Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 Read online

  Dawns Everlastin'

  (formerly: Dusk Before Dawn)

  Book 2

  by

  Mickee Madden

  * * *

  Smashwords Edition

  © 2011 by Mickee Madden

  ****************************************************

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover by Mickee Madden

  * * *

  To my husband, Steve, for all the years of unselfish love and support;

  and to my children, Gwen, Bud, and Brehan.

  Special thanks to my brothers and sisters; nieces and nephews;

  and friends who are very much my family.

  To Cindy Stapleton. What can I say, kiddo? I'd be lost without you.

  Eugenia. Thanks for hanging in there!

  And last but never never least, Denise.

  * * *

  Glossary

  afore/before — anither/another — atween/between — aught/anything

  bahookie/buttocks — canna/cannot — corbie/crow — dinna/don't

  efter/after — faither/father — fegs/damn — ither/other — mair/more

  maist/most — mither/mother —naught/nothing — shouldna/shouldn't

  thegither/together — verra/very — wasna/wasn't / weel/well

  willna/will not — winna/won't — wouldna/wouldn't

  * * *

  For information on up-coming e-books by Mickee Madden

  please contact her at: [email protected]

  Chapter 1

  Beyond the fogged windshield of the Volvo, thick, downy snowflakes mocked the wipers' efforts to brush them aside. Not a star shone in the pale grayness awning the night sky. The coruscant land owned of vast isolation, feeding Laura Bennett's desperation to find shelter. Despite the three young boys carrying on in the back seat, never had she been so cold or so lonely.

  The storm was just another obstacle. One more hardship and she wasn't sure how much more she could endure.

  Her fingers gripped the steering wheel more tightly as she leaned to and squinted to see beyond the clouded windshield. A tension headache thundered at her temples and painfully tightened the skin across her brow. An invisible vice squeezed the back of her neck. Every sound, every jostling movement of the car, seemed a personal assault on her raw nerves.

  "Boys, please!" she groaned.

  To her further dismay, her entreaty produced the opposite effect. Three-year-old Alby's whining raised a full octave. His sneakered feet repeatedly kicked at the back of her seat. The argument between his five and seven-year-old brothers also escalated, their voices slicing through her sensitized skull.

  Her teeth clenched, she testily rubbed the side of a hand on the windshield, but the cleared spot began to fog up almost immediately.

  "Damn," she muttered, rolling her side window down another two inches.

  "Hey! I'm cold!" Kevin shouted.

  "It can't be helped." Laura tried unsuccessfully to force herself to relax. "I can't see anything in front of us."

  "Can't drive, park it."

  "Kevin..." Laura took a moment to calm her anger. In the past three days, she'd learned the boys weren't intimidated by adults. In fact, much to her chagrin, nothing fazed her nephews. Her inexperience with children was in part responsible.

  "You're not setting a very good example for your brothers," she went on, hoping to tap into Kevin's conscience. "Now, please settle down. My nerves are shot."

  Folding his arms across the back of the front seat, the seven-year-old demanded, "Roll up the window."

  Laura glanced in the rear view mirror to see Kevin smugly staring back at her. "The defroster isn't work—"

  "Roll it up!"

  Alby released a wail. Covering his ears, five-year-old Kahl slammed the soles of his cowboy boots against the back of the tattered, red vinyl front seat.

  "Stop it!" Laura warned, her patience a long forgotten thing. "Sit back and stop—"

  "You're on the wrong side, you dummy!" Kevin cried. "Get over!"

  Seemingly from out of nowhere, bright headlights bore down on the Volvo. Instinctively, Laura yanked the steering wheel to the right. Kevin released a shrill, "No!" and she swerved to the left. The boys cried out their protests, silencing momentarily when the tires became railed in ruts of iced-over snow.

  Laura's stomach heaved. Gulping back a rise of burning liquid, she ground the stick shift into second and tapped the brake.

  "You idiot!"

  Laura winced, but decided it wasn't worth scolding Kahl for his harsh outburst. How could she expect the boys to respect her decisions, when each one had landed them in one predicament after another? As she slowed the car to a crawl, she fought back a sudden urge to cry. All she needed now was to break down in front of the little hellions and let them know just how much they were getting to her!

  She knew nothing about children. The thought of having her own child had never intruded upon her neatly organized life.

  Rolling down the right rear passenger window, Kevin poked out his head.

  "Kevin!"

  He grimaced but ignored his aunt.

  "Dammit, Kevin!" Laura gripped the steering wheel so tightly, pain shot through her wrists. "If I stop this car, I swear I'm going to throttle you!

  Roll up that window!"

  "I see a biiig house." He pointed. "Up on that hill. See it?"

  Laura couldn't see anything but a hazy stretch of road.

  "Up there!" Kevin said impatiently, glowering at his aunt. "Maybe they got a phone."

  "I gotta take a slash," Kahl announced.

  Distracted, she asked, "What?"

  "A slash! Don’t you speak English? I gotta peeee!"

  Laura glanced down at the dimly-lit gauges on the front of the dashboard. The fuel needle was leaning close to the E, and the engine light was blinking.

