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

by P. G. Forte

  How long would it take her to fall? And how was it possible that it was his hand that had dealt the fatal blow?

  But if she really hadn’t known—? Oh, Jesus. She needed him. He let go of her hands and tried to pull her into his arms, but she shrank away from him gathering her blanket like armor around her.

  “Get out,” she whispered, her face was still pale and blank, but her eyes were blazing now with something that didn’t look like need at all. In fact, it looked a whole hell of a lot like loathing to him.

  He stared at her in surprise. Surely she didn’t mean that? “Siobhan? Honey?”

  “Get out of here, Ryan. Now!” Her voice was quiet, but it vibrated with certainty. “I want you away from me. Far away.”

  “No. I- Look, let me stay. I want to help you.”

  “You’ve done enough,” she said bitterly, and her voice, like her eyes, was flat and cold. “More than enough.”

  “I can’t leave you alone like this,” he said just as flatly. “If you really didn’t know – you could be in danger.”

  She looked away from him. “You can’t leave me alone? Oh, please. Since when, Ryan? You didn’t have a problem with it for the last two days, did you? Anyway, I don’t believe you. I think you’re wrong... about everything. Even if you are right, I was alone for ten years before you came along, you know. And I was just fine.”

  “No, I don’t think you were,” he said, leaning in closer, his hands on her knees. She flinched at his touch, but refused to look at him. “I don’t think you were ever alone. I think he’s been here the whole time. Watching you and… and I don’t think you were so fine, either, if… Christ, Siobhan, you had to know something was going on! You couldn’t be that stupid!”

  She turned to him at last, and this time it was he who flinched as the impact of her gaze struck his heart. Hatred glittered, cold and hard in her eyes, and her voice was as venomous as any he’d ever heard. “Get out. Or I’ll call the station and have you arrested for... oh, I don’t know, trespassing. Or assault. Or something even worse.”

  He stumbled to his feet, defeated. He had no doubt she’d do just what she said. And no doubt, too, about how it would end if she did. It would end badly. For both of them.

  “Siobhan...” he tried once again, but her gaze was implacable. He felt his shoulders sag. “Okay, look. Just don’t answer the door tonight, okay? Don’t let anybody in, and if you hear anything suspicious – or see anything – call my cell phone. I’ll talk to you in the morning,” he said, as he turned and headed from the room.

  If she made any attempt at an answer, he didn’t hear it.

  The rain was falling harder now. As Ryan left the center, he made sure the door was locked behind him. It was going to be a long night, he thought. And a cold and miserable one, seated in his car ‘til morning. But what other choice was there?

  He had to do something to protect her. And even this might not be enough. But then, it seemed as though nothing he thought to do ever was.

  * * * *

  Nick pulled his car into the long circular drive that bisected the front lawn of Scout’s house. He sighed as he once again recalled the many sleepless nights he’d passed parked on the street in front of it, longing for her return.

  Would the memory of those bleak years ever fade? Would he ever stop feeling like a beggar at the gates?

  He glanced up at the house through the rain covered windshield. It was a nice house. Big and comfortable. Solid. Enduring. A perfect house to raise a family in. The kind of house they could never have afforded on his salary. He should just be grateful for his good fortune, and stop feeling sorry for himself.

  He frowned as his headlights illuminated the silver Porsche parked in the drive. New. Very new, he thought registering the dealer plates. A very nice, very new, very expensive car. And he had no idea who it belonged to. Or what it was doing parked in her driveway. Especially on a Friday evening when they were supposed to be going away for the Valentine’s Day weekend.

  Valentine’s Day. He put his hand to his jacket pocket, feeling for the box that held her necklace, waiting for the warm thrill of anticipation to steal through him. But that damn car had dampened the enthusiasm he’d been feeling for weeks, whenever he contemplated tonight.

  He peered again at the Porsche. Damn, but it was something, wasn’t it? It was the kind of car he’d always dreamed of owning. Gorgeous, expensive and fast. Just like Scout herself. Nick smiled as he imagined just how little she’d like that description.

  But like it or not, it was true. Which probably also meant that she belonged more with the kind of guy who owned a car like that, than she ever did with him.

  The owner of that car, whoever he was, could give her things. Expensive things. Things that Nick would never be able to afford. Things she could very well buy for herself, he supposed – if she even wanted them.

  If he were honest, most of things he was thinking about seemed to be not what she wanted for herself, but that he wanted for her.

  Resisting the impulse to unwrap the necklace for another look, he got out of his car. He’d been keeping the necklace at the station, since he could think of no place safer. And also, because he didn’t want the housekeeper Scout had insisted on hiring – or Scout herself – to find it.

  Not that she was likely to find it. His new wife avoided housework like the plague. And she made no bones about it, either. Still, she might have stumbled across it, if her nesting instincts kicked in early. Lauren’s certainly had, after all.

  As he caressed the Porsche’s gleaming fender, Nick’s thoughts strayed to his ex-wife’s pregnancy. Lauren’s instincts had gone into overdrive practically before the test results were back. She’d spent the rest of the nine months reorganizing their entire household. Of course, mostly what she seemed to want was to organize him right out of the house. And he’d been happy to oblige. Hell, he’d been more than happy, he’d been relieved and ecstatic. ‘Cause by then, it was clear to him that being married to Lauren, and having a child with her, were the last things he could possibly want.

