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

by P. G. Forte

“Yes, there’s a problem,” he shouted, so loudly that the windows shook. “With you, there is always a problem. What the fuck did you do to the car?”

  Oh. That. Frowning, she went back to fiddling with the machine’s controls. “I ran into a little mud,” she admitted with a small shrug.

  “Mud,” he repeated, his voice suddenly too quiet. “Where? What mud?”

  She set her teeth. “It’s not that big a deal, you know. I already called the insurance company, and we’re covered. So, don’t worry about it.”

  “But where—”

  “I was checking out some sites for my bee hives, and I know you don’t want to hear about that, so let’s just drop it, okay?”

  “The bee hives.” He sounded like he was about to choke as he swallowed another curse. “Where were you—”

  “Oh, a bunch of places,” she said, risking another look at his face. “Listen, this is really interesting, Dan. Did you know that raw honey can be used as a homeopathic remedy for pollen based allergies? Even asthma.”

  “Lucy...”

  “Just one tablespoon a day. The thing is though, it has to be harvested from an area that has vegetation similar to what the person taking the remedy has been exposed to. So, as you can imagine, what with all the micro-climates around here and all the different eco-systems and everything, I—”

  “Where?” The word emerged as a roar.

  Lucy threw down the screwdriver she’d been using and sprang to her feet. She folded her arms tightly across her chest and leveled her coolest gaze at him, daring him to make something of it. “Diluvio Canyon. Okay?”

  His face went white and he sagged against one of the packing crates that filled the shed. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Lucy... what happened?”

  She shrugged, ignoring the faint guilt that pricked at her conscience. “Nothing. There was just a little more water than I’d expected coming off the ridge, that’s all. And I, uh... I slid. A little.”

  “You slid.” His voice was as blank as his face. “Into what?”

  She looked at him in amazement. “Well, into the canyon wall, of course. What else is there to slide into, Dan? I obviously didn’t slide off the cliff, now did I?” He was still staring blankly at her, so she hurried to reassure him. “Look, don’t worry. The car’s fine. Really. I mean, other than the fender and, you know, the door. But hey, it still drives, right? And the insurance will take care of the rest, so just relax. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack if you keep getting worked up like this. And then where will I be?”

  “Relax? Lucy, you could have been killed!”

  “Yeah, well. I wasn’t.” She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you.” But he continued to stare at her, his expression bleak, and finally she sighed. “Dan, come on. I’m fine. Really. Lighten up, huh?”

  “Fine. Right. Jesus.” Dan shook his head. If he had a dollar for every time she’d said she was fine – right after she’d taken another ten years off his life – he’d be a wealthy man. Aged, of course, but rich as Croesus. He felt dazed and confused and hopelessly in love with her. Which, if he thought about it, pretty much summed up his state of mind for most of the past nineteen years.

  Nineteen years marred by just a few small dark spots. Some minor aberrations. A couple of mistakes. But he didn’t want to think about any of those right now.

  Not now, and not ever.

  A cold thrill of fear ran through him. That was his problem, wasn’t it? He never wanted to think about them. He didn’t want to think about them, or talk about them. And he sure as shit did not want to discuss them with his wife. Except... he’d have to, wouldn’t he? At some point?

  He sighed wearily and let his eyes drift around the shed. It was crammed with boxes and crates and all sorts of unfamiliar equipment. He frowned. “Luce... what is all this stuff? What the hell are you doing out here now?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Honestly, Dan, don’t you ever listen to a thing I say? I told you last week that I needed a place to set up all my beekeeping equipment.” She flipped open the lid of the cylindrical stainless steel object she’d been fooling around with when he’d first come in. “See? This is the extractor. You put the honey frames in here, and then it spins around and—”

  Bees. Shit. What in God’s name would the woman think of next? “Jesus Christ, Babe. What the hell d’you wanna fool around with bees for? You’re just gonna end up getting stung!”

