Stress between the so recently loving couple hung in the air like the scent of fireworks long after the sparks have died away. The weeks following Robert Stevens' death were tense for everyone living or working around the ranch, the reasons being anything but secret.

Blythe kept to herself, spending most of her time writing. The workroom became her retreat and Nate seldom intruded, for there was an understood silent agreement between them that the room was now her domain, hers and hers alone.

He was content to spend more and more of his free time downstairs in the library or office, where locked in a desk drawer were files containing notes on his wife; notes he hoped one day would lead him to the answers he so desperately craved.

Obsessively, he attempted to compile names, addresses and phone numbers of people who had known Blythe as a young girl and since. But his frustration grew daily with his inability to find her parents, still somewhere on a private cruise.

He tried to reach Connie Bledsoe but she was on vacation with her own family. Even Phillip MacLarren, Blythe's brother, had an unlisted phone number and address. The only information he'd been able to pry out of Blythe was that Phil had returned to the old hometown of Ringwald. But Nate was tenacious about finding out more...much, much more.

Any topic of conversation that remotely hinted of the past or skirted on the subject of the rape was avoided or quickly averted, putting yet another wedge in the Stevens' relationship. Nate was becoming leery of all he said and did, fearful of Blythe withdrawing even farther into her shell. He even left her alone sexually, cuddling her and being there to reassure her should she wake from another bad dream. These were the only real intimacies they now shared.

Grudgingly, the late August days had slipped lethargically into September. Unseasonable storms and moisture promised to leave behind as their combined epitaph upon the earth, a brilliantly vivid autumn explosive with whirling leaves of fiery color.

It was one of those days when the turning leaves were whipped savagely about branches bent and bouncing with the wind, that Heathe caught up to Nate who was taking a now infrequent walk with his wife. "Boss, hold up. I need to talk to you before I head out."

The couple swung round to see the tall blond rushing towards them, sweat beading his handsome brow. "Glad I found you. Ma had no idea which direction you'd gone."

"What's up? We got problems?" Nate asked, worry creasing his forehead.

Heathe smiled and caught his breath. "Naw, nothin' like that. I just got this wild hair to get out of here, away from the city, away from women...that's all. I'm packed and ready to go to the cabin. How 'bout comin' along? You too, Blythe," he added. "We could relax, no worries, no one to bother us, no phones. Dove hunting oughta be good right now. Come on, whadaya say?"

"I say it sounds terrific...but not this time. I've got too many obligations and—"

"Don't worry about me," Blythe interrupted, her tone emphatic. "It would do you good to get away for a few days. I can manage perfectly fine on my own for awhile."

Nate turned to her. "I was wanting to talk to you about that. It seems I might have to go to Nashville this week. They want me to see the rushes of the new video, go over some contract problems, make some final decisions on the album before it's released. It sounds hectic, like a night and day situation."

Catching the look of surprise that crossed Heathe's face, Blythe was suspicious but decided to question her husband after the other man had left. The situation was tenuous and she was becoming weary of always having an audience when she and Nate needed to talk. Besides, she knew what he was getting at, that he would have no time for her if she went and it would be best if she stayed behind.

Putting on a less than convincing smile, she managed to ask, "What cabin? Where is it, Heathe?"

"The construction company owns one up in the panhandle. Thought I'd take advantage of it before the businesses get so busy I won't be able to get away. That okay with you, Boss?"

Heathe's never been good at hiding his emotions. Perhaps if he was, the women in his life would have put up with him longer, Nate thought, aware Blythe noticed his friend's puzzled expression when he'd mentioned Nashville.

"It's okay by me," Nate said before rushing into an explanation. "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you about the Nashville thing before now, but J.T. only called me last night. You know what a damn hurry he gets into. You go on and enjoy yourself. There's nothing you could do to help at this point. It's all stuff I have to handle myself."

Heathe's features relaxed and Nate made two mental notes; one to call J.T. with a warning not to give him away, and two, to catch Heathe as soon as he returned to tell him the truth. "How long you plan on bein' gone?" he asked.

Heathe shrugged. "Four or five days. It's too far up there just to turn around and come back. How 'bout you?"

"A night or two at the most. I'll fly." Nate put an arm about the brawny shoulders of his friend and gave the solid stomach a playful punch. "You go on and have a good time. Just be careful."

"You too, Boss. I'll be in touch when I get back. Bye, Blythe...Nate."

"See ya, Conan," Nate replied.

Blythe simply nodded and smiled as Heathe turned to leave, watching till he was out of sight before turning to her husband. "It's a shame you can't go with him. It might have been fun."

