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thinkin’ o’ a
man who loves this place.”
    She looked up, her gaze
instantly drawn to his eyes. Again she had that feeling that he was
reading her mind, somehow looking inside her. It was disconcerting,
and yet, comforting in some odd way.
    “Have you ever been to the
United States?”
    “No.” He sipped his tea then
lowered his cup. “I've never had a mind to leave Great Britain once
I settled here.”
    “That's a shame. There are
lots of places in the States I think you would enjoy.”
    The mischievous laughter
returned to his eyes. “Especially on moonlit nights wi' the right
womon, aye?”
    “You have a one-track
mind.”
    “A wha'?”
    Standing, Beth lifted her
cup. “Never mind. Look, I-umm, I hate to be a party pooper, but I
really am tired.”
    “O’ course. Forgive me.” He
rose to his feet, leaving his cup on the table. “I'll walk you to
yer room.”
    “I can find my way, thank
you.”
    “In the dark?”
    Beth experienced a chill of
a start. She'd just realized the gas lamps in the kitchen and main
hall had been lighted. She wasn't sure why this bothered her, but a
suspicion was nibbling at her outer consciousness, trying to
surface something to the fore of her brain. “Did you light the
lamps?”
    “Aye.”
    “When?”
    “A while ago. Why do you
ask?”
    Beth released a nervous
chuckle. “Don't mind me. Jet lag.”
    “Jet lag?”
    “You know...crossing the
ocean by plane? The time difference?”
    A frown puckered Lachlan's
broad brow. “I'll have to take yer word for it. Let me get a candle
to light our way.”
    Beth didn't feel the nervous
twitching within her stomach again until the ascent of the stairs.
By the first landing, it was all she could do to keep her hand
steady enough to keep her tea from sloshing over the gold-rimmed
lip of her cup. The golden glow of candlelight gave the staircase a
completely different look. With Lachlan by her side, she watched
the surrounding shadows through troubled eyes. She'd always hated
the dark, but she had discovered the soft, dancing glow of the
candle did more to feed her imagination than any inky
night.
    Things moved.
    Shadows stretched eerily,
creeping up the walls.
    As if sensing her unease,
Lachlan's strong fingers closed over her free hand and gave it a
squeeze. She didn't look at him. Without relaying how comforting
she found his gesture, she steeled herself not to give in to the
jitters.
    He opened the door to her
bedroom and walked in ahead of her. Placing the candle on the
mantel of the fireplace, he turned to face her. His features cast
in shadow, she found herself straining to discern his expression as
she walked up to him.
    “Thank you. I can manage
now.”
    Lachlan looked down and
quickly entwined his fingers through Beth's. Before she could
gather her wits about her, he lifted one of her hands and pressed
the back of her knuckles to his mouth. A sensual shiver moved
through her as she locked eyes with him.
    “You have long fingers.
Beautiful hands,” he said in a low, amorous tone.
    “You're certainly not shy
about flirting,” she said nervously, withdrawing her hands and
crossing her arms against her chest to give her a place to tuck
them away.
    A solemn smile touched his
mouth. “I admire beauty in all forms, darlin’. Inner beauty as
well. Would you like a fire to warm the room?”
    “No. No, I'm sure I'll be
warm enough.”
    “A warm body to snuggle up
ta?” he grinned.
    The heat of her blush
reached her toes. “G-good night, Lachlan.”
    He sighed. “Good night,
Beth.” He started toward the door then turned and searched her face
for a long moment. “Dinna ever be afraid in this house. There's
naught here tha' would harm you.”
    “I'd like that in writing,
please,” she said with a nervous little laugh. “Oh, is there a
portrait of Lannie Baird in the house?”
    For a moment, Beth thought
he would not answer her. He was staring at her with something akin
to impatience.
    “Hangin’ above the mantel in
the