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

by P. G. Forte

  “Oh, hey. Whoa!” Scout leaned forward suddenly. “Time out, you guys. I’m not taking sides in this war. You’ll still baby sit for me won’t you, Marsh?”

  Nick turned to his wife. “Excuse me? Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” She looked so elegant tonight with her hair rolled up at the back of her neck. Her skin was like cream against the black velvet of her gown. His gaze rested for an instant on her bare throat. It was too bad Valentine’s Day was still two weeks away. He couldn’t wait to see how his necklace would look on her.

  But at least he didn’t have to wait to see her smile. Her eyes gleamed warmly as she teased him back. “Well, I don’t know Nick. Right now it’s looking like every woman for herself just might be the smartest position to take.”

  “Jen? Jen Patterson? Is that you?” A voice behind them had Scout spinning around in surprise. Nick felt himself go very still. Jen? She’d been a child when she’d given herself a new name. No one called her Jen now. No one but him.

  “Adam?” Scout’s eyes grew wide. Nick watched her face turn incandescent, her smile more brilliant than before. But not for him.

  She was out of her seat in an instant. “Adam! Omigod, I can’t believe it!” Nick turned his head in time to watch his wife fling herself into the arms of another man. A savage jolt of something primitive rocked through him. For a moment, he couldn’t even identify the emotion that coursed in his veins. It had been so long since he’d been struck blind by jealousy.

  “Jen,” the man she’d called Adam murmured her name again. “All grown up and... whoa! All grown up and then some, huh? Look at you!”

  Not blind after all, damn it, Nick thought, watching as some other man put his hands all over Scout’s very pregnant belly. No, unfortunately, his eyes appeared to be one of the very few parts of him still functioning. And they didn’t like what they were seeing. Not one little bit.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” she was asking the stranger, making no effort at all to rid herself of his hands. Delighted laughter warmed her voice.

  “Me?” He laughed back at her. “Hey, kid, I own this place. What’s your excuse?”

  Nick felt a hand on his arm and he turned around, surprised to find himself on his feet. When had that happened?

  “Nick,” Lucy repeated his name. Though her voice was as soft as the touch of her hand, they both contained a warning. But the raw sympathy in his cousin’s eyes was more than he could take. He scowled at her until she dropped her hand.

  Lucy caught her breath as she flinched away from the cold fury in Nick’s gaze, grateful for Dan’s arm around her shoulders. If there was one emotion she was all too familiar with, it was jealousy. She was also familiar with her cousin’s temper. Scout, however, didn’t appear to have made the acquaintance of either one, yet. She wondered what it would take for her friend to realize that she was playing with fire.

  Still smiling, Scout grabbed Nick’s hand and pulled him closer. “Nick, this is so incredible. I want you to meet Adam. My stepbrother.”

  “Ex-stepbrother,” Adam corrected, his eyes narrowing as Nick’s arm slid possessively around Scout’s waist.

  “Oh, there’s no such thing.” Scout shook her head emphatically. “There couldn’t be. It would mean too many hyphens, or something. Adam, this is Nick. My husband.”

  “Nick.” Adam extended his hand. “You’re a lucky man. I hope you realize that?”

  Lucy gasped.

  “Ooph,” Dan whispered under his breath. “That’s not too bright.”

  Luckily, Nick held onto his temper… this time. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief as her cousin answered, only a little grimly. “Yes, thanks. I do.”

  And then Scout was introducing her newfound relative to the rest of them; to her and to Dan, to Marsha, to Sam—

  “Sterling? Oh, sure. I’ve heard of you.” Flashing a smile, Adam extended his hand across the table. “You used to run Sterling and Vaughn, right? So you’re living out here in the sticks now? Man, that’s gotta be some change of pace.”

  “Yes,” Sam answered, as the two men shook hands. “But I’m working on a new book, at the moment. So actually, I find the atmosphere here very... conducive.”

  Very smooth, Lucy thought, watching as Adam greeted Gail and Larry. Perfect teeth, perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect suit, perfectly lovely manners. She didn’t trust him an inch.

