by London, Cait
She’d wounded Alek, torn the heart from him once, and time had passed, smoothing the edges for both of them.
She resented his damn contract, and he’d pay for that when they argued…because Alek Petrovna purely savored a good argument and Elspeth intended to let him sharpen his teeth on the bones she tossed at him.
Her mother had always said that the making up was worth the fight and that arguments cleared the fog between lovers. Elspeth smiled; Alek had torn her castle walls down, and he deserved a nip or two.
Elspeth looked straight at Sybil, nestled against Duncan, then at Talia, a tall, cool blonde in the midst of the Tallchief clan. Elspeth’s brothers had pushed away the shadows; they’d found love, fought for it.
Images of other children danced by her, and she turned to Birk. He’d be finding love soon, because the rogue of the lot, he’d been searching longer, plowing through likely women with a charm that didn’t give them a chance. One day he’d find a woman who didn’t care for his charm and wouldn’t have him on a platter, and then his hackles would lift—because if the Tallchiefs liked anything, it was a hard ride. He’d find Una’s rocking chair and the woman to go with the legend, and then he’d be at peace.
Elspeth’s gaze drifted to Lacey, and she corrected the thought. Birk would be blissfully happy, because the woman he chose was not likely to be a peaceful one; she would have her own shadows.
Fiona would come tripping to Amen Flats, tired from battling the world. And then she’d hunt Una’s sewing chest, with its tatting shuttles, shoe button hooks and doilies and bits of her life. The buyer had wanted the tiny chest intact with its lovely feminine clutter, and Una—to save Tallchief land—had given her heart in the lacy heap. But still she’d loved the chest, as would Fiona.
“It cost Alek not to finish that ride,” Birk stated. “Any man who’d walk away from something he’d started in front of a rodeo crowd has it bad.”
Mrs. Petrovna stroked Elspeth’s hair. She tugged Elspeth to a stool in front of her and began to braid her hair. “You see, honey, Alek has all sorts of rodeo belts and medals. You only saw his journalism scrapbooks. I kept all of his other things separate.”
“They were a good match—that horse and my son. He’s been feeling evil lately,” Mr. Petrovna said.
Elspeth took in a long, steadying breath, and let Mrs. Petrovna finish her hair. Edges, she thought. Just like Una’s edges—when she’d made her decision based on love and the man who had placed himself in her care. Elspeth smiled to herself. Tallchiefs weren’t easy to capture, and she’d given Alek a good run, while she wound through her shadows to come full circle. Nothing had changed since that night in Scotland when he’d strolled toward her, wearing a grin that would knock the senses from under any reasonable woman. A second go-’round, and Alek had stepped into her shadows, tearing her from them. He’d taken away the distance she’d placed on her life, replacing it with himself. She’d tasted his dreams and found them true, and still she’d hovered in her shadows, until he made her so greedy for him that she’d stepped out.
Then the horrible, heart-stopping, icy fear when she knew Alek would ride Diablo. She’d hesitated outside the arena, sitting on Delight. Then Alek—his face hard and grim—had lowered himself onto Diablo. With Alek in danger, she had had no choice but to show her love. He’d given her everything, his dreams and hopes and his aching past; she couldn’t imagine life without him—and she’d given him nothing, not a crumb.
The image of Alek lurched into Elspeth’s mind—Alek slapping his hat along his chaps and stalking toward her looking twice as mean as the horse he chose to ride.
But now the time had come to claim him well and good.
She intended to run Alek Petrovna down and—
She stood when Mrs. Petrovna said, “Come here, Talia. It’s been so long since I’ve braided your hair.”
Elspeth remembered the pink bow glistening in Alek’s curls. “What about the bow?”
Talia smiled tightly and eased herself onto the stool. “It’s my good-luck charm. He always wore my bows and usually won.”
Elspeth stood still, remembering Alek in the arena, how firmly he spoke his vows—vows, she decided. Alek had made his vows to her right there in the September sunshine with a crowd of people straining to hear. I’ll be your best friend…I’ll love you all the days of my life and then some….
