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

by P. G. Forte

  “Oh, no? My mistake, then. I thought you had.” His other hand was at her waist and there was a gentleness in his touch that was entirely absent from his voice. “Perhaps you just meant that you preferred another partner. Was that it, Siobhan? Or didn’t I ask correctly?”

  She felt her eyes narrow. “Tell me something, Ryan. Are you trying to be obnoxious tonight?” She was practically snarling with frustration as her mind persisted in its imaginings, now urging her to consider the thought of his other hand moving lower, leaving her waist to wander slowly down over her hip. Those long, warm fingers curving as they slid lower still to cup her butt. Then tightening on her, pulling her closer...

  He looked startled. “No.” He shook his head. “No, I wasn’t...” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Oh, just forget it,” she said with a sigh as she looked away from him. Trying to catch her breath. Trying to quell the desire to melt up against him, put her head on his shoulder, close her eyes and...

  “Was I really being awful?” he asked after a moment, his voice quietly apologetic.

  She looked at him again, wishing she could just tell him yes and walk away. But his eyes were pleading for understanding and walking away was not what she wanted to do. “No, you weren’t awful.”

  He studied her expression for a moment and then, just as though he’d read her thoughts, he placed her hand on his shoulder and wrapped both arms around her. His hands urged her closer. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

  Half a dozen short words. Yet his voice, dark and rich, smooth as melted chocolate, rolled through her in a warm, unstoppable wave. Her eyes closed. She breathed him deep into her lungs and for just a moment she let herself go.

  What are you doing? The voice of reason shrieked in her head. Her eyes flew open. “Please,” she whispered, practically struggling for breath. “Ryan, I— I’d like to sit down now.”

  “What?” He raised his head to stare at her. “Oh, come on, not yet? I promise. I won’t say another word, if that’s—”

  “No! It’s not that. It’s just— look, it’s too hot in here, for one thing. I can’t breathe.”

  “Hot?” He stopped moving and looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Siobhan, look around you. We’re in a cave, sweetheart. A wine cellar. This is the closest most people will ever get to dancing in a refrigerator. How can you possibly be too hot?”

  “I don’t care if we’re dancing on the deck of the friggin’ Titanic,” she informed him through clenched teeth, holding onto her temper with everything she had. “Don’t tell me how I’m feeling, damn it!”

  He looked at her for a moment longer, and then he shook his head. “Fine. Have it your way. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and turned quickly, probably twisting his leg again, she thought, as she heard him curse beneath his breath.

  And just where are we going now? she wondered, as she was tugged through the crowd in his wake. They weren’t headed back to the table, that much was clear.

  “Ryan, this is stupid. Where are we—”

  “Someplace cooler. Okay?” he said over his shoulder, practically pulling her off her feet.

  Cooler? Oh, terrific. She sighed, resigning herself to this new madness, and concentrated on not losing a shoe on the way to wherever cooler might be.

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  * * * *

  Ryan pushed his way through one of the sets of glass doors he’d noticed earlier in the evening, dragging Siobhan after him into the dark tunnel that waited beyond. The smell of wine was stronger here, heady and intoxicating. And the air, as he’d hoped it would be, was a good ten degrees cooler.

  The doors swung shut behind them. The music was much fainter now, but enough of the bluesy Latin beat still filtered in through the glass for them to dance. He pulled her back into his arms quickly, before she had time to object.

  “We’d better keep moving,” he told her. “Don’t want to have to worry about getting hypothermia again.”

  She looked faintly annoyed, but she didn’t complain, so he pulled her a little closer.

  “I just want to dance with you, Siobhan,” he murmured into her hair. “That’s all. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

  She clung to him, saying nothing. Encouraged by her silence, he let his hands drift lower. He sighed with pleasure and relief when, finally, he felt her relax against him. Locked in each other’s arms they moved as one through the intimate, dark confines of the tunnel. Their hips rocking in unison, bodies swaying in time to the music.

  After several minutes he lifted his head and smiled at her. “Now, isn’t this better?”

  She stared back at him; her eyes wide and helpless, her fingers crushing the fabric of his jacket. Her breath was a ragged sigh as she answered him, “No.” The single word came out as a whisper. She shook her head, a jerky, uncertain motion. He stopped moving again, practically flattened by the heat that was suddenly everywhere around them.

  Was that what she meant? He wondered, feeling like an idiot for not considering it sooner. That kind of hot?

  “I promised myself,” he told her, his heart pounding. “Earlier this week... I swore that I’d take it slow from here on in. That I’d stop rushing you like I’ve been doing. That I’d give us both some time. But... I honestly... don’t think I can do that anymore.”

  He lowered his head again and kissed her, very gently. He felt her lips tremble against his own. His head was spinning as he pulled away from her. “Siobhan,” he whispered, staring at her face; cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes closed.

  Her eyes slitted open, her hand slid up around his neck to cup the back of his head. She pulled him back down to her. He kissed her again, harder this time, groaning when he felt her tongue tease his. Her fingers twisting in his hair incinerated the last vestiges of his restraint.

