Tallchief for Keeps (8 page)

Alek caught her wrist, smoothing the fine skin as he studied her hands, more slender and lighter in his. Then he took them and placed them on his cheeks, her left palm against his scars. Alek closed his eyes, and when they opened, Elspeth stepped back, frightened. There was too much heat in him, skimming over her, needing something she did not want to give. Alek would have to fight his private wars by himself.

“Please leave.”

“Do you know how much I needed you close to me that night? How much I’ve thought about you—?” His voice was uneven, raw with emotion that startled Elspeth.

“Alek—” Her thumb brushed the scar on his lip, and Alek pressed it there. Unable to move, to look away, Elspeth met his black eyes. She saw his pain again, the shadows enclosing him.

Only minutes ago he had laughed at Megan; now he was serious, lines deepening in his forehead. “I am sorry, Elspeth. I should have handled the matter better.”

“The
matter?
As in you should have worn a brown suit in lieu of a blue one?” She fought to draw her hand away, fought to keep her fingers from stroking his lined brow.

“I made love with you, Elspeth. There’s a difference.”

“And you would know, wouldn’t you?” she demanded bitterly.

Alek took her hand against her will and lifted it to
his mouth, pressing his lips to the center. Over their hands, he looked at her. “It took some time before I sorted out what had happened. I was riding an emotional maelstrom that night, and making love to you confused the issue. I moved through the next weeks like a sleepwalker—lucky to keep my life, in some cases. But I knew that whatever happened that night went deep with us. You were twenty-eight, Elspeth. Most women have experience by then…you didn’t. Why hasn’t there been someone to care for you?”

She trembled and fought the panic rising in her. Alek was prowling too close. “Alek, this has gone far enough.”

Alek took her hands and placed them over his heart. The steady, heavy beat pushed at her palms, and Elspeth looked away, aware that her senses were racing, that after all the years, she was affected by Alek. The knowledge still startled her.

“I need answers, Elspeth. You are going to give them to me, like it or not.” He bent to brush his lips across hers. The second time, he leaned closer, and Elspeth held her breath as his lips lingered over hers, brushing, warming. He was asking now, needing—

Alek inhaled quickly and straightened away from her. ‘That’s how it is, Elspeth-mine,” he murmured, and was gone.

Elspeth flattened back against the wall for support and found herself shaking.

Whatever had passed, the bond that she knew they’d forged that night remained. It shimmered and tangled between them, twisted and heated and forged like an ancient Celtic design. She’d known from the moment he’d come to her side, his eyes hot and laughing, and his hand taking hers…

Elspeth
placed her shaking hands over her face and tried to control her emotions as she had since that night.

Yet her instincts told her that it was the same as when she’d first met Alek, the heat and the need to claim him for her own…to bond with him…to meet him on a plane where they both demanded and both gave—Was it true? Did she bond with Alek so deeply that even with their past, he could still affect her on a level that she did not want to revisit?

“No.” Elspeth firmly reined her impulse to seek out Una’s legend of the shawl, to place the pieces together and try to unravel the words. The words came to haunt her—
scarred warrior…placing the shawl…the Marrying Moon…tepee….

Before her encounter with Alek in Scotland, she’d believed the words would unravel into a romantic truth just for her. Now she had no illusions.

“No. I will not let him interfere with my life,” she promised, and forced herself to walk to her loom.

Four

“A
lek Petrovna, Jr., don’t ignore me.” Talia, dressed in overalls and a sweater, picked her way across the rubble of Alek’s new office. She tottered on an uneven board, and instantly Alek and Calum swooped upon her. Two big hands gripped each side of her overalls at the waist and lifted her over the board. She glared up at them, both with a big hand on her shoulder to steady her.

“Wouldn’t want the baby to get hurt.” Alek rubbed Talia’s gently rounded tummy.

“The percentages say that we’ll have a girl,” Calum stated, and bent to kiss his wife. He caught the back of her overalls in his hand, tethering her and drawing her back to him. “You’ve been up all night practicing. Tell him.”

She stared at her husband and stated indignantly, “I was merely baking baklava. You didn’t have to sit in the kitchen and placate me with nods and hmms.”

