Free Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 by Mickee Madden

skin?"
    Laura could not stop a
shudder from coursing through her. "Back off, Roan," she rasped,
folding her arms against her.
    A smile played across his
mouth as he contentedly gazed about the landscape. "All ma life,
I've hated this house and all it stood for," he began, unwittingly
pressing himself closer against her and grazing the top of her head
with the underpart of his chin. "And I've hated Lannie wi' a
passion tha' has just abou' eatin' away ma innards like a cancer.
But so much has changed ma way o' thinkin' the past couple o' days.
His cursed magic has finally opened ma eyes."
    Whirling to face him, Laura
furiously glared into his face. "So we're back to the ghost stories
again?"
    Closing one eye for but a
moment, Roan winced. "Ye're no' payin' attention, lass. Get yer
mind off ma anatomy and look around you."
    Briefly, Laura considered
throwing herself from the roof of the tower, or the less dramatic,
ducking beneath his corralling arms and running like hell to the
relative safety of her bedroom. But the laughter in his tone held a
challenge, and she remained rooted. Her shoulders haughtily thrust
back, her chin lifted in a show of defiance, she looked into his
smiling eyes with as much bravado as she could muster.
    "I'm not going to allow you
to provoke me anymore."
    "Ahh, is tha' so? Weel—" He
chuckled and teasingly planted a quick kiss on her brow. "—wha'
else but magic would whisk you from the clutches o' a loomin'
oak?"
    "I don't find you
particularly amusing."
    "No? But then, yer sense o'
humor is a wee wabbit."
    "What?" She frowned.
“Wab—what?"
    "Wabbit?
Tired...ill."
    Lowering her head, Laura
pressed her fingertips to her temples. "I'm going to check on the
boys." A moment later, when he made no move, she wearily peered
into his face. "I'm exhausted. Can't we put this off until the
morning?"
    "Ye're no' leavin' till you
open yer eyes," he grinned with devilish glee, straightening back
and folding his arms across his chest. "And no' till I get a weel
deserved apology for you doubtin' ma word."
    "Your word?" Her temper
resurfacing, she asked, "Your word regarding what?"
    "Lannie."
    "When hell
freezes!"
    "Explain the dinin' room,
then. And the statue...?"
    "It never happened," she
returned smugly.
    "Och! Ye're sayin' we shared
the same hallucination?" he asked incredulously.
    "Makes perfect sense to
me."
    "Are we hallucinatin'
now?"
    A warning light went off in
her brain at his coy tone. "Possibly. It's a delightful notion that
you're nothing more than a figment of my imagination."
    "You just insulted
me."
    Laura gave an airy
shrug.
    Scratching his head, Roan
walked to the flagpole by the opened hatch and linked an arm around
the cool metal. "It’s a bonny warm night." He waited until he saw a
pensive frown crease her brow, then went on, "And it’s strange tha'
snow falls ten feet ou' all around us, yet this roof is as dry as a
summer's drought."
    Awareness slowly seeped into
Laura's brain. Turning, she realized that it was snowing—very
hard—everywhere as far as the eye could see, except over the tower.
Her gaze lifted to see a hole in the clouds directly overhead. A
black velvet sky, jeweled with stars, crowned the tower, and only
the tower.
    The roof was dry, the air
warm. And yet, the other roofs to the mansion bore blankets of the
white stuff.
    "Lannie's doin'," Roan
informed, a smug grin turning up one corner of his
mouth.
    Laura stared at him for a
long time before forcing her legs to carry her to the hatch. She
was in no frame of mind to try to rationalize the
phenomena.
    "Good night, Mr. Ingliss,"
she said in a strained voice then cautiously descended the
steps.
    For a time, Roan remained
hugging the flagpole, his eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. He'd
wanted her to face the truth about the house; he'd succeeded in
scaring the wits out of her.
    Fatigue revisited him
unexpectedly. In two days, he'd only dozed off
occasionally.
    A gasp burst from his lungs
when the air became bitter cold, and