  Not that he didn’t love his daughter, of course. Out of all the dark years of Scout’s absence, he counted Kate’s birth as the single bright spot; the only thing that had made his life even slightly bearable. But it was hardly enough.

  He peered into the car’s interior, aware of a growing irritation out of all proportion to the facts. Sure he was anxious to get the weekend started. And sure he wanted to be alone with Scout – he generally did, after all. But he was the one who was coming home late from work again. As she probably could have guessed he would. And if she chose not to spend her evenings alone, waiting for him, he had no right to complain.

  But knowing that made absolutely no difference to the way he was feeling. Just like knowing he had no reason to feel jealous didn’t stop that, either. In the last two weeks... well, he’d just been insane, that’s all.

  Ever since the night of the dinner, he’d been obsessed with thoughts of everything that he would never be able to give her. And almost convinced of her intention to leave him at the earliest opportunity – an idea that was so crazy, he couldn’t even talk to anyone about it.

  They were living in her house, and she was carrying his child. She wasn’t going anywhere. And she damn well knew it.

  Still, if he could have gotten away with sticking one of those electronic security bracelets on her ankle, he would have done it. In a heartbeat.

  Turning away from the car with a heavy heart, he started up the stairs. The house was quiet when he entered. There was a watchful silence that set his teeth on edge, for no reason he could name.

  Of course it would be quiet, he thought, trying to shake off the irritation he was feeling. This late, she would have already dropped Kate and the dog off at Lucy’s house. Hell, she might even have fallen asleep. So, why was he bothered by the quiet?

  It took him a moment to identify the source of his uneasiness. That car in the drive. Shit, that had to mean company, d
idn’t it? And if she had company – and there was no reason why she shouldn’t – then there should be sounds. There should be the murmur of voices. Or of laughter even.

  What were they doing that they were doing it so quietly?

  They could be doing any number of things, he reminded himself sternly, none of which were springing to his mind at the moment, of course, but that meant next to nothing.

  Moving more quickly and stealthily than usual, Nick entered the kitchen. Bouncer, their big orange tomcat sat in one corner washing his face with a paw. Scout was at the stove, her back to the door. Nick cleared his throat.

  “Oh!” Scout spun around in surprise, and her hand flew to her belly. “Oh, God, Nick, what are you doing sneaking up on me like that? You scared me half to death!”

  “Sorry.” His eyes flicked around the room again, and settled back on her. She was breathing rapidly and her coloring was uneven. She sagged back against the stove and glared at him across the empty room.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked after a moment. “Why are you looking so strange? Did something happen? Nick?”

  Where is he? The words were on his lips, but he refused to insult her or embarrass himself by saying them aloud. He shook his head. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I was just making myself some tea,” she answered, as the kettle set up a whistle. She turned off the gas, and then turned back to face him. “My stomach’s upset and I thought that might settle it. Why do you keep looking around like that? What are you looking for, anyway?”

  He looked at her for a moment longer. Jesus, what was he doing? This was Scout. The woman he had loved for years and finally married. The woman he trusted. And he could either choose to play games that would make a mockery of that trust, or he could ask her straight out.“Is someone here?”

  A frown creased her forehead. “What?”

  “There’s a car in the drive.”

  “Ohhh.” The frown disappeared as a big smile lit up her face. “So, I guess you’re wondering who it belongs too, huh?”

  “Yeah, anyone I know?” Nick asked.

  “Just like a cop,” she said, shaking her head as she came toward him. “Yeah, you do know him, as a matter of fact.”

  His hands reached for her automatically as she came within range. He should be angry that she hadn’t given him an answer, that she’d intuited his thinking, and had yet done nothing to assuage his suspicions. But when she smiled at him like that, with love and laughter gleaming in her hazel eyes, nothing else mattered to him. It never had.

  She stretched up to him, her arms sliding around his neck, and he fell into her kiss, just as he always did, as though his life depended on it.

  After a moment she pulled away, still smiling. “Relax, there’s nobody here but us,” she murmured. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah. I am if you are. Where are the bags, I’ll put them in the car.”

  “Already done,” she told him. Still gazing at him with an expression of simmering amusement.

  He frowned. “You carried them out by yourself? You should have waited and let me do it.”

  Scout rolled her eyes. “A couple of overnight bags is not something I can’t handle all of a sudden, Nick. I’m not an invalid, you know.”

  “I know,” he said. But still...

  “Anyway, I thought we’d take your car.”

  His car? Nick suppressed a groan. Oh, great. She wanted to take the clunker to a place that had valet parking. It wasn’t bad enough that he already felt out of place there, now he’d look the part, as well. “Well, okay. If that’s what you want.”

  Scout’s smile grew even more radiant. She pressed something into his hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  “What’s this?” Nick asked, looking at the unfamiliar key.

  “Well, what do you think it is?” Scout’s voice was a warm caress, barely audible above the thunder of blood in his ears. “It’s the key to your new car, of course.”

