Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (32 page)

"Oh, I don't know." Drawing
her closer, he brushed the tip of his cold nose against her brow.
"You were workin' a mean stitch when I came in."

Leaning back, she frowned at
him. "A mean what?"

"You were
knittin'—"

"Roan, I don't even know how
to hold the needles." With a scoffing laugh, she gingerly touched
his lower lip with the tip of an isolated finger. "I tell you what.
Go fix yourself some coffee, and I'll draw you a hot
bath."

For a moment, he thought to
argue with her on what he'd seen when he'd come in, but an image of
her joining him in a foaming hot bath easily swayed him.

"Are you goin' to scrub ma
back?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Only if
you scrub mine."

He glanced across the room
in the direction of the kitchen. "Aggie home?"

"She was for a little while,
then left with Ben for the hospital."

"No change in
Borgie?"

Laura shook her head. "She
didn't say very much, except that she was planning on staying the
night at the hospital. Ben mentioned that Dr. Waikens has been
monitoring her when she's there. It was his suggestion that she
sleep over."

Rolling his eyes in relief,
he deeply sighed. "He's been her doctor for years."

"He'll take good care of
her. Now...we need to worry about you." She stepped out of his hold
and ran a sympathetic gaze over his battered face. "You look
terrible."

"I love you, too," he
grinned. Heading for the kitchen, he asked, "Can I fix you a cup o'
coffee or tea?"

"No, thanks."

He disappeared into the
kitchen. As if compelled, she lowered her gaze to the yarn and
needles. A chill shuddered through her.

Hugging herself with her
arms, she went into the small hall off the parlor, and into the
sole bathroom. On the far wall of the blue and gold decor, sat a
deep claw foot tub. Corking the drain, and sprinkling some bubble
bath atop the plug, she turned on the taps to a desired
temperature. The soothing sound of cascading water awakened her
fatigue. Sitting on the floor, her arms braced along the rim of the
tub, she laid one side of her head atop a forearm.

Knitting, of all
things.
Roan must be punchy. By the looks
of his face, he took quite a beating.

"Laura!"

Startled, she turned her
head to see Roan standing inside the doorway. Then she snapped her
head around, released a gasp at the sight of bubbles rising up in
front of her, and hastily turned off the faucets.

"Did you fall asleep?" he
asked, placing his cup of coffee on the toilet tank.

"I must have." Rolling up
the sleeve of her baggy sweater, she dipped her hand into the
water, pulled the cork and watched until the iridescent foam had
lowered several inches. She replaced the plug, and ruefully smiled
at Roan.

"Oops."

"Oops," he parroted,
grinning.

He'd removed his coat and
boots in the living room. His red plaid shirt was only half
buttoned, revealing a thermal T-shirt beneath it. He was about to
finish unbuttoning his shirt when she rose to her feet and pushed
his hands aside.

"That's my job." Her gaze
locking with his, she plied the dark buttons free and helped him
out of the shirt. "Hands up, sir," she said lightly, tugging the
thermal from the waistband of his pants.

His arms went up but he
winced.

With great care, she drew
the thermal top upward, her gaze sweeping over the muscular planes
of his chest as it came into view. Roan finished the task and
tossed the garment to the floor. He unfastened his pants, watching
her appreciative expression of his physique.

When several seconds later
he stood nude in front of her, he quipped, "Ye're overdressed for
the occasion, aren't you, lass?"

A delicate blush rushed into
her cheeks. Her eyes twinkled with anticipation.

"Are you sure you're up to
this?"

He glanced down and grinned
wickedly. "I'm no' salutin' for ma health, darlin'." Releasing a
throaty sound, he pulled her into his arms and lowered his head.
But at the instant he covered her mouth he jumped back with a
grunt, a hand dabbing at his split and swollen lower
lip.

Laura arched a cocky eyebrow
at him. "I can see this is going to be a painful experience for
you."

"Painful be damned," he
grumbled, cozying up to her. "No worse agony than a mon denied a
little lovin'."

