by Cait London
She flopped to her back and traced the brass designs on her footboard with her toe. Joel had been busy she knew, ordering lumber and hauling plumbing fixtures and scouring the countryside for old furniture that suited him. His black truck-monster shd by her shop window at least once a day. Meanwhile he’d forgotten her.
No male had ever forgotten Fiona Tallchief; she devastated them and walked away.
Eunice was safe and well tended, according to Danny. Amen Flats was thrilled with the prospect of a new zoo and the hefty donation from Palladin, Inc. By spring Eunice would have a brand-new home in Amen Flats.
Joel Palladin kissed like hot sin, covered by soft dreamy silk. His backside was made for tight-fitting jeans, and shoulders like his were made for a woman’s head to rest upon. Fiona frowned; she had never thought about resting her head against any man’s shoulder, she’d been too busy pushing through life and blazing environmental, animal and humanity trails. When Joel watched Fiona with those dark, knowing eyes, her flesh heated and tingled and she wanted to feast upon him.
Fiona arched slowly, restlessly, sensuously upon the hand-stitched quilt She needed to clear the battlefield for the war; and when the war was finished, she’d walk away from Joel and he from her.
She glanced at the ringing telephone and picked it up. “Whoever you are, you’re one of my brothers. Elspeth is too shrewd to be foraging in my life,” Fiona tossed into the receiver and smiled at the long pause. For the last week, her brothers had hovered over her. “It’s Duncan,” she stated after a moment, a smile curling on her lips. “And you’re worried.”
He cleared his throat, apparently uneasy as she went right to the reason for his call. “We were just going down to Maddy’s and thought you might want to join us.”
Fiona stroked the tiny brass flowers on an intricate Celtic brooch. “I’ve got things to do.”
After delivering Una’s chest, flashing his dragon and dragging her off like a warrior claiming his bride, Joel had unceremoniously dumped her. She’d been prepared to kiss him, devastate him, because she’d never truly tried the famed Tallchief kiss. According to Amen Flats’ gossip, the Tallchief brothers’ lip-sucking, mind-blowing, storm-making kiss, could devastate. Alek, after a surprise session with Elspeth, who was out to teach him a lesson, looked fierce and steaming and hungry.
Fiona tapped her finger on the chest. Joel Palladin deserved payback for abandoning her, and he would never stuff sentimental obligations into her kiss. She could trust him not to be sentimental—Fiona held her breath and plunged on with her thoughts about Joel. She could trust him; Palladin’s Iron Man was reputed not to have a heart.
To complete the circle, an unlikely love of the battlemaiden will come calling, baring his angry dragon on one arm—Fiona didn’t believe whimsy or Una’s legend would involve herself.
Duncan made growling protective noises, informing her that Joel Palladin was not for her. “He’s too tough. He’ll hurt you,” Duncan worried.
“I love you, Duncan. I adore you. But would you kindly keep your nose out of my business? Ask Sybil or Elspeth or Emily if you should interfere and they will tell you the same. Think of it this way—Joel has the dragon on his arm and he brought me Una’s chest, and you know how all those legends have come true. First you, then Calum, then Birk and Elspeth. You’ll just have to trust me on this one, brother dear.” Fiona smiled as she thought of Sybil’s daughter, seventeen-year-old Emily, who was drawing boys’ attention. Emily was thoroughly frustrated by the protective Black Knights of the Tallchiefs.
“You’re all I’ve got left,” he grumbled sadly. “And Palladin is wearing calluses all over him. Your heart is too soft. He’ll hurt you.”
“Mmm. Think of him as wearing armor. He doesn’t scare me, and he’s thrown down a challenge that I can’t walk away from.”
“If you go hunting him, it could be war.”
Fiona smoothed the stick figures on the chest. Just as Una wouldn’t let Tallchief set the terms, Fiona wouldn’t let Joel unravel her. “I intend to win.”