She’d come to the same edge as Una, to a moment when the awakening changed, deepened, ripened and clung.
She quite simply loved Alek Petrovna. He was hers; he’d always been from the first moment Images flashed through her as she rode toward her love—Alek, laughing outright. Alek, impetuous, burying her in a mound of wildflowers. Alek, playing with her—her friend. Alek, telling her how much he ached for the war-torn countries. Alek, her tender lover…her love…her future.
Her mind racing forward to the moment when she faced Alek, Elspeth walked to Delight, tethered and grazing in a wild field near her house.
Watching her from the porch, Duncan shook his head. “I don’t know if I can make it through all this.”
Sybil patted his hand. “Darling, you’re just emotional now. In another two months, you’ll be just fine.”
“She’s hunting what she wants. She just needed time. It will all come together.” Calum spoke from experience; he’d placed his shadows aside with his wife’s help. He took Talia’s hand and drew it to his lips. “Honey, are you okay?”
Talia pressed her lips together, her knuckles white as she gripped Calum’s hand. “I want my black boots…now!”
He plucked her up from the stool in a heartbeat and stood holding her in his arms. He looked as if he wanted to carry her off to keep her safe and wasn’t certain which direction to take. Talia kissed him and grinned. “Hi, Pops. Just see that I get my boots and don’t let the doctor bully you into taking them off—Ohhhh!”
“Boy. Don’t you dare faint. Not while you’re holding my daughter,” boomed Mr. Petrovna.
“She’s having the baby now. Here.” Mrs. Petrovna, who had been keeping her hand on Talia’s stomach, beamed. “I knew it. They’re coming two minutes apart. Talia is unpredictable. I knew she wouldn’t give us proper notice and that she’d pick a time when the doctor was out of town. This baby is on its way…fast.”
“For once, this isn’t my fault. It’s Calum’s. I thought it was the excitement and the hot dog at the arena…. I want my boots!”
Birk placed one hand on the porch railing and used it to swing down to the lawn. He landed at a run, heading straight for Calum’s house.
Duncan turned to Sybil as if seeing her potential danger for the first time. “You wouldn’t do this, would you?”
“Darling. I’m predictable as rain. The Petrovnas are another matter,” She grinned at him over her shoulder, just enough to make him question what she’d just said.
Mrs. Petrovna and Lacey helped Calum carry Talia into Elspeth’s house and bed. Mrs. Petrovna hummed between giving orders. Talia tugged Calum down on the bed beside her and started cursing him in Swahili. By the time another pain hit, Mr. Petrovna started the Russian music blaring. “To help my little girl. She always loved this music,” he explained.
Birk arrived with the boots, and Calum placed them on Talia’s feet. “Man, I can’t wait to wear these things again, Tallchief. You’d better make good with your promise to wear those leather pants while we’re dancing to that music. Look at him, Mom. Isn’t he cute? Right now, he’s trying to remember everything in all the books he read—the methodical stuff, steps one through—”
Then she screamed, bearing down. Calum went white and took her hand. Talia gasped, grinned weakly at him, and said, “Well, I’ve got my boots on. Let’s get this gig on the road. Mom has done this before. She’s an experienced midwife. Calum, don’t you dare pass out.”
Emily, almost sixteen, took Talia’s other hand. “I’m going to be a doctor. Or a vet”
“Now is a good time to learn,” Talia said, gritting her te
eth. “You’ll take care of Calum for me, won’t you? When he passes out?”
“You bet. Hey, I like the boots.”
“Aren’t they fine? We’ll get you a pair—Ohh! Calum, you are a lowdown—”
When the Marrying Moon is high, a scarred warrior will rise from the mists to claim his lady huntress. He will wrap her in the shawl and carry her to the Bridal Tepee and his heart. Their song will last longer than the stars….
Elspeth dismounted and tied Delight to a tree. The mare whinnied as Elspeth hugged her for reassurance. She took the shawl from her saddlebags and wondered how the treasure, so fragile and light, had stood the poor use of the past months.
Yet it shimmered magically in her hands, just as it must have done in Una’s when she’d claimed Tallchief. The shawl was a part of Elspeth’s life, what had happened and what would grow deeper.
