Jan Delima: Celtic Moon

Or worse, be taken from her.

They were slow to react, or perhaps too sure of their ability and her limitations. It gave her an edge, a slight advantage.

But soon, too soon, the breath of wolves and the shouts of guards closed in fast at her back. Frenzied, her stomach cramping, she stumbled off the trail and crawled into the husk of a rotting tree. There she willed her body into stillness and prayed in silence, forgotten prayers from childhood Sundays, desperate prayers of need and promises.

God answered, she supposed, in His own way. A nest of skunks didn’t appreciate company in their cozy home—and, ultimately, blessedly masked her scent.

Or, more likely, disabled the wolves’ keenest hunting ability.

Except for one.

Siân.

The female wolf had watched Dylan’s little demonstration from the woods, silent in the shadows, waiting until all the others had gone to search the roads and all human exits from their territory, unaware their prey had never left . . .

SOPHIE TOOK A DEEP BREATH AND SHOVED THOSE UNWANTED memories to the back of her mind. Hysteria, she had learned a long time ago, was a useless reaction.

“Joshua . . . can you hear me?” She shook his arm.

He frowned down at her as if she’d lost her mind. Not that she could blame him, having thought the exact same thing on countless occasions since that night in the woods.

“Ah . . . yeah , Mom. You’re like a foot away from my face.”

She laughed, her heart thudding in her chest to hear the normalcy of his voice. “We’re going to Rhuddin Village.”

The bag of Oreos fell from his grasp, forgotten. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Big dark eyes widened with unease. “Was he mad?”

The childlike question broke her heart. “The only reaction your father had was concern for you.” She masked her fear, keeping her voice decisive. “The time has come for you to meet him.”

He nodded slowly, accepting her decision. “How long are we going to stay?”

His lack of argument was both a worry and a relief. The worry lingered longer. “As long as we need.”

He gave a jerky nod, absorbing that information. A hint of a smile touched his lips, more, she knew, for her benefit. “I’m going to miss my last quarter of school.”

“I’m telling your teachers you have mono. There’s a good chance you’ll have to make up your classes this summer.”

A false hope, she knew. But did it matter where they were this summer, or the next, or the one after, as long as Joshua was there to experience them?

No. Losing him was the only thing she could not handle.

She gently tucked a strand of light brown hair away from his face, the one trait he had inherited from her. Everything else was Dylan. “I love you more than life itself, Joshua.”

“Love you too, Mom,” he said automatically.

“Are you ready for a new adventure?” It was the question she always asked just before a major change, usually a move. They had moved too much in his short lifetime. The cottage was their longest stay in one place, almost four years now, thanks to a generous employer.

“Yeah,” he said, and for the first time not complaining. “Is Grandma coming too?”

“Not this time.” That saddened Sophie to no end, but it was too much to ask of her mother, especially without disclosing all the facts, and Sophie didn’t intend to do that anytime soon. Her last attempt had been rewarded with a lecture on drug use.

“Does she know?”

“Not yet.”

He snorted. “Good luck with that.”

A BITING WIND RUSHED THROUGH THE AYRES COURTYARD, carrying the scent of salt air and turbulence. Red streaks appeared along the horizon, tempering the blue shadows of dawn, as if nature forewarned a difficult journey.

“Mom, we have a problem.” Joshua’s voice echoed across the brick driveway where Sophie stood with Matthew Ayres.

Shooting her boss an apologetic smile, she called back, “What is it?”

“Grandma won’t give me the keys.”

“Don’t think for a second, Sophie Marie, that you’re going anywhere without me.” Waves crashed in the distance, mingling with the sound of her mother’s adamant message.

Matthew cocked his head to one side, golden curls whipping about wide shoulders. He wore the blue sweater and plaid pajama bottoms Sophie had given him for his birthday, looking more like a surfer forced to wake before noon than the heir to a massive fortune.

A slight grin tugged at his perfectly sculpted lips. “I think you might have a dilemma.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she yelled to her son, then turned back to Matthew. “I’m sorry for the short notice.”

Aqua blue eyes focused in on her. “Tucker’s going to be heartbroken. I think he’s forgotten that I’m his owner.”

She nodded, finding it unusually difficult to say her farewells. Matthew valued his privacy, maybe even more so than she valued hers, but a friendship had developed regardless. As his personal cook and housekeeper, a certain amount of intimacy had been unavoidable. He had no surviving relatives that she knew of.

And for whatever reason, it felt wrong to leave him alone. “You have a week’s worth of meals in the freezer. The cooking instructions are taped to the top.”

“I’ll be fine, Sophie.”

“I should only be two weeks.”

“Okay.” He smiled as if somehow he knew she wouldn’t be coming back.

“Good-bye, Matthew.” On impulse, Sophie leaned forward and kissed him on his cheek. They had never touched before and the gesture became more personal than intended.

He covered the spot she had kissed with his hand and then turned away as if to leave. “Wait here a moment.” Reluctance darkened his request. “I have something for you.”

Sophie frowned as she watched him walk back up to the main house. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother dragging a duffel bag down the walkway, clothes spilling out.

“Oh, come on, Mum,” she hollered over, frustration making her voice harsh. “We discussed this last night.”

Francine straightened, glaring back at her daughter, yesterday’s mascara smudged under her eyes. Her dyed brown hair, cockeyed from sleep, added to the impact of her displeasure.

Her mother never left the house without makeup. Sophie had intended not to wake her; the plan hadn’t worked out so well.

“Do you honestly think I’m going to let you go there alone?” Francine straightened to her full height, barely five feet, hands on hips. Tyrant position in place. “I’ll lay in front of that car first.” Her brown eyes snapped with defiance. Even at fifty-eight, bedraggled and furious, her mother was a stunning woman. She lifted her chin. “You know I will.”

Nerves raw from lack of sleep and concern for her son, Sophie threw her hands up. “Fine, Mum, you can come. But remember— I warned you not to .”

Francine gave a smug smile. “Joshua, you heard your mother. Come help Grandma put this bag in the trunk.”

At the sound of a soft chuckle, Sophie turned back toward the house. Matthew had returned holding a brown paper grocery bag rolled closed at the top.

She eyed the no-frills packaging and couldn’t help but smile. “What is it?”

“Just a little something,” he teased.

“Thank you.” She felt guilty accepting the gift. The weight of it surprised her. “What’s in this thing? Rocks?”

“Hardly,” he said dryly.

Curious now, she started to unroll the top.

He gently covered her hands with his, stopping her motions. “Open it when you reach your destination.”