Fiona lifted her head to the night wind carrying the scent of pines, coming winter and wood smoke from Joel’s house. It was no drab or thoughtless thing she was doing, digging at what ran hot and wild and haunting between Joel Palladin and herself. Those emotions were not whimsy or legends, but real. With the weather storming high on the Rockies, her Tallchief blood was up for prowling and battling and claiming. She let the wind tug at her short hair, and drew the Tallchief plaid closer around her shoulders. Wearing a thick red sweater and a light, flannel-lined jacket and jeans, she needed the Tallchief colors around her more for security than for warmth. Morning Star, her Appaloosa mare that Birk kept in the pasture behind his house, moved smoothly down the hill toward the house.
Fiona whipped the Tallchief plaid over one shoulder. Joel had dared step into her life; he’d made a bold claim. She couldn’t let that pass. Or wait for him to come swaggering into her life when he chose. “I’ve never been a good one to wait.”
She would take Joel Palladin apart and leave, reclaiming her pride, her honor.
Joel stepped from the shadows of the porch and stood waiting in the moonlight, watching her as she neared him. She stopped Morning Star in front of him, and Joel stroked the mare’s neck, his eyes locked with hers.
“You can’t drop me off at my shop like a bouquet of wilted, unwanted flowers,” she erupted, when she had planned to assault him coldly, and meticulously tear him apart. “Not after waltzing into my shop, declaring that you’d fight my brothers to get me, and packing me off.”
“Ah. You do like protocol. I thought you were too much of a rebel for that,” he drawled.
She could feel herself winding up, reveling in the excitement of the coming battle, where she would strip him down to his bones and—
She swung easily to the ground, and Joel narrowed his eyes down at her. “You’re all worked up, Fiona the fiery,” he noted in a clinical tone. “I wonder why.”
“You’ve been talking to my family. I’ll see to them. I won’t let them give one piece of me. And you’re right, I’m...not exactly happy,” she admitted as he took the reins from her and walked Morning Star to the barn. She followed, uncertain now that she had Joel within throttling...or kissing range.
He’d just bathed, his hair still damp and curling at the nape of his neck, and the scent of soap clung to him. The battered gray sweatshirt stretched tautly across his chest, and Fiona wished his outlaw look, the dark and dangerous male, did not appeal to her. He looked...physical. Her senses kicked into high gear, as she remembered telling a Joel she thought was sleeping that she wanted a physical man.
“I suppose you know that each of your brothers has paid me a call, asking my intentions and threatening me.”
She waited. Then, because she couldn’t wait a heartbeat longer, she asked, “And? Did they frighten you? And what did you say?”
He eased Morning Star into a stall beside his gelding. “That you would have to make the call on what happens between us. But if you wanted me, nothing could stop me from having you, brawling Tallchiefs or not,” he answered slowly, turning to her. “Just what are the base rules to this game between you and me?”
Unprepared for the abrupt question, Fiona foundered. Joel’s hand smoothed her cheek, his thumb running across her bottom lip. “Be reasonable, Princess. I can’t do all the running. I’ve laid an offer on the table and you’re considering it.”
“You make it sound so cold.” She followed Joel out of the barn and watched him close the doors. “Thank you for Eunice, by the way. It’s not every day that a girl gets an elephant for a gift.”
“I like Eunice. She’s a great hugger. You were right to rescue her. For what it’s worth, you’ve been absolutely right in all of your causes. Even Palladin’s contribution to destroying the environment. I took care of that, by the way. Your frog pond is safe, Princess. All those little princes you might want to kiss are on their safe little lily pads. We should make a tidy
profit from selling the process.” He lifted her tartan plaid, adjusted the fold over one shoulder. Pulling gently on the cloth, Joel brought Fiona closer, his breath sweeping warm on her cold face. “Now why are you here?”
She took a step back, wanting to choose her own time, only to be drawn slowly to Joel. He gently eased a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I won’t hurt you, as I’ve said before. I’ll be very careful. But I’m aching for you, and it’s been years since I’ve wanted a woman as badly. Perhaps I have never wanted a woman like I want you, if that’s of any use to you. I want to be in you, filling you, moving with you. I’ll be very careful that you don’t conceive.”
