Hope Everlastin' Book 4 (42 page)

"Sit down, ma'am," Lachlan
said in a deadly quiet tone as he stood. The elder Bennetts' eyes
were wide with amusement and wariness combined. "Nonsense, am I?"
he went on and slowly walked to Roan's back. "Sit
down...
please."

Eilionoir glared through
him. She had no intention of folding to his intimidation until her
husband sat and tugged on her sleeve. She sank onto her chair, her
unwavering gaze locked with Lachlan's in a war of wills.

"Mrs. Ingliss," Lachlan
continued, the anger in his eyes belying his smile, and his hands
resting on Roan's shoulders, "twas Roan who ended the Baird Ingliss
feud, and no small accomplishment it was. You havena a clue wha'
he's suffered all these years."

"Lannie, please," Roan said
testily but quieted when Lachlan playfully whacked him on the
head.

"But yer son's sufferin’
didna prevent him from bein’ a mon o' compassion. I canna stand by
and hear you talk to him like he's beneath you, no' deservin’ o'
yer love and respect. In truth, despite his lineage, he's mair o' a
mon than any I've had the pleasure or displeasure to meet. So, ma
good people, unless you wish to incur the wrath o' all here who
love this mon, I suggest you change yer attitudes and be grateful
he's allowin’ you to attend a weddin’ tha' will be like no ither
yer sorry eyes have seen, or ever will see again."

"You're a long-winded
so-and-so, aren't you, Mr. Baird?"

"Tis one o' ma charms, Mrs.
Ingliss," he said smoothly. "This weddin’ is verra important to the
couples involved, and I willna stand for disharmony spoilin’ a
moment o' its plannin’ or the ceremony itself."

"Nor I," whispered a voice
in his left ear. "Are they to know about us?"

"Canna be helped," said
Lachlan.

"What can't be helped?"
Eilionoir asked impatiently.

"Ma conscience," Lachlan
lied with a disarming grin. "Eat up," he said merrily, gesturing
expansively with his hands. "And tomorrow when ye're fully rested
and Deliah and Winston have returned from Ayr, we'll start on the
particulars."

"Particulars of what?"
asked Lauren Bennett.

Lachlan bowed his head to
her. "Sweet lady, there's a few matters you need to know afore we
can get down to the business o' the weddin’."

"Just a few," Laura said,
and started to laugh. Before long, everyone but the mystified
parents were releasing their tension with laughter.

Snuggled within the thick
strands of hair at Lachlan's nape, Blue smiled in response to the
musical sounds.

C
hapter 15

With the arrival of "The
Parents", Roan and Laura didn't get to spend time alone, and the
picnic was canceled. For the residents of Baird House, the day
seemed to drag on without end. Their guests were shown their rooms
and helped to settle in. Then came a tour of the mansion and later,
grueling hours spent in the parlor trying to get reacquainted and
relatively comfortable with one another.

For the most part, the
Bennetts were a cheery couple. They were quite different from the
parents Laura remembered, and were eager to please their hosts and
hostesses, despite their exhaustion. Lauren Bennett asked to help
in the kitchen and was delighted to discover Roan did most of the
cooking, and was willing to share some of his favorite Scottish
recipes with her.

While she was at ease
conversing with Roan, William Bennett preferred to stay in the
background, observing his future son-in-law. This suited Roan just
fine. He'd already lost points with the man. William didn't approve
of a man cooking unless he was a bonafide chef. Nonetheless, the
Bennetts were not a problem in Roan's opinion.

However, such was not the
case with his own parents.

Also given a room on the
second floor, Eilionoir complained it was too small the bed too
soft, and Dugan claimed he nearly suffered a heart attack when a
"hideous" creature perched on the window sill and gawked in at
them. They made no effort to talk to Laura, and complained that the
boys were too noisy. The house was too large, too drafty, too
isolated. The topper for Roan came when his mother disapproved of
what he'd planned to make for dinner, and the fact that he cooked,
and not the woman he was soon to wed.

Eilionoir was "hurt" that
her son wasn't willing to fix one of the few Scottish meals she
liked. He decided it best not to tell her he had no idea what she
liked or disliked, and certainly wasn't inclined to care, either.
He cooked one of his own favorites, mince and tatties, a meal of
minced steak and potatoes with a spicy brown sauce. The dessert was
Dundee cake, a rich fruit cake with almonds on top.

Dinner was a hit with
everyone but his parents.

Reith diplomatically
excused himself after the meal and retired to the carriage
house.

Deliah and Winston returned
from Ayr sometime after ten that evening. Roan's parents had
retired an hour earlier, around the same time William had said his
good nights. Exhausted, Winston inquired about the new guests over
the sandwiches and tea Beth had made for him and Deliah, and they
listened to Roan's account of the day before discussing the
paperwork Winston had brought back with him from Ayr.

They went over Lachlan's
new identity.

It was all in a manila
envelope, and Winston assured Lachlan all the information was in
the computers—a statement that meant nothing to Lachlan—including a
credit and travel history. The fake passport showed Lachlan had
traveled to Greece, Italy, France, and Germany, which he had, but
not in this century. The birth certificate was chemically aged,
folded, and crinkled in places. Every document looked used and
authentic. The only complaint Lachlan had was his name.

Horatio Lachlan
Baird.

Horatio.

It left a bitter taste in
his mouth just to say it in his mind.

The boys were too wired up
to go to bed before eleven. They were very young when they'd last
seen their grandparents, and Lauren promised not to wait so long
again to visit with her only grandchildren. All in all, Laura had a
tiring but exhilarating day. She'd always thought her parents
stuffy and distant, but after meeting Roan's she now looked at them
in an entirely different light. She fell asleep on the foot of
Alby's bed after reading him a story.

