Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (27 page)

Lachlan glanced at Roan,
who shrugged noncommittally.

"Where exactly was he
standin’?" Lachlan asked Taryn.

She pointed to the right
side of the bed. "He was there, but then he moved to the foot of
the bed. I-I thought I was hallucinating, at first. Then
he-ah...well, he jumped on the mattress and then had the nerve to
open his arms to me. He stood right there on the foot of the bed,
gesturing for me to come closer. All I wanted to do was smack that
hideously smirking grin off his face!" She shivered and drew in her
shoulders. "I didn't start screaming until he started toward me.
Like hell was I going to let a dead pervert touch me!"

Lachlan walked along the
foot of the bed and stood where she had first pointed. After a
moment, he said to the others, "Someone
was
here."

"No shit, Maynard!" Taryn
spat.

"Taryn!"

"Shut up, Roan!" Taryn
sucked in a ragged breath, her face nearly the color of her robe.
"The last thing I need from you is another lecture."

Roan, his own face mottled
with anger, took a step toward his sister. "Dinna think ye're too
big to put across ma knee!"

"Hold it!" Beth boomed. She
looked at Roan with dark impatience. "I'm not a big fan of your
sister—"

"I love you,
too."

Ignoring Taryn's sarcasm,
Beth went on, "—but she has every right to be upset. We should be
focusing on how this spirit came to be here, and nothing
else."

Roan gestured his
frustration and released a sigh of resignation. "Fine."

"Stephan Miles," Lachlan
said in a monotone. He stared off into space, his expression oddly
rapt.

"I've heard that name,"
Beth murmured. At first, she couldn't remember when or where. Then
her expression brightened and she snapped her fingers in the air.
"He was the guy who came here last July. Remember, Lachlan? He said
he was interested in buying the estate."

A mild frown settled on
Lachlan's face.

"You did something to him,"
Beth said. "Remember? He had green mist coming out of his
ears."

"I remember now." Lachlan
bobbed his head as he played the memory through his mind. "A
persistent mon. You asked him to leave, and he wouldna
budge."

"Green mist?" Roan
grimaced.

"Tha' and a wee green slime
in his gullet," Lachlan chuckled.

"You mean this guy has died
and his spirit decided to come here?" Laura asked, appalled by the
idea.

Lachlan and Beth's gazes
locked, while Roan released a scoffing laugh. "Oh, come on. If
everyone who'd ever set foot on this property died and their
spirits came here, the livin’ would have to move ou' to make room.
Besides, Borgie died shortly efter his fall here, remember. His
spirit crossed over."

"Maybe because he was
terrified of Lachlan," said Beth.

Roan considered her
statement and nodded reluctantly in agreement.

"Oh, God," Laura groaned,
putting a hand to her brow. "I have this terrible image of Baird
House becoming
Hotel Layover.
Forget the afterlife. We have the perfect room for
you!"

"Well, guess what, guys?"
Taryn said in a flippant, singsong tone. "I'm outta here first
thing in the morning."

"No' sooner?"

Roan's hateful remark
stunned both Laura and Beth, but Taryn merely looked at him with
cool hauteur. "It's too late for me to drive to London, or I would
be outta here within the hour. Now, if you all wouldn't mind, I'd
like to get dressed." She shifted a coy look to Lachlan and said in
a sultry tone, "You can stay and watch if you like."

With a grunt of disgust,
Roan led Laura from the room. Lachlan looked wide-eyed at Beth and
gave a shrug that as much said, "I havena said or done anythin’
tha' would give her the idea I would even consider it!"

Beth gestured for him to
come around the bed and join her. He passed the amber-eyed woman a
harried glance as he walked around the foot of the bed.

When he was at Beth's side
she calmly said to Taryn, "The boys are more mature than you
are."

Smug satisfaction and the
hardened gleam in her eyes detracted from Taryn's lovely features.
"You really should learn to curb your jealousy. In my experience,
men like Lachlan don't appreciate the proverbial leash."

