Page 11 of Homesick, Lovesick (Harper Valley Witch #3)

He almost cheered, loudly and obnoxiously, when a waterfall came into view.

It wasn't enormous, maybe nine feet or so, but it was pretty, cascading down over two tiers, almost more like a double waterfall, and there was greenery all over, lichen on many of the rocks, flowers overflowing the entire field, all of it beautifully visible and near-glowing under a brilliant harvest moon.

Match smiled as he took it all in.

"This is beautiful. Harvest Moon, a time of gathering, bonding. Much better for ceremonies related to that rather than a ceremony tied to violence and bloodshed."

"See, I knew Blood Moon made more sense. But yeah, this place is perfect,"

Ronan said, not stopping until they were at the bank of the pond, in front of the waterfall, moonlight shining down from above and reflecting off the water, flowers all around them. Only then did he finally go down on one knee, opening the ring box and offering it up as he said, "I love you more than life itself, Match. Would you marry me?"

"Yes!"

Match shouted, then threw himself at Ronan, knocking them to the ground.

"Don't lose the ring,"

Ronan wheezed out.

Match laughed and scrambled back upright, found the box in the grass, and pulled out the ring.

"This is beautiful! Don't ever tell me what you spent. I can already tell it will stress me out. Look at this color. It's like a crystalized piece of flame."

He put the ring on then looked up with a smile, and Ronan finally understood what stars in his eyes meant, because that was definitely how Match looked at him.

"I'm not sure I deserve you after how shittily we all treated you this trip, even me. Especially me. For which I am so fucking sorry. I know what it's like—"

"Hey, hey,"

Ronan said, pressing a finger to his mouth and then bending to kiss him briefly.

"Forget about it. Shit happens. It's over. Those little rat bastards will get what they deserve, and I got the fiancé I was hoping for. I don't care about the rest."

Match threw his arms around Ronan's neck and kissed him like it was the last thing he'd ever do.

"I love you too, Ronan. I really wanted to tell you about the handfasting. I was so mad I kept being denied a chance, even though I was also anxious that maybe you wouldn't want to be."

He drew back enough to admire his ring.

"I've never had anything this fancy in my life. This ring could buy a house. I'm scared to wear it."

"It could be a down payment, maybe,"

Ronan replied with a chuckle.

"Definitely not the whole house, dork."

"Do you have one?"

"One what?"

"A ring."

"Oh."

Ronan laughed.

"No, I didn't even think of that. How about you pick one out when we get home? Take smelling salts."

"Oh, shut up,"

Match retorted before dragging him into another kiss that turned into more than he could count.

Eventually, though, as much as he'd rather fuck by the waterfall, risk of spiders be damned, there were still a few glaring problems that needed addressing.

"So what did you do to those fuckheads?"

"Put them to sleep. It'll only last two, maybe three hours, though, so we'll need to do something to secure them."

"I'll take care of that. You dig out the sat phone and call the team. I want them here before we face down the others. Also, I would like to say again, that little move of yours with the double matches, the way you whammied them, was the hottest thing I've ever seen. Pretty sure you don't need me for protection at all."

"I need you every hour of every day,"

Match said.

"Now, let's get to work. The sooner we do this, the sooner we're home, because I'll quit the Guard and work at the fucking diner before I'll finish helping these fuckheads. This whole territory can rot."

He kissed Ronan one last time, then led the way back to the campsite.

The first step was moving camp. The fight with the golem had wrecked their campsite, and the corpse was gonna start smelling shortly, and nobody wanted to eat or sleep around that. He was still so fucking pissed that a poor, innocent golem had died just to try and…what? Make him look bad? Ronan didn't think killing him had been the point, but they were all fucking lucky he knew what he was doing, because the fight could have gone south very quickly.

Which reminded him all over again that Lynwood hadn't helped at all. That question was gonna be asked when the little shit woke up.

Once he'd moved everything, he hauled Marvin and Lynwood to the new site by the pond, then found some rope to secure them. No doubt once Match was done with his phone call—Benny, by the way he was talking—he'd add some additional precautions, so they wouldn't have to worry about them doing anything stupid when he had to let them go to piss or something.

With everything finally moved, the tent set back up with his and Match's bedding in it and the assholes' bedding and other belongings set aside, he turned his attention to building a new fire and getting some food going. After all that fighting, he was fucking starving, and Match would be at least as hungry.

