by London, Cait
He took her mouth, dragging her against him, fighting for his dreams. “But it is. I’ll probably pay dearly for saying it, for loving you, because when it comes right down to it, Elspeth Tallchief, you are a greedy, greedy, savage woman. I didn’t stand a chance.”
He let her chew on that tidbit and held himself still when he wanted to make love with her.
She toyed with his earring and shot him a challenging look. “You’re saying that I enticed you. That I gave you little choice but to make love with me. Here. Now.”
He nodded. “Little choice. You’ve run me down. There was little I could do but let you have me after all your effort.”
“Petrovna, you’re half the size of a house. Don’t tell me I’ve winded you.” She grinned, teasing him. The sight dazzled him; he fell into it, wallowed in his sheer joy.
“Not quite,” he said, satisfied that she wasn’t denying him. Or that something more than desire could be moving through them. Then, just to keep the balance right and in his favor, he began loving her all over again.
In the midst of the daisies, Alek stood, sunlight flowing over his bare shoulders and making Elspeth catch her breath as it spread across his chest. She’d awakened without him, groggy from lack of sleep and high on the lovemaking that had crept into her very bones. She awoke craving Alek, moving her hand upon the empty, wrinkled blanket, awoke to Una’s shawl covering her.
She’d panicked, icy with fear. Could she trust herself? While Alek seemed to know exactly what he wanted and was ready to declare his love, she moved at a slower pace, needing to sift through her emotions.
If she gave herself too freely and gave too much because Alek pushed her, would she ever be certain that the choice was really hers? There was the heaven of the past hours—lying with Alek, challenging him, meeting his passion and her own—and then there was fear that her hurried decision could harm them both. At dawn, she’d trusted what moved between them. But would it last when put to the test? He’d walked away before—
In a frenzy, Elspeth tossed away the shawl. She’d dressed hurriedly, ready to run Alek into the ground if needed, and then to give him the lesson of his life. She surged out of their bed, ready to hunt, and then she saw him picking flowers, and her knees went weak.
Of course, he’d had her twice the night before she tracked him to the mountain and twice more as dawn became morning. No wonder her thighs quivered and her knees almost buckled. No wonder her heart raced at the sight of him. I love you….
Love had happened to her brothers and would come to Fiona when the time was right. The Tallchiefs were bred for loving families. But she’d never imagined Alek loving her. Elspeth fought for the visions that would come to comfort her, and all she could see was Alek standing in the morning sun, holding a bouquet of wildflowers out to her. She blinked, waiting for an image to tell her what to do. She felt the thumping of her heart, racing against her breast, the softness of her body where Alek had been and a light, flowery, lacy sense that she was a woman, all woman, and desired.
Alek looked as if he’d been rumpled, steamed, and had during the night. The look suited him, she decided.
As if to test her mood, Alek held out the bouquet of wildflowers shimmering with morning dew. “Good morning, Elspeth-love. You’re thinking hard enough to scare me.”
“You could use a good dose of scare.” What was he doing? Trust me…I love you.
Then Alek smiled, a whimsical little smile as if he were wishing something from her, and her fears went tumbling into the wildflowers. There he was, everything she wanted. Cocky, irrational at times, grumbling, laughing, passionate—a huge, tender, delectable morsel. Her heart sailed out of her, desire slamming into her, tightening her throat, dancing along her skin. Elspeth began to run toward him. Her T-shirt landed in a patch of bluebells. She hopped on one foot, tugging off one moccasin, ran two steps and tugged off the other.
“You’re on my land, Petrovna.”
Who did he think he was to leave her alone in their bed, the scents of loving snaring her before she woke fully? Oh, he’d have to pay for that one, she decided. She unzipped her shorts on the run and shimmied out of them.
The sunlight glinted off his teeth, this huge bear of a man she’d come to claim.
“Pay for being on your land, am I?” He stood there holding his bouquet and grinning like a boy who’d just won the prize.
She flew across the meadow. She wanted to plunder and take; it was her right, she’d run him down.
“You know you are. You know exactly where you are and what happened here. You’ve researched the Tallchief family. You knew everything.” Elspeth leapt upon him, and Alek grunted with the impact and caught her close as he reeled backward. They went down in the field of flowers.
