by Cait London
Tallchief Mountain was bred into Fiona: the jutting rock cliffs, the forests and meadows and the tumbling streams that led into Tallchief Lake.
She reached the small, lush, meadow, where wildflowers would grow in the summer and birds would feed upon the berry bushes surrounding it.
Mom? Dad? Oh, how I miss you.
She dismounted and stood at the small iron fence, slowly opening the door. A leaf flew to her cheek, caressed it. Mom?
Fiona cleared away the broken limbs covering her parents’ resting place. “It wasn’t Joel’s fault that he wasn’t here that day, Mom. Joel and his brothers came to pay their respects, and I ran them off. They looked so tired and hungry, threadbare city boys on horses they couldn’t ride, and determined to pay their respects. They were trying to build pride in themselves, in doing the right thing, and I wouldn’t let them.”
She crouched, placing her forehead on her knee, grieving for the circle that had not been completed, her parents’ lives cut short.
Fiona carefully arranged carnations and roses and greenery over her parents, the icy wind already tearing at the petals, darkening and tugging them away.
Morning Star nickered, and suddenly a larger hand reached down to hers, easing away a waiting bouquet of daisies. “Let me help,” Joel murmured, kneeling at her side.
He removed his Western hat, the wind catching in his hair. Dante, his gelding, sheltered in a stand of fir and pine.
Fiona dashed away a tear that had begun freezing on her cheek. Joel, unshaven and dressed as a Westerner, in jeans and a shearling coat, had followed her up the treacherous trail used only by her family. “I miss them,” she said simply.
“I know. You thought they’d be there for you when you grew up, and they weren’t.”
She studied him, a man who had not had a childhood or loving parents, who had built his life free of his father. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, placing her glove along his cheek.
Joel’s expression tightened, his body tense. “You’ve got that backward. I should be saying—”
“No, you shouldn’t. You’ve paid enough. Do you believe in magic?”
Joel stared up at the jutting mountain. “Sometimes,” he admitted reluctantly. “It’s a new item on my study menu. I think it began when I walked into Eunice’s back end. An elephant isn’t what you’d expect in a barn. Or maybe it was when I was knocked silly by those cans at the convenience store, and you stood over me, looking like a regal goddess deciding my fate. I thought you were wearing diamonds instead of glass shards.”
“I’ve never believed in magic—at least for me. I believed in reality and what I could change. There’s more to this than the passion between us. I don’t know that I want more, because I’m happy now and everything is moving too quickly.” What was she saying? She had always hurled through her life and now she wanted to carefully examine her relationship with Joel.
“True,” he admitted slowly, and Fiona’s heart began beating again.
When Joel stood, Fiona took his outstretched hand. He brought the back of her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it reverently.
“Don’t, Joel Don’t for a minute think that you owe or need to apologize to anyone because of your father. My parents would want you to be happy...to raise your son here. My brothers and family feel the same.”
“Thank you,” he murmured so humbly that a piece of her heart tore slowly, painfully.
“What runs between you and I is different....” Fiona considered the clouds sweeping low and close to the mountain. “We’d better get back. Night on the mountain is cold, city boy.”
“I don’t think we need to hurry,” Joel said slowly, placing his hat low on his head and tugging up his leather gloves. He braced himself against the wind, his long legs a distance apart on the thin layer of snow.
Fiona brushed a few fat snowflakes from her eyelashes. “Joel, I was raised here. My family is bred to track and to survive in the wilderness. You aren’t.”
Emerald bright, his eyes cut down to her. “Aren’t I? So, you’re protecting me, is that right? You always protect the people that you cherish, don’t you?”
Fiona didn’t like the deep edge to his voice, challenging her. “Be practical. When snow sets in here, it will probably only get deeper. I wasn’t planning to stay, Joel...just to talk with my parents one last time before hard winter closes Tallchief Mountain.”
“I am planning to stay. There’s a stream and a beautiful little meadow just a little down the trail. I left my pack mule there.”
