Everlastin' Book 1 by Mickee Madden Page A

of
mascara.”
    “Tha' black goop women
plaster on their eyes?” He chuckled deep in his throat then crooked
a thumb beneath her chin and turned her face to his scrutiny.
“Ye're a melancholy lass. Tell me wha's troublin' you.”
    An attempt to smile failed.
“It's nothing. Really.”
    “No' jet lag?”
    “It could be,” she defended
evenly, a twinkle of amusement coming to life in her eyes. But then
a cloud of unease passed over her features and she shivered as she
scanned the roses surrounding her.
    “Wha' is it?”
    “The bees.”
    “Wha' abou'
them?”
    “There were hundreds of them
moments ago. They're gone.”
    Lachlan glanced about him.
“Your sobbin' sent them off in a fit o’ despair,” he
quipped.
    Lowering her head, Beth
chuckled. “It wasn't that bad.”
    “Took the heart ou' o’
me.”
    Beth found herself looking
into his eyes. Even out here in the bright sunlight, she could not
discern his irises. His fair skin made his eyes appear darker,
fathomless. When he smiled crookedly, her attention was drawn to
his mouth. The right groove in his cheek deepened.
    You are one dangerous man,
Lachlan, she thought. What kind of lover are you? Before she
could suppress it, a sigh escaped her.
    “I understand yer mither
died no' long ago,” he said casually, although the intensity in his
eyes warned Beth that he knew what had brought on her tears. “You
took care o’ her for a long time. Eight years, I
understand.”
    “ Yes.” She pointedly
focused on the roses in front of her. “It began with heart
problems. Later, she suffered with cancer.”
    “Couldna the
doctors—”
    “No.” Beth spared him a
quick glance. “She would have suffered as much in the hospital. She
wanted to die at home.”
    “Was tha' fair to
you?”
    Beth stiffened, the fire in
her eyes warning him the subject was taboo. “What has fair got to
do with anything?”
    “Ye're bitter,
lass.”
    Jumping to her feet, Beth
irritably smoothed her calf-length skirt. She stared down at his
upturned face, resentment lending her a strained, gaunt look. “I'm
not bitter. I took care of her because I wanted to.”
    When Lachlan rose to his
feet, she continued to glare at him. “I may not have had your
carefree life, Lachlan, but I certainly don't regret—”
    “Hold it! I said you could
cry on ma shoulder, no' take ou' yer frustration on me.”
    Beth clenched her hands by
her sides. It was rare anything made her angry, but she was now,
the emotion like lava behind her breast. “Then mind your own damn
business in the future,” she flung and walked away.
    Thorny hedges blocked her
escape, slowing her, fueling her raw emotions. Although she could
see her way out of the maze, her every attempt failed. Thorns
snagged her cotton skirt. The fragrance of the roses became
sickeningly overwhelming. Becoming blinded by her burdensome
frustration, she stopped and clenched her hands once
again.
    Labored breaths roared in
her ears.
    Panic lodged in her
chest.
    It was all she could do not
to scream for all she was worth.
    “Ye're one stubborn womon,”
Lachlan bit out as he snatched up one of her hands in a steely
hold. He expected her to protest as he led her out of the maze, but
she only followed him, giving his grasp an occasional tug of
defiance.
    Crossing the graveled front
of the house, and a section of lawn, he stepped up into the largest
gazebo and directed her to one of the white, wooden chairs. Beth
sat, planted her elbows on the table and buried her face in her
hands to hide the heat of indignation in her face. Lachlan seated
himself across from her, a look of stormy impatience on his
face.
    “You're no' one to accept
help graciously, are you?”
    “You don't know anything
about me.”
    “Mair than you know.” When
Beth lowered her hands and looked at him, he smugly arched a brow.
“Ye're pretty easy to read.”
    “Oh, really.”
    “Aye, lass. Strong-willed.
Independent, but you take care o’ ithers afore yerself.”
    “How