  "Are we gonna stop or what?" Kahl grumbled. "I'm hungry."

  "Turn right!" Kevin ordered. "Now!"

  Exhaustion and sheer frustration prompted her to turn the wheel sharply. For several maddening seconds, the vehicle bounced and skidded over iced ruts. Then the tires began to spin on a sudden incline.

  Numbly, Laura shifted into first gear. Her vibrant green eyes strained to see more clearly what lay ahead within the terrible pale grayness. The world had somehow vanished. Tears filled her eyes, one escaping down a pale cheek.

  "I can't see a damn thing," she said in a barely audible voice.

  From the corner of her left eye, she spied a soft, green luminance. Her head turned. Disbelief wrapped its icy fingers about her heart and squeezed.

  Up on the hill, green mist bathed an enormous structure, lending it a surreal appearance. For several seconds, she thought she saw the house glide—rush—toward her. She felt herself tunneled in darkness, unable to focus on anything but the looming house. Fear threatened to overwhelm her until suddenly she could see nothing but the wintery landscape.

  The incline steepened.

  Thrown back into the reality of her situation, Laura feared the Volvo would lose all power. Panicked at the prospect of the car rolling backward, she depressed the gas pedal and popped the clutch, hoping for nothing more than to cr
est the hill. The car surged forward. Cries rang out behind her as the vehicle slid to one side. Grinding the stick shift out of first and into neutral, she slammed on the brake, but it was too late to stop the car from nose-diving into a ravine.

  Impact with a tall oak pitched her into the steering wheel. Pain erupted through every part of her body. From seemingly far away, she could hear her nephews' whimpers, but she was steadily withdrawing from consciousness.

  Hold on.

  Lofty grayness returned when Laura's reasoning locked onto an omnipresent female voice.

  Help had arrived.

  The left rear door opened and slammed shut. Laura inwardly struggled to fully revive herself. The boys were screaming, their diminishing voices indicative of them moving away from the vehicle.

  "Boys," she croaked, trying to straighten away from the wheel.

  Lachlan's with them. Try to remain still. Help is coming. I promise, everything will be all right.

  Help was coming.

  Laura felt a compelling need to cry, but she was too disoriented to risk weakening herself with such release.

  Jolting movement intensified her pain, promising to deliver her into a void of unconsciousness. She wanted to let go of the pain, of the long days of frustration, and her unwanted new responsibilities.

  Let it all go.

  Another voice, harsh and impatient, and owning of a thick Scottish burr, intermittently sliced through the riotous agony in her skull.

  "The boys," she whispered.

  Then blessed, forgiving darkness embraced her.

  "Wha' the bloody hell is wrong wi' you!"

  The strident tone forced her up from oblivion. Everything hurt. She didn't want to open her eyes. Her lids were so heavy, she knew it would be agony lift them.

  "Leave him alone!"

  Kevin's shrill voice jerked her to full consciousness.

  "I'll paddle his backside till he can't walk! Give me those, you little booger!"

  Despite the pain racking her body, she managed to draw herself up into a sitting position. She instantly became aware that she was in a large bed, in a bedroom lit only by a fire in a hearth, halfway across the room. A short distance away from the fireplace, a man was unsuccessfully trying to take something from Alby's clenched hands.

  "Leave him alone!" Kevin shouted, again slugging the crouching man in the arm.

  Fighting back a strong desire to lie back down and close her eyes, Laura got onto her hands and knees and weakly crawled to the foot of the bed. Her stomach churned in warning. She remained perfectly still, watching in dazed bewilderment as the oldest boy pummeled the stranger with his fists.

  "Dammit, laddie!"

  "What are you doing to them?"

  Although her words had emerged at little more than a whisper, they had the impact of a boom. Four pairs of eyes turned in her direction. Then the man swooped up Alby beneath an arm, hauled him to the bed, and dropped him alongside Laura.

  "I'll thank you to take the matches away from him," he growled down at her, an accusing finger aimed at the boy who was kicking fiercely up at him. "He's already tried to set two fires in this room!"

  Laura winced. Combined with her lightheadedness was the burgeoning threat of her stomach heaving.

  "Please," she whimpered.

  "Get him away!" shouted Kahl, stalking toward the stranger with fists drawn. "He's been picking on us!"

  "Pickin' on you!" the man laughed without mirth.

  "Give me the matches," Laura said to Alby, a shaky hand held out.

  "No!"

  "Alby..."

  Impatiently, the stranger plied the wooden matches from Alby's fingers.

  "A fine pyromaniac you have here," he said to Laura, his broad chest heaving in anger as he straightened and scowled down at her.

  Forcing herself to leave the bed, Laura held onto the brass arch at the foot, and looked to where the two older boys stood an arm's length away.

  "Kevin, I'm asking you to please watch your brothers while I talk to this...man."

  "He lies," Kevin clipped, the firelight casting one half of his features in stark relief. "Don't listen to him."

  "I-I won't. I...just need to talk to him." She gulped back a rise of burning liquid in her throat. "Can I-I trust you to watch after your brothers for a little while?"

  Petulantly, Kevin shrugged. "Yeah. We're sleepy, anyway."

