Nightchild

Chapter 28

Long after Blythe fell asleep in his arms, Nate lay awake thinking. Many things disturbed him about this complex woman he had married; the nightmares, the way she found it so difficult to let herself go, the secretiveness of her past. He was sure when they made love her passion was as great as his, that she enjoyed the sex they shared as much as he did. But she always held back, fighting off total abandonment as if on the brink of a precipice, she was terrified of falling to its depths and being lost, so remained forever on the edge.

Nate would try to talk to her but the subject was taboo and she shut him out. Something was wrong somewhere and if it was with him, he wanted to know. And why, Nate wondered, would she not look at him? What fear kept her from opening her beautiful bedroom eyes and seeing that it was her husband, the man that loved her more than his life that made love to her? What hell was she afraid of?

A door opened and closed down the hall and Nate intuitively knew Heathe was on his way to the office where he would wait, even if it took hours, to talk to him alone. Quietly, Nate untangled himself from his wife, slipped out of bed and into his jeans then hurried down to meet his friend.

"I figured you'd be here," Nate said, closing the door softly behind him.

Heathe smiled slyly. "I figured you'd come...always did have trouble sleepin'." The smile faded. "We need to talk."

"If you're gonna start in about Blythe, don't! I'm sorry. You're the one person I should have told about the marriage. It was a bad error in judgment. You should have been there. But I swear the only reason I didn't tell you was because it was too risky. I couldn't take a chance on the others finding out. You know someone was bound to try to stop it."

Heathe waited for Nate to be seated in the tall leather chair behind the desk and both men simultaneously leaned back, propping their bare feet on its worn top.

"Maybe they would have been doin' you a favor," Heathe remarked smugly.

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Nate growled, his feet swinging back to earth as he sat erect in the chair. "What exactly is it? You don't like her or you're just pissed...jealous even?"

Unfazed by the accusation, Heathe took a swig from the glass he held. "Could be a little of both," he admitted indulgently. "I don't know her well enough not to like her, but Claire did have a pretty valid point. You don't know her very well either. This whole thing could be nothin' more than infatuation on one or both of your all's parts...then what?"

"Then nothing! I love her. Accept it! And she loves me. Things will work out."

"What if they don't? They didn't before. Speaking of before, how in the hell did you handle that slip Claire made about Sam?"

"Wasn't too difficult. I'd already explained to her I'd been married before and she'd had a disease and died."

Now it was Heathe's turn to sit straight and lean across the desk. "You what? Fuck, boss, J.T. and everyone else went to a lot of trouble to bury your past and you fuckin' blow it by takin' a chance on tellin' some stranger—"

"She's my wife," Nate interrupted calmly. "You don't have to worry about anything. She only knows what she needs to and understands that this is privileged information."

"But she doesn't know why, does she? Or the truth?"

"No, and she's not going to. Besides, there really isn't anyone for her to tell. She doesn't have much to do with her family. There's a brother somewhere outside of Dallas. She hasn't seen him in years and her parents are on a lengthy cruise. Except for Connie Bledsoe and an ex-husband that's not gonna have too much to do with her when he finds out he can't get her back, I'm really all she's got and I kinda like it that way."

"What about goin' back on tour? Shit's gonna hit the fan when J.T. and Eddie find out about Blythe. They've already been goin' crazy waitin' for you to get home so they could get your okay on these stops and push you right back out on the road."

"They'll just have to stay mad and crazy cuz I'm not going. I don't like the lifestyle and I'm not gonna be pushed into anything...anymore. My contract's up in August. You make it clear to everyone that if they want my cooperation, they better go easy about my marriage and make the best of it or I won't be signin' a damn thing when the time comes. I'll throw the whole music career away. I don't need it and I don't necessarily want it. I'm willin' to do a few concerts, records, videos, whatever...but nothing where I'll have to travel extensively. If they don't want to go along with that then I'm gone in August. Understood?"

"I understand, boss. But will they?"

"I don't give a damn anymore. I really don't. Eddie and J.T. can shove it."

"What about Chance? You two are pretty close."

"He won't be any problem. Chance always goes with the flow, which reminds me. How much did the little blond take him for?"

Heathe chuckled, wagging his fair head in amusement. "The divorce? Not enough to make a dent in his pocketbook. Seems he took Grady's advice for a change and had Nancy sign a prenuptial. Believe me, he's not running around broken hearted. Took him all of a week to move the blond out and a brunette in. This one must be all of thirty."

Nate smiled but his eyes remained serious. "Listen, old friend, I want some private quality time with my bride. Will you help? I don't mind the guys coming out but tell them to call first. And try to make sure the workers go home by five. I'd like to have the grounds to ourselves in the evenings. Will you talk to Wickersham and the others for me?"

"Have I ever let you down?" Heathe asked rhetorically. "I'll handle everything. But I'm still worried. What if Blythe finds out more than she ought to? What if she starts asking a bunch of questions?"

"She won't," Nate said confidently, leaning his elbows on the desk as he fiddled with a long sharply pointed letter opener he'd unthinkingly withdrawn from the top drawer. "Blythe is under my control. If anything gets out of hand, I can take care of it."

Heathe sighed deeply and drained his glass. "You're that sure?" he asked skeptically.

"I'm that sure," Nate confirmed then changing the subject, he nodded at the empty glass of scotch in Heathe's hand. "You're gonna kill yourself with that shit if you don't slow down."

"Yeah, I'm gonna die old or young, regardless. If this stuff doesn't get me, somethin' else will. I don't—" Silenced by the chilling scream that shattered the still hours before dawn, Heathe sprang to his feet. "My God," he whispered, finding his voice.

"Damn!" Nate swore already past the astounded man as he tore from the office and up the winding flight of stairs. The screams were still echoing through the house as he burst into the master bedroom with Heathe hot on his heels.

"It's me, darlin'. Everything's fine. I'm here," Nate cooed, rushing to the bed where he took Blythe into his arms and smoothed the tangled hair from her damp face. "Wake up, darlin', I'm here."

Pulling the covers over her exposed breasts, he gently began rocking her until her eyes fluttered open and he could see alertness dawn in them. Almost immediately, she realized he was dressed and had left their bed and bewilderment replaced the look of horror from her dream. Abruptly, her eyes shot to Heathe who filled the doorway, light from the hall spilling into the room around him and Nate followed her gaze.

The hulking man nodded and backed out of the room, softly pulling the door to as he did. Tears clung to Blythe's lashes as she looked questioningly up at Nate.

"I couldn't sleep and went down for some aspirin and a glass of milk. Conan heard me rustling about and came to check things out. I'm sorry. I should have stayed. I should have been here."

Stricken with a sense of panic, her eyes searched his. "Don't ever really leave me," Blythe cried, burying her head against his chest. "Please, don't ever leave me."

"Never, darlin', never," Nate promised, holding her tightly as she sobbed. "I'll never leave you." And a surreptitious smile touched the corners of his chiseled mouth.