"Taryn," Lachlan warned in
a low growl.

"I don't think it's so much
jealousy," said Beth. "Your behavior is insulting, Taryn. Not only
to your victims, but to yourself. Roan is one of the finest men I
have ever known. It's really hard for me to believe you're his
sister."

A caustic laugh burst from
Taryn, while Beth grew more somber.

"I would have given
anything to have had a sibling, which is why it's so sad this
animosity exists between you and your brother." Beth linked an arm
through one of Lachlan's and rested her head against the curvature
of his shoulder.

"Do yourself a favor,
Taryn, and try to mend the rift before you leave."

Taryn's nostrils flared.
"Beth, drop dead. Again."

A disparaging sound rattled
in Lachlan's throat. Before he could say anything, Beth said
lightly to Taryn, "At least you're a consistent pain in the
ass."

* * *

Although the ghost wasn't
seen again the rest of the day, Taryn's presence had everyone but
the boys on edge. She griped about the steaks and tattie scones
Roan had cooked for dinner, and griped about the fact there was no
deck of cards or television in the house. Her penchant to provoke
tempers during even the most innocent of conversations wore on the
adult's nerves, and their crankiness made the boys willing to go to
bed on time, without the usual argument.

Roan and Laura were the
first to say they were retiring for the night. Taryn cocked a
challenging eyebrow at Beth and Lachlan, daring them to desert her
as well. Beth, too tired to care what the woman thought, told
Lachlan she was going to feed and change the babies, then go to
bed.

"I need to bring Reith his
supper," said Lachlan, rising to his feet. "I'll be up in a
bit."

Beth cast Taryn a sour look
and kissed Lachlan on the mouth before heading out of the
parlor.

As soon as she was out of
sight Taryn crossed one leg over the other and quipped with equal
sourness, "She's so charming."

"Haud yer
wheesht!"

She batted her heavily
mascaraed lashes at him and twisted her mouth in a mocking grin.
"Did you just swear at me?"

"I told you to hold yer
noise—or shut up, whichever you best understand."

"You're going to miss me
when I'm gone."

A strangled laugh escaped
him. "Miss Ingliss, when I say I'm lookin’ forward to seein’ yer
backside, I dinna mean tis because I fancy it."

Her features clouded with
pique. "Not one of you even tried to get to know me, especially
that egocentric brother of mine."

Lachlan sadly shook his
head. "I know there's mair to you than you let people
see."

She laughed bitterly.
"Okay, tell me what."

"Reith—"

"He can wait," she clipped,
rising to her feet from the settee and positioning herself close to
him. "I want to know what you really think of me. We're alone. You
can be honest."

"Can you take the truth o'
it?" he asked calmly.

She smiled coyly, inched
closer, and fingered the front of his shirt. Her gaze lingered on
his mouth and lifted to peer at him through her lashes. "I can take
anything you're willing to give."

Lachlan's gaze never left
her eyes. "I see you as a womon wi' no respect for life, and no
dreams beyond gettin’ through each day."

She stiffened.

"You want a mon who can
master you."

"That's bull!"

"Master you and make you
desire mair'n just succeedin’ in a career."

She stormed back to the
settee and plopped onto it. "You'll never make it as a fortune
teller."

He turned and stared down
at her, his expression bland, his emotions at bay. "You envy Laura
and Beth."

"Get a grip," she
grumbled.

"You dinna understand wha'
they have."

"Oh, are we talking about
love, now?" She jumped to her feet and jabbed an isolated finger in
his middle. "Love is crap, Lachlan. For men it's lust, and for
women...oh, hell, who knows. I don't envy anyone! I'm a damn good
photographer, a better than damn good writer, and damn good at
getting my stories!"

"Wha' abou' the womon,
Taryn?" he asked softly.

