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

by P. G. Forte

  Nick turned his head to look at the cat, and Scout seized the moment to run. Sliding away from him even as he turned back to look at her, upsetting her own stool in the process. It clattered to the floor. She felt rather than saw him grab for her, missing by inches as he stumbled over the upturned stool.

  She heard his muffled curse as he fell, but she was already in the hallway, snatching her keys from the table by the door. Then she was through the door and down the stairs and into the rain.

  Her SUV was only steps away. Tears splashed on her hands as she unlocked the door. She was inside, with the doors locked and the engine on, before Nick made it off the porch. Then she was peeling out of the drive.

  Her single backwards glance showed him standing at the end of the driveway, hands fisted at his sides, while the rain plastered his shirt to his chest. At his back, light flooding out from the open front door turned the shiny silver car to gold.

  * * * *

  “I’m sorry,” Marsha sniffled, her face still buried in her napkin. She reached blindly for her water glass, nearly upsetting her wine when a fresh barrage of tears set her to sobbing once again. “I hate making a scene like this. It’s just I—”

  “It’s okay,” Sam said as he moved the wine out of range. He shook his head at the hovering waiter, warning him away from the table. If she felt like crying, the staff could damn well let her. And if he had to buy dinner for every customer in the house, to keep them from complaining, then that was fine, too. He just wished he could convince himself those were tears of joy she was shedding.

  He watched her for a moment longer and then went back to pouring out two cups of tea. “I don’t suppose that was a ‘yes’ was it?” he asked as he pushed the cup across the table towards her. “Here, have some tea.”

  Marsha shook her head, and pulled her face out of the napkin long enough to give him one long, mournful look. “Thank you,” she mumbled, and then looked at him beseechingly. “I’m sorry Sam. Really, I am. But I, I can’t. I just, just—”

  Can’t? Sam thought about that as Marsha resumed sobbing. Well, that was better than won’t, wasn’t it? Or, I don’t want to, or just flat out No. Can’t hinted at conditions which could maybe be met and overcome.

  “Fair enough, I guess. Why?”

  Marsha pulled herself together with obvious effort. Putting the napkin down she took a long sip of tea, and then met his eyes. “I wish I could, Sam. But... look, I’ve been married, it’s not something I’m good at.”

  Hell, was that the only thing bothering her? He smiled in relief. “Hey, that’s okay, angel. I figure everyone deserves at least one practice swing. It’ll be different this time around, you’ll see.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “It won’t be. I won’t do that to you. To us.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I’d rather say good-bye now, Sam, than... well, than to see this turn into the kind of thing I had with Alex. I can’t live through something like that again.”

  Sam felt his smile dissolve. He quickly picked up his teacup and took a sip, hiding the frown he knew was forming in its place. He was not like her shiftless, self-absorbed ex-husband, damn it! He would never treat her so badly. Surely, by now, she knew that?

  “So, where does that leave us, then?” he asked as he returned the cup to its saucer.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. She gazed at him hesitantly. “I guess we can’t really go back to the way things were, can we?”

  He shrugged. “I liked the way things were, too. But life is change, angel. You have the boys living with you full time now, and I miss the time we used to spend together.” I miss you.

  “I miss you, too, Sam. I hate having to be apart so much.”

  Sam paused, gauging the moment. “So, if it’s just marriage you’re opposed to, how about letting me move in with you? Or, at least let me spend a couple of nights a week there – like I used to.”

  But she was already shaking her head. “Sam, how can you even ask that? The boys—”

  “Are thirteen, Marsha. They’ve already got a pretty good idea of what’s going on, you know. It’s not like our sleeping together is going to come as a surprise to them.” Not anymore, he thought, growing annoyed as he caught sight of the shocked dismay on her face. “Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t look at me like that Marsha, I’m not suggesting we screw on the sofa while they’re watching TV with us. I just—”

  “They know?” Her voice was a horrified croak.

  Sam blinked in surprise. Well, hell. It looked as if the boys had been right, after all. They could keep their thoughts – and their feelings – to themselves. Maybe a little too well. “They’re okay with it, angel,” he said softly, leaning forward and capturing one of her hands in his. “Jesse was a little upset at first, but I talked to them and – you know, if you gave me a chance, I might make a pretty decent stepfather, I think.”

  Marsha struggled to maintain her composure as fresh tears threatened to erupt. She stared at their joined hands, feeling his strength flow into her, his warmth, his love. “I know,” she whispered. She had no doubts he’d make an excellent stepfather, but then, so had Alex – at first – despite what Lucy chose to remember. Alex had bonded with Jasmine, and she with him; and for a while it had seemed like all Marsha’s dreams were coming true.

  Until he walked away and left them both with broken hearts.

  But that wasn’t it either, was it? It wasn’t Alex’s leaving that had broken her heart, it was what it did to Jasmine that had hurt—and still hurt to this day.

  And what hurt worst of all, was knowing it had been as much her fault as his. Alex hadn’t walked away from their marriage. No, like a feral cat caught in a net, he had clawed and bitten his way free of the trap that she and her family had become. Free of the snare she had woven around him, of the magic circle she’d cast to keep him in, when it became clear he wouldn’t stay on his own.

