneeling behind him, Beth
said, "A curse is it?" and wound her arms about his chest. He gave
an initial start of surprise then laughed and clasped her
forearms.

"You took yer sweet time,"
he said happily. He turned his head and she kissed him by the side
of his mouth. "I was afeared the fairies had decided no' to let you
go."

"Blue was worried you would
start shoveling to find me."

He shook with a laugh. "It
crossed ma mind."

Braussaw released a shrill
caterwaul and flew to perch atop the peak of the gazebo. Beth
winced when the sound stabbed at her eardrums and released a mock
cry as Lachlan finagled her atop his lap. Her eyes were bright with
excitement as she linked her arms about his neck, and peered into
the passionate depths of his eyes.

"Miss me a wee?" she asked
teasingly.

Lachlan's eyebrows arched
and a slow, devious grin formed on his mouth. "Yer pillow is no
compensation for you, lass."

"And what were you doing to
my pillow?"

A dark flush suffused his
face. "Och, Beth. Shame on you! I was snugglin’ wi' the bloody
thing, naught mair!"

Burying her face to one
side of his neck, she laughed until his arms tenderly enfolded her
and drew her closer against him. Her pulse racing, her lungs
suddenly heavy, she looked up to see him lowering his head. She'd
thought herself ready for his kiss, but as his mouth covered hers
and began to move with languid sensuousness, her blood turned to
liquid fire and her head went into a tailspin. She had never
thought of kissing as an art until meeting him. He had a way of
making every nerve in her body feel as though it was part of her
lips, part of his exploration.

The muscles of his arms
flexed against her, thrilling her with their masculinity and
strength. Beth moaned when his right hand cupped the side of her
outer thigh. His palm was hot, causing the skin beneath it to
tingle. He trailed the fingers of the same hand up her thigh,
stopping to caress and pamper and taunt her flesh. She squirmed and
lost her fingers in the thickness of his hair, and pushed at the
back of his head to urge him to kiss her deeper, deeper. Maddening
sensations built inside her, not unlike those connected with the
throes of a climax. She was sensitized to his musky scent and every
curve and hard plane of his body. Sensitized to the wild thudding
of his heart, and to his fingertips sliding over the roundness of
her left buttocks.

He was somehow carrying her
to the brink of gratification when he reared back and gasped,
"Beth!"

Dazed, breathless, she
blinked and rasped, "What?"

"Where are yer wee
bloomers?" he asked in stunned indignation.

"Panties, Lachlan. They're
called panties, and fairies don't wear them."

"Weel," he sputtered
righteously, "you are no' a fairy, are you! Fegs, lass, are you
tryin’ to make ma heart come to a cold stop?"

With a sigh of resignation,
she straightened atop his legs and primly folded her hands on her
lap. Too sweetly, she asked, "Do you realize there's only your
breeks separating us?" and wiggled her eyebrows
suggestively.

His eyes wide, his face
beet red, Lachlan could say nothing for a long moment. Then he
expelled a breath and leveled a scolding look on her. "Ye're
wicked. Exposin’ yer privates in the light o' day—ou'side, no
less!"

She playfully nuzzled the
tip of his nose with hers. "If we were in our bedroom, you prudish
hunk you, we would both be naked and—"

Her sentence died in her
throat when he shot to his feet with her cradled in his arms. He
headed for the house in a trot-run, the strain of carrying her
carved into his face. His gaze remained fixed on his objective, and
he didn't slow down until they reached the outer doors and he
grunted for her to open them.

Once they were in the hall
Beth demanded, "Let me walk. Dammit, Lachlan, my ass is hanging
out!"

She buried her face against
his neck when a surprised Roan stepped aside on the first landing
of stairs. She heard him chuckle as Lachlan took on the ascent with
all the speed he could muster and marveled at his stamina when they
reached the third floor. The hall passed in a blur. A door slammed
shut. Suddenly she found herself on her back atop the bed, watching
Lachlan hastily peel out of his shirt.