“Joel. Think—” Fiona inhaled as Joel swept her into his arms and carried her to his horse, placing her in the saddle. After taking Morning Star’s reins, Joel swung up behind her. The move was proprietorial male. She noted the sheathed rifle, a high-powered killer, and reliable protection against the predatory wildlife on Tallchief Mountain. The Tallchiefs liked their wolves, bears, and pumas—at a distance.
She sat very straight, aware of how well Joel managed his gelding. “You’ve learned how to ride, city boy.”
“I’ve never liked being deficient in anything,” he returned too softly.
She took it one step further. “So I assume that Palladin, Inc. purchased cattle ranches for your education and exclusive use.”
“That wouldn’t have been wise—until Nick, Rafe and I spent a summer on one. After we picked her up and left her in a tree after an argument, Mamie packed us up and dumped us on a ranch filled with hardcase cowboys who adored her. We learned respect with a capital R and lots of sweat. Mamie was determined not to protect us as she had my father. If we committed an infringement, we had to pay for it.”
Fiona laughed outright, snowflakes sweeping across her face. “You could have run away at anytime, right? Only she had challenged you, and you were determined to stick it out. That’s exactly what my family did to me.”
Joel glanced at a covey of quail scurrying beneath the bushes, foraging for food. “Mmm. Something like that. The first night we came home after blowing our paychecks at the local tavern—we were all under drinking age—we were building fences at dawn and breaking horses and moving woodpiles. Because I was the oldest and should have known better, I got two woodpiles, big ones.”
“And then you bought a ranch, right? A nice big corporate spread with fancy cattle and fancier horses?” She leaned back into the solid wall of his body, enjoying the safety and warmth. An independent woman, she’d scoffed at leaning against a man, and now when she was too weary, it seemed almost like coming home.
“No. First I worked my way through college.” Joel placed his chin over her head, gathering her closer, and Fiona settled into the emotion that always surprised her; with Joel, she felt cherished and feminine.
Joel eased the gelding off the trail and into the small meadow, the snowflakes fattening and tumbling across it. He swung down from the horse and held up his hands for Fiona. “It makes a nice hobby for Rafe...Nick is too busy flying, looking for something I guess we all want. Mamie likes an occasional outing, all very civilized of course. My grandmother likes her comforts, and more than one complicated merger has been sorted out at the ranch, free from interference. Just what don’t you like about a formal dating structure?”
Fiona allowed him to lift her to the ground. “With you, it could be very formal. For one thing, there’s the way you put your hand low on the back of my waist, as if guiding me when we’re entering or leaving a doorway. I’ve never liked guidance. I’ve had my fair share from my brothers and sister. Then, there’s that pulling-out-chair thing. It obliges a woman to sit, when she might not be considering it.”
“I do not guide women,” Joel stated tightly. “I like the feel of you beneath my hand—you’re very feminine—I can stop that, if it bothers you...and Mamie would have my hide if I didn’t pull out your chair,” he admitted roughly.
“I’ll think about your let-me-take-care-of-you guidance. Your hands are very gentle and secure. Mamie really must be something to manage you three.”
/> “We’re docile...now.” Joel’s tone said that Mamie’s taming job hadn’t been easy.
She followed him to where the pack mule stood waiting. “I see you know how to pack a mule. That is an art and takes time. Exactly why did you—oh, I suppose you wanted to come by yourself, to finish what I stopped those years ago.”
Joel slanted a dark look at her. “You weren’t where you were supposed to be early this morning, Princess. I called. Morning Star was missing. October has passed, a hard month for the Tallchiefs’ emotions. Logic led me to think you were riding up here. I decided to follow. One never knows when a well-packed mule can be an advantage.”
“I often come here by myself. I’m quite safe.” Fiona frowned. She felt like she owed Joel an apology. She didn’t.
“But you’re not alone. That’s the point, dear heart. We have a neat little one-to-one relationship simmering on the front burner.” Joel took a hatchet and began hacking limbs to form a shelter. He tossed a rope over a sapling and dragged the top down, then another and whipped them together, forming an arc. Fiona had seen the process to make a one-sided shed, protection for the horses against the bitter cold wind.