“Sweetheart, it’s darn hard to sleep with you marching in your Hessian boots and muttering in corrupted Swahili. The Russian folk music didn’t help, either.” Calum kissed her nose. “You were stewing, precious. I’ll leave and let Junior take his medicine. Make certain you’re home in time to take your nap, or I’ll be hunting you.”

Talia snuggled against him, contented
and loved. “Well…okay. Just because I know you’ll send out Duncan and Birk and probably Alek, too. But I want a kiss first.”

After Calum had left, Alek noted, “That was some kiss. He’ll be steaming all afternoon.”

Talia grinned. “Calum is in that “gee can I…is this good for the baby?’ stage and too ready to protect me. He needs reassurance and pampering.”

“I’m glad you’re together.” Alek glanced at Elspeth’s house and tasted her mouth again. He inhaled and stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

“You’re mooning over her, Junior. I never thought I’d see the day when hard-to-catch Alek had it bad.” Talia slid her arm around him to soften her tease. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “You just don’t know how to handle yourself around her. Elspeth can’t be pushed, and you are…you’ve got that ‘ugh, me man’ look around her, just like you want to toss her over your shoulder and run off with her.”

Alek snorted. The raw hunger prowling
his body wasn’t easily denied. The sound should have deterred Talia, but she plunged on. “I’ve got experience with that look. Sybil agrees. Both Duncan and Calum had quite recognizable “ugh, me man’ looks and flames in their eyes when they decided they wanted us. Both of them just swooped, and you’ve got that same look. Take my advice, Alek…Elspeth isn’t the kind of woman who appreciates a swooper-taker.”

Talia rounded on Alek, her long, straight blond hair flaring out to catch the sunlight. “Junior, you’re tired and you need someone to share your life and diversify your focus. You keep pouncing on Elspeth, trying to corner her at every family gathering, and she’ll take you down.”

“Stop calling me Junior—Will she?” The prospect fascinated Alek; he wanted Elspeth out of her shadows. If he was right, the contract in Denver would make a distinct change in their relationship.

“She’s just as tough as her
brothers. They had to be, carrying more than teenagers should to survive. Pride and steel has been bred into them for generations.”

Talia placed her hand on his shoulder, her blue eyes concerned. “Alek, I won’t have you toying with Elspeth. She’s too rare and she’s been wounded, though we don’t know from what. Sybil agrees. We haven’t told her brothers. They’re old-fashioned about a woman’s honor and very protective of family. Emily at fifteen is having an awful time with the Tallchief males, but no more than Fiona and Elspeth had as girls.”

Talia touched his scarred cheek, her blue eyes soft upon him. “Move carefully, Alek. Elspeth’s isn’t the only wounded heart around. You’ve been needing an anchor for years. Just to look at you makes my heart ache. Until you look at Elspeth, and then I think…I think there just might be hope, because if there’s anything you like, it’s a challenge. The Tallchiefs aren’t an easy game, but worth every minute of it.”

“Elspeth is too quiet.” He’d
done that to Elspeth, put the walls up.

“She’s very controlled, like Calum in a way. He doesn’t share himself easily, even now with me. We’re j working on that. Elspeth doesn’t share with anyone, j not the things that are deep in her heart. I’ve often j wondered what would happen if Elspeth decided she j wanted to claim a man as her brothers have claimed loves. She just could be explosive, Alek.”

“Am I supposed to be scared?” Alek had a quick flash of Elspeth, aroused and ready to fight him. He liked the image, savored it.

“A normal man would be. Petrovna males sometimes lack…shall we say delicacy and fear of an enraged woman?”

That night, Alek stepped back from the flames soaring against the night sky. Despite his hours gearing up at the newspaper, teaching and writing articles, Alek was restless, his emotions taut. The discarded boards and rubble ignited, matching the primitive need that had grown within Alek throughout the day. The flames reminded him of his wife crying out for help, her clothes burning—that was a distant nightmare.

The firelight illuminated a tall, strong pine tree, the top swaying in the night wind. His night with Elspeth vibrated through him, the heat of their bodies, the pagan way he had claimed her, the pounding of hearts and of bodies flying through passion.

Alek inhaled sharply and rubbed Elspeth’s earring. Primitive…pagan…alive…happy—that was how he’d felt that night. As though nothing could keep him from…from having his woman.

He tossed a board on the flames and scowled as it ignited.