  "Thank you."

  At the same instant she turned to face the stranger, the contents of her stomach projectiled past her lips. It happened so quickly, her hand didn't make it up in time to stop the flow. A moment later, swaying on her feet, she could only gape at the mess on the front of the man's sweater. No thoughts intruded upon her stupor for several seconds, not until the incredulity enlarging his eyes, registered in her mind.

  Kevin whooped and pointed at the man. “She showed you, mista!” His brothers joined his laughter.

  I don't believe this, she mutely groaned, shriveling within herself.

  "Weel...leave it to me to be standin' in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  Laura timorously met his gaze again. Although she was staring into his face, she was oblivious to everything but the damning glint in his eyes. The pale grayness would have been welcomed right about now. The darkness. A hole in the ground in which she could hide away and pretend she'd never set foot on this continent. But it was becoming ever more apparent that fate wasn't yet through testing her ability to endure.

  Donning a guarded expression, he abruptly took her by the arm and marched her across the room. Stopping at an opened door, he looked back at the boys and scowled a silent warning, then ushered her into a dark room. She stood passively waiting, inwardly questioning her lack of fear in trusting this stranger.

  A light came on to her right. With calm she could not begin to rationalize, she watched as he adjusted a brass key on a gas fixture alongside an oval mirror above a sink.

  "You've a nasty crack on yer head but no concussion as far as I can tell." Easing his sweater off over his head, he tossed it into a claw foot tub. "Ye're mair rattled than anythin', I think."

  He looked down at her, the soft lighting lending his light brown irises an amber hue. "But then I'm no' a doctor, am I?"

  "I wouldn't know," she murmured, her gaze taking in the powerful width of his naked barrel chest and bulging biceps. Suddenly, she found herself overwhelmed by his towering height. The top of her head barely reached his dimpled chin. If she was forced to defend herself, she was afraid the best she could do was bruise his ego.

  Even that was questionable.

  "Are you goin' to toss yer innards again?"

  Crimson stained her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I-I'll wash your sweater."

  "I would worry abou' maself if I were you. Are you feelin' jaggey?"

  Unbidden, her gaze riveted on his sensuous mouth. A cottony sensuality blanketed her brain "Wh-what?"

  "Light in the head."

  "No. Just a little wobbly."

  A skeptical gleam softened his eyes, and he arched a thick eyebrow. "Wobbly, eh? I'll go downstairs and fix you somethin' to—"

  "No food!" she gasped, swaying on her feet.

  "Aye, no food." He scowled, his gaze raking her from head to toe. "A cup o' tea, then?"

  "Thank you."

  "When ye're through cleanin' up, go left in the hall and down the stairs. I'll be waitin' in the room across the foyer to the right. The door'll be open."

  "Thank you, Mister..."

  "Roan. Roan Ingliss."

  "Laura...Bennett."

  "I'll be waitin', Laura."

  He was about to cross the threshold when her cold tone arrested him. "It's Ms. Bennett."

  His head turned. The look of dark annoyance he delivered sent a chill along Laura's spine.

  "There's an unwritten practice here...Miss Bennett, tha' when a womon spews on a mon, he can call her anythin' the hell he pleases."

  Laura stiffened. For an indefinite time, a visual war ensued. Then he disap
peared into the bedroom, leaving her to brace her hands against the sink, and gingerly lower her head.

  God give me strength, she mutely whimpered.

  Whatever the man's faults, however provoking his attitude, she had to hold back her temper. He was the only likely candidate to help her and the boys get to Edinburgh.

  Glancing into the bathtub, she grimaced.

  Roan Ingliss obviously wasn't thrilled about his uninvited guests. If there was ever a time when she needed to utilize her petite stature and youthful blond-capped visage, it was now. Appeal to the man's compassionate side—if he had one. Find the right chord to ring his heartstrings. If she didn’t get out of Great Britain soon, she was sure she would completely unravel.

  She released a sigh of disgust as she went down on her knees in front of the tub. Draping her arms over the rounded porcelain edge, she laid her brow against the cold smooth surface.

  Never in her life had she resorted to feminine wiles to obtain anything she'd wanted. Not in her personal or professional existence. But then, she'd never been stuck in a foreign land before, and with the dubious custody of three wild boys.

  "Desperate measures for desperate times," she murmured, turning on the taps to a desired temperature. Her movements stilted, she began to rinse off the matter clinging to the plain, dark green sweater. She refused to think about regurgitating on her grudging host. It was unfortunate for Mr. Ingliss, but she felt immensely better for having unburdened her stomach. It had been just another example of her having lost control since landing in London earlier in the week.

  Now, if only the headache would go away. Was that asking too damn much?

  A breeze moved through the bathroom and passed through her. Laura gasped. The cold that had touched her for but a moment, branded itself in her memory.

  Her eyes as wide as saucers, she glanced about the suddenly too-close quarters. She wondered if she were losing her mind, for she was positive she could feel a presence in the room with her. Then it dawned on her that the headache had mysteriously vanished.

  "Hello?"

  A nervous chuckle rattled in her dry and scratchy throat.

  "I must be hallucinating."