Nightchild

Chapter 27

Heathe was behind the bar putting glasses in the sink. "Good, you're back," he said glancing up as the couple entered. "Ma's gone on to the kitchen. Says her dinner's gonna cook away to nothin' if we don't go ahead and eat."

Nate scanned the room. "What about Mother? Rene?"

"Claire was determined to go back to the bunkhouse with Rene. I offered to take her but she wouldn't have any part of me. It really pissed Rene off. She was wantin' to hang around, but your mom was adamant. Ma Manford fixed some food for them and I just got back from takin' it over."

"Is Mother okay?"

"Madder than hell, but she'll live. Don't worry. When I walked in, they were in deep discussion with the nurse. It'll probably go on all night. Truthfully, I haven't seen Claire in better health for a couple of years now. Before you got back, she was takin' walks on her walker, having' people in, going to town with Rene. Are you gonna go over there?"

"Do you think I should?" Nate asked, sitting wearily down on the sofa facing the fireplace.

"No, I don't. Give them time to get over being angry and to digest it all. And whatever you do, don't make either of yourselves miserable stewin' about it." Heathe turned to Blythe who meandered about the immense room, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible while the men spoke. "Everything will work out fine, Blythe. Honest. Another drink?" he asked, holding up a clean glass.

She smiled at him sweetly, thankful for his kind words of encouragement and the pleasant grin that lit his beautiful face. Whether it was genuine or not, she greatly appreciated it. "No, I believe I'll wait until we've eaten, thank you though. Maybe we could have a nightcap and visit after dinner when we're all a little more relaxed."

"Sounds good to me. Boss?" Nate shook his head and stared into the crackling flames. "Then if it's all the same to you, I'll have mine before, during and after," Heathe said, guzzling from a longneck bottle. "Let's go. Ma's got everything on."

#

Not wanting to leave the cozy table at the end of the long kitchen, the four spent an enjoyable evening talking after they all pitched in to help Ma clean up. No reference was made to the earlier scene with Claire Stevens and Rene Sanders, yet it hung over the group in its obvious avoidance nonetheless. Ma Manford was tireless and carried on effortlessly about the goings on, as she called them, of the ranch, about different employees and about band members.

Eddie Vega's name was mentioned often by Nate and Heathe and at those times, Ma's mouth would turn down disapprovingly. Blythe knew who Eddie was, had met him briefly in Tahoe the night before Nate left. She remembered him as a rude, obnoxious little man...greasy and sweaty. Sweaty-Eddie. But Nate seemed to consider him a trusted friend and loyal employee, speaking of him as a "little shit but damn good manager."

Blythe was sure she would learn more about Sweaty-Eddie but for the time being was content to watch, listen and grow accustom to the information and attitudes she had so recently become privy to. It was plenty for now and she was relieved no one else had decided to drop in to welcome her husband home.

The more Heathe Conners drank, the warmer he grew towards Blythe. But she was sure that under any circumstance, whether he cared for her or not, he would never be anything but polite and respectful, out of regard for his longtime friend.

It was around two in the morning when the newlyweds finally retired, Nate stopping her at the doorway to romantically sweep his bride into his arms and carry her over the threshold into their bedchamber. Heathe, having gone up ahead had considerately stacked more logs on the fire and it roared its welcome as they entered, lighting the room with a flickering glow while shadows frolicked about the walls.

Mrs. Manford, too, had slipped up the narrow backstairs off the kitchen before being driven into town by Heathe, for the bed was turned down and a bottle of champagne, chilling in a bucket next to two delicate flutes, had been placed on the hearth by a plate of fruit and her delicious homemade bread.

Blythe giggled as her husband dropped her onto the sheets and swinging round, lurched back toward the door. It slammed shut with a bang and the click of the lock resounded in the stillness before his long thin shadow hovered about the walls, following Nate to the fireplace where he bent to retrieve the bottle and glasses. Instead, he plucked from one of the flutes a piece of rolled paper and held it to the firelight.

"What is it?" Blythe asked, impatient for him to return to her side.

"Ah, seems to be a missive from the incorrigible Ma Manford. It appears and obviously I might add that she has provided us with food, drink and her permission to stay up here indefinitely. It says she and Conan will take care of everything and everyone."

He opened the glass doors to throw the note into the flames when Blythe's squeal from the bed startled him.

"My God, what's wrong?" he asked.

"You were going to burn that," she accused.

"I shouldn't?"

"Uh-uh. I want to keep it. It's sweet. I think she actually likes me."

"I actually like you," he said, tossing the paper on a nearby table before moving stealthily towards the bed, his figure looming devilishly over her.

Blythe felt her heart beat erratically and her stomach flutter in anticipation as he advanced, a faceless, masculine silhouette. His body came down over hers, forcing her head against the pillows and the smell of him filled her senses, her mind and body a maelstrom of desire as his mouth came down to claim hers with a yearning that snatched her breath away.

His teeth bit gently along her lower lip, followed by the tickling of his tongue as it lightly flicked the sensitive flesh before exploring deeper as his mouth wrenched the air from her lungs. Long fingers entwined themselves in her hair as the other hand roamed greedily over her full breasts and she was lost to the emotions that consumed her with a need to be part of Nate, compelled mindlessly to give herself over to him.

Her body began to undulate with her need and Nate felt her tremble as he began to slowly unbutton her shirt, bringing his lips down to kiss the skin exposed beneath each one. Rising, he stripped away the rest of her clothing but she moaned, anxious that he not leave her even for that short a time. He leaned down, reassuringly covering her eager mouth with his.

Accustomed to the darkness, Nate saw that, as always, Blythe's eyes were tightly shut. In the past when he'd asked, she'd refused to look at him, to open her eyes and see it was him making love to her. She was somehow embarrassed, yet he'd been positive that with time she wouldn't be so inhibited. But he wasn't going to think of that now. Now, all he cared about was loving her, making her love him, need him so terribly she would never want to leave.

His own clothes still on, he caressed her face, her body with his hands and mouth, feeling her flesh heat with moist steaminess, hearing her soft moans and watching her lush form move in sensual rhythm, bathed in firelight, her hair aglow like a burnished halo. Finally, her hands began searching his hard sinewy muscles and she pulled at his clothing with urgency until he stood to undress. Then lying next to her, Nate drew her on top of him, forcing his legs between hers. Her mane hung wildly down, draping their faces as he put a large hand on the back of her head drawing it down to kiss her lips as he slowly entered her.