Celtic Moon Read Free Page B

GRANITE BENCH AS MOISTURE SEEPED into her jeans. She almost stood, but slumped back instead, figuring a wet ass was the least of her worries.
    The waiting was brutal.
    She checked her watch for the hundredth time, almost convinced Dylan wasn’t going to call, when the phone lit up, its unfamiliar ring causing every muscle in her body to tense.
    With shaking hands, she brought the receiver to her ear. “Hello.”
    “Sophie?” Deep and calm, but with an underlying edge of controlled anger.
    She had rehearsed this conversation a thousand times, but the reality of hearing his voice erased all rational thought. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “This was a bad idea—”
    “Don’t you dare hang up on me, or—”
    “Or what?” The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. His arrogant tone flooded her with unpleasant memories. “You’ll hunt me down like a rabid animal? Been there. Done that.”
    “You’ve held on to your anger well, Sophie, yet I’m the one who’s never seen my son’s face.”
    She swallowed hard, clutching the phone with both hands. “You gave me no other choice.”
    “Not true.” His tone dropped dangerously low. “You could have stayed.”
    “As a prisoner.”
    “No,” he growled.
“As my wife.”
    “Is there a difference?”
    Silence filled their tenuous connection, thick and vile, poisoned by mutual betrayals.
    A muffled sound followed, as if Dylan had pressed the receiver into something soft to hide his reaction.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t call you for this.”
    “What’s my son’s name?”
    Her breath caught in her throat. Such a simple question . . . and yet it held agonizing impact. “Joshua.”
    “Joshua,” he repeated in a low tone. “A good name. Is he well?”
    “He’s beautiful,” she said with a heavy heart. “He’s the reason I called. I need to ask you something.”
    A slight hesitation. “What’s wrong?”
    “Josh has been,” Sophie chose her words carefully, “acting
odd
lately. And not the normal teenager odd.”
    “What are you suggesting?”
    “I’m suggesting that he may have inherited more of his father than I had hoped.”
    A long pause. “Are you talking from a cell line?”
    She understood his concern. “I can call you from another phone.”
    “No,” he snapped, and then softened his tone. “You need to bring my son home. If what you’re suggesting is true, it’s a dangerous time for him.”
    She felt dizzy, nauseated, panic edging to the surface. “How dangerous?”
    “He could die.”
    Her heart clenched with the worst kind of pain. It was what she had feared most. “What can I do?”
    “Come home,” Dylan coaxed. “I can help him . . . before it’s too late.”
    An overwhelming apprehension drove her to make an unplanned offer. “We can meet you somewhere.”
    He didn’t answer immediately, the predator having sensed her fear—using it well to sway her decision. “He needs to be around his own kind now. Are you willing to risk his life because of your hatred for me?”
    “You’re so clueless,” she snapped, letting all her painful memories fill those few words.
    “Then enlighten me.”
    “It’s irrelevant now.” She closed her eyes, weighing her options. Her son’s welfare, as always, influenced her decisions. However, Sophie had a distinct advantage over the last time she’d been in Rhuddin Village; she was not the same naïve woman that Dylan once knew. She was older now, wiser, and had learned how to defend herself and those she loved.
    Quite well, in fact. “Is the lake house still available?”
    “It can be.”
    “I need a few days to clear things up.”
    “You must come now,” he said, his voice firm. “A few days may be too late.”
    “I’ll be there tomorrow,” she conceded, not liking the fact that it revealed a hint to her proximity. She had others to protect. “We’ll be there in the evening.” She calculated the travel time in her head and added six hours.