"Spoken like a true stud,"
she laughed. "Climb in."

He looked disparagingly at
the tub. "Alone?"

"Temporarily."

Her seductive tone caused a
shudder to course through him. His heart hammering with excitement,
he lowered himself into the blanketing heat of the water. Bubbles
oozed over the sides of the tub. He moaned contentedly, his muscles
instantly responding to the soothing effect of the bath.

Dipping a clean face cloth
beneath the bubbles, Laura then passed it to him. He held the hot,
wet cloth to his face, lowering it in time to witness her peel out
of her sweater.

Laura was vitally aware of
him watching her undress. In part, she reveled in the sensual
demonstration, but her shier side prompted a crimson blush to stain
her cheeks. When the last vestiges of her underwear were removed,
she stepped into the tub, pausing a moment for effect, before
sitting, facing him amid her share of the bubbles.

Roan released a low whistle.
"I still can't believe you came back."

"It's a sure thing, Roan
Ingliss, you're stuck with me."

He nodded
wistfully.

"Did you see Lachlan when
you were at the carriage house?"

He scowled. "I'd rather no'
talk abou' him, right now." He slid toward her. Once she positioned
her feet beyond his hips, he glided her onto his lap.

"I love you, Laura. I know
I'm no' always attentive, or able to tell you wha' I'm feelin', but
I need you to always know tha' ye're a part o' me, I can never lose
again."

Resting her forearms atop
his shoulders, she twirled the tendrils at his nape around her
fingertips.

"It's strange, Roan, but I
feel as if we've been together for a very long time. My life in
Chicago seems so hazy now."

"Are you sure abou' stayin'
in Scotland? You know, I was thinkin'...maybe the five o' us should
go to the States. I could get a job—"

"Baird House needs
you."

He laughed a bit
uncertainly. "The house doesn't need anyone."

Unfinished
business.

"We can't leave with
unfinished business shadowing our lives."

"Laura, I'll no' find a
local to work on the place."

"Then we'll do it
ourselves." She brushed her lips against the side of his neck then
nipped the corded flesh with her teeth. A secretive smile graced
her mouth when he released a spurt of breath. "As long as we're
together...." She trailed the tip of her tongue along the left side
of his jawline, stopping when she reached his earlobe. "...we can
do anything." Her lips surrounded the fleshy lobe. Her teeth gently
nibbled.

Chills of delight rocketed
through his body. His hands cupped her breasts, her hardened
nipples pressed to his palms.

"Brace yourself," she
whispered by his ear. "I'm about to take you on a ride through
heaven and hell...and everything in between."

Straightening back, she
gripped his wrists and guided his arms to each long side of the
tub. Braced in this manner, he closed his eyes and dipped back his
head. He desperately wanted to feel good. Good about himself, the
day, anything that could make sense out of his life.

Her hands moved down his
chest, her fingertips kneading the muscular planes. She massaged
his waist, his hips, his outer thighs then, more slowly,
purposefully, his inner thighs. The tension he'd been carrying for
weeks mercifully drained away. Her hands worked magic, lulling his
weary body and mind to another world.

He didn't realize that he
was nearly asleep until he heard a scratchy voice call out, "Roan,
lad, are you home?"

"Oh, God!" Laura whispered,
staring wide-eyed at the open bathroom door.

"Aggie!" Roan gasped. For a
man his size, he nimbly scrambled from the tub, threw on the white
robe hanging on the back of the door and, tying the belt, closed
the door as he left the room.

"Roan!"

"Aggie, wha' are you doin'
home?" he asked more brusquely than he'd intended, entering the
parlor to find her wringing her hands in the middle of the room. He
stopped in his tracks, suddenly struck by how old she looked. How
old and shriveled and...
frail.

She'd never been frail in
her life!

His next words came out in a
barely audible croak. "Is it Borgie?"

Agnes began to crumble. By
the time Roan had helped her to sit on the couch, Laura emerged
from the bathroom, dressed in the jeans and baggy sweater she'd
earlier worn.