  “Ahh, Ms. Quinn.” The perfect smile grew even more perfect as Adam took Siobhan’s hand in both of his. “Adam Sasso. We’ve spoken on the phone. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you affrontare.”

  Affrontare? Lucy was momentarily diverted by that. Her Italian wasn’t all that good, but she was pretty sure that meant some kind of confrontation. Or did it just mean face to face? She caught sight of the look on Ryan’s face, and was distracted again. It sure looked like Siobhan had him hooked all right. As usual, Scout’s instincts had been dead on about that. Too bad she was so clueless about so many other things—like the mess she was making right now, for example.

  Scout stood in the narrow space between the tables and stared at her stepbrother in surprise. “Sasso? What’s up with that? Adam, you changed your name?”

  He shrugged. “Actually, I changed it back. Stone was my grandfather’s idea of a proper American name. It was stupid. So when the old man finally died and left me this place, I decided to make a few changes.”

  “Scout,” Lucy interrupted. “Why don’t you sit back down?” She indicated the waiters who were attempting to serve the next course. Soup bowls and salad plates were being exchanged for dishes of gnocchi carbonara or risotto with green garlic and braised endive. “You’re blocking traffic.”

  “Scout?” Adam looked at her inquiringly as he held out her chair.

  Scout smiled. “Oh, that’s right. Something else we have in common. I’ve changed my name, too.”

  “Huh.” Borrowing an empty chair from a neighboring table, Adam squeezed himself in next to Scout. “So you’re going by Scout now? Wow. I don’t know, kid, that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

  “No, it won’t.” Nick swirled some Zinfandel around in his glass and studied the color.

  Adam turned to him. “You speaking from experience, Nick?”

  “Yes.” Nick’s smile was dead cold as he replaced his glass, untasted on the table. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “So how exactly were you two related?” Lucy asked quickly.

  Scout looked at her in surprise. “Well isn’t it obvious? His mother was married to my father. As who wasn’t. It was his fourth marriage and her... third, I think?” She looked to Adam for confirmation.

  “Yeah.” He shook his head sadly. “You would’ve thought they’d have known what they were doing by then, wouldn’t you? But it was probably one of the shortest marriages on the books. A real disaster.”

  Scout sighed. “I suppose it was. I always thought they might have tried a little harder to make a go of it, though, if they hadn’t lost the baby.”

  “Wait,” Lucy said, as things suddenly began to make a little more sense. “Are you saying his mother is the woman in the painting?”

  Scout brightened. “Yes. Oh, and that reminds me, Adam—”

  “The painting?” Adam sounded stunned. “The painting of Mom? You mean you’re the one who… you bought that painting?”

  Scout frowned at him. “Yes, but... how do you know about that? You weren’t at the auction?”

  “No, I had to be out of town. I sent one of my assistants to bid for me. I’ve been kicking myself all week for not giving him carte blanche on the price, but I never dreamed—” He shook his head. “Well, I guess it was a good thing I gave him a spending limit, after all. Otherwise you would have bankrupted me.”

  “Oh, no,” Scout said firmly. “That was never gonna happen. I didn’t know it was you I was bidding against, Adam, but there was no way I’d have let that painting go to a stranger.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.” Lucy speared some gnocchi with he
r fork. “I still can’t get over how much you paid for it.”

  “I told you Lucy, I had no choice. It was a family thing.”

  “Thank you for that,” Adam murmured, and Lucy nearly choked on her gnocchi as he kissed Scout’s cheek. “So, talk to me. Is it as beautiful as I remember?”

  “Yes.” Scout beamed at him. “Oh, Adam, it’s wonderful. You’ll have to come by the house sometime and see it.”

  “Oh, I will.” Smiling, he pushed the chair away from the table and got to his feet. “I definitely will. But right now I have to go back to work. I’ll stop by again later. Enjoy your dinner, everyone.”

  Yeah, right. Lucy glanced briefly at her cousin. Like that was gonna be possible now.