So he got the fire going, sadly without the help of a magic boyfriend, and then rifled through Marvin's stuff until he found the freeze-dried beef and barley soup, which was a personal favorite.

He also found a small baggie of white powder that nearly ruined his mood, but he'd just gotten engaged and handfasted, damn it. Nothing was bringing him down, not even all this nightmare fuel. So he set it where Match would see it, got the soup going, and then finally went to fetch his spare fleece. It wasn't quite as nice as his favorite, but it would suffice—and hopefully sometime tomorrow they'd be back in their own house, and he could do laundry.

Of course, it would probably take longer than that. It would be several hours before the others arrived. They probably wouldn't even leave for a bit yet, since there was stuff they'd need to do first. So what, twelve hours at best? Stuck in the woods with assholes one and two, ugh. On the other hand, stuck in the woods with his fiancé.

Going through Marvin's bag some more, he found a bag of chamomile tea that he dumped right into the fucking fire. As long as he lived, he would never be able to stand the taste of chamomile. Possibly honey, but he hoped not, because he really liked a whole lot of things that involved honey.

There was also black tea and green tea. Little bastard liked his tea.

"Match, do these smell okay to you? I think that's the powder, but…"

He was gonna be rampantly paranoid for a long fucking time. He was really fucking pissed at Lynwood for the nasty little aggro spell, but he rather thought he hated Marvin more for violating him in such an insidious way, a way that would have him fucked up long after this nightmare was over. There was something particularly gross about someone who smiled and chatted and offered you poisoned tea to help you relax.

Ronan gave a sharp shake of his head to banish all the gloomy shit trying to drag him under. He was okay. Match was okay. Match wanted to marry him. They were going home soon-ish. Those two fuckheads and everybody else would be wishing themselves dead by the time his team was done with them.

Match came over and took the bags, sniffed them.

"Yeah, they're fine, but to hell with it anyway. Benny, hang on."

He lowered the phone.

"Give me like twenty minutes, and I'll be back with some mint."

"Okay."

Match kissed him, then went back to talking a mile a minute, something he really only did with their group. Otherwise, he wasn't all that much of a talker.

Ronan focused on the food, adding more water as it seemed necessary, and pulling out what looked like a packet of biscuit mix and getting that going. He wasn't the greatest at campfire cooking, but he'd done it enough he generally didn't burn things. There was also a packet marked chocolate cake that was definitely getting made. The instructions only mentioned adding water, so it must have literally everything else in powder form. Nice.

After everything was cooking either on or near the fire, there wasn't much else to do.

A soft groan made him startle, and he looked over at the fuckheads to see Marvin was stirring. Anger filled Ronan, scorching hot. He snatched up the bag of powder and stormed over.

"You wanna explain yourself, jackass? How often do you go around slipping mickeys to people?"

Marvin stared at him, the bag, then back up at him.

"I was only doing what I was told."

"Who told you to fucking drug me? Do you know how easy it would have been to kill me? Over what? Maybe convincing Match to move? That's so fucking stupid. I should break your goddamn face the way Match broke Lynwood's."

He didn't reply at first, but when Ronan scruffed his shirt and yanked him upright, he held his hands in front of his face, cowering as he replied, "My mom! My mom, okay? She gave me the stuff, told me how much to add per cup of water. I measured! I was careful! I didn't want to kill you. Nobody wants that. Murder is bad. We just wanted you to sleep—it's not that big a deal."

Ronan let him go—then punched him so hard he hit the ground. Blood gushed everywhere, but Ronan spared him no pity past making certain he wouldn't choke on his own blood.

"Not that big a deal,"

he hissed.

"Fuck. You."

He dug his phone out of his sleeping bag, along with the solar charger he'd use once the sun came up in a few hours, and started going through a billion texts from Traci, Benny, Penny, and his uncles. Uncle Rick had called him like ten times, that wasn't like him.

Crazy they were getting reception at all. Swallowing, anxiety spiking for no good reason at all, he called Rick back.

The phone had barely rung once when he answered.

"Ronan, thank god. Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine,"

Ronan said.

"Benny had Match on speaker for a bit, we heard the whole sordid tale. I was roofied once, you know. When I was eighteen. My friend found me in time, thank god. So I know very well you're not fine."