“You think I owe you an explanation of my daily schedule?” She helped drag the branches, and Joel propped them against the sapling arc, forming a lean-to.
“Yes,” he said after a long moment. “Especially when you could be in danger. A snowstorm is predicted. We have a date tonight. You might not have been back in time to make it. I really like those burgers at that little drive-in with you sitting next to me. I was counting on a big Saturday night at Maddy’s—several very close dances and a really nice good-night kiss.”
She stared at him. “You packed a mule and came all this way because you were afraid I’d break a date?”
“A date is a very important landmark in a relationship. It would not bode well, if we didn’t connect. A misunderstanding could result, then another, and an infinite mess could develop. I wouldn’t like that. I’d prefer that you know my exact position on our relationship, step by step.” Joel’s look said he wasn’t explaining further.
Fiona decided not to pursue his logic. It sounded too ... logical and committed.
When the lean-to was finished, she dusted her leather gloves. “Okay, now that it’s done, I’ll be on my way. If you’re not down in a reasonable length of time, and the weather worsens, we’ll come after you.”
“Stay put,” Joel ordered as he placed the flat of his hand on her chest and pushed her back into the lean-to, tossing a down sleeping bag at her.
Fiona narrowed her eyes. “I spent my teenage years with brothers shoving me around. I didn’t like it then, but we were playing for high stakes. Now I don’t have a family to worry about keeping safe, so don’t push me—”
The sight of Joel whipping out a lightweight chain saw and stroking it lovingly with his glove, stopped her. He placed a kiss on his glove and touched the chain saw before starting it. He revved it up, cut several tall saplings and set about trimming the branches from them in quick efficient cuts.
The wind carried his deep voice to her as he spoke to the chain saw, “You’re a beautiful, exciting lover, fitting me just right, and though you’re a little difficult at times, I love you. I’d like you to share my life. We’ll grow old together.”
He revved the chain saw again. “I respect every beautiful molecule of you. I won’t leave you or treat you poorly. Trust me. I’ll keep all of your perfect parts humming and oiled on a regular basis, baby.”
“My, my, how interesting. He speaks to his small-motor repair projects,” Fiona murmured, fascinated as Joel formed the poles into the framework of a tepee. She decided to settle down and watch this new man unfold, shrugging off Palladin’s Iron Man corporate image.
When the tepee was completed, secured and heavy canvas covered it, Joel began gathering firewood. Unused to being pampered, Fiona worked at his side.
“Well, well, well,” she murmured an hour later, when the horses and mule had been given grain, and Joel was frying thick ham slices in a skillet over a properly laid cooking fire. She sprawled onto the thick down sleeping bag and studied him. “Why?” she asked simply.
Joel added a package of hash browns to the skillet, then flopped the cooked ham slices over the potatoes. He tested the hot water kettle braced on the flat cooking rocks with his hand, jerking it away from the heat. Then he added more hot coals to the top of the cast-iron Dutch oven, in which were biscuits. “You’re always running so fast—or we’re too occupied in overdrive, physical needs. I don’t know what pleasures you, Princess. I’d like to know. I’d like to please you.”
The simple statement rocked her. “I...I think you’re doing fine. You can be quite...impressive.”
His grin was quick and devastating, his new beard glossy and black in the firelight. “Good.” He frowned, turning his attention to the sizzling potatoes. “The problem is—between you and me—that our discovery time has been too short. We haven’t had time to adapt to the surprise.”
“Really?” she asked, inviting him on. “What surprise?”
“The magic one.” He produced her favorite tea, an herbal mixture, also her mother’s favorite, and tossed a small amount in the heated kettle to steep.
Blast, Fiona cursed mentally, waiting for him to make a mistake; he’d been far too perfect. Couldn’t he toss her just one small goof?
“Do you think it’s wrong that I want Cody with me, away from everything he knows?”