While the bold image stunned her, his hand skimmed lightly over her shoulder and down her arm to find her hand. Holding her eyes, he raised the back of her hand to his lips, turned it and placed his face within her keeping. “I don’t believe in the fantasy of love—for myself. I suppose the closest I’ve come to love is with my son, my brothers, and my grandmother. I am not offering you love...I don’t know that it is in me, but I won’t betray you for the duration, and when we’re done, I’ll say nothing of what passed between us. We’ll both be free. You seem to like your freedom, moving as quickly as you do through life. Would you come into my house?”
The erotic movement of his lips against her palm jarred Fiona. Then Joel walked away and into his house, leaving the door open.
No one walked away from Fiona, not in the middle of an important discussion. She put her hands on her waist. Pride demanded that she leave. Curiosity and need caused her to follow.
She closed the door quietly, looking at the wild clutter of boards and saws, crates of new windows and doors, and plumbing fixtures lined against the wall. Crates of new appliances stood in the shadows, clothing tossed over them. On the floor in the living room, a small motor lay in pieces on newspaper, his tools neatly arranged in a perfect line. A makeshift desk—boards placed over sawhorses—was cluttered with a portable computer, a facsimile machine loaded with incoming paper, and an opened suitcase.
Fiona studied the faxes pinned to the wall. Words were misspelled and the numbers across the top of the page were the same—Palladin, Inc. “Nobody with the intelligence of dirt lives on a farm stuck in nowhere. Get back to Denver.” Another one read, “Partner, you are not wanted in this part of the corral. Mosey away.” The next one was brilliant, “Git. No city people wanted hereabouts.” Then there was a classic, “Joel. This is Mamie. Go to Alaska. Get a whale. We need one. Sell your farm.”
“My son. He’s not exactly happy with me,” Joel explained behind Fiona.
“He’s obviously creative and is actively fighting what he doesn’t like. I like that.” She turned to Joel. He stood with his hands in his jeans’ back pockets. The bald light bulb overhead emphasized his hard looks, bold cheekbones and the burning of his eyes.
“I remember you that day on the mountain,” Fiona said, prowling through time. “The three of you, looking tired and hungry and with eyes that asked for something I didn’t understand. I understand the need, but a note would have done just as well. You must have only been seventeen or so. There were holes in your jeans, and your jackets weren’t warm enough for the mountain. The wind must have gone straight through you...”
She closed her eyes, remembering that stark, cold day when her parents lay fresh in their graves. “You were city boys and didn’t know how to handle the horses.”
“We came because of our pride—because of honor. Back then, it was the only thing that kept us from sinking into and following our father’s life. Calum has probably investigated all of us by now. He’s a top researcher and no doubt protective of his baby sister. I’m certain he can fill in any missing blanks. Our mother died when Nick was only six months old and Rafe a year older. My father promptly...illegally...sold both Nick and Rafe. They were young enough to be wanted. At four, I was already a ‘problem child’ and not a pretty child to market. My grandmother was furious—” Joel shifted restlessly, the clean but stained, gray sweatshirt tightening across his chest. He lifted his head, slamming shut the painful door.
She gripped the chair, her fingers aching. Memories of the tall, tough, haunted-looking teenagers curled around Fiona. “You said you knew how hard it would be. That’s why you came.”
The muscle in Joel’s cheek contracted, his skin gleaming and dark. “We knew, and by then we were seasoned at surviving, and we wanted to help...to do anything. Looking back, we should have known our reception wouldn’t be exactly warm.”
His mouth softened, curling slightly. “There you were, hurtling over the rocks and sliding down a hill, black braids flying, gleaming in the wind. And your face...I’ll never forget how fierce you were, standing there with that rock in your hand, yelling—”
Joel shook his head. “Lloyd Palladin ruined your childhood, Fiona. He took it away. And I’m his son. I could be just like him.”
The hard admission startled her. She thought back to what Calum’s research had told her, how Mamie Palladin, their grandmother, had fought her own son to claim the three neglected boys. “We Tallchief children were loved and cherished and taught to do the same. We played and were well fed, and you probably never had a childhood, Joel. How could you care so much?”