She pinned him beneath her. She straddled him as she had before and knew that he’d let her take him down. She sat on him, her palms on his chest, and studied him, this new Alek that she’d captured.
“You’re full of yourself, Tallchief. What are the rules on this one?” Alek asked as he tucked a bluebell into her bra.
“You’ll have to pay the price for being on my land and for stealing the Kostya place from under me.” She tugged a whorl of hair on his chest. “And that awful contract.”
He brushed the hair from her cheek, his expression tender. “I want a long-term contract with you. One that says you’ll be waking up beside me every morning.” Elspeth…!love you.
Unable to dance along that dangerous dream, Elspeth slid back into reality. “You really shouldn’t have bought the Kostya place, Alek. I wanted it.”
She was glad he let her change direction.
“It looked like home to me. You can bring me a blueberry pie or come milk the cows—” He sucked in his breath as her fingers went to his jeans snap. The angle of his jaw hardened. “Watch that.”
Too bad. She had her own agenda. He’d stepped over the enticing line and looked as necessary as the wildflowers strewed across his chest.
Elspeth ripped away her lacy bra; she arched and stretched and looked down to see what she wanted—the heavy hunger shadowing Alek’s face, the taut, carved edge of his cheekbone and firm dip of his mouth as he fought for control.
She skimmed the flat of her hand down his chest, following the V of hair lower, until Alek’s hand gripped her wrist, staying her. “Take it easy, Elspeth-mine. I’m feeling sensitive this morning.”
She fell upon him, fused her mouth to his and gasped as his arms came around her, hard—just the way she wanted. She wanted Alek to hold her as if he’d never let her go.
He rolled her over, unzipped his jeans and sprawled heavily upon her.
She was waiting, eager, locking her fingers to his hair as she dived into the kiss, the hunger of his mouth, feeding upon it, nipping his lip.
Alek groaned unevenly, tore away the scrap of lace separating them—she didn’t give him a chance to pause to reconsider. Elspeth reached to glove him, to bring him to her.
Later, when her bones had melted from their passion, Alek smoothed her body, gentling the after-shocks of their lovemaking. “Elspeth-mine, you’re seriously denting my ego. I’ve just made love for the first time with my boots on and my jeans around my ankles. To pay for that infraction, you’ll have to go out with me in my Chevy. We can neck—”
She tensed, rummaged for enough strength to lift herself. “You mean a date, Petrovna?”
“With my best girl. I’ll pick you up. We’ll cruise Main Street, stop at the drive-in for burgers and shakes, cruise some more and then neck ourselves blind.”
They were lying in the meadow, the morning sun bright overhead, and at any minute all of her brothers could appear on horseback.
“Just neck?” She grinned before his hand cupped her breast and his tongue laved the hardened tip. She skimmed down to taste his nipple.
After a quick lurch of his body and a groan, Alek reached to bring her lips to his. “You’re getting really good at this, Elspeth.”
Eleve
n
“My Russian is definitely shaky, but Alek studied it and he’s always correcting me. Alek never speaks Russian to you?” Talia asked, her tone incredulous. Seated at the same table, Lacey and Sybil looked at Elspeth, waiting for her answer.
“Not to any of us,” Sybil offered. “He’s a complex man.”
“Hmm. No more than the Tallchiefs.” Talia tapped her fingers on the table. “Let me think about this.”
At Maddy’s Hot Spot piano, Patty Jo Black sang a husky, sensual rhythm-and-blues number after a day of canning green beans. A sign hung over the door on Tuesday night—No Husbands Allowed Or Males Of Any Kind. No Boring Smart-Children Stories Allowed. Maddy’s luscious-nude paintings had been properly covered by sheets. Maddy had placed paper doilies beneath the tables’ bottles of plastic roses, some with price tags dangling in the breeze from the air-conditioning.