  He crowded her up against the wall, caging her there while his mouth plundered hers. His hands skimmed over her body, touching her through the thin material of her dress. She moaned his name against his lips. Her body writhed beneath his hands and he dragged his mouth away from hers, burying his face in her hair, inhaling her fragrance.

  “God, I love the way you smell,” he murmured. “And your hair. And the taste of you. And the way you feel. And, oh... just... everything. I love everything about you.”

  “Ryan. Oh, God. Please. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because it feels so damn good,” he muttered leaning in to capture her mouth again.

  “No.” She pushed him away. “No, stop it. Stop! I— I can’t.”

  He lifted his head again, startled, as she struggled suddenly against him. “Siobhan?”

  “I can’t, Ryan,” she repeated. “I just... I can’t do this with you. I won’t do it! Let me go.”

  His hands dropped away from her, and she twisted free of him and ran. The glass doors swung wildly, back and forth and then hung still. Leaving him alone in the dark and the cold to face the terrible truth.

  There couldn’t be any mistaking what had just happened here. It didn’t matter that she liked him as a friend or a co-worker, or that – clearly – she was as attracted to him as he was to her. None of it meant a God damn thing. Because it was equally clear that she had no intention of acting on that attraction. And however much he wanted her, that didn’t matter, either. Because, if the way she’d just run out of here was any indication, he was never gonna have her.

  * * * *

  Marsha knelt before the hearth in the old cabin and watched as the fire she’d lit caught flame. Five festivals she’d celebrated here since Celeste’s death. But this had been the hardest. Imbolg, honoring the goddess Brihid was primarily a women’s festival, after all. And tonight she was the only woman present. The only person, really, since she’d banished Sam from the room while she worked.

  Not that she hadn’t been aware of him, of course.
Just as she usually was. A short while earlier he’d been listening to music. Despite the headphones he’d been using the music had poured from his head into hers, as surely as if it were her ears that were hearing it. Shawn Colvin’s Cover Girl album – one of Celeste’s favorites – an eclectic collection of everything from a remake of the Sting classic, Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic, to Dylan’s You’re Gonna make Me Lonesome When You Go. Which between them, pretty much summed up the way she was feeling tonight.

  She tried to stay focused. Tried to clear her mind and concentrate. She tried so hard to visualize Brihid’s presence here tonight; to feel her light and her love filling the cabin. But what she felt instead was an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. An all-encompassing sadness.

  In the midst of life we are in death. The words of the funeral rite crept through her mind. That just said it all, didn’t it?

  She had never known a season where so much joy and so much sadness were combined, entwined, enjoined with one another. Just like at the dinner tonight. Brightness and beauty and an overwhelming sense of wrongness had met – like two waves, cresting and crashing against each other – almost canceling each other out.

  Everything was going awry it seemed, everywhere she looked. Everybody’s joy was tempered by despair. And even though no one had asked for her help, even though she knew the dangers of meddling, she couldn’t resist making the effort to fix things. Just a little.

  Kneeling now before the fire with the birch wand she’d prepared earlier in her hands, she focused her intention on the flames in front of her as she prayed for her friends and her loved ones.

  That their lives might be made bright with love and passion, their hearts radiant with heat.

  That the shadows she’d been sensing, the clouds that hung over all their heads, might soon depart.

  She called upon every power she could think of. And then for good measure, she visualized the four winds rising up and blowing forth. Clearing the air of sadness and cleansing them all of their grief.

  And then, with her intention focused, with everything she wished to bring into being held firmly in her mind, she reached her hands down to the ground. She felt the energy of The Mother well up and encompass her, filling her until she could hold no more. Then she lifted her hands to the sky, releasing the powers she had raised.

  It washed through her in waves. Like an endless spiraling coil of smoke it curled upwards. Carrying her prayers along with it. Sending her hopes and her wishes out into the ether.

  Marsha slumped in exhaustion as she felt herself return to normal consciousness. She sat quietly for a few minutes, her eyes resting on the corn doll that lay in its bed on the hearth. The symbol of the Goddess.

  She sighed. It had been awhile since she’d channeled that much power – and never alone. Finally, she took up the wand again. She offered her blessings to Brihid, and her thanks. And then she laid the wand on the fire, completing the ceremony.

  Slowly, she rose to her feet. She felt better – a little more calm and centered, anyway – as she went about the room, pinching out the candles she had lit. She took a moment to make sure the door was locked and the cabin secure before she went into the bedroom.

  She paused just inside the bedroom door. Sam had fallen asleep waiting for her. The warm light from the lamp on the night table illuminated his face. Marsha felt her heart melt as she stared in helpless fascination at the man she’d tried so hard not to fall in love with.

  Sam opened his eyes and smiled at her drowsily. “Hey. You coming to bed soon?”

  She nodded, moving slowly across the room. Maybe they should talk about what was happening between them. Maybe she should just ask him straight out what had gone wrong. But what if the answer was one she didn’t like? Something she couldn’t do anything to fix. Or, worse yet, something she could fix, but shouldn’t. She sent one, last, brief prayer heavenward as she reached the bed.

  Please let me have this, she prayed. I love him so much. Please, let him love me back. For just a little while longer.

