Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  She meant to say no. And certainly she wanted to say it. But it was lunchtime, after all, and she couldn’t really think of a good enough reason to refuse. She was pretty sure he’d ask for one, too.

  “Uh, sure. Why not?” she said, giving in to the inevitable and plastering her smile back on. “Just give me a minute to finish up here.”

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, Ryan watched moodily as Siobhan picked at the fish taco she’d ordered. They were seated at a table on the restaurant’s covered terrace, beneath one of the portable gas heaters, with the two dogs at their feet. His own smoked salmon sandwich had already been consumed, but if she took very much longer, he supposed he’d have to consider getting himself something else to eat.

  An order of French fries, maybe. Or maybe some chowder. Anything that would keep his hands warm and busy would be a good idea right now, he thought, resisting the impulse to drum his fingers on the table.

  She’d been on his mind since he woke up that morning, despite all his efforts to think about something – anything – else. And despite all the stern lectures he’d given himself the night before about how he wasn’t yet ready to get involved with anyone.

  It couldn’t hurt to get to know her a little better, he’d eventually conceded, while walking the dog – having finally recognized where their walk was taking them. He could use the dog connection, the fact that they were practically neighbors, and his current under-employed status as excuses to hang around for a while.

  In fact, when he considered the wariness he’d read in her eyes last night, it was probably the smartest thing he could do.

  She was definitely the greyhound type. Fast and easily startled. It wouldn’t do to spook her. She was the type of woman who would likely present a challenge, even in the best of times. Getting her to fall would probably be a lot like deep-sea fishing, ultimately rewarding, but requiring a good deal of effort in the short run. But if he were to hook her now, and then take his time about playing her and reeling her in, he was confident of his ability to land her when the time was right.

  Or, fairly confident, anyway. He was seeing a new side of her today. A sullen, uncommunicative side. So far, she’d resisted all his efforts to draw her out. Last night she’d seemed friendly enough. Concerned and responsive. Almost chatty, in fact. But today was a whole ‘nother story. Talk between them had been almost non-existent on the walk over here, and not much more lively since.

  “That was a very interesting program this morning,” he said, hoping to spark a conversation. “I enjoyed helping out. I thought the kids enjoyed it, too.”

  “Thanks.” She glanced at him briefly, and then ducked her head back down. She nibbled at a corner of her tortilla.

  Ryan sighed inwardly, wondering what it would take to get more than a one syllable response from her today. “So do you teach classes like that regularly?” he prompted, after another moment.

  “Yeah,” she answered with a shrug. She stabbed with the tip of her index finger at a tiny flake of fish that had fallen onto the paper plate, and then shrugged again. “Couple of times a week, maybe.”

  “Well, I guess you must have had a lot of experience working with kids, huh? You look like you’re really comfortable around them.” He pushed on recklessly, encouraged by his meager success. “Ever think about having any of your own?”

  “I did have children,” she said as she stopped eating again. She looked at him strangely, her eyes wide and startled. “Two daughters. Emily and Elizabeth. Identical twins – it runs in my family, obviously. They were eight.”

  “Oh,” he said, feeling foolish for having jumped to conclusions. But he’d seen no signs of any kids last night and, damn it, she’d said she lived alone, hadn’t she? “So, are they with their dad now, or something?”

  A tiny smile flitted across her features for just a moment. “I guess you could say that,” she answered, softly. “They’re dead. The three of them were killed in a boating accident.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” He stared at her. “Siobhan... I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago and…it doesn’t get easier, exactly, but it doesn’t bother me to talk about it.”

  He studied her expression for a moment longer, but although the tip of her nose was pink, she returned his look steadily, and her eyes were clear and unshadowed. She looked sad, but she didn’t look distraught. He decided he could take her at her word. “So, how did it happen?”

  “I don’t know, exactly,” she said with sigh. “Which was one of the hardest things about it. I had this little sailboat that we used to fool around with sometimes and…well, I was away that weekend but I guess the girls must’ve talked Tim into taking them out on it, anyway. Which wouldn’t have been too hard. I mean, even though I was really the only sailor in the family, he was the kind of guy who thought he could handle anything if he set his mind to it. He worked in the movies – special effects, a little stunt work, stuff like that – and I don’t think he could always tell the difference between illusion and reality. Anyway, like I said, we never did find out what happened. They never found the boat or... or the bodies. Some stuff from the cabin eventually washed up on the shore.” She glanced down at the little dog whose head rested on her feet. “Along with poor Selke here. Someone found him half drowned on a nearby beach with a couple of broken ribs. I suppose they could have lost power or run out of gas, or something like that. Maybe drifted out into the commercial shipping lanes. If some big ship had run into them— well, anyway, that would’ve accounted for the dog’s injuries.

  It was just a tiny little boat. It would have been so easy to miss seeing it. Especially if it had gotten dark.”

  She fell silent again, and for a moment they both just stared at the dog.

  “So he was your daughters’ dog, then?” Ryan asked finally, when he could think of nothing else to say. “That figures.” Despite the sick chill her story had left in his gut he felt unaccountably relieved that his instincts about her had not been completely off track. “And I guess they’re the ones who named him Silky, huh?”