Two hours later, the fire had burned itself down to coals. Familiar now with Elspeth’s daily schedule, Alek glanced at her home. A slender, curved body passed into the night, heading toward the fields. “Well, well. Things are looking up, Elspeth-mine,” Alek murmured. Edges, he thought, all those nice little interesting edges to keep things from getting boring.

On a Saturday night, Amen Flats’s single street was busy. Birk’s motorcycle and Lacey’s truck were parked at Maddy’s Hot Spot. Carefully choosing her site on the field overlooking Amen Flats, Elspeth kneeled to unroll the blanket she’d draped across her shoulder. The occupants of the grass field—a buffalo herd—grazed peacefully a safe distance away. She took out her binoculars and notebook, braced the thermos of hot jasmine tea against a fallen limb and lay, stomach down, upon the blanket. She needed to escape the sight of Alek fighting his demons, his fists bunched, his body taut as he stared at the dying fire.

Elspeth knew he thought of wars and the fire and his wife. She shook her head, tossing the past away into the fragrant April night. Elspeth applied herself to the task she enjoyed, that of protecting Amen Flats in a subtle but effective way. Angela Tremany had been stalking Alek for two weeks. But Angela was also pressuring a younger man with a wife and newborn son. Angela’s past record said she could be successful, the hunt more satisfying than keeping what she had caught. Alek could take care of himself, but young Stephen needed protection. And Angela did not want to lose her wealthy older husband.

Angela’s silver sports car cruised down Amen Flats’s main street, then parked in the lot behind Stephen’s office. Elspeth jotted the time in her notebook and picked up her binoculars. Dressed in a bustier, a thigh-revealing skirt and huge sunglasses, Angela slid into the office door.

A branch broke near her, and before Elspeth could I jump to her feet, a big hand flattened on her back, staying her.

“My, my. Look what we have here,” Alek drawled as he crouched beside her. Dressed in a black shirt and black jeans, Alek looked as if he could face any street gang. His shoulder-length hair curled damply to his shoulders; the moonlight caught on his scarred lip and skimmed across his broad shoulders. He’d showered, the soap scent clinging to him, blending with the fresh spring-earth fragrances.

Elspeth allowed him to turn her; she
didn’t protest as he eased her knitted cap from her hair and smoothed her single braid to her chest. She wouldn’t fight him on any level, and soon he’d get bored. “I thought you were roasting marshmallows.”

“This is more fun. What are you doing?”

Elspeth glared up at him. “Let me up.”

“Sorry. Can’t. You look too good that way.” His amusement threatened her control, and his hand, I though firm, gently held her wrist.

“I don’t want to hurt you,
Alek.”

“Try, why don’t you….” He issued the invitation I in a slow Texas drawl and blew a kiss at her.

She moved quickly, but Alek’s large
hand splayed between her breasts, pushing her back. She lay quietly, barely breathing as he looked slowly down to his hand on her black sweater. He frowned, smoothing the softness gently, his fingertips trembling. His tone was deep and raw and achingly uneven. “Elspeth—”

Elspeth shifted restlessly. She wanted to clasp Alek’s hand against her, to take his mouth. But kissing Alek meant she’d be opening herself. “I don’t want to go over this again.”

“No? Your heart is racing
beneath my hand.” His thumb moved, sweeping across the hardened tip of her breast. She gasped, trying to shield her emotions and failing.

Alek leaned closer, his black eyes gleaming in
the night. “I’ll have what I want from you, Elspeth—Petrovna’s law. We finish what we begin.” Then he bent to pull her against him.

For a heartbeat, she let down her guard, feeling very feminine, delicate and soft—then the hair lifted on the nape of her neck. This was Alek, a man bent on revenge.

His lips moved against her ear, sending tingles down
her body. “So this is what you do before you go to the theater on Saturday nights and collect your free tub of popcorn. This is why Duncan and Calum don’t want their wives with you on a Saturday night—you’re a troublemaker, Elspeth.” He nipped her ear. “What’s next? The old movies you rent at the video store? Well…sweetheart, I like old movies,” he said, imitating Humphrey Bogart.

The second stroke of his thumb set her temper simmering. His grin caught the moonlight, igniting her, and Elspeth reacted instantly. She grabbed his shirt and pushed hard, intending to leap free. A lifetime of pushy brothers had taught her a thing or two.

Alek grunted, fell back and swooped out an arm to catch her, jerking her lightly toward him.