Nightchild

Chapter 22

He wanted to get her mind off Claire Stevens and back on the estate he so desperately wanted to show her before having to confront anyone else, determined nothing spoil the first impression of her new home. Arm in arm, they ascended the winding flight of stairs that took them to a large open landing. Facing them to the north was a window looking onto the garage and backyard, while behind them and around the railed stairwell another French door opened directly onto the balcony.

"We'll go out there last," Nate said, indicating the doors. "The view from the balcony is spectacular. You can see for miles. All the buildings sit in clearings completely surrounded by wooded areas with pastures beyond. I'd thought about cutting down most of the trees and brush but decided against it. They provide too much privacy...you'll see what I mean."

He guided Blythe past a workout room and three cheery guest bedrooms which made up the west wing of the second story and around to the east side where he proudly threw open the door to a giant room which contained as its crowning glory, not just a king-size bed but a towering four-poster, replete with drapes.

"It's incredible, Nate! Is it old?" Blythe asked wistfully, dashing to the bed and running her hand almost reverently over the pillars of carved wood and richly appointed drapes.

"Ah, my scintillating little vamp, just how long do you suppose kind-size beds have been around?" he questioned playfully.

She turned to him, eyes flashing, dimples growing deeper as the corners of her mouth slowly tilted in a mischievous grin. "Well, is it yours? Is this your room?" she inquired, her voice inviting, twinkling gray eyes meeting his lustful ones.

Nate reached behind and pushed the door to. "It's ours," he stated simply giving her a smile that was both lewd and tender at the same time, its meaning clear.

Taunting him, Blythe darted to the other side of the bed. "Not yet. Not till you've shown me everything. Then we'll see...maybe, if I'm not too distraught after meeting your mother." Her face took on an exaggerated look of concern. "You do plan on introducing me, don't you? Or perhaps you'll hide the new Mrs. Stevens away in a closet somewhere so as not to upset the older one. Perhaps like a sex slave, bound and hidden." Her eyes flashed sparks tempting him.

"Not a bad idea," he agreed and considered going after her then thought better of it. She was right. Now wasn't the time. "This was actually two bedrooms. I built the bed to go with the room. It needed something powerful to set it off."

"Like you," Blythe implied wantonly, "powerful, domineering?"

"Watch it, you little tease. I'm already tempted to forget the rest of your tour and try out the bed instead...so behave."

"Promises, promises," she mocked.

"You know, I could tie you to these posts and keep the doors locked and no one would ever find you," he answered sardonically, one eyebrow raised as the corner of his mouth tilted up lasciviously.

She gasped and her face became serious. "I'd scream bloody murder."

"Oh, there are ways to keep you from doing that. Maybe we could try them out."

Her face turned scarlet. "Nate Stevens! No, you wouldn't!"

He just grinned at her and shrugged. "Anyway, I finished it before going back out on the road this last time and had it moved up here. Haven't had a chance to break it in properly though...at least not yet."

"Oh my," she said coyly, regaining her composure, "does this mean we're to have a first? Am I to assume the raven-haired beauty, your friend, hasn't already christened this work of art as well as everything else in the room, with her superfluous charms?"