by Jan Irving
“Go on. It is something Nate wanted for us.”
Encouraged when he heard Nate mentioned, Samuel retraced his steps to their front door and slowly twisted the knob. When it opened, he saw the hands they’d been feeding, all of them, except Nate. Two of them held a small potted pine tree with a simple paper star at the top. Samuel moved back, staring at it as they came inside.
“Nate said you’d want to be able to plant it in the spring, Aaron, near your vegetable garden,” Albert said. He puffed out a breath, face red from the cold. “Gotta say, it was really hard to dig it up this late in the year!”
Samuel reached out and touched one of the branches.
“I thought to decorate it with popcorn. Will you stay?”
Aaron invited the other men and women, also including Luke in his invitation.
Luke shook his head. “Gotta get to the mission. Princess is in this year’s Christmas pageant. Morgan’ll kill me if I’m late again.”
“Princess?” Samuel asked.
“Our daughter, Jessica.” Luke’s face softened. “That’s what me and Morgan call her. Well, see you Aaron, Sam… guys. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah!”
Samuel watched Luke and a few of the hands who had to be somewhere else leave. Most stayed, and Papa put milk on the stove for hot chocolate, but Samuel lingered near the window, watching more snow fall. He watched until his father called him to help string the popcorn. There was no sign of Happy Nate.
“WHAT’S the quilt doing on the couch, Papa?” Samuel asked Aaron. He was yawning since he’d been allowed to stay up late. The little tree stood near the sideboard in their great room, covered with popcorn and a few folded paper stars the hands had made. So far Samuel had gone over to it a few times, fingering the needles, excited about the wrapped gifts under the tree with the names of all their friends. His Papa had been doing a lot of baking, so he knew some were special treats just for the hands.
“The quilt is for Nate,” Aaron said. “He is going to sleep on our couch tonight. We are going to be giving wagon rides to the children in town tomorrow, so we all have to get up early.”
“Can I go on one?” Samuel asked, and Aaron relaxed a little. Time, Nate had told him, give Samuel time. He didn’t seem uptight about Nate spending the night on their couch.
“Yes, you may, Samuel, though there might be somewhere else you want to be,” Aaron said.
Samuel’s forehead creased, but before he could ask his father what he meant, he heard another knock on their front door. Samuel sped to answer it, opening it for Nate, who was balancing a pile of brightly wrapped gifts.
Aaron came over, scolding, “That is too much, Nathaniel!”
“No, it could never be enough,” Nate said as he looked first at Aaron and then at Samuel.
He strode into the great room and dumped the gifts under the tree before turning to Aaron and giving him a faint nod.
“You have one more chore before bedtime,” he told Samuel, who was clearly itching to go over to Nate’s offerings.
Samuel groaned.
Nate winked at Aaron. Aaron could see that in his mind that his happy cowboy was dancing, dancing in the dust the way he used to on dusty late summer mornings.
“Come on, we’ll help you,” Nate said, folding his arms and waiting as Aaron and Samuel donned their coats, hats, and gloves.
THE corral wasn’t new, but it had recently been repaired and extended so it came up to where Aaron’s vegetable patch would grow again next spring. Nate fell back, letting Aaron lead Sam closer with an arm around his shoulders.
The stars were like a thousand points of light overhead, so Nate let his head fall back, looking up as he settled near his two guys. He felt a touch on his arm and it was Samuel.
“Hey, kid.” He took in their quaint clothing, the suspenders, Aaron’s beard, and the dark trousers under their muffling coats. Probably they still looked strange to some, but to Nate now they were his.
“It’s cold,” Samuel said pointedly, obviously wanting to get back to the warm cabin and the intriguing gifts.
“So it is.” Nate looked over toward the meadow, nodding so Samuel would look as well. In the moonlight the mustang mare walked from the trees, and the foal followed closely behind.
“But…!” Samuel’s small hands clenched on the fence. “I thought the mare was dead.”
“No,” Nate said, shaking his head. “It was another wild horse. This is your father’s gift, Samuel. When I managed to find them, round them up, he came up with the money to build a little shed for them and helped me repair and extend this corral.”
“Can I go see them?”
Aaron put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “No, not yet. Nate is going to gentle them for us. This spring, he will teach you to ride. But your chore will be caring for them, Samuel, as you do our chickens and goat.”
“I promise!”
The horses stayed at the far end of the corral, coats still shaggy. Nate couldn’t wait to teach Samuel how to brush them. He watched them, a little sorry now they weren’t free, but without a stallion to protect them, they wouldn’t have survived long.
They stayed a little longer, until the snow picked up again. Heavy snowflakes turned wet against his cheeks.
On the way back to the cabin, Aaron walked very close to him, so their shoulders brushed. Nate knocked Samuel’s hat a little so it tilted at a funny angle, and the kid gave him a smile.