He was breathing heavily,
and his face and chest were coated with a fine sheen of
perspiration. She scooted into a sitting position, pulled the tunic
over her head, and tossed it over the far side of the mattress,
noticing when she watched it fall that the broken window across the
room had been boarded up.

"You make me crazy, womon,"
he panted, and sat on the edge of the bed. He grunted and cursed in
Gaelic as he struggled to remove his boots. One at a time, he
tossed them across the room.

While he stripped out of
his breeches, socks, and undergarment, Beth's gaze went to his
portrait above the fireplace. She faced it, sitting on her folded
legs, and dreamily likened the painted image to the man she knew.
The artist had captured both Lachlan's pride and arrogant bearing,
and also the mischievous glint that was often in his
eyes.

Naked as the day he was
born, Lachlan stood and turned to Beth, but his intended pose
became lost to the wonder he experienced at seeing her sitting like
a wingless cherub, adoringly staring at his portrait. The light
brown ringlets of her hair fell past her shoulders, framing a face
he believed grew more beautiful every time he looked at her. Tears
welled up in his eyes and filled his throat. Of all his treasures
she was his most precious, the one thing besides his children that
he would fight to hold on to with everything he had in
himself.

He placed a hand over his
heart and sank to his knees then folded his arms atop the mattress
and rested his chin on them. The joy he felt eased his breathing.
And when her head turned and her blue eyes met his, the devotion in
their depths caused a tear to slip down his cheek.

"Beth," he said, the way he
spoke her name a declaration of love in itself, "wha' you do to ma
mind, ma heart, and ma soul."

A ragged breath passed her
lips. Stretching out on her front, she rested her chin atop her
folded arms and brought her nose to within an inch of his. "If it's
anything like what you do to mine, then I think we're in love,
Lachlan."

He smiled timorously.
"Probably so."

Nearly a minute passed
while they contentedly stared into each other’s eyes.

Lachlan lowered one side of
his head atop an arm and said, "I do love you, lass. Bare arse and
all."

"Even when I'm wicked?" she
grinned.

"Shame on me," he said,
sighing with exaggerated desolation, "but even then."

"It's chilly in here,
Lachlan."

"Is it?"

"There are goose bumps the
size of my ass, on my ass."

He winced, then closed one
eye and gave her a thoroughly paternal look. "You love to shock
me."

"Only when your nineteenth
century prudery surfaces."

"Prude, am I?"

His movements slow and as
graceful as a prowling panther, he climbed onto the bed. Beth
luxuriously stretched out on her back and opened her arms to
receive him, but this time Lachlan would not be rushed. Impish
delight gleamed in his eyes as he knelt between her thighs and
braced rigid arms to each side of her rib cage. Her legs and feet
stroked his hips and outer thighs, and her hands caressed his face,
throat, and chest.

She was ready.

No foreplay, this
time.

She wanted him
now.

He wanted to hear her moan,
though, especially that hitching sound she made deep in her throat
when she reached the end of her patience for him to enter her. Her
eyes were glazed with passion, her pouty lips parted in
invitation.

"Prude, am I?" he said
huskily.

For the next hour, he made
love to her skin with his hands and mouth, bringing her just to the
brink of ecstasy so many times that she weakened with need. He
tasted of her salty perspiration and of her passion, leaving no
part of her untouched. When she tried to touch him, he held her
wrists to the mattress until she acquiesced, then proceeded to take
her again and again on various paths of pleasure.

Caressing and kissing every
part of her body, he took her through heaven and hell and
everything in between. When he was satisfied she could take no
more, he entwined his fingers through hers and gently anchored her
hands to the bed above her head. He lowered himself atop her,
entering the heat of her without the use of a hand, and drawing her
into a kiss that caused her to shudder with the depths of its
passion. His muscles were taut with his determination to hold back
when she climaxed, and her inner muscles demanded his joint
release.