  She glanced back up at him, amused. “No, not Silky. His name’s Selke. I named him, actually. It’s an Irish word for a kind of a magical creature who’s part seal. When he was a puppy he looked just like a little pinniped.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, what’s your dog’s name?” she asked, “I’ve never heard you call her anything.”

  “I haven’t really decided, yet,” he admitted reluctantly, “I’ve thought of a few of names, but so far nothing’s stuck. She’s been Megan and Fiona. And Irene.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Siobhan frowned at him suspiciously. “That’s really weird. Those are my sisters’ names.”

  “What? All three of them?”

  “Mm-hm. We’re a big family.”

  “Apparently so. Well, anyway, lately I’ve been thinking about Rhiannon but...”

  “Pretty,” she said as she sipped at her iced tea. “Kind of a sad story, though. But then again, I guess they all are.”

  “I guess.” He shrugged. “But I wasn’t really thinking about the story. I’ve always just liked the song.”

  “The song?” she repeated, looking at him curiously.

  “Yeah, you know, by Fleetwood Mac?”

  “Yes. I do know. But Ryan, surely you’re much too young to like that song?”

  “Hey, it’s not like you’re the only one with sisters.” He grinned at her. “I’ve got two of them, myself. Both of them older than me. Growing up, I heard lots of different kinds of music. Besides, I’m not that young, either, you know.”

  “You’re not, huh? Well, you’re still a lot younger than I am.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” He took his time looking her over. “A little bit, maybe. Not a lot. And anyway, age has never been that big a deal for me. I think I must look younger than I am. And as for you.” He smiled. “You look really good for any age.”

  She coul
dn’t really be worried about that, could she? She was so sleek and vibrant, and so obviously fit. With the kind of elegant, fine-boned looks that were great right now and would only improve as she got older.

  “Oh. Well. Thank you,” she said, as she got to her feet and started gathering up the wrappers from their sandwiches and their empty cups.

  Ryan thought about telling her that, in general, he actually preferred to date older women. They tended to be stronger and more confident in their abilities than women his own age. More independent. More self-reliant. They made far less demands on a man, and had fewer expectations. But he’d noticed that was the kind of thing women tended to take the wrong way. And having finally gotten her talking, he didn’t want their conversation to degenerate into an argument.

  “So what do you do with those rocks after you’re finished with them?” he asked instead, hoping to change the subject.

  “Not very much,” Siobhan said, as she tossed the trash in a nearby container. This had turned out to be a much more comfortable interlude than she’d anticipated, but it was definitely time she got back to work. There was no sense pushing her luck, after all. And how the hell had they gotten onto the subjects of age and looks, anyway? “I pretty much just take them back down to the beach and try to put them back as close to where I got them as I can.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. She glanced at him sharply. His eyes had narrowed and he was staring at her again. “You mean you have to lug those buckets all the way back down to the beach?” he asked at last, guardedly.

  Oh, shit. “Well, yes. But I might keep a couple of the rocks for the aquarium,” she amended quickly. “And I don’t have to carry all the water back with me, either. So, it’s really not that big a deal.”

  “I’ll give you a hand with it,” he said, which was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

  “No. Really. That’s not necessary. I don’t need any help.”

  “It may not be necessary, but it couldn’t hurt.” The coolness was back in his eyes, reminding her of something that had been tugging at the back of her mind since last night... something unpleasant... but his next words caused the emerging memory to recede again.

  “Or is this another one of your rules, you have to do everything the hard way?”

  She sat back down, and tried for a moment to get her temper under control. “I suppose I could ask you the same thing,” she told him. “Because, so far, you haven’t struck me as the type who looks for the easy way out, either. Before I let you carry anything else for me, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong with your leg?”

  “You already know what’s wrong with it,” he snapped, his jaw clenching for just an instant. “Your sister told you how I got injured last Fall. Remember?”

  “It’s not healed yet?” she asked, once again startled into saying something stupid.

  His voice was colder than winter. “Obviously not. Or you wouldn’t be asking about it.” After a long moment, during which neither of them could seem to think of anything to say, he continued. “I think it has something to do with the weather. It was healing fine, for awhile. But then—”

  She nodded. “Sure. This damp can really mess things up. What have you been doing for it?”

  He sighed. “Acupuncture. It sounds weird, I know, but it’s the only thing that seems to help.”

  “That doesn’t sound weird at all.”

  “No? It does to me.” He hesitated for a moment and then added stubbornly, “Anyway, it feels pretty good today. So there’s absolutely no reason I can’t carry one of those buckets back down to the beach for you.”

  Actually, she could think of a couple of really good reasons why she didn’t want his help, but she understood something about stubbornness. And pride. She knew there was no way she could get out of accepting his help without running up against the one and trampling over the other. It wasn’t worth it.

  “Let’s get going, then,” she said as she got back to her feet. Maybe he wouldn’t remember all the rocks she’d made him climb over last night, she thought wistfully. It wasn’t too likely, that he’d forget them, but on the other hand, she supposed anything was possible.