Joel inhaled, the bald light creating shadows from his lashes, softening the jut of his cheekbones. “Because we imagined how it would be to have parents like yours. Because we knew it was worse to have had them and know the feeling, than never to have known it.”
“Joel...” Fiona sensed that he’d never told anyone the barren truth about his life, pride keeping him quiet. “Joel, you and your brothers had nothing to do with your father’s actions.”
“We knew. But it didn’t help. Is his murder of your parents going to be a problem between us?”
She knew he’d faced her brothers, asked them the same question, and each had repeated it to her, a warning. Her brothers did not hold Joel accountable. They knew how difficult her childhood had been, the strict relentless goals and rules she’d set for herself that went against her wild, battling nature.
“You visited Elspeth and asked her that question. What did she say?” Fiona asked, because Elspeth alone had been too quiet since the day Joel had swept her away.
“She said that sometimes she knew too much and she had weaving to do. Over a cup of peppermint tea, and while Heather, her baby, was giving me jam kisses and investigating my ear, Elspeth said that dragons had always fallen to the magic of circles. She said that you could be ‘difficult and dangerous’ were her terms, and that you would pick your time. Have you picked your time, Fiona?”
“Why do you want me?” Fiona asked in a whisper, uncertain of her emotions, aching for Joel the teenager, and wary of Joel the man. She had to know the truth and if he—
“Heat. You make me feel heat. I’m alive with you, and I’m definitely not bored,” he said simply, watching her. “Then there’s ordinary lust. It developed quite sharply when you got my attention by dumping sludge over my head. I’ve been tracking your causes for years. You made a difference, Fiona, a big one. And I knew when you were tired and wanted more. I knew because I’ve had that hollow ache most of my life.”
She tossed away her sympathy for Joel the teenager and lifted her chin. Joel as an adult was another matter. “Calum said you’d changed your mind about a temporary stay for your son’s sake, and you’ve got permanent plans to stay, city boy...that you’d resigned your position at Palladin’s, except for consulting, and that you are serious about becoming a rancher. This is a tough land and not for the inexperienced. Why are you here?”
“You want it all, don’t you?” Joel turned slowly toward the school picture braced on a small shelf. Cody resembled his father, from dark brown waving hair to green eyes and the cleft in his chin. “For him. Maybe for me. I believed his mother, Patrice, my ex-wife, because she came from a good family and good parents. I believed Cody when he told me everything was fine and that he didn’t want to se
e me. Everything wasn’t fine, and his mother doesn’t want him any longer...she just didn’t want me to have him.”
Joel straightened the picture, running his finger over the boy’s face in a caress. “Mamie thought the same about us, that we were getting care. My father cleaned us up before her visits, and kids can be bought to lie with promises. I should have known better with Cody. I want to give him what I can. Cody has always wanted a ranch and animals, and there’s something I want, too—something I’ve built with my bare hands and claimed.”
Joel’s gaze drifted around the old house, cluttered with tools and warm with shadows of others. “You grew up one way, on Tallchief land...I grew up another and in several places. Now I want this. Between Cody and me, we might make it work.”
Pain shifted through Joel’s dark expression before he closed his thoughts away. She sensed that he’d given her more than he’d given anyone, a concession she hadn’t expected.
Fiona ran her fingertips over the old rosebud wallpaper, which was brighter where the Watkins family pictures had been. He loved Cody enough to try rebuilding a homestead that could defeat a seasoned rancher.
Honor. It ran through Joel like steel, and Fiona knew that he would keep his word.
An excellent researcher, Calum had told her that Joel had been tagged Palladin’s Iron Man, a man without emotions. Yet they ran deep in him, pain flashing in his expression as he talked about his son, his voice softening. Joel would not leave his son alone as Lloyd Palladin’s sons had been. foraging for food and shelter on the street. Joel had kept two younger brothers warm and fed, when he could easily have left them. “You’re bringing your son here, because you want him to experience Amen Flats, small-town America and neighbors who care, don’t you?”
“Something like that.” His answer was too curt, and she knew she had him, his defenses were up. Joel closed the top of his laptop, the click sounding final in the quiet shadows.