Ronan sniffled, a tear finally escaping to roll slowly down his cheek. He wiped it away impatiently.

"I'm holding steady. I'll be okay for now. Probably only buying bottled drinks for a bit."

What he'd do at restaurants, he didn't know, but one problem at a time. Who knew, maybe by the time he went to a restaurant, his new phobia would have dialed back. Problem for later.

"Honey, I still don't take drinks from anyone but Phil, my sisters, and you. If they don't pour it or one of us doesn't watch it get poured, I don't drink it. Even though I'm ugly old man now—"

"Not ugly!"

Phillip hollered in the background.

"Definitely old and crotchety, though."

"That's rich coming from you, you cranky old queen,"

Rick replied cheerfully.

Ronan laughed-cried.

"Really, I'm hanging on. Breaking his nose helped."

"Hell, yes. My friend, her name was Roseanne, but we called her Rosie, broke the nose of the dude who tried to assault me. I don't even remember his stupid name anymore, just his awful cologne. I'd been trying to overlook it. Always judge a man by his cologne."

Phillip, closer now, said, "You didn't like my cologne."

"Yeah, and you threw it out, and then the next time you asked me out I said yes because you were wearing a better one, and you listened to me. What man could resist that?"

"Me,"

Phillip said dryly, "because you never listen to me."

"Yours is to obey, darling, not mine,"

Rick replied breezily.

"Anyway, Ronan, we're here if you need us. I'm too old to be gallivanting into the woods on a death machine, but I'll try it if you want me to come."

Ronan laughed at the idea of his poor uncles geared up and zipping through the woods on four wheelers.

"Me and my new trust issues will be just fine waiting until we're home to see you. Anyway, Uncle Phil would insist on driving, and none of us wants that."

"There's no cause to be rude!"

Phillip said indignantly.

"The truth hurts, darling. We'll let you go now, Ronan. Take care of yourself—"

"No, wait! I want to tell you first! I asked Match to marry me and he said yes!"

"Oh. My. God! Obviously he said yes, of course, but congratulations. We'll start planning the engagement party immediately. You go kick those assholes in the balls and then celebrate with my favorite son-in-law. Ciao, baby."

Ronan smiled as he hung up, and kept smiling as he replied to all the texts. He'd almost caught up when Match appeared with a bundle of familiar-looking leaves.

"How the hell did you find those in the dark?"

"Flashlight and experience. One of my training exercises was to be able to identify plants in the dark, because you never know what circumstances you'll be facing in an emergency situation, and being able to find the right plant quickly could be the difference between life and death."

"Man, and I thought fighting in the dark was annoying. You win,"

Ronan said with a grin.

"By the way, I told my uncles about the engagement, and they're planning a party. I should have anticipated that, but foolishly, I did not."

"You didn't? Really? Because I was already wondering if I had anything suitable to wear for whatever craziness they cook up. It'll be really fancy fine dining or a paintball tournament. There's no in-between with them."

Ronan snickered at the idea of his uncles hosting a paintball tournament. They'd do it with particular flair, that was for certain.

"I think dinner is ready. Thank you for getting the mint. I would have been fine with water."

"It's the least I can do, Ronan. It'll always haunt me I thought was he drugged and then said no, I'm just being paranoid, they'd never do that."

Ronan dragged him into a kiss.

"There's no need for that. They're the only ones to blame in this mess."

He looked past Match's shoulder to where Marvin sat looking like he'd lost his whole world, and Lynwood was just beginning to stir.

He ignored them for the moment, far more interested in dishing up soup and biscuits and chocolate cake that he enjoyed happily with mint tea picked and made specifically for him by the love of his life. When that was done, he could barely keep his eyes open, though it was just plain old boring, not drugged exhaustion.

"Get some rest,"

Match said.

"I'm way too keyed up to sleep anyway, and I don't want to leave these assholes unsupervised, even though it would take an act of god to break them free of their magic tethers."

Raising his voice, he said "You assholes can wander off just far enough to piss, and I'll bring your sleeping bags, and maybe some trail mix."

"Thank you,"

Marvin said meekly.

Beside him, Lynwood said nothing, not even looking up from where he was restlessly yanking up grass by the fistful. Looked like somebody was anxious about what would be happening to him. Ronan spared a moment to consider getting them some wet cloths to clean their faces, then said fuck that and went to bed.