  Never again!

  Her eyes fell on the ring still sitting in its box on the table. Here was another kind of magic circle, she thought. Just how long had he been carrying that ring around with him? It was so imbued with his energy, it was practically alive. If she wore that ring, it would bind her to him in ways, she didn’t even want to contemplate.

  But it would do more than that. It would give her power over him, as well. And if things turned bad? If the day came that he wanted his freedom, could she resist the urge to use that power? Or would she go crazy again, and try and force him to stay?

  It was a chance she couldn’t ever take.

  “Do you want to try it on?” Sam asked softly. The emphatic shake of her head sent another surge of disappointment through him. “You know, if you don’t like it, we can always get you a different one.”

  “Oh, Sam, no!” she said, new tears springing to her eyes. “It’s not that. I- I love the ring. Truly.”

  I love you.

  She might as well have said it, he thought, as he felt his heart lift, because it was right there in her eyes. And I love you, too, angel. A roll of thunder reverberated through the dining room as he slipped the box back into his pocket. He signaled the waiter to bring the check. The storm was getting worse. He’d have a fun time driving out to the old cabin tonight.

  “Come on,” he told her. “Finish your tea. I think it’s time I got you home.”

  “Sam, I don’t like the idea of you driving all the way out to the canyon in this weather. Maybe you should—”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He wouldn’t spend another night on her couch. He doubted whether he could resist the temptation to slip into her bed tonight, even knowing about her scruples. And if the boys were to find them there in the morning? Well, she might fuss, but it would be a fait accompli then, wouldn’t it? He’d have won his point.

  But not fairly. And, if nothing else, she deserved to be treated fairly.

  Besides, he reminded himself, as he watched her gather her things, he wasn’t alone in this. He had allies. Powerful allies. He’
d applied enough pressure for one night. He could sit back now, and let the boys turn the screws a little.

  Thinking about that, he almost felt sorry for her. His poor angel didn’t stand a chance against the three of them.

  She still loved him, he thought, feeling happier and more relieved than he had in months; and she would marry him. He was suddenly sure of it. It was only a matter of time.

  * * * *

  Lucy lay in bed, listening to the sound of footsteps as they moved quietly up the hallway. She didn’t move as she heard her bedroom door open and close. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing slow and steady as she heard the rustle of clothing being removed, as she felt the mattress give as Dan climbed into bed with her. But she knew she hadn’t fooled him for an instant. His hand closed on her shoulder and he turned her rigid body around to face him and folded her in his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice was a warm whisper in her ear.

  She could smell rain in his hair and had to resist the urge to lick the moisture from his skin. She was angry with him, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him tonight. And she wasn’t going to talk to him, either.

  “Sorry about what?” she asked.

  He gave a gusty sigh and she could smell beer on his breath as he nuzzled her neck. “Oh, hell, babe, you name it. For ruining Valentine’s Day. For missing your picnic. For overreacting. For being a jerk. I’ll apologize for anything and everything you want, Luce. I just... I just had to get out for a while. I needed some time. Time to cool down. Time to think.”

  “Alone?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, and she wanted to kill him when she heard him chuckle. She opened her eyes and glared at him.

  “Yes, of course alone,” he said, and she could see him smiling in the darkness. “Jesus. What did you think – that I was out with another woman?”

  She shrugged but said nothing, and he shook his head.

  “You just never get it, do you? There is no one I would choose to be with over you. Don’t you know that by now?”

  Lucy shrugged again. Sure she knew it – in her head. But what her heart felt was another story altogether. “So what were you thinking about?” she asked instead.

  “Huh?” Dan frowned at the change of subject, then his face cleared, and he chuckled again. “Same thing I always end up thinking about. You. I was thinking how little you’ve changed since the day I met you.”

  “What?” She glanced at his face, startled. “That’s not true, Dan. I’ve changed a lot.”

  “Lucy, you haven’t changed a bit,” he said as he lowered his face to hers. “You’re still headstrong and impossible. And sexy as sin.”

  “Oh.” Lucy let her arms twine around his neck as she kissed him back, marveling at the way he had of always getting past her defenses. That had certainly never changed. As for the rest, maybe a few secrets didn’t matter. Nothing in life was perfect, after all, but what they had together certainly came close.

  As if he’d read her mind, Dan lifted his head, his face serious. “Lucy, I think I need to talk to you about something.”

  She shook her head. “Forget it, Cavanaugh. Talk’s overrated. Now, where’s my poem?”

  A reluctant smile crossed his face. “How’d you know I had a poem for you?”

  And then it was her turn to smile. “Because I know you. And you haven’t changed that much, either.”

  He looked at her for a moment, his smile fading, his eyes filling with sadness. “Luce—”

  “No.” She put her fingers against his lips. “I mean it Dan. I don’t want to talk. Not tonight.”

  “Okay.” He nodded, kissing her fingertips and then clasping both her hands in his, moving with her until he’d stretched her out beneath him. “The moth’s kiss first,” he recited, gently brushing gentle kisses across her face.