  Her eyes flashed with annoyance at the interruption. But then, without warning, he saw a spark of amusement catch fire there. She looked at him. A familiar tightness squeezed his chest. A slow smile curled her lips and he was a goner.

  “Stung, Cavanaugh?” As she sauntered closer, he felt the tightness spread lower. “Is that supposed to frighten me?”

  He leaned back against the crate, widening his stance a little to alleviate the sudden snugness in his jeans and affecting a casual attitude. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at her. “I don’t know... does it?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Not even close.”

  “I guess you’re not afraid of much, are you?” Too true, a voice in his head insisted on adding. He sighed as a little of his good mood washed away again. But she didn’t seem to notice.

  She looked at him, eyebrows elevated in mock surprise. “I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you mean.”

  Yeah, no kidding. A faint smile touched his lips. “Oh, no? Well, maybe you should be.”

  “Well, maybe you... should make me.” Her eyes grew dark. “So, tell me, Cavanaugh, if I did get stung, you wouldn’t wanna kiss it and make it better?”

  He let his gaze drift slowly and deliberately over her. He heard her breath catch in her throat, watched the flush that spread up her neck and over her cheeks.

  They’d never done it in this shed. His heart pounded harder as he thought about it. The office. The employee restroom. Out in the fields, of course, and in several of the greenhouses as well. But not in here. Not yet. Not until right now. “Well, I suppose that would depend, wouldn’t it? Exactly where would you need to be kissed?”

  She shrugged and moved closer, her voice dropping seductively. “Don’t know. It could be almost... anywhere.”

  He reached for her, his hands closing on her waist as he drew her to him. He pulled her shirt over her head with one swift, practiced motion and she pressed herself closer; her arms snaking up around his neck, even as his hand slid into the gap at the back of her jeans. A small moan escaped her lips just before his mouth came down on hers. At the first taste of her, he forgot all about the darkness and the worry, and the guilt which had been shredding his soul to ribbons. He forgot about anything and everything else entirely, and thought only of her.

  After a long, sweet moment, he dragged his mouth away from hers to ask, “And what happens if I can’t find the right spot?”

  Warm laughter erupted from her lips. Her eyes danced. “Well, then I guess, you’ll just have to keep searching for it, won’t you?”

  “Mm,” he murmured as he settled her even more closely against him and took possession of her mouth once more. “I guess maybe I will.”

  * * * *

  “I still don’t understand why you want to mess around with all this bee crap,” Dan said, a good while later, as he re-stacked the crates that had been knocked over. Lucy stopped fussing with her clothes long enough to shoot him one piercing glance. For a moment he thought she was on the verge of speaking. But then she appeared to change her mind again.

  She shrugged as she went back to pulling on her clothing. “Why not? Everyone needs a hobby.”

  A hobby? Yeah, right. The woman needed another hobby about as badly as he needed another child. The vagrant thought crept up out of nowhere and snagged him. Destroying in an instant all the warm satisfaction he’d been feeling. He frowned. “Have you talked to Marsha about this idea?”

  She looked up at him again, surprise etched on every feature. “Marsha? Why would I have to talk
to her?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought—” I just thought she might know why the idea scares the shit out of me. He couldn’t understand it himself. He was not a timid man, but for some reason, every time he thought of it – thought of Lucy and bees together – it put him in a cold sweat. “I just thought maybe you would have, that’s all.”

  It frightened him even more than the other did, which made no sense at all. He would think it a premonition if he believed himself capable of such things. She was still watching him. Frowning at him. He shook his head. “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? Just forget I mentioned it.”

  She frowned harder. “Forget it? How the hell am I supposed to forget it, Dan?”

  The last of the warmth he’d been feeling was blasted away by sudden fury. “Oh, that’s right. Christ, how stupid of me. You Grecos never forget anything, huh? Every mistake. Every false step. Shit, you never let anyone else forget either, do you? And the way you hold onto grudges, Jesus, Lucy... it’s as if they were your last breath!”