Sometime after 1:00 AM,
everyone slept in the main house, except Roan.

Melancholy kept him
imprisoned in a daze as he stared into the fire he'd built in the
library. He sat cross-legged on the stone extension of the hearth,
dimly hearing the crackling and spitting of wood as flames reduced
the paper and kindling to ash and lapped and rose into dancing
peaks around two hefty logs. The fire screen was in place. Waves of
warmth spilled over him and, although he should have felt secure
and at peace, he didn't.

His mind kept replaying one
evening when his parents had gone into his room and told him of
their decision to move to the States. An argument had ensued, in
which he'd told them he refused to leave his Aunt Aggie and
Scotland. Not once had the subject come up again after that night.
Two months later, as he watched his parents pack everything that
was familiar to him, he waited for them to tell him he had no
choice but to go. They never did. His toys and book collection had
been given to the local church, his clothing and toothbrush taken
to Aggie's, and he was left without another word from
them.

His last image of Taryn
that last cold morning as his parent's car pulled away from the
curb in front of his aunt's house was her face pressed against the
rear window and her tongue stuck out to taunt him.

He hadn't wanted to move to
the States, but neither had he wanted to be left behind.

To the best of his ability
he couldn't remember ever being a difficult child. He had never
liked school and, his grades had attested to that. His teachers had
liked him. He'd graduated by the seat of his pants, but he had
graduated. For Aggie, he had.

She'd tried to make up for
his loss. Loved and cared for him as she'd done for her son,
Borgie, never showing favor. That she wouldn't be here for his
wedding hurt like hell. That his parents would be, hurt
worse.

Taryn.

He wanted another chance to
bond with her. She couldn't help her attitude. Their parents had
always doted on her, but he really hadn't been envious when they
were children. Taryn was beautiful, and had always possessed an
impish quality that instantly swayed their parents' frustration
with her. When their mother was upset with her, Taryn helped in the
kitchen, and soon had their mother laughing at her ability to wear
more of the ingredients than went into their meals. If their father
was peeved with something she'd done, she curled up on his lap and
told him how much she loved him.

Roan had admired her
ability to manipulate with cuteness. She'd even done it to him
countless times. If she broke one of his toys or ripped one of his
books, she offered up her favorite baby doll, which of course he
wouldn't take. He wished that little girl still existed. He wished
he'd been around to coach her for her first date, her first serious
relationship.

He choked up with tears and
lowered his face into his hands for a time, miserably regretting
the years he'd lost with his family.

When he looked up, he
thought he saw Adaina and Jamey's faces staring at him from within
the flames of the hearth. In a way, they, too, had left him
behind.. And Borgie and Aggie.

Taryn had left, but at
least she could be found—he hoped.

He wanted her at the
wedding. He didn't understand why it was so important to him, but
it was.

If she was still in
Scotland, how difficult would it be to find her?

All he needed was a
possible location and a few days. He couldn't remember if it had
been decided to search first for her, or wait until after the
wedding. He couldn't disappoint Laura. She'd already waited long
enough to exchange vows. He really did want Taryn there, and he
desperately wanted another chance to repair their
relationship.

If only he had given her a
portion of the patience he gave the boys.

God, what if he became the
kind of father to them his father had been to him?

Was this a genetic flaw,
and could it be ticking away inside him, waiting to
surface?

Was to look at his father
to see himself in a few years?

"Roan?"

He jerked in surprise and
swung his head around. Laura's features swam in front of him, and
he blinked hard to remove the tears blurring his vision.

"What's wrong?" she asked
with concern. She brushed back the hair at the sides of his face
then tenderly cupped his jawline in her soft hands. "Honey, you're
scaring me."

With a shuddering breath,
he turned on his bottom, pulled her onto his lap and buried his
moist face into one side of her hair and silently wept.

"They really got to you,
didn't they?" she asked tremulously, stroking the back of his head.
A short time of silence passed. "Do you know what I love most about
you?"

His arms snugged her
closer.

"You feel so much," she
whispered. "Most men refuse to show pain or sorrow, or even how
much they love. Not you, Roan. You wear your emotions on the
surface, for all to see."

He made a grunting sound in
response, and she smiled. "Do you know what I thought the first
time I looked into your eyes?"

A second passed before he
lifted his head and despondently stared into the depths of her
eyes. "I'm afraid to ask."

She laughed low and kissed
him briefly on the lips. "I knew I was in trouble."

He frowned.
"Why?"

"Because I thought you were
the most drop-dead gorgeous man I'd ever seen. And burly. Let's not
forget that."

"Me? Burly?"

"Remember, I woke up to
hear you shouting at the boys. Alby had gotten into the
matches."

"Aye." A hint of a smile
appeared on his face. "I also remember you vomitin’ on
me."

She grimaced playfully.
"How about if we forget that part?"

Now he grinned in earnest.
"How could I? It’s when I fell in love wi' you."

"That's so
gross."

He laughed, its deep, rich
sound vibrating in his chest. "True, though. You were achin’ly
embarrassed, and yer irises looked as if they possessed emerald
fires.

"Oh, Laura." He sighed
deeply. "I shudder to think wha' ma life would be like wi’ou' you
and the lads."

"Probably a lot more quiet
and uncomplicated," she said whimsically.

He somberly shook his head.
"Damn miserable. I used to have this terrible emptiness inside me,
Laura, and thought it had begun efter Jamey died. But I was sitting
here, thinking back, and realized it began when ma parents left for
the States."

"You can't let them upset
you like this."

Again he sighed, and again
he shook his head. "I don’t understand this love-hate stuff, Laura.
It makes me crazy, and scares me to think I could be like
them."