  Dan leaned towards her. “Open up,” he said very softly. She looked at the forkful of endive he held, poised just inches from her mouth; and then at the look in her husband’s eyes. Her gaze locked with his and she smiled. And promptly forgot about everyone else at the table.

  The rest of her family – the rest of creation, in fact – would just have to muddle through on their own for a while. A delicious, warm anticipation crept through Lucy and she opened her mouth.

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  * * * *

  Ryan slid one hand beneath the table to massage the ache in his thigh. On the table in front of him, his plate of chocolate hazelnut torte remained untouched. His gaze traveled around the room. The band had started playing again and people had gotten up to dance. He watched them sourly. He’d counted on being able to dance with Siobhan tonight. Now, with the way his leg was feeling, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. But maybe too much sitting was the problem? He swallowed some of the Semillon that had been served with the cake and considered the idea. His leg was throbbing like a son of a bitch. Maybe if he got up and moved around it would feel better? It was only two days since his last acupuncture treatment, after all. It really shouldn’t be this stiff yet.

  But then, it wasn’t just his leg that was stiff and throbbing tonight, either. He cast another rueful, sidelong glance at the woman seated beside him. Siobhan’s teal blue gown molded her small breasts. The delicate fabric hugged each slender curve and glittered with her every move. Beneath the upswept cloud of red hair, long earrings of beaded peacock feathers brushed against her neck. She looked beautiful; flushed and smiling, more animated than he’d ever seen her. Her eyes and her cheeks shone brighter than the bugle beads that starred her dress. He was aware of a hot twisting sensation deep in his gut; one that owed nothing to the wine he’d been drinking. All night long, his breath had snagged in his throat as he watched her. As she laughed and joked and teased and talked – to everyone but him.

  This was some great date, he thought grumpily, swallowing a little more wine. For all the attention she was showing him, they could have been seated in separate countries.

  Not that she was ignoring him, exactly. When the talk had turned to the subject of the wild dogs, which had been sighted several more times in the past week, she turned to him to corroborate her description of the wounded bobcat. But her eyes had barely grazed his face. And not once had her smile so much as flashed in his direction.

  They were seated close enough for him to catch an occasional hint of her perfume – a spicy, vanilla-cedarwood scent – but if he moved even half an inch closer, she’d automatically shift away. He tried it again now, just to torment himself. His fingers wandered closer, as though absently smoothing invisible creases from the tablecloth, while he pretended to examine the centerpiece.

  It was odd enough to warrant a closer look, he’d give it that. A wreath of deer’s antlers surrounded a glimmering ball of frosted glass, on a bed of dried oak leaves. Tiny crocuses peeked out from among the leaves. Purple, green and gold. Mardi Gras colors, and fitting enough for the season, he supposed, but— Ahh, yes, there we go. She hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction, or seemed to pause in her conversation. Yet now, her hand which had lain relaxed on the table a moment earlier, was fisted in her lap.

  He stared at it moodily. What was it that she and Gail were talking about, anyway, that was so damn interesting? The weather? Oh, yeah, that was fascinating all right. He felt the last, frayed threads of his patience begin to snap.

  “I don’t care what they say, give me an El Nino any year. I mean, did you hear the wind last night?” Gail shook her head as she remembered. “It was awful.”

  “Yeah, that was something wasn’t it?” With one swift, reckless motion, Ryan leaned in towards them. Crowding himself closer to Siobhan. Crashing right through the invisible barrier she’d erected around herself as he waded into their conversation. “My windows were rattling so hard, I thought they’d break. And then my dog started wailing along with it. I didn’t get to sleep ‘til almost morning.”

  She turned towards him, eyes wide, a half-startled expression still frozen on her face.

  But before a word could make it past her lips, Dan’s voice, soft but unexpectedly sonorous broke into the silence. “Ah, have you ever heard, when the storms on the downs began, the wind that will wail like a child and the sea that will moan like a man.”

  “Hmph. That’s one I hadn’t heard before. What’s it from?” Lucy asked, turning to smile at her husband. But Ryan, caught off-guard by Siobhan’s reaction, didn’t even listen to Dan’s response.

