Read Online Everlastin' Book 1 by Mickee Madden - Free Book Online Page A

features. “Is that a promise...or a
threat?”
    Lachlan grimaced. “I'll no'
let yer snide tone rattle me.”
    “I hope you and your ego
have a nice day,” she clipped, wrenching her arm from his hold.
Undaunted this time, she lit across the lawn in a half-run, leaving
Lachlan to forlornly stare after her.
    “Beth, ye're no' an easy
womon to know. If no' for ma gift, we'd be strangers always. Too
much you hide in yer heart.”
    Folding his arms over his
chest, he leaned against one of the decorative moldings of the
archway. “Too independent, these modern women.” He clicked his
tongue in disapproval. “Aye, me and ma ego. Weel, ego, come along,
then. We've a wee visit to pay old Aggie.”
    * * *
    It was humid and hot within
the cottage, but Agnes Ingliss paid it no mind. The repeated
clacking of her knitting needles kept her mind preoccupied. Rocking
back and forth in a rocker three generations old, her thin fingers
deftly worked the red yarn. A length of scarf lay upon her lap.
Come Christmas it would be a gift for her son, Borgie. There was a
time when she could have whipped up a scarf in a matter of days,
but the stiffness in her hands forced her to plan her projects
months in advance now.
    A sense of intrusion lifted
her head. Her pale blue eyes sharpened, her ears keened. The
leathery, wrinkled skin on her arms seemed to twitch.
    Compressing her pale lips in
a tight line, she cut her gaze to the left. The sight of Lachlan
standing by the parlor door, his arms crossed over his chest, his
expression guarded, caused a sharp tightening within her chest.
Without taking her eyes off him, she dumped the yarn and needle to
the floor beside the rocker.
    Resentment flared in her
eyes as she cranked herself up onto her feet. Her chin lifted
defiantly.
    “How dare you come to ma
home!” she charged. “Get ou', you black-hearted beast!”
    After a moment of tense
silence, Lachlan sauntered further into the room. He stopped within
arm's reach of the old woman, his brooding gaze riveted on her
face.
    “Spare me the endearments,”
he drawled, lowering his arms to his sides. “I thought perhaps
you'd be ill, old womon. Itherwise, why else would you fail to
prepare breakfast for Miss Staples?”
    “She's yer guest. You serve her.”
    A slow, sardonic grin
manifested on Lachlan's mouth. His eyebrow arched, signaling Agnes
he was short on patience. “I mistakenly thought this business
settled.”
    “I've changed ma
mind.”
    Lachlan's expression made
light of her defiance, but a storm brewed within his eyes. “Be at
the house in the morn.”
    “Or wha'?” she sniffed with
disdain. “I'm too old to give a damn, anymair, yer lordship. So
stick yer paughty threats in yer—”
    The front door of the house
slammed shut. A flicker of uncertainty moved across Agnes' face
then she grew pale. Lifting a trembling hand to rest over her
heart, her watery gaze observed the glint of malice in Lachlan's
eyes.
    She looked beyond him to the
living room. “Begone wi' you,” she whispered in a plea. “I'll be
there to serve Miss Staples.”
    “Will you now?” Lachlan
crooned.
    “Get ou'! I don’t want ma
son layin' eyes on you!”
    “Mum, where's ma lunch?”
boomed a voice. A tall man in his early thirties bounded into the
room. “Kelly and the boys are goin' to meet me—”
    The sight of a stranger
standing in the parlor gave the man pause and a cocky grin quirked
on his mouth. “Sorry, Mum. Didn’t know we had
company....”
    His voice trailed off as he
became aware of the stranger's attire. He looked into the man's
eyes. How he knew, he didn't understand, but the truth lanced him
with unmerciful accuracy. His dark blue eyes appeared enormous in
his ashen face as he fell back a step.
    “Borgie,” Lachlan said,
giving the man a mocking nod of greeting. “We meet at
last.”
    After several attempts to
speak, Borgie managed, “Wha' do you want?”
    Lachlan searched Agnes' taut
expression. “Checkin' in on yer mither.”