Nightchild

Chapter 39

Gentry Blythe Stevens wandered restlessly about the ranch, overcome by a sensation of impending doom she was unable to shake or even pinpoint a reason for. It was normal of course, she mused, to feel lonely, deserted. After all, it was the first time since Mexico she and Nate had been separated.

This is ridiculous. Nate would never abandon me...let me go, for that matter. He's been more than adamant about it, she told herself with a shudder of apprehension. Perhaps that was it, the submissive way he made her feel, like she belonged to him, was totally in his power. Without him, she somehow wasn't whole.

It was midday and she paced nervously around the workroom. Why had she ever thought she'd be able to concentrate on writing? For weeks she'd withdrawn from Nate and now that he was gone, she felt utterly useless, as if half of her was missing. It was a frightening perception. She'd made such a point of being in control of her life, of her emotions. She had always been independent and unattached. Now look at me, she grumbled to herself.

Desperate for something to fill her time, Blythe was on her way to see if she could help Ma Manford in the kitchen when the doorbell chimed. "I'll get it, Ma," she hollered and took the last stairs two at a time, as she'd done as a child, then hurried to the door, flinging it open with a nervous energy that took the caller by surprise.

"My God, I wasn't expecting the door to fly open like that! Where's Ma? It usually takes her an eternity to answer the bell!" With that, Rene Sanders sauntered, uninvited, onto the stone floor of the entry hall, looking about her with the cocked brow of knowing familiarity. "Well, I can see nothing's changed since your unexpected arrival. But then again, I really didn't expect your presence here to have much of an impact," she said, looking down her long, thin nose at Blythe, her lips curling into a snarl.

The small mistress of the house suddenly felt dowdiness compound her depressed state as she took in the elegant attire of the other woman. Almost six feet tall in spiked heels, the other woman towered over her like a svelte panther, stretching on hind legs. The suit she wore was exquisitely tailored in a black that matched her raven hair, accented with narrow red piping. The long legs were hosed in smoky silk stockings with a seam running disturbingly straight up the back of her shapely calves. Her hair, just as straight, hung beautifully coiffed, not a stand out of place.

Raising a self-conscious hand to smooth her own mass of unruly curls, Blythe remembered that in her state of dejection, she'd neglected to put on makeup and silently rebuked herself for being so lazy and slovenly. Thankfully, she'd taken off the sweat pants she'd worked out in earlier and had slipped on a pair of old jeans and tennis shoes.

Oh, well, it's too late, she thought. I've already broken the first rule about looking your best when you face the enemy...I can't stand here now like a ninny and let her pull this imitation bit without a battle. Blythe took a couple of deep breaths and smiled. "Now that you're in, can I get you anything? Would you care to have a seat in the clubroom? We could make polite conversation, pretend we're both ladies. Or would you prefer to dispense with the bullshit and go straight for the jugular?"

Rene bestowed on her what she thought was her smuggest of grins then led the way into the room where she made herself at home behind the bar before responding to the challenge. "Amusing as this is, I really don't have the time. I came to see Nathan. Would it be too taxing on you to tell him I'm here?" she asked, her tone bored as she splashed peppermint schnapps into a small snifter.

"Not at all," Blythe replied complacently, "but my husband's not home."

Rene scowled. "Really? How inconvenient. When will he be back?"

Blythe forced herself to meet the woman's catlike eyes. "Not for a day or two. Perhaps there's something I could help you with."

Clearly perturbed, Rene set her glass on the bar. "I sincerely doubt that. It's about Claire. How odd he left a day early."