ON NEW Year’s Eve, Nate still slept on the couch. More of his stuff had migrated to sit in neat piles around the den furniture. He’d fixed the TV so sometimes he and Samuel watched it. It still seemed to make Aaron slightly uncomfortable, though he liked watching cooking and gardening shows.
It was quiet except for the ticking of the cheap clock on the mantle, all the chores done for the night. He sat up when he heard a creak from the stairs going up to the loft, and Aaron stood there with his suspenders fallen beside his legs, and his shirt half-unbuttoned. Seeing him in the light from the woodstove, Nate’s heart started to pound.
“It is time you sleep with me, Nathaniel,” Aaron said, holding out his hand.
“Sam….”
“He told me tonight that you need your own room if you’re going to stay with us.”
“My own room with you, you mean.” The quilt fell aside.
The couch was lumpy, but sleeping here these past days had been heaven, even with the pain of want, of denial, and of hearing Aaron preparing for bed every night and wanting to be up there to see him, to touch him.
Aaron said nothing, waiting patiently.
Nate went to him. He meant to say something more, to take Aaron’s hand, but Aaron crushed him against the wall and kissed him the way he had the first time. Possessive.
Next thing he swung Nate up in his arms, and Nate grabbed hold of Aaron’s neck with a surprised laugh.
“This is not how it’s done?” Aaron asked him as he carried Nate up the stairs.
“I guess this is how we do it,” Nate said. “I don’t know, Aaron.” He said the last softly because Nate didn’t know where they were going. He knew what his body wanted, but that just came down to touch . But the rest….
Aaron lowered him to the floor in the shadowed loft with only one light on by the bed. Nate couldn’t stop himself from putting his hands on Aaron’s bare chest, sending out waves of energy, healing, so Aaron shuddered. “I feel your electricity, Nate.”
Nate put his lips against Aaron’s nipple, open mouthed, sucking. “I feel yours,” he whispered.
Clothing was tugged, his, Aaron’s, until he revealed Aaron’s wonderful body again. He pulled him down onto the bed, and they were kissing, their bodies lined up, heat, suction, Aaron’s hand shaking as he reached out and stroked Nate so Nate caught his breath and his head arched back.
“Nate….” Aaron pulled back, and Nate admired him, the dark eyes contrasting the white blond beard, the disheveled hair from Nate’s hands. “My wife was my best friend.”
Nate swa
llowed. “I know, Aaron. I know you loved her.”
Aaron said, “But you are who I choose. You are the husband I want inside my body.”
Oh…. Nate gulped more air. Aaron wanted him to—
“I trust you,” Aaron said. “Make me want to dance again.”
Aaron had lube and condoms arranged on his bedside table. Despite his background, he obviously was a man who believed in being prepared, in embracing his new world.
Sweat breaking out on his forehead, Nate took the lube and put it beside Aaron’s body. “Lie back,” he said.
Innocence. Nate was so aware of it as he cupped Aaron’s face, as he looked at the faint squint lines by his eyes, at the full lips he was hungry to kiss. He started with Aaron’s face, touching it, learning it so that if he were blind he would remember the shine of skin in the lamp, the firm round shoulder, the sudden bob of Aaron’s Adam’s apple as he kissed the little furry patch at the center of his chest. His hand curled around one of Aaron’s thighs, tugging it slightly higher as he put his open lips against Aaron’s hip so his lover’s big body shuddered.
It wasn’t until more snow had covered their window, wet and cold and clinging, when the clock downstairs had ticked out a long space of time that he licked Aaron’s opening, holding onto Aaron’s bucking hips firmly. Aaron didn’t deny him any part of his body. He gave himself as if it were his wedding and as Nate touched him, he became his bridegroom.
When his shaking fingers breached Aaron, Aaron sat up to watch, eyes wide, and Nate looked up to see the expressions wing past on his face. Aaron laughed. “That feels good now.”
Nate shook his head. “You make this….” He didn’t have the words, but he eased and fingered until sweat broke out between Aaron’s nipples and his eyes begged for Nate.
Nate covered himself and came to his lover, mounting him, cushioned in hard muscle, feeling the rough callused hands on his lower back, pulling him down. When he entered Aaron, they stared into each other’s eyes. He died a little at the flicker of discomfort and waited… and waited… and when the broad hand on his back clutched him, he pushed gently.
Aaron groaned when Nate fully seated himself, shaking, his hair dripping sweat, his body a glowing furnace in the act of love, give, give, give, he was all about giving to Aaron.
Pleasure, healing, laughter.
You have the saddest eyes. He remembered thinking that when he first met Aaron.