Maddy buzzed by with a tray of iced-lemonade glasses. He sidestepped Miss Loretta Mulveney of the pioneer Mulveneys and owner of Amen Flats’s only bookstore. Miss Loretta had wanted Maddy for years, since his first wife left him, but he was wary of aggressive women. He jumped; lemonade glasses clinked as Miss Loretta sneaked him an appreciative pinch on his backside. She batted her lashes at him and he flushed. A beefy ex-football player, Maddy pirouetted away from Loretta on one toe like a ballet dancer. To his credit, he never lost one glass on his tray. He plowed righteously forward to the protection of his bar. Miss Loretta picked up her lemonade and sashayed to him, decked out in a gauzy new number that looked like a drifting tropical bouquet.
At seven months into her pregnancy, Talia smoothed the small ball of her stomach in the short flirty skirt. She plopped her practical flats—Calum had studied the construction of shoes and wooed her into wearing them—on another chair and rummaged through her thoughts. “I love my Hessian boots. Love tromping in them. Calum said if I’d wear these double uglies now, he’d wear skintight leather pants after the baby came—just while I was teaching him Petrovna family dances. Hmm…Alek never speaks Russian when he’s really, really wanting to make a point to someone who doesn’t understand it.”
Talia’s long blond hair flew out as she turned to Elspeth, one finger raised. “He wants the Tallchiefs to see him coming. He’s being very careful with the Tallchiefs, so they understand his exact motives and feelings for you, Elspeth. He wants to make certain that you do not misunderstand anything that he is intending to do, or anything about his feelings. Trust me, of all the Petrovnas, he can be the most…secretive—an element that isn’t typical of any of us. Devious, yes. Secretive, no. I called Mother and told her that Alek had been a bad boy—that he wanted you and that he engineered that whole Denver contract business to be alone with you. I told her that he’d found Una’s shawl and that he wouldn’t let you have it. She’s incensed. I almost feel sorry for him when my parents come…they’11 be here before the baby is born.”
Elspeth thought of Alek, and her heart shifted into high gear. She remembered their lovemaking all down the mountain and in the old Kostya place throughout the night. He had taken exquisite care arranging her upon the old bed in the guest room, smoothing her hair across the old pillow decorated with embroidered flowers. Elspeth could sense when he wanted her, desire lurching within her, only to find his eyes dark and hungry. She’d cut his hair, trimmed the heavy, curling mane and fussed with it until she was pleased and he’d tugged her upon his lap. Sunday loving, he’d called her once, tickling her as they went down in the old barn filled with cows they’d just milked.
“Do you want the shawl?” he’d asked again, poised above her. Somehow she’d managed the truth, dying for him.
“No, I want you, Petrovna.”
She’d learned that Alek Petrovna’s law—always finish what you start—also referred to lovemaking. He had wonderful stories of other lands, outrageous ones about his family. The Petrovnas could ignite at any minute, shouting and throwing up their hands. Their mother, Serene, had ancestors that dated back in Texas history to the Alamo. She fought for what she believed in, a tiny, calm woman devoted to her family, all of whom towered over her. Alek Petrovna, Sr., a tough, raw-boned Texan, melted when he looked at her.
But Elspeth had had her measure, too, listening to the humming of his desire, the way he said her name. Her Alek. I love you. The words rang softly in her heart. Could she trust herself? Could she trust him?
They had met just exactly five years ago this month; she’d had her life torn from her, and now he was giving it back. I love you.
There were quiet times, too. Like the moment Alek came up behind her, holding her in his arms as they overlooked the Kostya fields. It was good standing with him, the late-June breeze playing with her hair and Alek, solid and warm at her back.
He’d left her at her doorstep on Monday morning with a mind-stopping kiss and gently pushed her inside her door. She’d gone to sleep well-loved, aching, exhausted, smoothing her mother’s quilt and with the taste of that kiss and the look in his eyes.
She had drifted through Monday in a golden fog. She’d thought about surprising Alek, and a quick glance proved he wasn’t home. At six o’clock that evening, she’d grinned at the light rap on her back door, and then Alek swept her out to his Chevy, burgers at the drive-in, a cruise down Main Street and back again. Alek had kept her hand on his thigh, firmly locked in his fingers, which he had kissed and suckled intermittently. Necking in his back seat left the windows fogged, Elspeth breathless and Alek playful and full of himself…until he pushed her into her house, alone and yearning for him. Sometimes old-fashioned males just didn’t cut it, Elspeth decided, and when you took Alek apart, he ranged right in the old-fashioned-male depot with her brothers.