Joel cared deeply about his son. He drew into himself, his frown indicating that he was afraid of losing Cody, when the relationship hadn’t begun. He was sharing an intricate, meaningful part of his life with her, which she appreciated.
“You’re doing the right thing, Joel,” Fiona murmured, wanting to help him. “According to the postman, you’ve ordered a ton of books. I would suppose that an amount of them are parenting books, correct?”
He stiffened as though caught doing something suspect. “I like to study situations, circle them, apply new techniques.”
“Like now?” Fiona took the cup of tea he handed her. She sipped it and cradled it in her hands as she looked over the top of it. “This is heavenly. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, Joel. Palladin, Inc. probably owns a top sporting goods store. In fact—” she lifted the sleeping bag to find the Palladin label “—in fact, you’ve gone to a lot of effort, when Palladin, Inc. probably has some little uptown, easy to construct, high-tech camping tent.”
“I’m showing off,” he said as he handed her a plate heaped with food. “The traditional male proving that he can provide what the female should have. It’s ritualistic, primitive behavior, but something that I feel—impulsively feel—that I must do for you alone, as my woman...as a matter of pride.”
“Palladin pride, correct? And I’m supposed to understand this. I understand perfectly. In the past few years, I’ve watched the courtships of my entire family. The ‘my woman’ part is drastic, ringing of possession, and I’m not certain about that. I’m the last, you know. An endangered species—the baby of the Tallchief clan.” She dove hungrily into the food.
“The spoiled baby,” Joel said too softly and began to eat. His statement hung over the campfire.
Fiona put her plate aside; the hot water wasn’t the only thing simmering. “What do you mean?”
Joel continued to eat methodically, his fork loaded exactly the same, as though he were loading his thoughts in the same manner. Then he placed his plate aside, took hers and prepared to leave. “You worried your family. I had quite the little job persuading them to let me come up here, instead of them. You’ve worried them for years.”
Fiona blinked as his harsh words slammed into her. She followed him out of the tepee. “Just exactly what do you mean, Joel? Why are you here? Are you taking up where they left off, protecting me, defining the rules? I don’t need to act perfect now, Joel. There’s nothing at risk.”
“Isn’t there? Let me explain this w
ay.” Joel tossed the plates aside, swept Fiona into his arms, and when she resisted, they went down in the snow.
His mouth was hot and hungry and yet sweet and cherishing, their breaths mingling in the cold air. Desire slammed into Fiona, her arms locking around him as he rolled over her until she rested on top of him.
She dived into the heat of him, desire lashing at her, and suddenly Joel jerked away, his eyes blazing emerald green. He shuddered, eased away from her and stood to his feet, holding out his hand for her.
“This is my first attempt at making myself appealing and trying to be impulsive for a woman, Fiona the fiery,” he whispered quietly, the snow lashing between them as she stood. “I do not want you to forget me, or to discover that I was not up to par as a romantic partner.”
In that instant she knew how he had convinced her brothers to let him come after her. Joel had declared his intention; her brothers had understood. Elspeth was probably baking cookies to soothe them as they mourned their loss and cuddled their babies. Her husband, Alek, was probably reliving his battles with her brothers.
Fiona turned slowly to the tepee while Joel placed his arms around her from the back. “This is—”
He kissed her cheek. “My variation of the Tallchief bridal tepee. You should have magic and dreams, Princess. This is not a temporary fascination for me, and I’m sorting through how to handle a volatile woman who rebels at the slightest logic or imagined restriction. On the other hand, I’d like the courtship part, because I’ve found that I’m delicate about tradition. I’d prefer no to rush through this interim in your usual style, but focus on intimacy, learning about each other—”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning back against him and placing his hand over her breast. As the cold fierce wind swept around them, Fiona knew that for this moment, her heart’s circle was complete. “Love me,” she whispered.
Joel checked on the horses, bracing the branches securely around the lean-to, and collected more wood for the fire. He wanted no distractions from what he considered his wedding night. He glanced at the tepee, sheltered in the pines. Fiona had taken her time walking to it, as if at anytime, she would choose to leave.