  She was trembling. And her face, so bright a moment before, had gone dead white. He covered her hand with his own. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. I... I’m fine,” she answered slowly, like someone who was just waking up. She blinked several times before her eyes finally focused on his hand and then she slid her own hand away. “I just... didn’t get much sleep last night, either. I guess I’m a little tired.”

  Unable to resist the temptation to touch her one more time, he stroked his fingers down her arm. “Siobhan? Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  “Yes! I told you. I just—” Her glance shifted suddenly to his other hand. The one still absently kneading his thigh. She frowned. “What’s wrong with your leg? It’s really bad tonight, isn’t it?”

  “What? No, not at all.” He pulled his hand away from his leg and smiled gamely. “Listen, would you like to dance?”

  Color flooded back into her face. “No,” she answered too quickly, her eyes straying once again to his leg. “Oh, no. Really, Ryan, you don’t have to. I mean, thank you for asking. But I don’t feel like dancing right now. Really, I don’t.” She flashed him one brief, meaningless smile and then turned away again, leaning towards her sister to ask, “So, Marsha, I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you heard from Jasmine since she went back to school?” Tuning him out again as if he were invisible, or even worse, completely inconsequential.

  Scout looked up as Ryan pushed his chair away from the table with a jerky, too-sudden movement, and got to his feet.

  “I need to stretch my legs,” he muttered as if in explanation, but his face was taut with pain. She nodded, smiling encouragement at him. He was such a nice guy. She hoped his leg would get better soon. And she really hoped that things would work out between him and Siobhan. But as he walked away without a single backward glance, Siobhan didn’t even appear to notice. Scout frowned to herself. Maybe she’d been wrong about the two of them after all.

  A glass appeared at her elbow just then, and she looked up, startled as Adam began pouring a sparkling, golden liquid into it. “Oh, Adam, no. I’m not drinking.”

  “Relax, kid.” He arched one eyebrow at her and smiled reproachfully. “Don’t you think I can figure that out? It’s sparkling cider. You know, apple juice? I sent out for it. Just for you. It’s like old times, huh?”

  She smiled at the memory. “Yeah, and as I recall we always claimed we were getting drunk whenever we had too much of this stuff.”

  He nodded as he slid into Ryan’s recently vacated seat. “I’ve given that a lot of thought over the years. I’m guessing it was th
e sugar rush that was making us giddy. Here.” He put the bottle down on the table and pushed the glass towards her. “Salut.”

  “Thanks.” She picked up her glass and took a sip, watching as Adam glanced around the table.

  “So, how’s everything here?” he asked. “Everyone enjoy their dinner, I hope?” He smiled at the general murmur of assent. “Anything else I can get for anyone?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind a cigar, right about now,” Dan said, smiling back at him even as Lucy elbowed him in the ribs. “But other than that—”

  “Ahh.” Adam’s expression conveyed regret. “I’m afraid that’s one of the downsides of this particular location. Normally we store the wine down here, so we can’t have any kind of smoke, you see. No cigars, no baked Alaska, no cherries jubilee or even,” He gestured towards the centerpiece. “Real candles on the tables.”

  “But I tell you what,” He smiled again, his gaze taking in the whole table. “I’m hosting another dinner this summer – six months from tonight, in fact – to coincide with the balloon fest. I’d love to have you all come back then as my guests. And since the weather will be warmer, I plan to have a wine bar set up on the terrace. We can have cigars out there. I might even break out some of the brandy which my grandfather put away forty years ago.” He turned to Scout, his gaze eager. “What do you think, Jen? Does that sound good to you?”

  She smiled at him. “It sounds wonderful, Adam. But tell me something. Was I ever here before? Something about this place seems so familiar. But I don’t recall coming here as a child. Do you?”

  His smile disappeared and he looked away for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t spend all that much time here myself, you know. Not that I care to remember, anyway. My grandfather was such a miserable tyrant.” When he turned back to face her she was surprised by the strange, almost savage look that gleamed in his eyes. “I don’t think you ever realized how lucky you were to have someone like your father, did you?”