  His eyes gleamed in the lamplight as he reached for her and pulled her down beside him. And she smiled as she went to him. But in her mind, she could still hear Shawn Colvin’s voice crooning its warning, you’re gonna make me lonesome when you go.

  * * * *

  Nick stood in the darkened living room studying the painting propped against the wall. The room was not really small, but the painting was so large it pretty much dwarfed everything around it.

  His senses tingled a pleasant warning, a moment later he felt Scout come up behind him. Her arms slid around his waist and she rested her head against his shoulder.

  He gestured at the painting. “Where are you going to put it?”

  Scout sighed. “I’m still not sure. I suppose I’ll have to rearrange some things.”

  Yeah. That’s what he was afraid of, all right. He finally had his life just the way he wanted it. So now, of course she’d want to go and change things. Shit.

  She looked at him curiously. “You’re not upset about tonight, are you?”

  “Why should I be upset?”

  “Well... I don’t know. You shouldn’t be!” She fell silent for a little while, and then she added, “You don’t know what it’s like, Nick. You’ve always been able to count on your family. You’ve always known they’d be there for you, no matter what. That they loved you. And... and you’ve never lost any of them. You can’t possibly understand what it’s like for me, finding Adam again after all these years.”

  “Huh.” Nick shook his head. “I guess you’re right. I can’t understand. There’s only one person my whole life I’ve ever loved and lost. You.”

  “That was different.”

  “Must be,” he agreed, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. “Because I don’t seem to recall you throwing yourself at me when we first found each other again, either.”

  That wasn’t fair and he knew it, but it was the way he was feeling tonight. He watched her eyes squeeze shut, as if the memory pained her.

  “No,” she murmured, after a while. “No, I was a little too busy passing out from the shock of it, wasn’t I?” When her eyes opened they were bright with tears. She moved around to stand in front of him, slid her arms around his neck, and angled her chin at him. “But I sure did the next night. Or don’t you remember that part?”

  What’s wrong with me? he wondered, as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Why did he want to keep pushing her, testing her. Why was he all of a sudden doubting her love for him? It was the only thing he’d prayed for – for pretty much half his life. And now... why couldn’t he just accept it?

  “No, hon, I haven’t forgotten.” But what he was remembering as he bent his head to kiss her, were all the lonely years that had gone before. Her arms tightened around his neck and she pressed herself closer. He’d sworn once he’d found her again, once he’d gotten her back, that he’d never let anything come between them. And if that meant keeping his mouth shut and his eyes closed, then that’s just what he’d do.

  “And what I also remember about that night,” he said smiling into her eyes as his hands went to work on the zipper of her gown. “Is that we made it all the way upstairs to your room. Somehow…I don’t think we’re gonna make it there this time.”

  * * * *

  “You know, I really like this couch,” Scout said very much later, as they lay there together, their clothes tangled around them. “But I swear it used to be bigger.”

  “No. It’s just that you used to be thinner,” Nick replied, yawning in pleasant exhaustion.

  She laughed and twisted her head around to look at him. “Oh, yeah? Well whose fault is that?” Nick quickly slid his arm around her to keep her from toppling off the couch.

  “Guilty as charged.” He smiled and fell silent again as he thought about the family they were making together. “I’m glad you found your brother again, Scout. Really. But I guess I’ve just gotten spoiled these last few months.
I kinda got used to the idea that I was your family now.”

  “Oh, Nick.” She sat up and stared at him. “You are my family! You’re the most important person in the world to me. Don’t you ever forget that.”

  He pulled her back down to him again. “There’s one thing you really ought to have learned about me and my family by now, Scout.” He captured her mouth in another kiss, felt his passion begin to stir again. His arms closed around her, claiming her once more. “We don’t ever forget anything.”

  * * * *

  “No, I do not think it was perfectly understandable,” Dan argued, as he and Lucy got ready for bed. “There was no reason your cousin had to go crazy like that tonight. And you know it.”

  Lucy looked at him in the mirror as she finished brushing her teeth. “That’s just the way it is with jealousy, Dan. You don’t have to have a reason for it to feel like you’ve eaten liquid concrete and the stuff is turning to stone in your gut. Or like you’re in a room where all the oxygen is being pumped out. All of a sudden, you can’t breathe and—”

  “Is this still about your cousin?” he asked, coldly. “Or are we talking about someone else now? Like you perhaps?”

  She rinsed out her mouth and walked back towards the bed. “I’m not a stranger to the emotion, if that’s what you mean.”

  No kidding. He sighed heavily as he turned down the bedclothes. “Lucy, why are you doing this? You have no reason to be jealous. You haven’t had any reason to feel that way in... years! Shit, decades almost.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not the kind of thing you can just forget about, Dan. Even if it has been... awhile.”

  “You mean you can’t forget about it, don’t you?” He stared at her moodily. “Well, this is wonderful. So, I suppose you’re going to hold a little bit of flirting against me forever? Sixteen years of marriage counts for nothing with you? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “No, you know that’s not what I’m saying Dan.” She climbed into bed beside him and he reached for her. “It’s just... well, you can’t tell me you don’t ever find other women attractive, now can you? And even if you never act on that attraction. It doesn’t mean you don’t want to.”