Nate's smile flashed white in the bright glare of the clear fall sunshine, his eyes crinkling against the light as he stared guilelessly at his wife. His voice was happy and nonchalant when he spoke. "Not really. If I wanted to spend time away and lone with anyone, it would be with my beautiful wife. Besides, I don't hunt."

"You don't wh...," Blythe started caught off guard, her brows shooting up before she had a chance to mask her surprise.

Nate looked at her oddly. "Are you shocked that I'd want to spend time alone with you or that I don't care about being alone with Heathe?"

Shaking her head, Blythe started walking. "Neither. It's that your mother, well..." She stopped herself, considering what and how much she wanted to say. She had never told Nate about visiting Claire Stevens the evening of his birthday, and from all indications the old woman hadn't mentioned it either.

"It's just that in passing, the night at your party when I was welcoming your mother and Rene, well...Claire said something weird about your being such and excellent hunter. And then there's the gun cabinet in your office. It's full. I suppose I'd simply taken it for granted you hunted."

He was beside her now, watching intensely as she spoke. "I did. I hunted a lot in the past. It was an easy assumption for you to make. I've probably even mentioned it to you before, but that was a long time ago."

Blythe came to a halt and stared up at him. "But why did you quit? And why keep the collection of guns?"

"Maybe to remind me," he said softly, his eyes going briefly beyond her to some other place and time.

"Nate," she whispered, "what do they remind you of?"

His face became somber, his chiseled mouth losing its earlier warmth. "I was to have met Sonny at the cabin Heathe's going to. It was his. He'd bought it for us, for the company. It was a ritual. A few of us guys would go there to get away from it all, relax, hunt...you know, do the macho routine. Except Sonny, he was so into nature...wouldn't have harmed a fly. He respected life too much.

"He just enjoyed getting away, relaxing. He'd always take a camera and get the greatest pictures of a blade of grass, a spider in its web, a doe and fawn just ready to take flight. He loved it and was so at peace. It was like he became part of the nature that surrounded him.

"That particular time, Sonny had Heathe and me go on ahead. I think Susan was pissed about him going. She was pregnant. We'd been up there a couple of days but he still hadn't shown up, so we headed back. In the truck on the way home, we switched on the radio. That's how I found out he was dead. The Porsche had flipped going around a bend at a hundred and ten. He was halfway to the cabin when it happened."

"Nate, I'm sorry. God, you mean they actually broadcast it over the radio?"

"Sure...and television. You ought to know as well as anyone that disaster within prominent families is always news worthy."

Pain shot through Blythe at the stabbing remark and she swung away from her husband, the empathy and closeness she'd felt seconds before gone with the statement harshly alluding to her own publicized misfortune. She stomped off, this time in the direction of the house.

"For Christ's sake, Blythe, come back here and talk to me," Nate yelled after her. But she continued on without the hesitation of a backward glance.

It had been the most open they'd been with each other since the story of her rape had surfaced. Now, Nate was filled with anger over the way she could so easily shut him out again and run away. In a few long strides he caught her and jerking her arm, twisted her to him.

"Just settle down and listen to me. I didn't mean anything by that comment. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. It was a dumbass thing to say. But you can't keep distorting everything and taking offense when there's none intended.

"I love you, Blythe Stevens, whether you want to believe it or not. And all the running away in the world isn't going to change that! You understand? You can't run far enough, cause I'm not going let all this ruin what we have. I'm not going to give up and I'm not ever going to let you go. Not ever!"

There was passion and sincerity in his voice, yet something threatening in the very conviction of his words. Suddenly, Blythe believed him...knew with all her heart and soul that he meant what he said, that he would never let her go, no matter what, and a shiver ran up her spine. She felt it then, the devouring sense of defeat that the caged feel and she became subdued.

"I understand. And I believe you," she said submissively.

"Good!" he exclaimed, crushing her to him. "Then you don't mind about me having to go to Nashville for a couple of days? I'd ask you to come along but I want to work continuously, day and night, so I can get back home quicker. I'm afraid if you were along, I'd be too distracted to get much done.

"I probably won't even get a hotel room, so there won't be any way of reaching me. I'll just check in when I have some free time." He released her and holding her at arm's length stared searchingly into her eyes. "I love you. Everything will work out. You'll see."

Blythe forced herself to smile. But beneath it lay an uneasiness that crept into the fibers of her being. Just as a disease attacks to destroy cells and tissue, this feeling was destroying something inside Blythe she wasn't even aware of.