  She closed her eyes and let the sound of his voice wash over her, barely hearing the words. Listening only to the sound of his love for her. Opening her mouth for him when he finally reached it, and kissing him with all the love in her own heart.

  “The bee’s kiss now! Kiss me as if—”

  “Bees?” Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, a delighted smile breaking across her face. “Cavanaugh... you actually found me a poem about bees?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice disgruntled. “And it wasn’t easy, either.” He dipped his head, but she held him off a moment longer.

  “But Dan, I thought you didn’t like bees?”

  He grimaced. “I don’t. But you do. Now, can I please finish?”

  She smiled wider, pulling his face down to hers. “Oh, well,” she murmured against his lips. “If you’re going to ask so nicely, how can I resist?”

  He kissed her again, but then he pulled away for just an instant. “You can’t,” he said, as his eyes gleamed wickedly. “And I swear, sometimes I think that’s the only thing keeping me sane.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Thirty Two

  * * * *

  Nick peered through the rain and the dark at the sprawling glass and redwood edifice in front of him. He could see very little of the architectural marvel that was The Old Coastanoan Hotel and Spa, but then, he really didn’t need to.

  Scout was here. It wasn’t just logic that told him so, it was a feeling more primitive, more basic; an instinct that had been growing inside him for the past eight months.

  As he’d followed her out to the coast tonight, as sure of his direction as a wolf following the scent of a roe deer, he at last acknowledged what he should have known months, if not years ago. She was his true mate. His soul mate. The other half of himself. And nothing – not his family, nor his temper, nor her money, nor anything else life decided to toss in their way – could ever stand between them. Unless he chose to let it.

  His eyes scanned the structure once more, and then zeroed in on one particular section. And then on one particular door.

  There. Right there.

  He smiled grimly as he contemplated it. He’d found her. And now that he had, he was never going to lose her again.

  “How’d you know I where I was?” Scout asked, frowning as she answered the door.

  Nick opened his mouth to tell her, and then stopped. What could he say, that she’d believe? He wasn’t sure yet, how to explain it to himself.

  “Instinct, I guess,” he said, with a shrug. “Hon, do you mind letting me in? I’m getting pretty wet out here.”

  She moved back, and he followed her inside.

  “Nice room,” he said as his eyes swept across the suite. He shrugged out of his jacket as he prowled around taking it all in. Skylights, a ceiling fan, thick carpeting, a balcony that undoubtedly sported an ocean view and a wood burning stove recessed in an alcove large enough to fit a dinner table.

  The California-king sized four poster bed looked lost in the massive bedroom; and in the bathroom, he found a closet sauna and a spa tub built for two. “Looks expensive.”

  “It is,” Scout answered, she kept her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her eyes tracked his progress. “Very expensive.”

  Nick turned back to her and smiled. “Well, then I guess it’s a good thing you can afford it, huh?”

  “We,” she corrected softly. “We can afford it Nick. You might not have married me for my money, but you’re stuck with a share of it anyway, you know. Community property. What’s mine is yours.”

  He very much doubted that. Community property wasn’t likely to apply to money she’d inherited from her father, twenty years before their marriage took place. But it wasn’t worth arguing over. Besides, it would only matter in case of a divorce, and that was never gonna happen.

  “Right. Lucky me. I get all that money and you, too.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or did you really think I’d let you leave me?”

  A look of something close to anguish crossed Scout’s face. “Leave you?” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook her head. �
��I wouldn’t... I didn’t mean to... I wasn’t going anywhere. I just...”

  Nick took her in his arms and she collapsed against him, sobbing. “Shh, it’s okay. It was my fault. I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he whispered, holding her close, his lips against her hair. “I tried not to. I just—”

  “No.” Scout shoved away from him a little. “It’s not always about you, Nick. You really think I give two shits about your lousy temper? ‘Cause I don’t!”

  He studied her expression in silence. “Well, then what was it?” he asked after a moment. “Why’d you run from me? I never thought you’d do that, Jen.”

  “It wasn’t you I was running from,” Scout said, leaving the circle of his arms to sink down on one of the twin love seats that faced each other in front of the balcony. “Not really. It was... oh, everything, I guess. My past. All the stuff I’ve never really dealt with from my childhood.” She looked up at him quickly, and then away again. “The nightmares.”

  Nick sat down beside her, but not touching her, not even looking at her as he said, his voice quiet and completely neutral, “You ready to tell me about them yet?”

  She sighed. “They’re all about last summer,” she admitted, watching his face for some sign of surprise, and finding none.

  He nodded. “I figured as much.”

  “It was so awful,” Scout said, still trying not to think about it. “And I just... can’t forget. Not any of it. The blood. And the smell. And the guilt. Sometimes I think it’ll never go away.”

  “I know,” Nick said gently.

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah, I do.” He turned to face her then, and she could see sorrow and sympathy in his eyes. “And it doesn’t go away. Not really. But it does get easier to live with, over time.”

  “I hope you’re right about that,” Scout said, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “I really do.”

  She was just so tired, and after everything that had gone on, maybe she could sleep right through the nightmares tonight, she thought, hopefully.