  * * * *

  Ryan regarded the gentle slope of the trail in front of him with growing suspicion. Even allowing for the thick mist which partially obscured the landscape, and despite the increasingly driving rain that further hampered visibility, he was almost positive that this was not the way they’d come last night.

  She glanced over at him, just then, and he knew he was right. For once, he was a lot less interested in determining whether those incredible eyes of hers could best be categorized as bluish gray or grayish blue—and a whole lot more interested in learning the reason for the guilt that swirled around within them, like fog. Either she’d made up her mind to coddle him today, taking them out of their way in an effort to spare his leg, or she’d purposely been out to bust his balls last night.

  Either way he wasn’t going to be happy. He felt the same, sinking sense of inevitability that had assailed him the previous evening take hold once more. Every time he thought he had her pinned down, she found a way to knock him off his feet. Every time they appeared to be on the same wavelength, something threw them out of sync. It was disorienting. Infuriating. And it was wreaking havoc with both his temper and his self-control.

  Grimly, he considered the damp sand that lay beneath his feet. They’d arrived at the beach, all right. And, just as he’d suspected, they’d done it without having to traverse the steep rocky embankment he remembered all too vividly from last night.

  Siobhan went at once to the tide line, and began positioning the rocks wherever there was a suitable gap, taking care to orient each one seaweed side up. Ryan paced along behind her, wordlessly.

  When she finished with the rocks in the bucket she carried, she reached for the one in his hand. As they exchanged buckets, still without uttering a single word, Ryan realized that she’d avoided making eye contact with him ever since that one, revealing glance. He wondered if she could sense the hot fury building within him? The rain beat like pebbles against the hard plastic of the empty bucket and the wind had begun to moan. The surf growled hungrily as it rushed to swallow up the beach. But none of them could compete with the angry roar that filled his head.

  They moved further down the beach. A familiar dark bulk loomed on his left: the sheer embankment they’d climbed the night before. Siobhan replaced the last of the rocks and got back up, brushing her hands free of the sand that clung to them. He had moved to stand close behind her, she hadn’t heard him, or perhaps her thoughts were on other things. She spun around and they were suddenly face to face. He heard her startled gasp, saw the surprise that registered briefly in her eyes and watched, mesmerized, as one hand rose quickly in what he recognized as a defensive gesture.

  Did she mean to try and push him aside? He waited, suddenly impatient for her touch. Whatever the reason, however casual the contact, it would be all the excuse he’d need to respond in kind. His skin burned in anticipation. But she didn’t touch him. She merely stood there, seemingly frozen, staring back at him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, after a moment, slowly lowering her hand to her side. She sounded slightly breathless, although it was hard to tell for certain, what with the noise pounding in his head.

  He looked at her questioningly. “Waiting for you.”

  “Well, let’s head back now, all right?” she said, a little too brightly. “It’s getting pretty wet out here.”

  “Sure. Which way?” He was blocking the return path. He knew it. She knew it. He didn’t feel like moving.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Back the way we came?”

  “Why not that way?” He indicated the embankment with a tilt of his head.

  She glanced towards the rocks unwillingly. “I’d rather not. Those rocks can be pretty slippery in the rain.”

  “Yes. I believe I mentioned that very fact last night.” If she heard the danger
in his voice, she chose to ignore it.

  Anger sparked within her eyes. “Yes, I believe you did. However, unless there’s a very good reason to do otherwise, I usually take the path.”

  He studied her face for a moment, feeling a little of the tension inside him ebb away. Well, that was one question answered. At least she wasn’t treating him like a goddamned invalid. Good. He was pretty sure he would have hated that even more than the alternative.

  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still furious. Especially remembering the various aches that had kept him awake for half the night – all of which she’d been responsible for, in one way or another. He’d exerted himself far more strenuously than he should have last night, but at least he’d been able to justify it as necessary and unavoidable. The knowledge that he’d courted further injury, delayed his healing and probably extended the time it would take before he could move on her – and all for nothing – was absolutely maddening.

  “Yeah? Well, I hope like hell you’ve got a good reason for last night, then.”

  At least she had the grace to look embarrassed, he told himself, as she looked away again.

  “Okay, look, first off... I didn’t know about your leg, at the time. And then... I was going to mention the path but... well, you were just so insistent about climbing up the other way,” she ended lamely.

  He stared at her in disbelief. “If that’s your idea of an apology,” he began, but he got no further.

  “Apology?” Her gaze snapped back to his face in an instant, eyes blazing. “You’re kidding me, right? I’m not the one who ought to be apologizing here, boy-o! You gave me no choice last night about how to do things. No chance at all to suggest any reasonable alternatives. You just showed up and started issuing orders. Well, you know what, Ryan? I got news for you. I don’t like taking orders. And I don’t happen to be very good at following them, either.”

  “No shit?” he muttered. She didn’t like taking orders? Well, he didn’t guess he’d ever met anyone who did! “But I bet you don’t mind giving the orders. Do you?” Now, where the hell had that come from, he wondered, as her eyes went glacial.