"What about her?" She put
her hands on her hips. "Did you see anything in my room that wasn't
appealing?"

"There's mair to a person
than the packagin’."

She laughed. "But isn't
that what first attracts notice?"

Lachlan jerked back as an
impression slammed his awareness.

"What? Did I offend your
sensibilities?" she asked sarcastically.

"Where are you plannin’ to
go when you leave here?" he asked, his face darkening with a
scowl.

"Home," she lied
smoothly.

Lachlan's dark, riveting
eyes bored into hers. "Dinna go."

"Home?"

"Tis no' home ye're
headed."

"Oh? Then
where?"

"Heed this warnin’, Taryn,"
he said huskily. "There's a mon waitin’ for you at the end o' yer
destination. Dinna provoke him."

Taryn shivered as an
inexplicable chill pierced her spine. "It's what I do
best."

Lachlan backed away two
paces and shook his head. "He'll no' understand yer
ways."

"You're cute but
crazy."

"Go back to the States,
lass. Whatever ye're efter, tis no' worth the price you'll
pay."

"My heart?" she laughed.
"Is that the price you're talking about? Well, my big-shouldered
friend, I don't have one. At least, that seems to be the consensus
around here."

He stared at her a moment
longer as he tried to lock onto what the knowing was attempting to
formulate in his mind. When no more information came to him, he
gave a departing gesture with a hand and headed for the dining
room.

Taryn watched him disappear
into the next room. Anger simmered in her heart of hearts. Anger
and a measure of sorrow.

To say she had somehow
developed a crush on the laird was a gross understatement. She
couldn't remember ever being so attracted to anyone. From the
instant they had made eye contact across the crowd two nights
prior, every time she saw him she had felt a sickening jab to the
pit of her stomach. It was both mind-reeling and frustrating. And
frightening.

With a glance he made her
feel vulnerable. With a glance he stirred her blood.

She'd lain awake half the
night fantasizing about him, which had only worsened her
frustration to maddening ambivalence. She wanted his approval, but
she couldn't give up the story she was after. It was so much easier
to invade people's privacy when they were but a name, and not
someone she personally knew or wanted to know. Before the ghost had
scared the wits out of her, she'd already decided she had to get
away from Baird House.

Away from
Lachlan.

It was one thing to be
criticized for her bitchiness and her actions, another to be
ridiculed for matters of the heart. She wasn't as arrogant or as
confident as they all believed.

Lachlan belonged to
Beth.

The pathetic irony of it
all was, for the first time in her life, Taryn Ingliss had fallen
in love. Damnably in love and it hurt like hell to know there was
nothing she could do about it.

Her sarcasm and flippancy
were ways to shield her true feelings for him. Miss Goody Two Shoes
Beth would have a coronary if she suspected.

Taryn was given a jolt of
surprise when she realized Roan was standing a few feet away,
watching her. Again, her instinctive verbal defense rose to the
fore before she could suppress it.

"Missed me,
huh?"

"Where's Lannie?" he asked
curtly.

Beth's words came back to
haunt her. If she thought for one moment the rift between herself
and Roan could be closed with a heartfelt apology for her behavior,
she would give it. But of course it wasn't that simple. Nothing in
life was ever that simple, and she wasn't in the mood to endure
another lecture about her character failings. It was easier to let
Roan believe she cared for no one but herself. He would only mock
her if she told him how much she'd missed him over the years, and
that her bitter letters had been her way of trying to provoke him
into visiting the States.

Of course, he hadn't
responded to those childish tactics. Neither would she, if she were
in his shoes. And despite his dislike of her, they were very much
alike, only Roan had found people to care for, and people to care
for him. People he trusted. People he considered his family. So,
instead of asking him of they could have a serious talk, a brother
and sister bonding—or at least come to some kind of
understanding—she pointed in the direction of the dining room. He
left with barely a nod to her and, when he, too, was gone from
sight, she felt as if her insides had shriveled.