Those eyes were melting chocolate now. The lips turned up, parted, so Nate kissed him and tasted Aaron’s pleasure.
He rocked them gently, as gently as a boat out on the summer lake until like a fork of lighting, Aaron broke him.
Between one thrust and the next, his body tightened and he gave his come, and Aaron arched, and they were both wet and warm with Aaron’s release as he pulled Nate down safe.
“WHAT are you doing?” Aaron rasped in his ear a hundred years later.
Nate shivered. He put down the water he’d brought in a basin from downstairs.
“I was going to clean us both off,” Nate said. “The water’s warm….”
Aaron’s arms came around him. He was sticky and broad shoulders and serious eyes in the faint light of a new day, a new year. His body… he was a muscled god, beautiful, like a bearded Zeus. “Later, Nathaniel.”
They took a turn around the room. It was cold, so Nate knew they’d soon return to bed, snuggle warm, and Aaron didn’t dance very well, leading, following, but he was dancing.
Epilogue
AARON looked up when a shadow fell over him where he was weeding on a warm May late afternoon. He saw Nate, so he lifted his head, and Nate kissed him. He felt a ball of secret sunshine in his stomach, thinking of last night and making love to Nate. Nate seemed to like him inside, despite how at first Aaron had been frightened and clumsy, and he’d known he’d caused the smaller man some discomfort.
But Nate had held him, kissing Aaron’s bare shoulder, combing his fingers through his hair so all Aaron could do was arch up and make that little “Ah!” sound that Nate said he loved to hear.
“The mission garden is going to be showy this year,”
Nate said, slouching against the railing that led into the church, his cowboy hat low over his eyes, his hair matted from the sweat of a working cowboy.
“Showy, no,” Aaron said, uncomfortable with that idea.
“The herbs will be useful, and the flowers can be pressed.”
He’d done the work because Mrs. Henderson had asked him to try to do something with the weedy patch around the mission. Aaron still didn’t attend the services, but he had more friends here as a result of his gardening. And he liked talking to the teacher not only about Samuel’s progress in school, but about their shared passion for romance novels.
Nate teased him, but he didn’t seem to mind when Aaron read to him in bed. Whenever the heroes in the book said, “I love you,” Aaron’s voice became deeper, throatier, and he knew Nate liked to hear it. But when he said the words just for Nate, his breath broke against his lover's skin, and he always added “husband.”
Nate shook his head. “Okay. But I still think it’s going to look really great. It’s nice of you to do it.”
Aaron shrugged. It was not nice. It was useful. Good soil shouldn’t go to waste. Nate had strange ideas sometimes, even when he said the same of Aaron.
“Sam and I brought lunch,” Nate said, nodding over to Samuel. Their horses were tied inside the crumbling parking lot with tails swatting some early flies. Samuel wasn’t yet riding one of the mustangs as Nate still worked with them, but Aaron knew his magic, his touch. How could the horses resist Happy Nathaniel? “Thought we’d all go for a swim after.”
Aaron raised his brows, and Nate grinned, as if he remembered how they’d come here once and Nate had shucked down to nothing, skinny dipping in the lake. “I bought a suit in town,” he said. “It’s still early so all they had was one with orchids on it.” He grimaced.
Aaron’s lips quirked. He looked forward to some teasing of his own though it would be gentle because he knew Nate only wore the suit for the sake of Aaron’s sense of modesty.
Samuel brought over the basket of food, and Aaron sat up, leaving his work. Nate untied his bandana and gave it to Aaron to wipe a streak of dirt from his face. “This is perfect. The sun is perfect, and it’s perfect being here with you,” Nate said lazily, lying back, cushioned by Aaron’s legs.
Samuel threw a piece of apple at Nate and he grinned, stealing a bit of Samuel’s pie.
When they all finished and the sun still poured down on them like honey, Nate stood up and began to shuffle around the broken asphalt. Aaron’s heart lifted. He wanted to join Nate and sometime soon he knew he would, not just alone in their room. He reached out and ruffled Samuel’s hair as they watched Happy Nathaniel, dancing just for them.
About the Author
JAN IRVING has worked in all kinds of creative fields, from painting silk to making porcelain ceramics, to interior design, but writing was always her passion.
She feels you can’t fully understand characters until you follow their journey through a story world. Many kinds of worlds interest her, fantasy, historical, science fiction and suspense—but all have one thing in common, people finding a way to live together—in the most emotional and erotic fashion possible, of course!
Visit Jan’s blog at http://jan-revealed.livejournal.com and her web site at http://janirvingwrites.com/.
More from Sylvan by JAN IRVING
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More from Sylvan by JAN IRVING
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Also by JAN IRVING
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Nathaniel ©Copyright Jan Irving, 2010
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
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This is a work of f
iction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
December 2010
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-724-5