  “Is that so?” Her voice was as cold as the stainless steel vat she leaned her hip against as she crossed her arms and glared at him.

  He glared right back. Afraid he’d said too much. More afraid that he’d never get the chance to say anything else. Never get the opportunity to just... explain things to her. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared at her.

  She dropped her eyes. She nudged at a couple of Styrofoam peanuts with the toe of her shoe. “Well, Cavanaugh, as fascinating as your insight into my psyche may be, I’m really very busy here. So why don’t you just run along now, and let me get back to work, hmm?”

  “Shit,” he muttered, giving up – just like the coward that he was – and all but running for the door. He heard it slam behind him as he stormed back across the yard towards the building which housed his office. His feet crunched loudly on the gravel sending a flock of sparrows into startled flight. The weeds at the edge of the yard swayed as a gust of wind hit them. Then the rain began again.

  Well, that was great. That was just fan-fucking-tastic, is what that was. He couldn’t so much as open his mouth now, without putting himself in even deeper shit. He took no notice of the raindrops that pattered all around him. He should just make up his mind not to talk at all, until he’d figured out what he should say. He should just keep his big mouth shut until... ? His footsteps slowed as he thought about that. Until what? He’d been dancing around the issue for a long time now. Perhaps it was time he stopped. Perhaps it was time he took some steps to end this game he’d been forced to play.

  He wasn’t going to take the chance of ruining his marriage over something that wasn’t even true. But what could he do? He needed to think some more about that, and he couldn’t do it here. He veered abruptly towards the parking lot. The rain fell harder, faster, but he still paid no mind to it. If Lucy noticed that his car was missing she might wonder where he’d gone, but he’d seen her in this mood before. She’d be too proud to ask. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too goddamned rigid. And for once, he thought with grim amusement; for once that would work out just fine.

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  * * * *

  Chapter Twenty Four

  * * * *

  Siobhan sat on the floor in front of her fireplace, watching as the flames slowly devoured Selke’s collar. When the acrid smell of burning leather grew too strong and threatened to choke her, she tossed another handful of myrrh onto the logs and watched as a pall of fragrant smoke rose from the melting resin. The heat from the fire was warm against her face, but did nothing to dispel the insidious spread of frost through her heart, blighting and blackening everything it touched. Outside, the wind whipped through the trees and she flinched at every creak and moan. It was dark and getting darker still, as night and yet another storm made their approach.

  Lying on the floor at her side, Ryan’s dog whined. It was such an anxious, strange sound, it made her wonder if the dog was not part wolf. Not that it looked like anything but pure Irish setter, of course, but things were not always as they appeared.

  The dog.

  Damn it, what was wrong with the man that he couldn’t even name her? It shouldn’t be so hard. Certainly there were a lot of names that would fit. If the dog was hers, she knew just what she’d call it, as a matter of fact. But it wasn’t her dog.

  She picked a chew toy out of the small pile on the floor and threw it in beside the collar. She didn’t have a dog and she wouldn’t be naming anything anymore.

  The setter pushed its cold, wet nose against her hand and whimpered softly. “I know, sweetie. Me, too.” She laid one hand on the dog’s head. It was surprisingly warm. Or was it just that her hands were cold?

  Probably he just didn’t want to commit that much emotion to it. If you named something you gave it more than a label; you gave it a weight and a substance. And a place in your life. You gave it a value that it might otherwise not have had. Like calling something love, when all you really felt was need.

  I love you. She supposed she should be grateful. At least this time he hadn’t run when she used the words. This time, they’d been wrung from her lips in the hot depths of a passion the likes of which she’d never known... and he hadn’t responded at all.

  She stroked her trembling fingers through the dog’s soft coat again. How typical. Wasn’t it just like a man, to react that way? She couldn’t imagine why she’d expected anything else from him. Every man she’d ever known had been a coward when it came to emotions. They ran from birth and death – and from love as well – as though their feet were on fire and their souls were at risk. That’s why women had the babies, wasn’t it?

