“It should be blushing from all that…activity at the table.”
“It is,” she announced, and added sadly, “Zach, this isn’t going at all well.”
“Give them a few minutes.” He rose from the table to help her with the dishes. They took as long as they could. When neither could find a single excuse to remain in the kitchen, they both walked just to the door and paused to peer delicately around the corner.
Red was slouched on the sofa, his stomach protruding; he was red-faced and yawning from his huge dinner. Theodore sat next to him, primly erect, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Elizabeth was sitting in the chair across from them, crocheting an afghan. No one was talking.
Zach glanced at Bett. “A bomb might get that group moving, but I doubt it,” he whispered.
“We shouldn’t have fed them. They both look ready to go to sleep.” Bett sighed. “Mom would have considered it a compliment if they
Zach left to drive the potential beaux home at nine. Shortly after that, Elizabeth declared she was tired, and picked up a book to take to her room. “I think it’s a healthy thing that you two have such a wide variety of friends, Bett.”
“Yes.” Bett climbed the stairs behind her mother and gave her an affectionate hug at the top. “I’m sorry to have landed you with an extra two for dinner.”
“You’re joking. You know I love that. You have as many people over as you want, anytime,” Elizabeth assured her.
Bett took a bath, donned nothing afterward and climbed smooth-skinned under the sheet to wait for Zach. She heard the truck roll in around ten and then listened to the assorted muted sounds from below-Zach getting a drink of water, switching off the lights, swearing softly at Sniper who evidently was sitting in the middle of the stairway.
When he saw that the bedroom light was off, Zach entered very silently, closing the door behind him. Moonlight shone in on the comforter, on the soft mound of Bett’s figure. She was exhausted; he wasn’t surprised. Her mischievous moves under the dinner table were still making him smile; it had made a difference, their talk. Not that she couldn’t exhibit more sass than sense on occasion, but Bett had always been a toucher-a caress, a kiss, a hug, all of which had been missing whenever her mother had been in the same room. He felt a warm tug of love for his lady, who had just needed a little reminder that they stayed together through thick and thin. These days were a little thin with Elizabeth around, but they were coping. He pulled off his jeans and shirt, then the rest of his clothes, and very carefully made his way to the bed in the darkness, not wanting to wake her.
The sheets were cold. Gradually, his body heat began to transfer to the percale. He moved instinctively to his side, one arm reaching to drape around Bett and drag her into the spoon of his chest and bent knee.
She turned at just that instant to face him, sliding her leg between his, arching her small breasts against him, snuggling provocatively. “You’re tired,” she whispered.
The hell he was. An amused smile crossed his face as he reached for her. Those hot little button nipples pressing against his ribs roused about a dozen reactions, none of them exhaustion. Her thighs were smoother than silk, but much, much warmer. “You want to go to sleep, do you?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to talk.”
“I
“You’re too tired.”
“We both need sleep,” Bett agreed in a low, throaty whisper.
He really had to do something to control those teasing impulses of hers. She arched back when his lips found the column of her throat. He cradled her closer yet, his palms splayed on her bottom. Her skin was warm and pliant, fragrant like the night, as provocative as the darkness. A sweet little tremor shook her body when his hand smoothed down the length of her.
The light knock on the door made him grit his teeth. “Brittany?” Elizabeth whispered.
Zach clamped a hand on Bett’s mouth. She was too busy swallowing to answer, anyway. “She’s asleep, Liz. Need something?”
“Oh, of course not, Zach. I certainly didn’t mean to disturb you. Brittany and I have rather gotten used to sharing a cup of tea when she can’t sleep,” Elizabeth whispered. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
She hesitated. “You don’t know where she keeps the tea?”
The tea was in the same cupboard it always was. In the kitchen, with all the lights turned on again, Elizabeth beamed at Zach, at the same time sending him apologetic signals with her eyes. “You didn’t have to get up, you know; but I have to admit I rarely have the chance to talk to just you.”
His dark robe belted firmly around him, Zach smothered an irritated yawn. Bett was all through with interrupted nights. And when the moment presented itself, Elizabeth was about to get a very tactful lecture on privacy. He forced a smile as he settled in the kitchen chair across from his mother-in-law.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone for some time, anyway,” Elizabeth admitted shyly. Her color was suddenly high, matching her bright pink robe with the ruffles at the neck. “Zach, I feel I can talk to you. I always have. Most sons-in-law…I just don’t think I would have had that feeling.”
Zach lifted his eyebrows, the first puff of wind knocked out of his sails. “If you have some problem, Liz…”
“Not exactly a problem. It’s just-oh, I just feel Chet should have handled this. You know, you and Bett have been married for some time.”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth dunked her tea bag, then delicately dropped it in the saucer and lifted the cup to her lips. “I don’t know how to say this,” she admitted with a shy little laugh. “My daughter… I love my Brittany so very much, Zach. She’s not…”
Zach waited, not having the least idea how to help her because he didn’t have the least idea what she was talking about.
“In the beginning of a marriage,” Elizabeth said slowly, “a young couple is so very much in love. But then later, ‘in love’ changes to loving; it’s a very different thing, a much more important thing.” Elizabeth pleated her robe four times, and then took another sip of tea. “Sometimes, it takes work, loving. The thing is, Brittany is rather shy, Zach. Hardly a woman of the world. She never has been. One would like to be sure she is happy.”
Elizabeth leveled a soft, brown-eyed, puppy stare at him that Zach understood very well was supposed to be meaningful. He floundered. “You mean the farm-”
“No,” Elizabeth said swiftly, and lowered her eyes. “Chet would have handled this so much better,” she announced.
Zach had the sneaking suspicion that Chet wouldn’t have initiated this conversation in the first place. His eyes strayed helplessly to the clock. The witching hour was almost at hand.
“You’re rather male,” Elizabeth said nervously.
He blinked.
“And in the beginning of a marriage-well, that’s one thing. It’s later that counts. The years of building. And Brittany’s terribly gentle by nature; that just doesn’t go away. A man doesn’t usually feel…he has to be patient anymore, after a time. Actually, though, it’s the patience that counts long after the honeymoon. Love isn’t just measured in…” Elizabeth paused, taking another gulp of tea, her face poppy-red. “Chet would have handled this much, much better.”
Zach hadn’t missed the theme of the conversation this time, but handling it was something else. Elizabeth was wringing her hands together in her lap, her soft eyes resting on his, communicating how difficult it was for her to discuss the subject. He wished he felt more exasperation. As it was, he felt a swift stir of compassion, and total weariness at the realization that it wasn’t likely they were going to discuss privacy when his mother-in-law wanted to talk about sex. “Look,” he said gently. “If you’re worried about whether Bett and I are happy in bed-”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “I wasn’t trying to get that personal,” she said stiffly. “Honestly, Zach. If you think I would really pry-”
Zach’s hand covered hers. “I don’t necessarily think we need to mention this conversation to Bett.”
“Lord, no,” Elizabeth agreed nervously.
“Bett isn’t unhappy, Liz.”