  His car? Nick raised his eyes to his wife’s face. She had to be kidding. But one look put that idea to rest. Her face glowed with excitement. Shit. She wasn’t kidding. She’d bought him a car. She’d bought him a fucking Porsche.

  He’d raided his 401K plan and borrowed against his daughter’s college fund to buy her a diamond necklace. So that he could, for once in his life impress her, and make it clear to all their friends and relations, that he hadn’t married her for her money.

  And now? Well, now they’d see him driving around in that car he could never afford, and the talk would all start up again.

  “Jesus Christ almighty.” Nick pulled a stool out from beneath the breakfast bar and sat down. “Here,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket, and tossing the package down on the counter.

  Scout looked at him, a wary, surprised expression on her face. “What’s that?”

  “Your present,” Nick said, as the worried, unhappy look in her eyes started his blood boiling. For months he’d kept a rein on his temper. He’d held his tongue. He’d done everything in his power to shield her from his anger –just to keep that look from her face. And where had it gotten him?

  Absolutely nowhere.

  “Come on, open it,” he told her, gesturing towards the box. “I’m thinking it might make a nice key chain.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Thirty One

  * * * *

  Fury smoldered in Nick’s brown eyes, and Scout felt her stomach do a nervous little flip. Okay, what just happened here, she wondered, as her glance traveled once again from the box on the counter to her husband’s face. This was not the reaction she’d expected him to have.

  She studied his expression, her eyes taking in the hard, angry lines of his face. It had been awhile since she’d seen him this mad. She felt the blood thrum in her ears as she remembered – all too clearly – how it had once made her feel. Like she was drowning, and was about to go under for the very last time.

  But she’d been a kid then – a teenager – with no control over her own destiny. Things were different now. She was different. A woman, not a child any longer. Older and wiser and very much used to standing on her own two feet. Used to getting her own way, too. She wasn’t afraid of his temper, but she was confused by it. What the hell was he so angry about?

  It couldn’t be the car. She’d grilled him too carefully over the last two weeks—she knew it was just what he’d have chosen for himself. Every detail, right down to the charcoal pinstriping and the Blaupunkt stereo, with its eight speakers and detachable CD player – was exactly as he would have ordered it himself. She’d made certain of that.

  “Well?” The suppressed violence in Nick’s voice made her jump. “Aren’t you going to open your present?”

  Scout reached reluctantly for the box. She tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs were in no shape for it at present. She frowned at the nagging pain in her lower back, and pulled out the second stool. She took her time getting seated – and trying to get comfortable, although she knew that was a losing battle. She could feel Nick’s impatience building like a storm inside him as he waited for her, but that was too damn bad. She exhaled noisily as she felt her abdomen contract again. God damn it, this was a helluva time for Braxton-Hicks.

  Nick drummed his fingers on the counter.

  Scout fumed. What is your problem, she wanted to say, but one look at his molten amber eyes made her change her mind, before the words ever left her mouth. Sheesh. And people said artists were temperamental.

  Heaving a tiny sigh, she slit the paper with her fingernail and slid the jeweler’s box from its wrapping. “Oh,” she breathed in surprise as she opened the box. Diamonds and the bright shimmer of gold caught and held the light, and the slight trembling of her hands made it dance along the sinuous lines of the necklace. “Oh, Nick! It, it’s beautiful,” she whispered. And it was. Beautiful and elegant and –

  “Not half as beautiful as you are,” Nick answered automatically. />
  His voice was colorless and cold and his words caught at her heart. He’d rehearsed this, she thought, swallowing hard. He’d scripted the whole scene in his head, and it was supposed to have been romantic, but something had gone wrong. She was making him blow his lines.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, raising her gaze once more to his face.

  “Wrong?” Nick’s eyes flashed. “What, I can’t pay you a compliment now? Or aren’t my words good enough for you, either? How about you just say thank you? That might make for a nice change of pace.”

  “How about you say thank you?” she snapped, irritated beyond measure by the unfairness of it all.

  “What for?” His voice was silky and dangerous, but Scout was too angry herself to care.

  “For the car, Nick! I spent a lot of time and energy, and put a lot of thought into coming up with the perfect gift for you. And the least you can do is—”

  “You mean you spent a lot of money,” he interrupted. The stool he’d been sitting on scraped against the floor as he got to his feet.

  “Yeah, that, too,” Scout agreed, seconds before his words registered in her brain. Oh, shit. Money? Was that what this was all about? Again? The idiot! “Why is that such a problem for you, anyway? Are you really that insecure? It’s not like I thought I had to buy your love or anything, you know.”

  All of a sudden Nick was looming over her, his face harsh, his breathing ragged. Scout tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge and his muscles were unyielding beneath her hands. Out of nowhere, unreasoning panic flooded through her.

  “Let’s get something straight right now,” Nick was saying, the words emerging as a snarl. “I don’t want your money, I don’t need your money and I sure as shit didn’t marry you for it! D’you got that, babe?”

  But Scout was beyond words, lost in another time and place. Suddenly, with a growl and flash of orange fur, the cat leapt up on the counter and advanced menacingly towards them.