"What is it?" she asked
anxiously, sitting to Agnes' right. Roan went down on a knee in
front of his aunt, his hands cupping one of her own.

"Aggie, is
Borgie...?"

A tenuous rein on her sobs,
she shook her head. She sniffed then heaved a breath. A tear
spilled down her pale cheek. "His heart.... It stopped.
They...brought him back."

"Is he still in a
coma?"

"Aye, lass." She sniffed
again and swiped her sweatered arm beneath her moist nostrils. "I'm
so scared for ma boy."

Laura affectionately placed
an arm about the woman's hunched shoulders. "Don't give up
hope."

The watery, pale blue eyes
filled with such despair, Laura felt a chill run up her
spine.

"He'll make sure ma boy
doesn't make it."

Roan scowled. "Wha are you
talkin' abou'?"

"Tha' devil!" Agnes hissed.
"I was tellin' Borgie he had to get better for Christmas, remindin'
him o' last year when he made tha' huge snowmon in the front
garden. You weren’t here, Roan. Truly, it was the finest snowmon
I've ever seen, and I've seen a few in ma day.

"Anyway, I was talkin' to
him when suddenly the room got cold. No' chilly, mind you, but
cold. It took ma breath away. Ma bones ached so, I wanted to cry.
Then I...I felt him in the room."

"Lannie?"

"Aye, Roan." Tears fell in
abandon down her cheeks. "His darkness filled me. I've never felt
it so strong. So...overpowerin', I couldn’t cry ou'. I couldn’t do
anythin'! He would have done Borgie dead right there, if no' for
Dr. Waikens comin' in to check on me.

"You think Lachlan Baird was
at the hospital?"

Agnes' eyes held a wild
gleam in them. "I know wha' I know, Laura! He came to finish ma
boy!"

Roan squeezed her hand to
draw her attention to him. "Aunt Aggie, I don't think it’s wi'in
Lannie's power to go tha' far from Baird House."

"He comes here!"

"Aye, darlin' but the
hospital is too far. Besides, I can't believe he'd—"

"He's washed yer
brain!"

"Brainwash, Aggie, and no,
he hasn't."

"It’s true wha' I hear."
Recoiling from him, she pulled her hand from his grasp. "It’s tha'
bastard you defend! Yer own cousin lies near daith, and it’s
tha'
bastard
you
protect!"

"Roan is concerned about
Borgie. We all are."

"It was the vilest evil I
felt in ma boy's room," Agnes wept. "He'll take ma son from me.
He'll take ma Borgie!"

"I won't let
him."

"Neither will I," Laura also
vowed, exchanging a worried glance with Roan. "You need to rest,
Agnes. You won't be much good to Borgie when he comes to, if you've
made yourself ill."

"I can’t sleep."

"I thought Dr. Waikens was
goin' to have you stay at the hospital tonight."

"I thought it wise to come
home. Thought...maybe Lannie would follow me and leave Borgie to
his rest."

"That's it, Aggie," Roan
said sternly as he stood. Taking her hand, he drew her to her feet.
"Ye're goin' to bed and ye're goin' to rest. No argument! I'll go
and have a talk wi' Lannie. You have ma word, he'll no' bugger
anither member o' this family!"

Hope cleared the aging eyes.
"How, Roan?"

"Beth," he said tightly,
watching Laura rise to her feet. "She'll help us to stop him.
Laura, will you give Aggie a hand to bed? I need to get
dressed."

"Roan, promise me you'll be
careful around him."

He kissed the wizened cheek,
grimacing when pain reminded him of his bashed lips. "I know how to
handle Lannie Baird."

Laura wasn't so sure. Dread
coiling within the pit of her stomach, she forced herself to smile
for Agnes' sake. "You'll feel a lot better in the morning after a
good night's sleep," she said, coaxing the older woman toward the
hall. Before turning the corner to Agnes' bedroom, Laura cast Roan
a worried look. His gaunt features told her that he also wasn't
sure about approaching the laird.