The words in Una’s journals attested to how much she loved Tallchief, how the legend was a blend of their lives and how it had come true.
Elspeth didn’t need her tracking skills to find Alek this time. The tepee shone in the moonlight, gleaming in the shadows of the trees. On Tallchief Lake, mist hovered over the black waves and whispered of other loves; on a moonlit night, it floated and curled around the reeds, swaying in the restless wind.
Elspeth braced herself against what Alek might say. He’d been hurt today, a passionate man wanting more from her than she’d given. She moved from the shadows of the pines into the moonlight lying on the mist; the cool, damp layer curled around her, whimsically choosing its path.
Suddenly Alek stood before her, his legs spread, arms crossed over his chest, and not an ounce of tenderness showing on his face. “Dad didn’t know that the tepee had a special meaning. Duncan and your brothers did.”
“I didn’t come about the tepee.”
The mist clung to his hair, making it even more unruly as she continued to walk toward him. His head tipped at an arrogant angle. “I meant what I said today in the arena. I’ll be here when you need me. I’ve changed, Elspeth. I’ve found what I want with you. I’ll be writing assignment stories, but I’m staying right here.”
Fear ripped through her again, but she pushed it away, determined to let him know her mind…and her heart. “I love you, Alek Petrovna.”
She gripped the shawl with aching fingers as he stared down at her, eyes narrowed. “Uh-huh.”
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” She should have known Alek wouldn’t make anything easy for her. She tossed away the image of him running to her, kissing her wildly and bearing her off to the tepee. This was Alek, hard down to the core, nasty, tender, sweet, passionate—
“Hell no. You ripped the heart out of me today, riding as though your life didn’t matter. It does matter.
To me. There you were, standing on that damn horse, that shawl flapping around your neck—”
She placed her hand on his, needing to anchor her tumbling world, share it with Alek. His fingers slowly wrapped around hers, and she sucked in air, just realizing that she’d been waiting for him to show that he hadn’t stopped caring. “But my life does matter now, every color and every shred of it, since you’ve come into it. The weave has deepened, heated, come alive with you. I thought I was happy, living in Amen Flats with people I’ve known all my life. I thought I was happy when Duncan and Calum found their loves.”
“Thought?” he shot at her, making her come all the way. Alek’s fingers laced with hers, giving her support in a difficult passage. “And?”
Elspeth tossed away the need to shield emotions. She’d learn to share more easily with Alek in time. “And then you came, and I discovered that I needed more. I needed you.”
“Did you?” The challenge was there, making her take that last step.
She moved close to him, so that he could see her face and know that she had no doubt about her love or her future with him. “Marry me, Alek. Give me your heart—I won’t tear it. I’ll be there when you wake up and when you go to sleep. I’ll keep you warm in the hard, cold times and hold you when you ache. You ache, Alek. It rides just beneath the surface, what you’ve seen, what you’d like to change. I will help you—if you want to travel, I’ll leave Amen Flats to be at your side. Give me your children—I’ll love and tend them and then love you more.”
“You love me,” he repeated, his Texas drawl uneven. “Would you say that meant you were greedy for me? Really deep down, nasty greedy for me? Or just the innocent, temporary kind of greed?”
She’d hurt him, and his uncertainty had reared and his pride needed tending. She gave him that, because now it mattered; healing hearts wasn’t easy, but was a blend of give and take. Elspeth placed her hand on his scars, smoothing them. “I’d say I’m on the high end of greed with you. You’ve walked into my life, turned it upside down, and I’ve lost most of my ability to see things clearly…no thanks to you. I used to sense things before they happened. Now I’m too busy with thoughts of you. Before you swaggered back into my life, I didn’t let people too close to me, not even my family. Now I’m in a bog of people and loving every minute. I go a little lightheaded at the thought of you. I wonder how quickly I can corral you. Yes…I’d say I’m good and greedy for you.”