  And why they sang the dirges.

  Her eyes strayed back to the little tin box clutched in her hand. The box she’d received from the crematorium. Selke. She’d made all the arrangements last week and then, amazingly, she’d forgotten about them. Finding the ashes in the mailbox this afternoon had come as a shock, as had the tears she’d shed over them. She was surprised by how upset she’d been, and still was. It was as if an ugly black pit had opened at her feet. Her reaction left her fearful and furious.

  She took her hand from the dog’s flank long enough to feed another chew toy to the fire. This was all Ryan’s fault. He had done this to her. Loving him – no. Needing him – had left her vulnerable to feelings she’d almost succeeded in forgetting existed. Emotions which had lain submerged in the iciest, darkest depths of her soul were resurfacing now, bringing with them all the pain and craziness she’d hoped never to feel again.

  She hadn’t wanted to feel this way about him. She hadn’t wanted to be in love with anyone. Twice before she’d fallen and it had come close to destroying her. Would this third time be the charm that broke the spell that she was under? Or was it she who would break?

  And what would she risk to find out?

  She turned her head at the sound of the front door opening. Ryan stood framed in the doorway, a frown creasing his forehead. “What’s it gonna take, anyway, before you start locking this door?” he asked. She watched as his eyes narrowed and his expression changed to one of concern. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and went back to watching the nylon bone as it bubbled and charred. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  He came to stand beside her. His dog looked up at him, wriggling out from beneath Siobhan’s hand to beg for his attention, tail thumping a welcome against the hardwood floor. “What’s going on then?”

  Siobhan shook her head again, her eyes still on the fire. “Not too much. How was your day?”

  The dog whined again, and pawed at Ryan’s leg. He lowered himself to a half crouch, and rested one hand on the setter’s back. “All right, I guess. What’s in the box?”

  Her heart lurched at the unexpected tenderness in his tone and she had to blink as smoke tore at her eyes. “Selke.” Her voice came out too flat, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Therapy go okay?” She picked up the lamb’s wool cat from the floor be
side her.

  “I didn’t have therapy today. I was— What?” He grabbed her hand before she could toss the cat into the fire. “Wait, what are you doing?”

  Wrenching her hand free of him, she shot him an angry look. “Playing twenty questions with you, I guess. Is there going to be a lot more of it, by the way? Because I’m really not in the mood right now.”

  “Did something go on here today that I don’t know about?”

  She gritted her teeth. “I told you, nothing—”

  “Siobhan.”

  Once more, his voice compelled her and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Bright as the sky, they were, and warm as the summer sun. If she could only fly to him. If she could only steal a little of the warmth she was sure he’d give her... but no. No, like Icarus if she got too close he would melt through all her defenses. Her heart would break, her wings would fall to pieces and she’d drop, just like a stone, into the cold dark sea. She thrust the box into his hands. “Here. Take a look, if you want. It’s really fascinating when you think about it.”

  She got to her feet and swept the rest of the toys into the hearth basket. She could finish this later. When she was alone. “I’m thinking I might teach a unit on it next year. All about the chemical composition of bodies and how everything organic eventually breaks down and is decomposed. Of course, it would probably fall more under the heading of Chemistry than Biology, but that’s all right. I’ve been feeling kind of stale lately, anyway. I think maybe I need something new.”

  Ryan stared at the ashes and fragments of bone in the box she’d given him. Ah, shit. Her dog. So that’s what she meant. He shot a look at her as she stood staring into the fire; she looked so lost and lonely it made his heart ache. Damn it, he should have been expecting this. He’d thought she was taking the dog’s death a little too casually. He should have figured the reaction was just delayed. But at least now he knew the reason for her strange behavior tonight.

  At least the cold fury in her gaze had not been put there by something he’d done.