Elspeth frowned slightly and traced the lip of her glass of white wine. His look—she couldn’t mistake that closed-in, level look at her—suggested he’d made a promise and that he’d be moving quickly upon it. I love you.…
She wouldn’t be pushed.
I love you….
Why did he leave her breathless and aching at her door?
What game was he up to now?
She didn’t trust him; Alek had skimmed his hand down her shoulder, to her wrist, then to her hip and thigh as if promising to make good his need for a longer contract—as if he’d be coming for her and wanted her to know it.
She sensed that about Alek. That he was coming for her very quickly—Elspeth frowned. She’d take her time deciding what was right for her. After a lifetime of the Tallchief brothers, she wouldn’t be pushed.
A concession—no, a loving—on Tallchief Mountain, at the farm, in the barn, on the meadow—the back of her van would never seem the same again—a concession was all she was making at the time.
Alek had that look. He’d made up his mind to it, locked his teeth into it, and he’d gnaw at it until he got his way.
Elspeth glanced at Sybil, who had been too quiet all evening. 4tAre you feeling all right?”
Sybil studied Elspeth. “You should know. You usually know when something is brewing with the Tallchiefs…when Calum brought Talia home the first time…when Duncan—”
Elspeth caught a quick image of Sybil, rounded and glowing. “You’re pregnant!” Elspeth exclaimed, delighted.
“Yep. Again. Three months gone.” She lifted her wineglass, filled with lemonade. “A small concession I’ve been making for three months, right here, every Tuesday night. Duncan knew immediately, almost as soon as when we—” She stopped and blushed. “When we…”
“But you like a glass of white wine—” Elspeth stared at Sybil, just realizing that she’d missed the entire event.
“Elle, old girl, you’re losing it. Even I thought she was pregnant,” Lacey crowed, propping her work boots up on the table. “When he wasn’t worrying about you, Duncan wore this goofy grin—nobody grins goofier than the Tallchief males. Calum—you can’t tell much about Calum these days—he’s always grinning. That idiot Birk actually picked me up and kissed me. One of those lip-sucki
ng, mind-blowing Tallchief kisses. The ones he uses on his harem. I dumped a gallon of paint on him, and he stood there, sputtering and grinning. “Lacey, I think I’m going to be an uncle again. Don’t I deserve it? Don’t I just?’”
Lacey wiped her mouth as if wiping off his kiss. “Jeez, give those guys babies, and they turn into a pile of daisies.”
“Don’t look so shocked, Elspeth,” Talia murmured with a grin. “I’d say you’ve been so…busy that your seer and shaman abilities have been shafted.”
“A real demolition derby,” Sybil added, her topaz eyes sparkling.
“Poleaxed.” Talia’s grin widened. “Didn’t know what hit her.”
Lacey smirked. “Yeah. Poleaxed. I’d say that suits her about now.”
“Calum has another Tallchief cradle hidden away. Sybil has the original, but Tallchief made several others and sold them. Calum is so proud of himself that I couldn’t bear to tell him I found it.” Talia beamed at Elspeth. “You Tallchiefs are so easy. You’ve got all these dark storm clouds swirling around you, and you’re pushovers.”
Sybil gave her a long, cool look. “You’re a Tallchief, Talia.”
Talia smoothed her tummy. “Yeah. And happy of it.”
“Calum found another cradle?” Elspeth shook her head to clear it. She remembered thinking that Calum would soon be finding another cradle.
“Has the Celtic circle and the Tallchief feather markings. It’s beautiful. The guys are at the house now. They’re probably glowing with how they’ve kept Calum’s secret.” Talia’s eyes misted. “I love that guy.”
“They didn’t totally keep it,” Sybil murmured, her eyes lighting.
“No! Duncan told you, didn’t he?”
Sybil smoothed her coppery chignon and smiled. “Darling, what do you think I was after, the night I got pregnant?”
Elspeth stared at her splayed fingers, locked to Maddy’s scarred table. She usually saw everything, images moving through her, and Alek had shattered those visions and replaced them with ones of him. “I think…I think I am going to have to be very careful.”