She lifted on tiptoe to kiss his lips, to caress the smooth, hard feel of them until they softened to her touch. “There’s no reason I should, of course. You’re arrogant, demonstrative, and you scared me badly today. I didn’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you a second time. I didn’t want to care, Alek, but I do and you’re the cause, the only cause…I love you.”
“Say it again,” he demanded, taking her hand to his lips and kissing her palm.
She leaned against him, this solid man who was a part of her life and a part of herself. “I love you, Alek Petrovna. I know we’ll fight—I’ve grown to like a bit of spice in my life, thanks to you. You can set me off, and I’ll set you off and then we’ll make up. But there will be the quiet times, when I tell you what was in my heart back then, when we were struggling to stay together. I’ll tell you what’s in my heart for you.”
“Mmm. Sounds like a good story. I suppose I’ll pay for that contract. You’re getting good at pushing, if that horse-riding event was any indication.” Alek placed his lips on hers, promising that the good times would be there, overshadowing life’s hardships. He’d always be there for her, and she’d return the favor.
“Let’s say that it will be useful to drag up when we argue. This time is for keeps, Alek. Isn’t it?” Elspeth couldn’t help giving way to the last of her doubts.
“For keeps.” He looked up to the big, round silver moon. It had filled the night sky that way so long ago in Scotland, when they’d first met. “Looks like a perfect night after a long, hard day.”
He wanted to know about the Marrying Moon, about what she’d said on that night long ago. But Elspeth wanted to give him that present at a moment of her own choosing….
She chose now and whispered, “See that moon? How big and bright it is, hovering over us? The legend says that ‘when the Marrying Moon is high, a scarred warrior will rise from the mists to claim his lady huntress. He will wrap her in the shawl and carry her to the Bridal Tepee and his heart.’”
Alek placed his face in the shelter of her throat and shoulder, giving himself into her care, the gesture filling her with love for him. “Thank you, Elspeth.”
She kissed his damp, curling lashes, and he kissed away the tears flowing on her cheeks. Then, with a flourish, Alek wrapped the shawl around her. He stood looking at her in the moonlight for a moment.
Pleasure rode his expression, pleasing her in turn. “You’re unpredictable, Petrovna.”
“I’m in love for the last time, honey. Give me a moment to enjoy my treasure, one that I’ll always cherish.” Then he bent to lift her in his arms. “Tell me the rest of the legend. I can tell by your smirk that you’re holding back.”
“I do not smirk.” She wouldn’t be easy, not with Alek P
etrovna, who enjoyed a good battle. Elspeth trailed her fingertip over his lips, traced the scar and kissed it. “Submit, Alek Petrovna. You’re my love, my heart and dreams. Let me give you the best part of me, the part that’s always been yours.”
Later, after Alek had carried her to the Bridal Tepee, after they had pledged their love again and tenderly dined upon each other, unwrapping and sharing each other’s hearts, they began again in a searing heat that made them one.
This time, Alek rose above her, straining to leash his body, his hands wound in her hair. “Tell me.”
Elspeth fought the pleasure washing over her, strained to think—to give Alek what he needed—past the desires of their bodies ready to shatter in a heartbeat. “I love you, my heart, my love, my Alek.”
His lips attacked hers, hungry for her, their bodies fused together as he took them over the edge.
“Their song will last longer than the stars,’” she whispered later, wrapped in his arms as the Marrying Moon hovered in the sky.
Alek lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. “I love you, Elspeth-mine.”
“Mmm.” Elspeth gave herself to his kiss and dived into the images there of Alek, proud of his present, another Tallchief cradle. The baby would have Alek’s black, curling hair and the Tallchiefs gray eyes—Una’s inheritance. A girl this time, the baby would look fragile in Alek’s hands, devastating him with the miracle of her birth. There would be a boy next, replacing another and astounding Alek, who would hold his one-year-old daughter close against him in one arm and his newborn son in the other arm. Tears would shimmer in his black eyes as he looked at Elspeth, and then he would tell her again that he loved her.
When the babies slept, Alek would come to Elspeth in the Kostyas’ renovated farmhouse bedroom.
They’d come full circle, and there would be more circles, weaving their lives and love closer.